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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/641/32464/BSmithJSmithJv1-2.1.pdf
fa99ddac1408d0948f187f5b15dccf96
Dublin Core
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Title
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Smith, Jack
John George Smith
J G Smith
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Smith, JG
Description
An account of the resource
Three items. An oral history interview with John 'Jack' Smith (1921 -2019) and his memoirs. He flew operations as a wireless operator with 189 Squadron.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by John Smith and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Transcribed document
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
Sparks in the Air
These are the wartime recollections of Pinchbeck resident John George Smith known to his friends as Jack.
Jack was born in 1921, the son of George and Bessie Smith. George was the keeper of a smallholding, raising Poultry and assisting a local farmer.
[photograph of Jack]
As a young teenager growing up in 1930’s England, through the newspapers of the day, Jack was aware of events taking place in Germany and of Britain’s own Fascist problems directed by Oswald Mosley. Although still only a teenager, Jack approached the time he would leave school realising that another war in Europe was inevitable.
Jack left Donington Grammar School in1937 his parents and relatives asking the question “What are you going to do?” Jack had an ambition to become a Chartered Accountant however this required any potential candidate to pay an indenture however the cost was prohibitive and Jack decided to try and join the RAF instead. Ironically jack encountered the same obstacles as his Father who had been unable to join up to serve his country during the First World War because of the poor state of his teeth. At the age of 17, Jack had 22 teeth removed!
Having seen an advert in the Spalding Free Press for “Well educated youth required by Chartered Accountants, Hodgson, Harris & Co”, a national company who had a small office in Spalding over Gibbs shoe shop, Jack applied and got his first job. There was no payment to the company however it only had a low wage of ten shillings a week. There were no girls in the office and as a consequence Jack had to learn shorthand typing to a standard of 100 words/minute, this alongside learning accountancy.
[bold] This is Jacks[sic] account of his wartime memories. [/bold]
When war broke out on 3rd September 1939 recruiting for the forces had started at 20 years plus however I was only 18 at the time. Accountancy was not a reserved occupation and in the August of 1940 I and my colleague Bill Taylor who was the same age as me and worked in the same office both decided to volunteer for the RAF as we didn’t fancy the Army or the Navy.
In September 1940 we were called to the RAF station at Padgate near Warrington to be attested and undergo a medical. Bill and I undertook intelligence tests but we both knew that we wanted to be Wireless Operators.
[page break]
Although the war was now into its second year, there had been as yet no air raids in South Lincolnshire. Whilst at Padgate we suffered ten air raid warnings but fortunately no damage was inflicted on the airfield. It was my first experience of an air raid. This took place over the 13th, 14th and 15th of September and later became known as the Battle of Britain weekend when British fighters shot down 185 German planes.
After my three days at Padgate I returned home to Lincolnshire and on the 4th November 1940 I and my friend Bill Taylor were required to travel to Blackpool. We left from Donington and travelled by train via Manchester arriving at Blackpool in the late afternoon. We were directed to Offices in the centre of Blackpool where we were officially enrolled in the Royal Air Force. Bill and I were then separated and I was lodged at a boarding house at 30 Reads Avenue Blackpool where another 15 RAF personnel were also residing. I was accommodated in the attic where there was a single fanlight, two beds and a wash basin.
The next morning we assembled on the promenade near to the Hotel Metropole. Grouped into Units of approximately thirty, we were placed in the charge of an Acting Corporal. We commenced drill training and were marched around Blackpool for exercise stopping around mid morning at a Café for coffee and buns!
As we were potential Wireless Operators we were required to attend the Winter Gardens daily where we were given instruction in radio technicalities and morse training. Due to double Summertime being in operation, it was exceptionally dark when we set out for the day at 8am. I was given the role of marker to the squad and marched at the front carrying a lantern. There was no heating in the Winter Gardens where we sat throughout the day in our greatcoats breaking only for refreshments before finishing training at around 4 to 4.30 pm.
The food at the boarding house was acceptable being plain in nature but sufficient. In the evenings we were free to enjoy the night life of Blackpool but we had to be back by 10.30pm.
After I had been there for several weeks, I joined a harmonica band consisting of around ten or twelve members and we performed at concerts held in various village halls in the area. The highlight was being able to perform at the Opera House on the same bill as George Formby.
After three weeks I moved to 45 Ashburton Road along with three other RAF personnel. It was a much more homely atmosphere there, living and eating with an elderly couple who owned the property.
After another three or four weeks I moved further down Ashburton Road but only stayed for a couple of nights as it was overcrowded with five to a room. I then moved to 4 Bank Street off the promenade near to the Hotel Metropole and where I had to parade each morning. This was a private hotel and very comfortable as I shared a room with only one other member of the RAF. it was extremely convenient for excursions into town in the evenings and I was happy to remain there until it was time to move on from Blackpool.
[page break]
Radio training continued everyday and we were tested each week at the premises of Burtons the Tailors. We were required to increase morse speed by one word per minute each week until a speed of twelve words per minute had been achieved at which point the course in Blackpool was concluded.
[RAF Radio School crest]
We were then posted to radio schools on normal RAF stations. I was posted to No. 3 radio School at RAF Compton Bassett in Wiltshire which was for ground operators.
There was another radio school nearby to Compton Bassett, No. 4 at Yatesbury which was for aircrew operators.
I enjoyed life here for the first time on a proper RAF station. My day started at 6:30 am with PT on the parade ground square before starting work at 8:00 am.
I was at Compton Bassett from the end of March 1941 to the end of June which was when I qualified as a ground wireless operator and was allowed to wear ‘sparks’ on my right arm.
Having successfully completed training I was allowed home for two weeks leave. This was my first leave since travelling to Blackpool the previous November. I thoroughly enjoyed the break and whilst there I received a posting to the RAF station at Bramcote near Nuneaton. This was a regular peacetime station however at this time it was mainly occupied by members of the Polish Air Force. This was my first experience of an operational signals cabin and for the first time working for real with a radio set.
After several weeks at Bramcote, at the end of July, I was notified I was going on embarkation leave. After three weeks leave I had to make my way to the RAF station at West Kirby in the Wirral Peninsula. On arrival here, I found that several of my fellow colleagues who had been at radio school were also awaiting the same posting. We were all accommodated in tents.
[photograph]
POLISH Aircrew RAF - Fairey Battle Mk 1 sun L5427 BH*E of 300 (Polish) Bomb Squadron “Mazoviecka Province” - RAF Bramcote August 1940 -
[page break]
After several days we were moved by RAF transport into Liverpool for embarkation. The docks were very busy with movement of troops. We marched in units towards the vessel we were to leave England on. This vessel was the Orient Liner SS OTRANTO. Otranto was a 20,000grt passenger vessel that had been modified as a troop carrier. Some 500 RAF personnel embarked along with 3000 men of the Yorkshire Regiment. The decks of the ship went from A to H. RAF personnel were accommodated on E deck which was the last level with portholes.
[photograph]
There were eighteen on each mess table, we slept in hammocks and the toilets were primitive. Ten toilets without doors so there was no privacy. We knew nothing of our destination as security was so tight. On each mess table, two of the men were nominated as mess orderlies and had to bring the food from the galley. I was lumbered with one of these jobs!
After being on board for 24 hours, we departed Liverpool. For me this was quite an experience having never been on a Liner before. It was quite a bright day on 31st August 1941 and our course followed the coast of Northern Ireland. We all started to take a guess at our destination and some of us thought we may be off to Canada to start our Air Crew training.
For a day or so we headed due what until we were well clear of the Irish coast and out into the Atlantic. We were under escort of a number of Royal Navy vessels including two Battle Ships, the ill fated HMS REPULSE and HMS PRINCE OF WALES.
[photograph]
Repulse
[photograph]
Prince of Wales
[page break]
There was very little to do onboard and very little reading material available. The only book that seemed to be in circulation was ‘Lady Chatterley’s Lover’. After some time a number of personnel got sick and went off their food. It reached a point that on my table only myself and one other Mess Orderly were eating. A number of the party were literally very green and extremely poorly.
The vessel eventually altered to a southerly course from its westward heading, still under escort, many of us spent a lot of time just sleeping and looking over the side watching the waves. Some spent their time writing letters intending to drop them off at the first port of call. All letters were censored prior to posting and in fact one of my associates was identified by the OIC as having referred to the Commanding Officer as bring “nothing more than a broken down commercial traveller”. As a result he was brough before the CO and given 7 days confinement to barracks which in this case was a cell in the depths of the ship on deck ‘H’.
Several days later the vessel changed to an easterly direction giving rise to further speculation as to our destination. Eventually we made landfall on the west coast of Africa, berthing at Freetown where we stayed for a week. This was a very boring seven days as we were not allowed shore leave. We amused ourselves by watching the local boys jumping into the harbour to retrieve coins that were being thrown into the water by army personnel. The temperature was extremely hot and the humidity was high.
At the end of the week we left Freetown and the vessel headed in a southerly direction. We now assumed our destination to be South Africa. As we were now in a consistently hot climate, some of us erected our hammocks on deck where it was much cooler to sleep.
The next sighting of land was that of “Table Mountain” on the Cape however to our surprise we did not call at Capetown but carried on further along the South African coast eventually calling at Durban. We stayed here for a week and during that time were allowed shore leave daily. We were kindly entertained by South Africans who took us to restaurants and hotels for meals and tours in the neighbouring countryside.
The weather was perfect and this was a really enjoyable and welcome break. We were extremely surprised that none of us were staying on in South Africa. We Aircrew thought that we may have been going on to Southern Rhodesia to continue air training – no such luck ,,,,,!
At the end of this week we once again set sail along with our escort of Battleships heading east into the Indian Ocean. We sailed for several days before Repulse and Prince of Wales left us. No one could have imagined that only a few months later both these mighty ships had been sent to the bottom of the South China sea sunk by land based bombers and torpedo bombers of the Imperial Japanese Navy on 10th December 1941. In Japan the engagement was referred to as the Naval Battle of Malaya (Mare-oki Kaisen).
We were more fortunate with our destination as the Otranto finally docked in Bombay (Mumbai) India. Once again we were alongside for a week and were entertained on pleasure trips. I found Bombay to be a very exciting and busy place.
At the end of this week, we Aircrew were taken off the SS Otranto and transferred to a much smaller vessel, the SS KHEDIVE ISMAIL complete with its Lascar crew. Of 7513 grt, formerly the SS ACONCAGUA, built in 1922 as an Ocean Liner and converted to a troop ship in 1940.
[page break]
We eventually left Bombay heading West and once clear of India we were advised that we were going to Basrah in Iraq. This revelation was our first indication as to our final destination.
There was very little comfort onboard and hammocks were again the order of the day. The Lascar crew were very helpful and attentive and at night whilst in our hammocks they would come around with a bucket of tea or chai as they called it. This was very refreshing especially with the temperature as high as it was.
Although the food onboard was quite acceptable, the toilet arrangements were primitive, consisting of a trough the width of the vessel with wood seats where you sat side by side with your fellow airmen – Absolutely no privacy whatsoever …..!
We were off into the Arabian Sea without any sight of land until we entered the Straits of Hormuz, being the entrance to the Persian Gulf. We now had no escorts and sailed on alone through the tranquil waters of the Persian Gulf in very high temperatures and daily sunshine.
[photograph of SS Khedive Ismail]
Land eventually came into sight as we approached the Northern end of the Gulf and we eventually arrived at the Port of Basrah which was a very busy port.
After disembarking, we were directed to a very large cargo shed on the dockside where we were to stay for the next few days. We only had beds made from boards and raised off the floor on four empty biscuit tins. The luxury was completed with one blanket and a small pillow. The temperature at this point was most uncomfortable.
Whilst awaiting a posting, we were able to go into Barrah itself and sample the local life. The authorities were slightly puzzled as there were some fifty of us qualified Wireless Operators and they were not at all sure what to do with us. This took some time to sort out. Eventually a few of us were posted to Shuaiba which is now the second largest port in the State of Kuwait. At that time it was a camp about ten miles out of Basrah which had been a peacetime RAF camp.
The accommodation at Shuaiba was of brick constructed buildings having been built partly below ground to try and reduce the heat as during the height of the season temperatures exceeded 40 deg’s. I spent quite some time carrying out general duties until one morning an order for volunteers for anybody who could type was requested. By this time I was rather tired of filling sand bags and doing guard duty. As I could type and do shorthand, I decided I would risk it and volunteered. I immediately became the Squadron typist and carried out all the office work and correspondence for the C.O.
After a week or so the Squadron was posted to Sharjah a British Protectorate which is now a part of the United Arab Emirates. The squadron consisted of 18 Blenheim aircraft all of which were ex OUT and were not terribly serviceable.
[page break]
The Blenheims were required for anto[sic] submarine patrols up and down the Persian Gulf and out into the Indian Ocean. We were moved to Sharjah by boat and disembarked by dhow into the then village of Dubai. We continued by road transport to Sharjah where we were billeted in huts which had the luxury of fans.
On the edge of the airport was a stone built structure known as the ‘Fort’. This was well equipped as it was used by BOAC crew for overnight stops. Because of the very high temperatures, the Mechanics could only work on the aircraft until 10am and then cease until 6pm. It was so hot an egg could be fried on the wings of aircraft.
Water was in short supply and the only bathing was done in the sea which was about half a mile away. We only had a small supply of fresh water for shaving and tea was rationed. Food was very repetative with many combinations of risoles you have never seen the like of.
Once every fortnight we were allowed American beer which equated to about four half pint cans which were consumed in one night. We used to leave the empty cans outside our billets and by morning they would have been removed by the locals. If you then happened to go into the village of Dubai, these cans could be seen on sale as mugs, having had handles attached.
Although I was trained wireless operator, I was still being misemployed as Squadron Typist which mean that I could not be reclassified and so remained an AC2. However, I eventually took the AC1 examination and was upgraded. Like all the other Wireless Operators out there, we all wanted to get back to complete our Air Crew training. The Adjutant suggested I re muster as a Radio Observer which meant I could go to Southern Rhodesia for training or alternatively consider obtaining a commission as a Filter Officer.
Whilst at Sharjah I suffered quite badly from ‘prickly heat’ which developed into blisters requiring my admission to the base sick bay. I also had heat exhaustion around the time of my 21st birthday, running a temperature of 106 degs.
I was taken to the Fort at the edge of the camp which had air conditioned rooms. My skin problems got progressively worse and I had to have by head completely shaved. I received treatment with bread poultices on my arms and legs which became septic.
[photograph of an aeroplane]
Eventually I was taken by air to the RAF Hospital at Shuaibah and spent 2-3 weeks there recovering in the dermatology ward. At the end of my hospitalisation, I was posted to Tehran in Iran on sick leave. I travelled by road transport through the town of Ahwaz in Iran and then by train to Tehran. This journey took 24 hours. The train was completely full with people sleeping not just on the seats but also on the luggage racks and corridors.
[page break]
When the train stopped in the early morning there were many locals selling eggs and bread on the platform which was very welcome. On reaching Tehran we were taken to a rest home on the edge of the city. It had pleasant facilities. We used to go into Tehran in groups of 3 or 4 personnel.
Towards the end of the two weeks, I developed tonsillitis which resulted in my being taken to the Sick Bay at the RAF Station at Tehran where I remained for a further ten days. The MO allowed me to remain in Tehran until I felt well enough to travel to Basrah but after about a week, I became quite lonely as all my colleagues had by then left.
After arriving back in Basrah I was then posted to Habbaniya, a real peacetime RAF station about fifty five miles West of Baghdad. I was extremely pleased to receive this posting as the climate at Sharjah did not suit me at all.
Habbaniya was quite a large base, all brick buildings including two cinemas and a range of shops where you could buy clothing etc. Surprisingly even the food in the Airmans[sic] mess was exceptionally good! There were also facilities for sporting activities including tennis courts.
We had local youths acting as what we called “cheekos” who did our laundry and kept the village clean. There were 16 men in each billet and we all paid the equivalent of two shillings per week for this domestic assistance. It was always done promptly and efficiently. Each billet had fans as temperatures were around thirty to forty degrees. I was employed as a Ground operator in a Signals Cabin on a shift system, working stations in the UK and India.
I found this to be very enjoyable work.
[bold] NOTES ON RAF HABBANIYA, IRAQ [/bold]
There were numerous billets, messes and a wide range of leisure facilities including swimming pools, cinemas and theatres, sports pitches, tennis courts and riding stables. It was self-contained with its own power station, water purification plant and sewage farm. Within the base was the Civil Cantonment for the civilian workers and their families and the families of the RAF Iraq Levies. Water taken from the Euphrates for the irrigation systems enabled green lawns, flower beds and even ornamental Botanical Gardens. After World War II the families of British personnel started living at Habbaniya and a school was started.
The base at Habbaniya was used by the RAF from October 1936 to the end of May 1959, Not quite a year following the July 1958 revolution.
In recent years Habbiniya was used for the manufacture of mustard gas which was used against Iranian troops during the Iran Iraq war.
[map of the area]
[page break]
[centred] The Journey Home (Habininyah to the UK) [/centred]
On a February morning in 1943, I was sleeping in the billet after having been on a night shift when I was awoken by some excited discussion. This was caused by a sergeant from the Orderly room reading out a list of names of Operators being posted back to the UK to resume Aircrew training and my name was on the list! It was then necessary to get clearance from the OIC of Signals – so off we went! However the Officer said that as we were all experienced Ground Operators, we could not leave until replacements arrived and this took five months until July.
There were six of us with our kit bags that were put on to an open lorry to start our return journey to England. We travelled due west over the Iraqi desert. The temperature was around 40 degs C and after about four hours we stopped for refreshment and toilet relief. The stop took place at a point on the “Oil Line” known as H3.
We carried on, passing through the small town of Al Rutbah which was the only sign of any habitation that we had thus far seen. Before darkness we stopped for the night somewhere near to the Syrian/Jordanian border, having to make ourselves as comfortable as possible on our kitbags.
The next morning we resumed our journey travelling just north of the Dead Sea until we arrived in a small coastal town in Gaza just South of Tel Aviv. We were in a small transit camp with brick billets, completely unfurnished. We had to sleep on a blanket on a stone floor and in the morning we all had a large number of insect bites!
After spending a couple of days on a Mediterranean beach we embarked on a train for Cairo. It was a pleasant journey as it followed the coast and at each station there were vendors of eggs and bread. On arrival in Cairo we were taken by truck to the RAF base at Almaza, a few miles out of town. On this occasion we were accommodated in small (2 person) tents whilst we awaited the Liner which would return us to the UK.
After ten days in Almaza, we Wireless Operators were taken to Alexandria where we boarded a large Liner. Unfortunately I never knew its name however it apparently was the first ship to go through the Mediterranean since it was closed at the beginning of the war. We docked in Algiers for two days and the day after we sailed away, the Luftwaffe attacked Algiers. Our next stop was Gibralter where every night depth charges were set off at intervals as a deterrent to U-Boats. However during our five night stay there was no air raid.
The last leg of the journey was north into the Atlantic and around Ireland into the River Clyde. This was uneventful but as we sailed into Greenock it was wonderful to once again see all the green vegetation. Something that I had missed in the two years I had been away. It was now the end of August, exactly two years since I had left. There was also good news – Italy had surrendered. I was also very happy now to send a phone message to my folks via their neighbours to let them know that I was back in the UK.
I travelled by train to RAF West Kirby on the Wirral to leave my tropical kit and get a three week leave pass. The next day I had arrived home to a very happy reunion with Mother and Dad. I spent the next three weeks meeting relatives and friends recounting my travels.
[page break]
After three weeks disembarkation leave, I was posted to Number 4 Radio School at Madley near Hereford. This was where I was to resume Air Crew training as a Wireless Operator, flying Dominis and Proctors.
[photograph]
The [bold] Percival Proctor [/bold] was a British radio trainer and communications aircraft of the Second World War.
The Proctor was a single-engined, low-wing monoplane with seating for three or four, depending on the model.
[photograph]
At the start of the Second World War, many (Dragon) Rapides were impressed by the British armed forces and served under the name [bold] de Havilland Dominie [/bold]. They were used for passenger and communications duties. Over 500 further examples were built specifically for military purposes, powered by improved Gipsey[sic] Queen Engines, to bring total production to 731. The Dominies were mainly used by the Royal Air Force and Royal Navy for radio and navigation training.
This was my first experience of flying and operating as a Wireless Operator and here we were flying most days for about one and a half hours carrying out various operation exercises on the radio.
RAF Madley was also a peacetime Station and the accommodation was quite good and included bunks for two members each in huts containing about sixteen personnel. Whilst I was here, I was with a number of the men that I had served with in Iraq so I was quite happy with the friends that I already knew. We used to go into the local village in the evenings, frequenting the local hostelries where I had an enjoyable time making up the[sic] for the two years I had spent overseas!
The course finished at the end of December 1943 and this is when I passed out and was promoted to Sergeant. At the same time I was also presented with my previ, the letter ‘S’ for Signals in the centre.
Previously Wireless Operators had been Air Gunners as well but that had by then been discontinued and a Wireless Operator was purely a Wireless Operator and not required to do a Gunnery course. Having qualified, I was kept on for a few more weeks assisting with the training of other personnel.
At the end of April 1944 I was posted along with some of the other Wireless operators to No 9 Advanced Flying Unit at Llandwrog in North Wales which is close to the town of Pwihelli and also close to Caenarfon. The drome here was along the coastline and planes taking off the runway immediately across the Irish sea.
[page break]
At Llandwrog we were training in Anson aircraft doing cross country exercises, out across the Irish Sea to the Isle of Man, back to the Lancashire coast and returning to base in Wales. This was during the month of May 1944 and continued into June until the course was completed on 12th June 1944. By this time, I’d had 43 hours of lectures and about 37 hours of flying time. This had been quite good experience as we had been night flying on a number of occasions and experienced flying in terrific thunderstorms. The whole aircraft having been completely encircled in a blue light including the wings! This was quite an unnerving experience.
[photograph]
On two occasions whilst stationed at Llandwrog, two of the training aircraft taking off failed to raise into the air and ditched in the sea. Each about 200 -300 metres from the shore. Fortunately the crews survived.
During my time there I was kept pretty busy however I did get into the local pub occasionally. There was a bit of a problem in that the pubs closed at 9 o’clock in the evening so you were never late getting back to camp. I was aware that there were certain local farms where airmen could go and have a bacon and egg meal and other enjoyable food but I never managed that.
Having completed the advanced w/t course, I was then posted to No. 17 Operational Training Unit at Turweston, Northamptonshire which was also part of RAF Silverstone. Turweston was the satellite drone where I spent my first period operating.
It was here at Turweston where we were all selected into different crews which was quite a hit and miss affair. This was because the Pilots were selecting more or less randomly the members of their crew from those present in the room.
I was picked by an Australian Pilot, Flight Sergeant Rob Richter. In addition to myself we had a Navigator (Alan Capey) from Stoke on Trent, a Bomb Aimer (Taffy Cross) from Llanelli, an Flight Engineer (Ossy Williams) from New Malden, a Mid Upper Gunner (Price Proctor) from Hartlepool and a Tail Gunner (Paddy McCrum) from Belfast.
It seemed strange putting together a crew in such an informal manner but thank goodness it all worked out reasonably well and we all sort of bedded down together in pretty good form. We then started operating together and flew in Vickers Wellington Mk III’s and I was now flying as a Wireless Operator no longer under training.
[page break]
[photograph]
We were accommodated in nissan huts amongst a lot of trees and I was working together with a team for the first time. As we got on so well together we were socialising each evening, visiting the local hostelries in Silverstone and Brackley. The weather at this time was perfect and I was enjoying the experience of flying with a crew in the Wellington aircraft.
The flying exercises we were doing began with circuits and landings. We then developed this on to cross country and high level bombing exercises at Wainfleet in Lincs. and also Epperstone in Notts. This included air firing for the benefit of the gunners.
At the end of July our crew were moved into the RAF base at Silverstone with more permanent accommodation than we had previously had at Turweston. It was all most comfortable and I was quite content here. We were now mainly doing cross country flights on a regular basis with these being between three and five hours in length.
In the middle of August we were sent on a semi operational patrol known as a “Nickel Raid”’ dropping foil paper to interfere with radio in enemy territory. This was a flight to Nantes in France where we unloaded the foil. This was a five hour trip. Two days later we were sent on a “Bullseye” which was a diversionary raid for the benefit of the main force. This was a trip to the coast of Holland to the town of Imjuiden.
During the time at Turweston and Silverstone we had experience of 57 hours of daytime flying and 57 hours of night flying. As part of the training we carried out bale out drill, ditching, dinghy and oxygen drills as well as procedures when lost at night. It was the Wireless Operators job to carry the radio transmitter into the dinghy which would be used to transmit any distress signals. I’m pleased to say that this situation never arose.
On 24th August 1944 we were sent on two weeks leave after which we were then posted to the Heavy Conversion Unit no. 1661 at RAF Winthorpe near Newark. The planes we used here were Mk III and V Stirlings. We carried out more cross country exercises however we were only here for one month. Our Pilot always likened the Stirling to the equivalent of flying a Double Decker Bus because the undercarriage was so high.
[page break]
[black and white photograph of a Short Stirling]
Short Stirling
On the 18th October 1944 we were posted to No. 5 Lancaster finishing school at Syerston, between Newark and Nottingham. This was our first experience of flying Lancasters. We were only here until the 8th November when we were all posted to various squadrons.
[Crest of Royal Air Force Syerston]
I and my fellow crew were posted to the RAF staion [sic] at Fulbeck which was purely a wartime air station and here we joined No. 189 squadron which is a Base that we shared with No. 59 Squadron.
I arrived at RAF Fulbeck on the 9th November 1944. The Station was situated between RAF Cranwell and the villages of Leadenham and Brant Broughton all with good pubs which we visited regularly when off duty. My home in Quadring was only 25 miles away and as I had my bicycle I went home for the evening several times. I left camp at 4pm and by 6pm I was home. At midnight I would return to camp, arriving two hours later. It was a lonely ride but I usually had a pint bottle of beer in my saddle bag for refreshment on the journey!
The daily routine in camp commenced about 9am when all crew members reported to their Sections. We were then given the days programme after which it was necessary to check your own particular equipment. At midday we all returned to either the officers or Sergeants mess for lunch. The only flying our crew did in November was a cross country and two high level bombing exercises at Wainfleet and Epperstone.
Naturally we were waiting to be called for our first operation and during the month we had the experience of being fully briefed for three trips, all being cancelled before take off which was a bit nerve wrecking.
However on the 4th December 1944 when we reported to our Sections we were informed that we would be on ‘Ops’ that night. After lunch the procedure was for all crews to attend the full Squadron briefing between 4pm and 5pm when we were told the target location and purpose of the raid.
Depending on the nature of the target, the maximum bomb load was 16,000 lbs and 2,200 gallons of fuel. With a full load of bombs/fuel, the total weight of the plane on take off was 30 tons. The flight plan gave the level at which we would be bombing and could be 8000 to 16000 feet. The more trips you did, then lower was the level at which you bombed.
[page break]
There were usually several Squadrons - about 200 aircraft on night trips. There was a rendezvous point, either Northampton or Beachy Head, for us to group together. As the whole force would be over the target for thirty minutes, each crew was given a bombing time - H plus 10 or H plus 20 etc.
It was an amazing experience in total darkness with no lights on the planes and a complete blackout of all towns and villages below. Our average take off time was 7 to 8pm. As we were not permitted to return to the mess or accommodation after lunch, we had sandwiches and flasks of tea with us.
Upon returning to base, often in the early hours of the morning we were first debriefed on the raid. After that we had a very welcome meal of bacon and eggs etc, before going off to bed.
Our first trip was to HEILBRON near STUTTGART in the RUHR to bomb the railway marshalling yards. Taking off for your first raid was a rather eerie feeling, not knowing what it would be like or if you would be coming back. However, once airborne your thoughts fall to getting the job done. After three hours we were over the target area giving us a very bumpy ride. Thankfully we were not hit and having dropped our 4000 lb bomb and a load of incendiaries, the yards were glowing with the fires raging. We returned to base safely and satisfied with our first operation.
Our next ‘Op’ was GIESSEN near FRANKFURT on 6th December where the target was once again marshalling yards.
On the 19th December we went on a long ten hour journey to GDYNIA. All went fairly well until we arrived over the target which was the docks. We should have done a ‘dog leg’ around the target (which we somehow missed!) to enable us to bomb on a northerly heading, coming out of the run over the Baltic Sea. As a consequence we were coned by searchlights and received heavy targeted gunfire from the German Navy below. Fortunately they missed us and we eventually had a successful raid. To avoid the enemy night fighters our Pilot took us down and we flew as low as possible over the Baltic and North Sea, not seeing any other activity although there had been some 200 enemy night fighters in amongst the main stream of bombers on the way home.
Two nights later we were sent to POLITZ, not far from GDYNIA which was another ten hour trip. On this occasion we were in heavy gunfire and heavy anti aircraft fire and for the first time we witnessed ‘Scarecrow’ being used by the enemy in order to create panic. Once again we were successful and set out to return home. On the journey back we were informed by radio that Lincolnshire was completely fog bound and we were diverted to RAF Milltown near Elgin. We remained there, as from 21st to 28th December 1944, Lincolnshire continued to be fog bound.
Far Right: ‘Scarecrow’
[black and white photograph of a ‘Scarecrow’ exploding]
AUSTRALIAN WAR MEMORIAL SUK12055
[page break]
On the 30th December, we were sent to Houffalize, Belgium which was a town in the middle of the Western Front, south of Liege in the Ardennes. Here we were supposed to bomb the front line which was a rather delicate operation. Although it was a relatively short trip of five hours, we needed a lot of care as to where we were bombing. We learned later that a number of the Polish army had been caught by the bombs on that occasion.
On New years Day 1945 we were sent to bomb Gravenhorst for the numerous oil targets that were situated there. Unfortunately we could not return to base and once again returned to Milltown in Scotland where we stayed for a couple of days.
On 4th January, I flew with another crew piloted by Flying Officer Martin due to the sickness of their Wireless Operator. On this occasion we went to Royan, a town in the south West of France near to Bordeaux principally to attack the Submarines of the German Navy which were on the river there. This was a seven hour journey to the mouth of the Gironde which was quite uneventful.
On the 13th January we were sent to the town of Politz again which was a ten and a half hour trip. We were successful mainly targeting oil and marshalling yards alongside the Navy. Because of the length of the trip, on the return journey the flight engineer indicated that our fuel was not sufficient to get back to base. I made contact with base to establish where we should land given our circumstances and we were directed to make for Carnaby which was the emergency landing strip near to Flamborough Head in Yorkshire. We were fortunate to land there safely as there was virtually no fuel leaf onboard.
On the 16th January I was back with my own crew and flew with them to the town of Brux. This was an oil target with a round trip time of nine and a half hours. This was over towards the Polish area.
On the 1st and 2nd February we attacked the towns of Siegen and Karlsruhe. Both these trips were bright moonlit nights which made it much easier for the German night fighters to attack us when we were silhouetted against the moon. We did experience interference from night fighters and as always the anti aircraft fire was very intense. On the Karlsruhe trip, out of our 18 aircraft we lost 4 that night.
On the 7th February we went to Ladbergen in order to attack the Dortmund-Ems canal. On this occasion we only carried 1000lb bombs with no incendiaries in the hope that we inflicted as much damage as possible to the canal.
On the 13th February we had a very long trip to Dresden. This we were told was because the Russians had driven the German Army back and it was encamped in Dresden. This was termed as a “Russian Army co-operation raid”. The American Airforce had been operational during the day and had bombed the target so by the time we were arriving around midnight, the town was ablaze.
We were successful over the target but did encounter a lot of the usual anti aircraft and fighter aircraft. On the way back to base over the Alps we were icing up and had to go down as low as possible which was a tricky operation being amongst the mountains. However we were once again able to make it back to base.
[page break]
Of course after this raid there has been much publicity about it and as the years have passed, the extent of the damage became more apparent and the subject tended to not be mentioned. However being aware of the reasons for the raid, it seemed to me to be a very satisfactory legitimate target and one that was done with extreme efficiency.
The very next night on 14th February, we attacked an oil target at Rositz which is near Leipzig. This was another nine hour journey there and back. A few nights later on 19th February we were again in the vicinity of Leipzig over the town of Bohlen and once again it was an oil target. On all these Oil targets we carried a 1000lb’er and a load of incendiaries.
On 20th February we went all the way to Gravenhorst but unfortunately the sortie was aborted and we were unable to return to base because of adverse weather conditions and we were diverted to Colerne. On 23rd February we were given a very different target in Horten which were the docks in the Oslo fjord in Norway which had a German Naval base there. This was a comparatively short trip it being only six and half hours and we experienced a lot of intense anti-aircraft fire from the German Naval gunners.
On 12th March, we carried out our first raid in daylight and joined a one thousand bomber force. The target that day was the town of Dortmund. This was quite a new experience and rather frightening being amongst so many other bombers, all at the same time and all approaching the same area. However, the raid was successful and we returned without incident in what was a five hour trip.
The next trip was to Lutzkendorf, an oil target which was quite a long journey and well into Eastern Germany. This was on 14th March and although the raid was a success, we did lose several aircraft. Once again the weather conditions in Lincolnshire prevented us from returning to base and we were diverted to Manston in Kent where there was an emergency landing strip.
Two days later on 16th March we had another oil target to attack in the town of Wurzburg. Here we experienced a lot of fighter activity and heavy anti-aircraft. We were very lucky to get back!
On 20th March we returned to raid Bohlen near Leipzig and this was another eight hour trip. On 23rd March we were sent to the town of Wesel to attack the marshalling yards there. This was a mere five and half hour trip which we carried out without incident.
On 4th April we were sent on a daylight raid to Nordhausen and this was to attack oil targets and the marshalling yards. On 23rd April we were again raiding in daylight, this time to Flensburg on the Kiel canal. This was to attack the submarine pens there however the sortie was aborted and we returned home without encountering any problems.
Three days later we were sent to Brussels to repatriate a group of ex prisoners of war. We managed to pack in twenty four in the fuselage of the aircraft and we flew to Westcott in Buckinghamshire. This made a very pleasant change and the former POW’s were naturally in good spirits.
As the war was nearing its conclusion, we found ourselves doing more training exercises for a day or two and on 6th may[sic] we were back in Brussels collecting more former POW’s and this time we brought them home to Dunsfold in Surrey.
[page break]
We repeated this some six days later on 12th May. On each occasion there were twenty six former POW’s in our fuselage. On 15th April we flew to Lille to repatriate more POW’s.
On 16th April 1945 we were sent on a grand tour of Germany to see what damage had been done. This covered the towns and cities of Bremen, Hamburg, Harburg in Bavaria, Brunswick, Cassel, Wurzburg, Stuttgart, Frankfurt, Cologne, Osnabruck and back to base. The whole trip took some eight and a half hours. This was a very interesting and exciting flight to see just what effect the bombing had on Germany.
On 1st April 1945, the Squadron had been transferred to Bardney which is nine miles east of Lincoln. This is the RAF station from where we operated the two daylight raids and the trips to collect the former POW’s. Also on this Station was No. 9 Squadron. They specialised in carrying very large bombs which they used to bomb the hiding place of Hitler in the Mountains.
On most of the raids I was on, the anti-aircraft fire was quite intense in most places and the night fighters were usually very busy. The one frightening aspect that the defenders of certain targets used was to send up “scarecrows” this giving the impression of one of our bombers exploding and crashing in flames. How this was achieved, I am unsure but it was extremely frightening.
Our crew had the unfortunate luck of having to be changed after the third trip as our Rear Gunner had been caught sleeping twice whilst we were still over enemy territory. On the first occasion when the Skipper called to him there was no reply and I was asked to go and find out what the problem was. I found that both the turret doors were open and he was lying back on the shute into the turret with his intercom lead pulled out of the socket. I informed the Skipper that he had not replied because his intercom was out. However on the very next trip the same situation occurred again whilst we were still well over Germany. On that occasion I did report to the Skipper that he was in fact asleep. After that he was removed from the Crew and we had to have substitutes for the remainder of our trips.
After the raid on Karlsruhe we had lost four aircraft which I have already referred to but in fact on several trips one or two failed to return however I have no record of the numbers lost in my period of Operations.
In the May of 1945, the Crews were being dispersed as our tours had finished with the war coming to an end on 8th May 1945. A number of us volunteered to assist with hay making and I spent about two weeks on a farm near Gainsborough, Lincolnshire after which we were all sent on leave for a few weeks.
As we completed the tour, we were then given a rest period and at that point we expected to be going on operations in the Far East at the later stage however the war ended there on 15th August.
As I was home on leave, I received a posting to RAF Woodbridge which was an emergency landing strip in Suffolk. There I was more or less just operating in the Flight Control Tower and also assisting in the Officers and Sergeants Mess’s with their accounting systems. I had plenty of spare time and the town of Ipswich was close by. This is where [I] and my friends were going most nights.
[page break]
One of my close friends at Woodbridge was Warrant Officer Bill Patterson, a pilot who had a lady friend called Rena in Ipswich. I was told that Rena had a lady friend who said that she would like to meet me. A date was duly arranged for the 4th November 1945 for me to meet this lady on the steps of the Post Office in Ipswich at 6 o’clock. The person that turned up was a young lady called Avis Fleet.
That evening we went with Bill and Rena as a foursome for a drink in Ipswich and we had a very pleasant time. Consequently I continued to meet Avis on a regular basis and was taken to her home on Norwich Road where I met her parents and young brother Geoffrey who was only eleven at the time. We met very regularly most days as I didn’t have much to do at Woodbridge and our friendship grew until by the end of December we had agreed to get married in 1946.
Avis and I went to my parents home in Quadring on Boxing Day and spent a few days there before returning to Ipswich. At the end of December, I was promoted to Warrant Officer which made my weekly pay Six Pounds and Eleven Shillings which at the time was pretty good money.
I continued to meet Avis regularly whilst the release groups from the RAF were in number order and I was number thirty five. With the assistance of my friend Bill Patterson who was then in the Release Centre, I went for demobilisation on 3rd April 1946. I collected my civilian outfit and returned to Ipswich to meet Avis again. Of course being released at that time meant that I had a quantity of clothing coupons which helped Avis considerably in getting her wedding outfit etc.
The wedding was arranged for the 4th May 1946 and this took place at All Saints Church Ipswich. I continued to receive pay from the RAF until the end of Mat[sic] 1946 by which time I had resumed my work as an accountant with Hodgson Harris in Spalding.
[wedding photograph]
After living with my parents for 4 or 5 weeks, I managed to obtain a furnished flat in Spalding at 13 High Street which was along by the riverside.
[page break]
In 1950 when war broke out in Korea I decided to join the RAF Reserve and this meant going to No. 9 Reserve Flying School at Doncaster. I would attend there at weekends, taking part in various flying exercises. In August 1951 as part of Reserve Training, I did two weeks camp at Topcliffe in North Yorkshire and flew in Ansons on cross country exercise which also included a trip to Malta.
The last trip I did was in an Anson in a North Sea search for the Spurn Lightship. This was on 1st February 1953. After this I was retired from the Reserve as I was over the age of twenty nine.
Whilst on Operations we had nine days leave every six weeks and all received Ten Pounds per week from Lord Nuffield (The boss of Ford Motor Co). In appreciation of our services.
Returning from leave sometimes could be worrying. In our huts there would be members from 4 or 5 different Crews and returning home some would be missing from raids. On one occasion there were members of 7 Crews in our hut and on our return from one sortie, 5 were missing. This was a huge shock!
I thoroughly enjoyed all of my time with the RAF and would say that it was as good as going to a University. I realise that I am very fortunate to be still alive at the age of 92. I now have the medals of my service history including the Bomber Command Clasp for the 1939-1945 Star.
I hope my story will be of interest to whoever may read it.
[two pages from 189 Squadron Fulbeck logbook]
[page break]
[photograph of Andrew Gaunt as sub-postmaster at Pinchbeck]
Jacks[sic] WW11 story and experiences have been brought together by Andrew Gaunt former Sub Postmaster of Pinchbeck (2000 to 2014), from recordings made by Jack of his time with the RAF and his personal recollections of events and flying missions that he was sent on. Utilising Jacks[sic] log book and researching events that he has referred to.
It seemed appropriate that I brought Jacks[sic] recollections together having myself been a fellow Wireless Operator. Being a Marine Radio Officer from 1975 to 1986 and visiting many of the ports of the Middle East that Jack transited on his journey. Ironically Merchant ships no longer have a requirement to carry an R/O. This position disappeared in the 1990’s whilst the requirement to carry a W/O on aircraft was I believe removed sometime in the 1960’s. My own experiences took me frequently into areas of conflict notably the Persian/Arabian Gulf, regularly through the then dangerous Straits of Hormuz during the Iran/Iraq war and I also have my own vivid recollections of the Iranian Revolution.
Acknowledgements are made to the following sources whose photos have been used although there appear to be many copies of the same photos on different sites.
Polish Aircrew at RAF Bramcote – polishsquadronsremembered.com
Troopship SS Otranto – britisharmedforces.org
HMS Repulse – historyofwar.org
HMS Prince of Wales – dailymail.co.uk
Troopship SS Khedive Ismail – cruiselinehistory.com
Blenheim Aircraft – spitfirespares.co.uk
WW11 map of Iraq – en.wikipedia.org
Percival Proctor Aircraft – en.wikipedia.org
De Havilland Dominie Aircraft – rafyatesbury.webs.com
Avro Anson Aircraft – uboat.net
Vickers Wellington Aircraft – aviationresearch.co.uk
Short Stirling Aircraft – aoth.17.dsl.pipex.com
“Scarecrow” phenomena – awrm.gov.au
Whilst the tragic fate of Repulse and Prince of Wales is a well known WW11 event, a lesser known event but equally tragic story lies in the fate of the SS Khedive Ismail which took Jack into the Persian Gulf in late 1941.
The SS Khedive Ismail was sunk by a Japanese submarine on 12th February 1944 with the loss of 1,297 lives. The vessel Sank in just two minutes. For more information on this terrible event visit www.roll-of-honour.com/Ships/SSKhediveIsmail.htm The story is also covered in The book “Passage To Destiny” by Paul Watkins.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Sparks in the air - Jack Smith's wartime story
Description
An account of the resource
Covers life before the war and volunteering for the RAF in August 1940. Continues with account of training as a wireless operator. Includes radio school crest and photograph of a Battle aircraft. Describes voyage from Liverpool via Cape Town then escorted by HMS Repulse and Prince of Wales to Bombay (Mumbai) and then onward to Basrah in Iraq. Eventually arrived at RAF Sharjah in the United Arab Emirates and describes life and work on this station. Describes medical issues and subsequent posting to RAF Habbaniya in Iraq. Goes on to describe journey back to England overland via Gaza, Cairo and Alexandria thence by ship. Continues aircrew training at RAF Madley and Llandwrog in Wales. Includes photographs of Proctor, Dominie and Anson. Describes crewing up and starting operations on Wellington aircraft. He continues with postings to heavy conversion units and Lancaster finishing school before joining 189 Squadron at RAF Fulbeck. Describes in detail operations from December 1944 to April 1945. Mentions repatriating prisoners of war and Cook's tour to see damage to German cities. Describes life after the war including his marriage. Includes photographs of Wellington. Stirling, night bombing, wedding and page from log book..
Creator
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A Gaunt
J Smith
Format
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Twenty page printed book with b/w photographs
Identifier
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BSmithJSmithJv1-2
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Spalding
England--Cheshire
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
England--Wiltshire
England--Liverpool
South Africa
South Africa--Cape Town
South Africa--Durban
India
India--Mumbai
Iraq
Iraq--Baṣrah
United Arab Emirates
Iraq--Ḥabbānīyah
Gaza Strip--Gaza
Egypt--Cairo
Egypt--Alexandria
England--Herefordshire
England--Northamptonshire
Wales--Gwynedd
England--Nottinghamshire
Germany
Germany--Heilbronn
Germany--Giessen (Hesse)
Poland
Poland--Gdynia
Belgium
Belgium--Houffalize
Germany--Wolfsburg (Lower Saxony)
France
France--Royan
Czech Republic
Germany--Karlsruhe
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Dresden
Germany--Leipzig
Germany--Dortmund
Atlantic Ocean--Oslofjorden
Germany--Würzburg
Germany--Wesel (North Rhine-Westphalia)
Germany--Nordhausen (Thuringia)
Belgium--Brussels
Germany--Flensburg
Poland--Police (Województwo Zachodniopomorskie)
Scotland--Moray
Egypt
Gaza Strip
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Czech Republic--Most
United Arab Emirates--Shāriqah (Emirate)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1937
1940-09
1940-11-04
1941-03
1941-08-31
1943-02
1943-12
1944-04
1944-06-12
1944-08-24
1944-11-09
1944-12-04
1944-12-06
1944-12-19
1944-12
1944-12-30
1945-01-01
1945-01-04
1945-01-16
1945-01-13
1945-02-01
1945-02-02
1945-02-07
1945-02-13
1945-02-14
1945-02-20
1945-02-23
1945-03-14
1945-03-16
1945-03-20
1945-03-23
1945-04-03
1945-04-23
1945-05-06
1945-05
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Bloomfield
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
1661 HCU
17 OTU
189 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
aircrew
Anson
Battle
Blenheim
bombing of Dresden (13 - 15 February 1945)
Cook’s tour
crewing up
Dominie
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
military living conditions
Morse-keyed wireless telegraphy
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operational Training Unit
Proctor
RAF Bramcote
RAF Compton Bassett
RAF Fulbeck
RAF Llandwrog
RAF Madley
RAF Milltown
RAF Padgate
RAF Silverstone
RAF Syerston
RAF Turweston
RAF Winthorpe
RAF Woodbridge
recruitment
Scarecrow
Stirling
training
Wellington
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/641/32465/BSmithJSmithJv1.1.pdf
06d252abf25757870b967f73da7e1fc8
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Smith, Jack
John George Smith
J G Smith
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Smith, JG
Description
An account of the resource
Three items. An oral history interview with John 'Jack' Smith (1921 -2019) and his memoirs. He flew operations as a wireless operator with 189 Squadron.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by John Smith and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Sparks in the air - Jack Smith's wartime story
Description
An account of the resource
Second version. Covers life before the war and volunteering for the RAF in August 1940. Continues with account of training as a wireless operator. Includes radio school crest and photograph of a Battle aircraft. Describes voyage from Liverpool via Cape Town then escorted by HMS Repulse and Prince of Wales to Bombay (Mumbai) and then onward to Basrah in Iraq. Eventually arrived at RAF Sharjah in the United Arab Emirates and describes life and work on this station. Describes medical issues and subsequent posting to RAF Habbaniya in Iraq. Goes on to describe journey back to England overland via Gaza, Cairo and Alexandria thence by ship. Continues aircrew training at RAF Madley and Llandwrog in Wales. Includes photographs of Proctor, Dominie and Anson. Describes crewing up and starting operations on Wellington aircraft. He continues with postings to heavy conversion units and Lancaster finishing school before joining 189 Squadron at RAF Fulbeck. Describes in detail operations from December 1944 to April 1945. Mentions repatriating prisoners of war and Cook's tour to see damage to German cities. Describes life after the war including his marriage. Includes photographs of Wellington. Stirling, night bombing, wedding and page from log book.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
A Gaunt
J Smith
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Twenty-eight page printed document
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BSmithJSmithJv1
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Spalding
England--Cheshire
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
England--Wiltshire
England--Liverpool
South Africa
South Africa--Cape Town
South Africa--Durban
India
India--Mumbai
Iraq
Iraq--Baṣrah
United Arab Emirates
Iraq--Ḥabbānīyah
Gaza Strip--Gaza
Egypt--Cairo
Egypt--Alexandria
England--Herefordshire
England--Northamptonshire
Wales--Gwynedd
England--Nottinghamshire
Germany
Germany--Heilbronn
Germany--Giessen (Hesse)
Poland
Poland--Gdynia
Belgium
Belgium--Houffalize
Germany--Wolfsburg (Lower Saxony)
France
France--Royan
Czech Republic
Germany--Karlsruhe
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Dresden
Germany--Leipzig
Germany--Dortmund
Atlantic Ocean--Oslofjorden
Germany--Würzburg
Germany--Wesel (North Rhine-Westphalia)
Germany--Nordhausen (Thuringia)
Belgium--Brussels
Germany--Flensburg
Poland--Police (Województwo Zachodniopomorskie)
Scotland--Moray
Egypt
Gaza Strip
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Czech Republic--Most
United Arab Emirates--Shāriqah (Emirate)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1937
1940-09
1940-11-04
1941-03
1941-08-31
1943-02
1944-04
1944-06-12
1944-08-24
1944-11-09
1944-12-04
1944-12-06
1944-12-19
1944-12
1944-12-30
1945-01-01
1945-01-04
1945-01-16
1945-01-13
1945-02-01
1945-02-02
1945-02-07
1945-02-13
1945-02-14
1945-02-20
1945-02-23
1945-03-14
1945-03-16
1945-03-20
1945-03-23
1945-04-03
1945-04-23
1945-05-06
1945-05
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
1661 HCU
17 OTU
189 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
aircrew
Anson
Battle
Blenheim
bombing
bombing of Dresden (13 - 15 February 1945)
Cook’s tour
crewing up
Dominie
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
love and romance
military living conditions
Morse-keyed wireless telegraphy
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operational Training Unit
Proctor
RAF Bramcote
RAF Compton Bassett
RAF Fulbeck
RAF Llandwrog
RAF Madley
RAF Milltown
RAF Padgate
RAF Silverstone
RAF Syerston
RAF Turweston
RAF Winthorpe
RAF Woodbridge
recruitment
Stirling
training
Wellington
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/774/30939/BWoolfASWoolfASv1.2.pdf
f62f9d2147ca2ccc8cd92af5c543242e
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Woolf, Arthur Sidney
A S Woolf
Description
An account of the resource
23 items. An oral history interview with Flying Officer Arthur Woolf (1922 - 2021, 1579552, 157533 Royal Air Force) his log book, a memoir, correspondence, documents, a newspaper cutting and photographs. He flew operations as a wireless operator with 630 Squadron and became a member of the Guinea Pig Club.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Arthur Woolf and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-06-29
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Woolf, AS
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[Air Crew Association Badge]
ROYAL AIRFORCE [sic] CAREER & EXPERIENCES IN WORLD WAR TWO.
F/O ARTHUR S. WOOLF.
No. 630 Squadron, No. 5 Group.
BOMBER COMMAND.
[page break]
[photograph]
R.A.F. CAREER AND EXPERIENCES IN WW2.
F/O ARTHUR S. WOOLF.
630 SQUADRON. No.5 GROUP.
[page break]
[Bomber Command Crest]
[5 Group Headquarters Crest] [630 Squadron Crest]
[page break]
R.A.F. CAREER AND EXPERIENCES IN WW2.
F/O ARTHUR S. WOOLF.
As a youngster I was always thrilled by the thought of flying, so volunteered for aircrew and eventually in 1941 reported to Padgate R.A.F. Recruitment Centre at the age of 19. I was very much a home-loving boy from a close-knit family of just four, my older brother being already in the R.A.F. was serving in the Middle East.
I was first posted to Blackpool for 'square bashing', morse code training etc. Then on to Yatesbury in Wiltshire, No.2 Radio School, after which, due apparently to a 'log jam' of trainees (or a cock-up of some sort!) we were all individually posted out to various U.K. R.A.F. stations for "Radio experience". In my case this was to Martlesham Heath, an old pre-war airfield a few miles north of Ipswich on the east coast, where I became one of the station's Signal Section, though I still wore my white flash in my forage cap and was still untrained aircrew. It was here that I 'cadged' my very first and very unofficial flight, it was on one of my off duty days. Of all things it was in an old Walrus aircraft of the Air-Sea Rescue Squadron based there. I was crammed into the tiny space available and we chugged down the East coast just a few feet above the sea. I was thrilled to pieces!.
My second flight, this time semi-official, was in a Hampden on a practice bombing trip to Orford Ness bombing range just off the east coast, when I was supposed to try to fix a u/s radio. My, I was really progressing. From a Walrus to a Hampden! I must have been mad to go anyway near either of them, but where ignorance is bliss.......
After seven or eight months at Martlesham I was posted to the Aircrew Reception Centre at St. Johns Wood, London, much to my disgust. This seemed very much like a backward step in my R.A.F. career, just doing more 'square bashing' in the local streets, but it only lasted a couple of weeks or so, when I was then moved to I.T.W. at Bridgenorth. At the end of this course, at the Passing-Out Parade, it was announced that I had achieved the highest pass marks in all the various subjects ever attained since this course had commenced and I was presented with two hundred cigarettes to mark the occasion. Being a non-smoker at that time my colleagues benefited [sic]!
My next posting was to Yatesbury again, but this time on a more advanced signals course which included flying, officially this time, on air signals training, first in De Haviland Dominies, and later in Proctors. I continued obtaining high marks in virtually all subjects and just prior to the final tests and in the middle of lectures one morning I was told to
R.A.F. Career and Experiences in WW2. Page 1
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report to the Adjutant. Without being told why, I was questioned by him at length about my family background, my education and further studies, my interests etc., and then dismissed back to normal training with the rest of the squad. At the end of this course and before being posted to A.F.U. at Dumfries in Scotland, we were given our three stripes, although it was stressed that we were still under training and we were not to think that we could go throwing our weight around as "real sergeants"!
The A.F.U. course at Dumfries, where we flew in Ansons, lasted some two months or so and followed by O.T.U. at Upper Heyford, flying in Wellingtons, the faithful old "Wimpeys". It was here that we crewed up and it was done in the following manner. Each category of aircrew was told that they had so many days in which to find a crew, otherwise they would be "appointed" and teamed up with the "leftovers". We all felt that this would be a bit of a scourge and was to be avoided at all costs. In my own case, that evening I got talking to a Navigator type who said that he had just teamed up with the 'Yank' Pilot, Bill Adams who had crossed over from the U.S.A. into Canada to join the R.C.A.F. before the U.S. entered the war. Needless to say I agree to be their Wireless Operator and in no time at all we had a full crew, comprising a 'Yank' Pilot, and a 'Yank' Mid-Upper Gunner who had also crossed into Canada to join the R.C.A.F., a 'Canadian' Bomb Aimer (commissioned), a 'Canadian' Rear-Gunner, and three 'Brits'., one of whom was a 'Welshman' in fact.
Before we had even begun our 'Wimpey' circuits-and-bumps I was, for the second time in my R.A.F. training career, told to report to the Adjutant, where I was told, to my great astonishment, that I had been awarded my Commission. I was given a travel warrant, countless clothing coupons and a 48 hour pass to get home to Birmingham to buy all my Officer requirements, – a very extensive list was provided. For the next few weeks I almost felt like a Blackpool 'sprog' again, walking around in my brand new Pilot Officer uniform, especially in the Officer's Mess, but before too long I became Flying Officer, my uniform got to look more 'seasoned' and I became more used to the required "Officer and Gentleman" code.
After finishing our Upper Heyford O.T.U. course, during which as a crew we became quite 'bonded', possibly due as much to our off-duty time together (i.e. drinking sessions and such) as to our actual flying and training together, we were posted to Scampton.
Here, among much else, I attended courts martial, strictly under instruction I hasten to add!
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Our next move, as a crew, was to Conversion Unit No. 1654 at Wigsley, flying four-engined aircraft for the first time, the dreaded Stirling. We duly experienced here the usual type of problem that seemed to be associated with this aircraft when all flying was cancelled for a few days because of undercarriage problems. This was whilst an Air Ministry modification requirement was incorporated into all the Stations' Aircraft. It was at this time that I learned how to "play the dice" (the game of crap) from my American and Canadian co-trainees and enjoyed quite a slice of beginners luck.
Finally our last posting in training was to No.5 Lancaster Flying School at Syerston for a surprisingly rather brief conversion on to Lanc's., consisting of only sixteen hours flying training in this beautiful aircraft, over a period of two weeks. During this time I did however, on one of our training flights out over the Wash, manage to wangle a "go" in the rear turret for the one and only time and to fire off the guns into the sea.
Then we waited with somewhat bated breath and some excitement to hear which Squadron in No.5 Group we were to go to. This was to be No.630 Squadron at East Kirkby in the fenlands of Lincolnshire, about 14 miles from Boston; we were driven off in a van with all our gear, joking and laughing but all of us I think, wondering what the immediate future held.
We were allocated to 'B' Flight and the first week was spent in settling in and on day and night checks and training flights, during which time Bill Adams, our Pilot, went as "second dickie" on an operational flight. Then came our first "trip", which was to Saumer in central France to bomb an important railway junction, a flight of about 6½ hours. Boy! did that aircrew breakfast in the Mess (with an egg!) taste good after debriefing. It was a good feeling with our first "op" safely under our belt, and our initial fears now faced up to and if not overcome, then at least dealt with.
So we settled into a[deleted]n[/deleted] very busy and very exciting life. We were involved just a few hours before the D-day landings, bombing a heavy coastal battery in a bid to help to weaken the enemy defences against our invading forces.
At the briefing we were given dire warnings not to stray from the unusually circuitous route and we guessed that this was "it", the long awaited invasion of Europe, which was confirmed on awakening the following day.
In our first three weeks of action we did nine operational flights and the last of these, which was to Wesseling, just south of Cologne, to bomb a synthetic oil plant, was the "hairiest". From the time we crossed the Dutch coast to the target and back again we continuously encountered German
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night fighters, searchlights and/or heavy ack-ack, we saw many aircraft going down in flames in the darkness.
Of the thirty or so aircraft despatched from East Kirkby (Nos. 630 & 57 Squadrons) eleven were lost (77 men)!
Our ops. continued, to many varying types of targets. During one of these, on our return journey we were attacked from below by a Junkers 88 being used as a night fighter; although we immediately went into the conventional corkscrew avoiding action, his first gunburst caused some damage to the rear of the aircraft and the rear turret was put completely out of action. We were a sitting duck but either by complete luck or by brilliant shooting, Johnny Keisow, our U.S.A. Mid-Upper Gunner, scored "a Hit" although he was catching only occasional brief glimpses of the JU 88 due to the corkscrew action of our aircraft. The attack on us immediately ceased and the enemy aircraft started pulling away on a long sweep on to a reciprocal course away from us. We were able to resume normal flight and from the astrodome I was able to watch as the JU 88, now with flames coming from it, gradually lost height and after a while disappeared into the cloud-base below. We felt like giving three cheers over the intercom but it was strictly necessary to be particularly alert at this possible vulnerable time in case [inserted] any [/inserted] of the JU 88's "mates" were in the vicinity.
Our 13th op. was a daylight raid on vital bridges and German troop concentrations at Caen, where the Allied ground advance had been seriously held up. It was exciting being able for the first time to see "what was going on" in the lovely dawn sunrise, though again the ack-ack was extremely formidable and I saw a Lanc., flying in alongside us, across the French coast, receive a direct hit and just disintegrate into fragments, and any member of the crew possibly surviving was out of the question. It came as something of a shock, actually seeing the moment of destruction so close at hand, it was a case of "There [inserted] but [/inserted] for the grace of God go I".
The 14th trip was, surprisingly, also a daylight op., this time to an aircraft factory at Thiverney, a few miles north of Paris.
So on to the night of 24/25th July 1944, our 16th op., which was to Stuttgart. All went well until we were approximately over the French/German border when we were suddenly attacked by a night-fighter and suffered very considerable damage, which included the loss of our port inner engine and, not least of all, yours truly. I had been hit in the left hip and buttock and quite soon was losing blood at quite a rate. We were in some trouble and our Pilot quickly decided that we must abort the op., ditch the bombs, then head back, hoping to reach Allied Forces territory in northern France on
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which to crash-land, or to bale out. Soon however, flames began licking from the damaged engine and within a very short time the flames grew and spread rapidly and we were told to bale out. I was by now, not in a very good condition and I remember wondering whether I was going to "make it". I remember virtually nothing of getting out of the aircraft or of my parachute descent but the next thing I knew was coming-to in a field in the dark, with my parachute all around me and in addition to earlier wounds, an absolutely agonising pain in my left thigh.
On hearing voices I shouted and it proved to be a French farming family out looking for survivors of the stricken aircraft. I was carried on a step-ladder which was used as a stretcher, to a barn and there laid on straw. The French lady was extremely caring, constantly bathing my forehead and also feeding me soup.
Sometime after daybreak a French gendarme arrived and after earnest conversation with my "hosts" departed and it was not too long after there was the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside, followed by the appearance of a German soldier in the doorway. My heart sank into my shoes! I was taken in a small truck to a P.O.W. hospital in Nancy, in eastern France, where, I learned much later, I was the first 'Brit' to arrive, the other existing patients being mainly French Colonial troops, many of them originally captured in North Africa.
My first week there is more than a little vague in my mind, during which I was, apparently, somewhat delirious, due to delayed treatment for my broken femur, and probably my other wounds. Later, though still painful, my leg was put in traction by means of weights suspended from cords on pulleys over the end of my bed from a 'pin' through my knee. The resulting agony if anyone as much as brushed by [inserted] the [/inserted] weights was intense! Eventually however, after some weeks, my leg was put into what should have been plaster but was actually more like concrete, and with no padding.
This cast covered my lower torso from the waist and then on down to the ball of my left foot and on drying out became extremely tight around my ankle, I was unable to get the staff even to examine it, so I had to put up with the agony I was in.
Food was very poor, consisting largely of black beans and some sort of macaroni just boiled in water. How I longed for the lovely breakfasts and meals we had in our mess in "Blighty". We did get some Red Cross parcels which were a Godsend.
Then, suddenly, after all sorts of rumours about how near the Allied Forces were, the Germans decided to evacuate the whole hospital to Germany, with the exception of four of us, who they considered were too ill to move. We four were moved down into a cellar below the hospital and a French
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Army doctor and a French Colonial orderly were left to look after us.
One of the other three 'types' was Dickie Richardson, an R.A.F. Wireless Operator, who had been transferred from another hospital, and was very severely burned over much of his body, – he was blind, and had a hand amputated. In spite of all this and being bandaged literally from head to foot he was a wonderful character. He was a Midlander, from Worcester, knew Birmingham, and there was something of a natural affinity between us in the particular circumstances. We spent about 10 days in the cellar, fed by local nuns. Towards the end of that period shell-fire broke out on the town above (at our ceiling level), which was later followed by small-arms fire, and then we could hear tremendous cheering; the Yanks (General Patton's U.S. Third Army) had arrived!
Within a short time a U.S. infantry lieutenant had somehow been directed to us in the cellar. Cigarettes were the first order of the day. Soon after his departure U.S. 'medics' arrived to give us some basic and much needed medical attention.
Within an hour army ambulances had arrived and we were transported to a field hospital, all under canvas and a few miles from Nancy.
Subsequent transfers to other field hospitals again under canvas, took us further west during the next few days but to my dismay 'Dickie' and I became separated and I was quite upset because I somehow felt 'responsible' for him. During these moves, and much to my utter relief, my 'plaster' cast was removed by the U.S. medics, the old one was replaced by a much better quality padded cast, only to reveal two very large gangrenous-like wounds on the instep and heel of my foot, caused by the too-tight cast.
I was eventually flown back from Verdun to an airfield somewhere near Reading. I was the only 'Limey' in the hospital plane, a Dakota, the rest being all U.S. infantry stretcher cases, virtually straight from the front lines. In due course I arrived at R.A.F. Hospital, Wroughton, near Swindon, where I was treated for about two months before being transported to the Queen Victoria Hospital at East Grinstead in Sussex, the hospital base of the world famous plastic surgeon, Archibald McIndoe (later knighted), the most impressive and wonderful person I ever met and knew in my whole life. To my surprise and delight I was settled into a bed just next-but-one to 'Dickie' Richardson!
Although by comparison to most of the other patients here, who were all fliers, my medical problems seemed small, as they mostly had all been terribly burned. Even so, the gangrenous matter in my foot had eaten through three of the tendons and I came close to having the foot amputated, but in the end this was avoided and I underwent numerous skin-
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grafting operations and duly qualified as one of Archie McIndoe's (the Boss) Guinea Pigs, a matter of which I am very proud.
My hospital treatment lasted some fifteen months in all. Following this I was medically discharged from the R.A.F. but my Guinea Pig friends have remained my dearest and closest over the ensuing years since 1944 and our Annual Reunions in East Grinstead, lasting for three or four days, are something special, though only about 25% of us still survive, of which some sixty or so are now fit and well enough to attend. 'Dickie' Richardson remained a very wonderful friend and character in spite of his blindness and all his other incapacities until he passed away three years ago in 1997.
Just a few years ago after the end of the war, having through the International Red Cross, traced the whereabouts of the French farming family Dupré, who had found me and looked after me that night in 1944, I wrote to them, sent them parcels, later motored across France with my wife, on route to an Italian holiday, to meet them again and to thank them. I was greeted with flags and bunting strung across from building to building in this so very rural and tiny hamlet of Tramont Lassus in eastern France and though there were some language problems, with the aid of books, paper, arms, hands, my whiskey and their home-made Mirabelle spirit, a great time was had by all! During the day I was taken to the barn in which I had lain and also some distance across the fields etc. was shown the site of our Lanc's final demise, there still, though a little overgrown were the five indentations in the earth of our aircraft's nose and four engines, with small pieces of metal still around, one of which I was able to bring home as a souvenir. I still have it.
Many years later in the mid-1980's I had the irresistible urge to trace my old surviving crew-mates again, our two Gunners, Ross Lough (Canada) and Johnny Keisow (U.S.A.) both having been killed when we were shot down.
What a task it turned out to be and in all took me over three years. My file just grew and grew as I corresponded with all sorts of organisations, associations, groups and individuals in the U.S.A., Canada and the U.K. and finally succeeded as follows:-
Pilot, Bill Adams (U.S.A.): Died in Boston U.S.A in 1979.
Flt/Eng. Trev. Tanner: Although Welsh, settled in Western Canada and just after the war and together with my wife, I visited him on two or three occasions prior to his death in 1998.
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After our 'set-to' in 1944, shortly after bailing out, the above two teamed up and were taken under the wing of a French family, again farmers, and awaited the arrival of the Allied troops pushing east. They eventually reached the U.K. safely.
Bomb Aimer, Eddie Wood ("Woodie") (Canada): Lives in Hamilton, Ontario, and I am in regular touch, having also visited him, in the company of my wife.
Navigator, R.A. ("George") Toogood: lives in Radstock, near Bath, the nearest, yet was the most difficult to trace. We are now in regular touch and meet once or twice a year with our wives.
These two also got together after safely bailing out and undertook the very daunting and sometimes dangerous walk to neutral Switzerland, where they were interned, in reasonable conditions, until they were repatriated to the U.K.
So to the present and our autumn years. My wife and I live quietly and contentedly. I am Member (No. 1367) of the Aircrew Association, Solihull Branch, whose monthly meetings I attend as often as possible and at whose request I have put my memories on paper.
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[photograph]
A/C Arthur Woolf age 19 years in 1941
[photograph]
Flying Officer A.S. Woolf recovering in an R.A.F. hospital in the West Country. November 1944.
[page break]
[photograph]
Photograph taken in the 1950's at Tramont Lassus, Eastern France with the French family Dupré, my 'saviours' on 24/25th July 1944.
From left to right
Rose, Myself, Charles, Henri with Mère in front.
Dublin Core
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Title
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Flying Officer Arthur S Woolf - RAF career and experiences in WW2
Description
An account of the resource
First page has head and shoulders portrait of Arthur Woolf wearing uniform tunic with half brevet, medal ribbons and peaked cap. Next page has badges for Bomber Command, 5 Group and 630 Squadron.
Covers joining the RAF at age 19 and training at Blackpool, Yatesbury as radio operator and subsequently at Martlesham and Bridgnorth. Crewing up at RAF Upper Heyford while on OTU flying Wellington. This was followed by four engine training on Stirling then Lancaster before posting to 630 Squadron at RAF East Kirkby. Describes operations mentioning types of target, losses, attack by Ju-88. Continues with account of daylight operation to Caen and later Paris. Describes operation to Stuttgart in July 1944 when they were attacked by night fighter and badly damaged as well as he being injured. After aborting the operation fire forced them to bale out. Continues with account of his injuries, capture, transfer to and experiences at POW hospital near Nancy. Describes liberation by American forces and being flown back to England and then to RAF Hospital. Concludes with account of 15 month hospital treatment, discharge from the RAF, membership of the Guinea Pig Club and trying to trace members of his crew in the mid 1980s. At the end photographs of Arthur Woolf, of him in hospital and of the French family who helped him after he was shot down and injured.
Creator
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A S Woolf
Format
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Thirteen page printed document with b/w and colour photographs
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Photograph
Text. Memoir
Identifier
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BWoolfASWoolfASv1
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
United States Army
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
England--Shropshire
England--Suffolk
Scotland--Dumfries and Galloway
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Lincolnshire
Germany
Germany--Cologne
France
France--Caen
France--Paris
Germany--Stuttgart
France
France--Nancy
France--Verdun
England--Berkshire
England--Reading
France--Meurthe-et-Moselle
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
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1944-07-24
1944-07-25
1941
1944-11
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
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Babs Nichols
5 Group
630 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
aircrew
Anson
bale out
bombing
C-47
crewing up
Dominie
Guinea Pig Club
Hampden
Heavy Conversion Unit
Initial Training Wing
Ju 88
killed in action
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
McIndoe, Archibald (1900-1960)
military discipline
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Operational Training Unit
prisoner of war
Proctor
promotion
RAF Bridgnorth
RAF Dumfries
RAF East Kirkby
RAF Martlesham Heath
RAF Scampton
RAF Syerston
RAF Upper Heyford
RAF Wigsley
RAF Wroughton
RAF Yatesbury
shot down
Stirling
training
Walrus
Wellington
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1519/30375/BGambleATGambleATv1.2.pdf
2657924e2f12afbc9e2eaea6afe49c54
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
620 Squadron
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-06-23
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
620 Squadron
Description
An account of the resource
Twenty-three items. The collection concerns 620 Squadron and contains photographic slides or aircraft and places, an autobiography of Alan T Gamble, wireless operator training school documents, a memoir of operations on D-Day by Noel Chaffey and a short biography of him as well as noted of crews lost on 620 Squadron during Arnhem operation.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Darren Sladden and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[underlined] WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE [/underlined]
By
ALAN T. GAMBLE
[line of stars]
[underlined] PART ONE [/underlined]
[underlined] “BY THE SEAT OF HIS PANTS” [/underlined]
[line of stars]
[underlined] PART TWO [/underlined]
[underlined] “NO PROBLEM SPORT” [/underlined]
[line of stars]
[page break]
TO THE MEMORY OF THE AIRCREW
OF
BOMBER COMMAND
WHO WERE KILLED OR MISSING
IN
OPERATIONS OVER EUROPE
1939—1945
[line of O’s]
[page break]
THERE ARE OLD PILOTS AND BOLD PILOTS
BUT
VERY FEW
OLD….BOLD PILOTS
Anon.
[page break]
[underlined] FORWARD [/underlined]
Like most impressionable youngsters I had ambitions; notwithstanding the fact that ambition is one thing and the chance of achieving it is something quite different.
In those early days I was not aware that there were so many factors involved. The only one that seemed obvious to me then was opportunity, or the lack of it, but on reflection it is obvious that both ability and motivation were most certainly lacking.
With the most important ingredients that one needed to guide one's path in life missing. I was stuck in a rut which seemed to be the normal lot of an average child from an average working family, although there may well have been a spark of a Walter Mitty trying to get out.
I had developed an interest in all things mechanical from bicycles to motor bikes then cars and aeroplanes. As far as aeroplanes were concerned I could not get enough of them. I read everything I could lay my hands on. I made models. I went to air shows to be thrilled by Alan Cobhams Flying Circus at Shoreham and to Tangmere for Air Days. On one occasion my hand built bicycle took me as far as Hendon for the Air Pageant and more thrills.
I once watched one of the giant German airships, the Hindenburg, cruise in from the Channel between Worthing and Lancing on it's way to Cardington, never suspecting that in a few years time there would be more lethal visitors following the same path.
Those early days were full of the exploits of aviators. Scott and Black and the original Comet. Amy Johnstone and Jim Mollison. The Schneider Trophy attempts and new records being made all the time by intrepid aviators on transatlantic and round the world flights from places like Hendon and other mysterious outposts of civilisation such as Mildenhall!.
For me to ever come into close contact with aeroplanes looked like remaining a schoolboy dream forever.
My schooling was not spectacular. I reached no academic heights. I could not even qualify for High School. I don't think I ever
[page break]
had a school leaving certificate but if there was one perhaps the kindest comment that could ever have been made on it would have been "goodbye"!.
On leaving school I had taken up an apprenticeship as a cabinet maker/polisher and the years passed by as the world lurched from one crisis to another until the prospect of another war loomed on the horizon.
Eventually the day came when ultimatums were given and promises were broken which resulted in the Prime Minister broadcasting the declaration of war against the German Nazi State over the radio on 3rd September 1939.
I had already made tentative enquiries about joining the RAF which attracted me like a magnet. Perhaps that is when I should have joined but I didn't; and the story that unfolds is the result.
[line of stars]
[page break]
It is difficult to describe one's feelings at the time of a declaration of full scale war in the knowledge that is was likely to be a very messy business.
For myself I could only recall all the stories that my father and my uncles had related of all the horrors that they had experienced or that they knew of and it was only 21 years since the last terrible conflict had ended with all of the human debris and suffering still evident in everyday life.
Even the Sunday walks along the prom. at Worthing were not without their reminders, with the war wounded from a nearby base being taken out in their basket chairs. They were the blinded and the limbless and those with such disfiguring injuries that they had so be covered with netting to avoid upsetting the kids or the sensibilities of some people whose war had only meant a few shortages and would rather that such unfortunates were kept out of sight.
There seemed hardly a family that had not lost a loved one, some having disappeared from the face of the earth with no resting place, and it looked as if we were going to have to go through it all again.
I had a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach as I made my way to the front garden gate with my friends after we had heard the broadcast by the Prime Minister; “....we are at war with Germany .....”. We were very quiet for a while as we contemplated what it was going to mean to us all and were each busy with our own thoughts when the wailing of the air raid siren jolted us back to reality.
As is turned out it was a false alarm but it certainly go things moving. Almost before the siren whined down an Air Raid Warden dashed by on his bike frantically ringing his hand bell and shouting to us to take cover which made very little impression on us except to shout back and tell him what to do with his bell. After that initial jolt the conversation turned to what we were going to do about it as there was little doubt to our minds, at our age, we were bound to be involved and would be likely to join a lot of our other friends who had already joined the services.
[page break]
I had made up my mind that it was going to be the Air Force for me but it was a long time before it was possible to get anything near what I wanted.
Every time I went to the recruiting office I found that their priorities did not coincide with mine and in the end I left it in the lap of the Gods.
Shortly before my 20th birthday I was called up!.
A great deal had already happened. Norway and Denmark had been lost to German domination and most of the continent of Europe was under the NAZI jackboot.
We had suffered serious setbacks all over the world and our resources were stretched to the limit. We had fought the Battle of Britian [sic] and only won it by the skin of our teeth. The threat of invasion of our shores still hung over us, which I and a good many others, as civilians, had been prepared to defend in the uniform of the LDV. (Local Defence Volunteers), later to be renamed 'The Home Guard' or more affectionately known later as 'Dads Army'.
I still wanted to change my kharki [sic] uniform for a blue one so when the time came it was 'in for a penny-in for a pound', I volunteered for aircrew; and much to my surprise, was accepted. There were still hurdles to be overcome like the medical examination and that was a tough one but when it case to deciding the aircrew category that I wanted the selection board and I had a little problem.
With so many young men joining, mostly with ambitions to become a pilot like myself, there was little chance for me with my educational qualifications; or lack of them!
They said No to pilot, No to Navigator, and No to Flight Engineer, which was actually my second choice, but they finally agreed that I might make the grade as a Wireless Operator/Air Gunner. That was good enough for me, especially as there were a lot of other things that I did not want to be!.
That was it, and I still had a chance of getting into the air but it took a long time. Nearly two years; and not without a few ups and downs along the way and a lot of hard work to make up for my mis-spent youth.
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With a great deal of excitement I followed the instructions that I had been given and found my way to Cardington in February 1941 for 'induction', which seemed to me to be a new word for a monstrous machine that devoured humans but had none of the glamour that I had expected of the place that I had previously known from news reels and books. The home of the airship.
Anyone that went through that routine will recall that as soon as the gates were behind you and you got a number that is all you were.
Most areas were out of bounds and we were confined to camp. No longer was our life our own so I suppose it is not surprising that I only saw the airship sheds close up on one occasion whilst I was there.
I saw more of a highly polished floor under my nose, and of the plumbing of the latrines, and the mess kitchens on fatigue detail and of uniform beds and uniform lockers and contents until I was utterly sick of the sight and smell of boot polish, floor polish, metal polish, stained porcelain and disinfectant and stacks of greasy tins.
It did not take long to learn that everything was best done by numbers if I was going to survive without getting into too much trouble.
There was the one time that I made the mistake of allowing myself some original thought when I forget that airman were not supposed to think and that the order of the day was still "yours is not to reason why, yours is but to do and die". The very backbone of blind discipline, in that terrible place.
One wet day the hut sprung a leak allowing a steady drip of water to splash onto our brightly polished stove in it's immaculately whitened surround next to a highly burnished coal bin which contained a load of rubbish under a carefully placed top layer of dusted and polished coal.
I would go as far as to suggest that the coal was kept just for inspection time and was otherwise locked away, whilst we did our best to burn the rubbish and the dust. With very little success of course.
The net result was that the leak was threatening to destroy all of our hard work just before an inspection by an officer was due.
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It seemed that the easiest thing to do was just to place a fire bucket on the stove until the last moment but the Sergeant in charge had different ideas when he came in for his final look around.
I was left speechless after a good dressing down for mis-use of fire fighting equipment when the offending bucket had been removed from the hot stove and the guilty person identified.
He roared; as only Sergeants can, "you, can't put out a fire with 'ot water you stupid airman: what are you?". By that time I had also learned in a very short space of time that the safest thing to do was agree with anyone with stripes on his arm, and admit sheepishly,to the accusation.
After that it was just a case of keeping the head down and only doing what I was told to do in that soul destroying place and hope that my turn would come later.
Most of my off duty time; and there was not such of that, was spent resting or sleeping. I was too damn tired to do such else after being on the go for about 14 hours a day.
It was obviously more than some people could take and it was not unusual at night to hear a little weeping going on in the darkness by someone who was finding it particularly hard going. Our civilian clothes and most of our personal posessions [sic] were sent home in a cardboard box at the RAF's expense and then we belonged to the Air Force body and soul. After that it was just a matter of settling down and running around like headless chickens.
We learned all the basic things that were expected of us. Who and who not to salute and how. Great chunks of Air Force Law and the Air Force Act were thrust down our throats, including the riot act; to leave us in no doubt what-so-ever as to the very meaning of the word 'discipline' as applied to the forces of the Crown.
It was definitely "yours is not to reason why" etc,...and after three weeks of agony, having been confined to camp all of that time, we were considered fit to go out in public with our bright new uniforms and partially shaven heads.
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Going out in public did not mean that we were free. We went in a large party by train, more or less under escort of several NCO's and were delivered to a unit at Skegness for more 'square bashing'.
After being herded and marched about we eventually finished up being allocated billets in what had previously been holiday boarding houses, but there was a difference. Air Force beds and the three 'biscuit' sections of mattress had taken the place of the more comfortable Slumberlands that pre-war paying guests had enjoyed, and as many as possible had been packed into each room.
We were rounded up every morning and marched about and drilled first without rifles and than with, and drilled some more, and then some more until at times I wondered if my feet still belonged to me. They finished up a mass of blisters on top of blisters until a visit to the MO determined that synthetic soled boots did not agree with me and the inflamation [sic] subsided after changing to leather. How glad I was that I had not gone into the Army. I wondered if they would have been as sympathetic?.
At last we were moulded by our drill instructors into regimented lumps of humanity and with the passing out parade in sight there was considerable competition to be the best flight on parade.
Well; among the instructors anyway.
My efforts made sure that we were not!.
It was still common practice in those days to wear such things as sock suspenders as socks were not made to stay up on their own any more than trousers were, so it was not unusual for me to be wearing them.
Unfortunately one of mine came adrift on the march as we pounded our way towards the saluting base with rifles and fixed bayonets. It was causing a bit of a problem as the chap behind me kept crashing his No.9's down on the trailing bit and although it was a bit of a lurching job as it twanged it's way back I am sure we could have got away with it.
Nevertheless, a young officer on the flank worked his way across and came alongside me as I was in the outside file, and hissed out of the corner of his mouth, "step out of line and fix that quickly", so I did.
I stepped smartly out of line by half a pace and bent down to
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rip off the offending article but half a pace was not enough. Four others tumbled over the top of me in a tangle of arms legs and rifles.
We managed to recover sufficiently, minus a sock suspender, to get back in line before we marched past the saluting base but it goes without saying that there were some very red faces. I was of course carpeted by the flight commander and threatened with all sorts of punishments and it was the first time that I had been on a charge of any sort. I'm not sure what the charge was though but I was beginning to get the hang of things by that time. I do remember that with tongue in cheek I stated in my defence that I had only done what I had been told to do like a good airman and the fact that it went wrong was hardly my fault……there were a lot more red faces and a great deal of spluttering. The case was dismissed and I was told that I should go a long way in the Air Force. The further the better…..like TIMBUKTOO!.
As far as postings were concerned I kept my fingers crossed for a few days and was agreeably suprised [sic] to find that I was going to Mildenhall in Suffolk, instead of some isolated outpost, to continue the process of turning me into aircrew.
Sometimes I have thought that Mildenhall might have been better off without me!.
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At Mildenhall my 'on the job training' started off in 'A flight office of 149 Squadron and there I started, to familiarise myself with the workings of a flying unit and aeroplanes.
I sort of bumbled along quite happily as the work of the unit grew on me.
It was one big thrill to be soaking up the atmosphere of this very famous RAF station that had been the scene of numerous departures of record breaking flights before the war and had at one time even been inspected by representatives of the German Air Force High Command.
Currently it was flying almost nightly operations against targets in Germany and German occupied territory, particularly ports and invasion barge concentrations.
I was moved out to the flights after a certain incident which was the result of been asked for assistance by the flight commander. It seemed that he had mis-laid his safe key and as he was 'ops' that night "could I help by getting his pistol out of the safe”?.
It was yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir. That request was as good as an order from such an exalted person and it certainly never occurred to me to refer the matter to the Flight Sergeant in charge.
Many years later I was to find out the correct procedure to achieve access to a safe when the key had been mislaid, but then; if the officer did not seem to know what to do why should a 'bloggs' with only a few months in the service be any better informed!.
'Sir' was quite happy to find his pistol, all oiled and cleaned, with ammunition, laying on his desk when be returned from briefing and with many other things on his mind he did not have time to ask questions.
It was two days later when the subject came up again as he still could not get into his safe so I was obliged to show him how. All I had to do was pull it away from the wall diclosing [sic] the hole in the back created by a circle of holes done with the aid of a Wolf electric drill. He seemed very upset and reckoned with a bit of luck that he would become a casualty before anyone found out. I must confess that…………………
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in my ignorance I could not understand his concern.
People and aircraft were being lost and damaged right left and centre but 'slight' damage to a safe seemed to be a much more serious problem.
I am not too sure of it but I do believe, that he was the great P.C.Pickard and that somehow he overcome the case of his damaged safe.
As for me, I was dispatched to the flight line and actually let loose with a tractor and refuellers. I don’t remember anyone asking me if I could drive but as it happened the only thing that I had been behind the wheel of before had been a Bren gun carrier,(in the Home Guard-days), when training with local regular units; but no-one seemed unduly concerned and I was soon charging about happily with petrol and oil refuellers as well as towing aircraft about.
It did not take long for the administration to find out that I did not hold a driving licence for my various sorties onto the public highway when I thought it was about time I tried to qualify for a full service licence. Not only was no-one interested but I found myself restricted to camp boundries [sic] only. No harm in trying anyway!.
In due course I found myself having to undertake a different sort of training.
Everyone was required to do a short local course of field training to ensure that they were proficient in the use of certain basic weapons, and as a relatively new arrival I was detailed to report.
I had handled enough weaponry in the Home Guard to know my way around most of what the RAF could produce and I had been awarded a marksmans proficiency in basic training apart from handling all sorts of non-standard stuff.
We had been issued with Canadian Ross .300 rifles of 1916 vintage that had never seen the light of day since they had been manufactured. They had hastily been taken out of storage as the result of an appeal made by Churchill for assistance after Dunkirk,and had been shipped to us urgently with millions of rounds of ammunition in a special convoy. Along the other items were more hand grenades, some Browning automatic .303 rifles and perhaps the most potent of all; the Boys .5ins anti-tank
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rifle which looked like a king sized rifle which fired armour piercing shot.
This latter item was looked at very suspiciously by the 1914/1918 veterans who were 90% of our ranks and when it had arrived and been degreased along with everything else there had been a lot of dicussion [sic] as to who was going to do the test firing of the thing. The net result was that they; and that included my father, encouraged me to do it, so off we trooped to the range up in the Downs to try and prove something.
Having given the Brownings a satifactory [sic] work-out the time case for the Big-one!
Despite the fact that it was on a bipod and it's heavily padded butt was pulled tightly into my shoulder, and I was in the classical prone position; when it went off I thought the heavens had fallen in. I was forced back several inches but despite the painful process the shot went where it was intended and everyone was satisfied. I promtly [sic] became No.1. on the gun.
The idea was to have a crew of four but it was questionable whether I would have the rest of the crew with me to spot and load when we were confronted by an enemy vehicle, despite the fact that in those desperate days we were expected to stand and fight to the last.
What we lacked in experience then we made up for by our determination to defend our homeland. The order of the day when things were at their worst was 'take one with you' which spelled out some very nasty goings on both for our unit and any Germans that got further than the units manning the beach defences.
Among the assortment of weapons were the 'Molotov Cocktails';bottles of mixed petrol, oil, and parafin [sic] to back up the lavish use of hand grenades.
Part of our defensive plan was to throw then all out of the upper windows to saturate the road junctions with splinters and flame; so my attitude towards that course was one of mild amusement. And a certain amount of smuggness [sic] .
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It therefore presented no problem when, at a certain part of the course we were in the weapons pit and the Flight Sergeant was calling us in one at a time and going through the procedure of throwing a hand grenade. After a series of bangs I was next in line, so it was "next one, step forward" etc and it was my turn to turn the corner into the active part of the pit.
I think that the Flight Sergeant had probably had one or two nasty experiences with the highly sensitive and nervous types as he seemed very tense when I arrived on the scene.
We had all done a dry run in practice so the rest was done in time honoured fashion as I was handed the grenade.
It was "by numbers-one, pull the grenade off of the safety pin, holding down the lever" ...."Two, throw the grenade overarm...and get down". The lever would fly off as it was thrown and then it would go off in either four or seven seconds from the time of throwing according to the fuse that had been inserted, and I doubt if many people hung about after the pin was out.
In the Home Guard we had practiced a short count after releasing the lever so that an air burst would result but what we were doing was not quite as sophisticated so I thought I would show off a bit. After pulling the pin and holding down the lever I enquired of the F/Sgt "now?".
He went a strange puce colour and kept shouting "now, now, now" as I continued to hold down the lever in the throwing position. Then he changed his cry to "everyone out" which was followed by a mad scramble as the trench was cleared in record time.
I contemplated putting the pin back in and handing it back to him but figured that was pushing my luck so I lobbed it down range where it went off with a satisfying bang.
I soon found myself facing a very irate 'chiefy' who suprisingly [sic] enough just sent me back to my place of work instead of escorting me to the Guard Room on a charge of some sort. But not without my ears burning.
He hurled several unkind remarks after me as I departed about "clever s...." and expressed the hope that the nest time I tried anything like that I would blow my f…… head off!!. Charming!.
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I soon found that there were plenty of other explosive articles about the place that one had to be very suspicious of in the absence of adequate instruction.
On my introduction to the innards of a Wellington I was told that the 'magic box' with a loose red cover on it in the navigators compartment had a demolition charge inside it and could make a nasty mess of things if interfered with. The same applied to the red cover over the firing switch on the table.
Other nasty devices were the explosive cable cutters set in the leading edges of the wings. It was good bye fingers if they were accidentally triggered and a short 12 bore type cartridge fired a chisel head into a plate.
A job that I did not particularly care for was towing a fully fuelled and armed Wellington about when repositioning was necessary.
It was a very rare job which I did very gently in case anything fell off despite being assured by many people that it was perfectly safe. After all; it was argued, the pilots had to taxy then around and fly them in that condition.
So they might have done but that did not make me feel any happier about the task.
Too many things just seemed to be taken for granted such as the incident out near 'A' Flight dispersals, no more than 100 yards from the 'Bird in Hand' and less than that from a fuel dump.
I came across an armourer sitting astride one of the new 4000lb. 'cookie' bombs on a bomb trolley. He was carefully chipping away a groove around it's middle with a hammer and a cold chisel as they had a tendency to slip out of the bomb hoist sling when arming up!.
The expression on my face must have been one of absolute horror if it reflected what was in my heart but once again I was assured that it was perfectly safe. Nevertheless, I took off at a high rate of knots to the other side of the airfield until he had finished.
I was to learn later that activities such as that really were quite safe. It was just a question of learning about what made things tick but I always remained a little suspicious ever since the occasion when a Cpl fitter had climbed into a Wellington
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undercarriage wheel wall to investigate the malfunction of an indicator micro switch. I had been shown such things when the safety locks had been in but on this occasion he had said "perfectly safe"…….but it wasn't. The undercarriage collapsed and he was crushed into a very small space and that, unfortunately was the end of his waiting for a pilots course to come through. It was a very unpleasant and messy business for everyone involved.
I generally tried to steer clear of trouble but it was not easy. I once got a loaded petrol bowser stuck in the sand on the way out to 'B' Flight. The Flight Sergeant was called to sort everything out, and me!.
Everyone stood around making various suggestions and I foolishly put in my pennyworth but got told to "belt up” for my suggestion so I just stood back and watched the fun. But I had a feeling that attaching a tow [underlined] above [/underlined] the tractor axle was not a good idea. There were lots of strong words when the tractor and the F/Sgt finished up on their backs but it eventually came out, I finished refuelling. and the aircraft went on ops. despite my efforts.
I still remained on towing and refuelling, even after I was left to refuel a Wellington on my own but I did not secure the filler caps correctly; mainly because as far as I can recall no-one had ever shown us how they should have been done.
It was a very alarmed pilot who landed immediately after take-off with petrol pouring from his wings, and the aircraft was unserviceable for some time whilst drying out. Even then I only had a dressing down and some belated instruction but perhaps the final effort was when I tried to put 'F' Freddie into dispersal on my own.
I had marshalled it in onto the taxyway opposite the dispersal pan and the Sgt. pilot airily told me to put it away; so I tried, but not very successfully.
Although I was fairly adept at hitching up the tow bar and operating the air brakes from the cockpit and I got nicely lined up going into the dispersal I had overlooked the fact that it was a bit of a down hill gradient and the brakes of a Fordson agricultural were not designed to hold a ten ton aircraft in such circumstances....and neither did it!.
Not only did the brakes not hold but the aircraft pushed the
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tractor, and me, through the hedge sideways resulting in a bent tractor and bent rear guns as well.
Eventually someone realised that perhaps a lot of responsibility was being placed upon 'Bloggs' from time to time, inexperienced as he was, and however willing he might be. From then on, although I still towed things about the fitters and mechanics, who were after all the responsible tradesmen, did the jobs that they were qualified and paid for....and more importantly, signed the Form.700 accordingly.
There were still some dirty and unpleasant jobs to be done from time to time; such as cleaning out the remains of a rear gunner from a battle damaged Wellington. A very unpleasant memory to carry with me when I subsequently set off for aircrew training. Despite the banishment to the more mundane jobs I did some-how get dragged in as an 'extra' in the film 'Target for Tonight', by being allowed on the mainplane and going through the motions of refuelling.
It was a great dissapointment [sic] when I saw the film after the editors had been at it. I appeared in a two second flash out of what I recall was at least a two minute take.
There is always the possibility that when they saw the proofs and noticed this leering airman on the wing trying to look like Errol Flynn they were obliged to do more drastic cutting rather than re-take it. We will never know as the film was also darkened by filters to give a night effect although it was taken in daylight!
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Piece by piece the vast programme of aircrew training which involved thousands of people was inexorably sucking me, and others, into it's system as it churned out the crews to man the thousands of aircraft that were pouring off of the production lines. My name came up to the top of the list and I was off on my travels again.
This time it was to Blackpool for the beginning of Wireless Operator training; which turned out to be just another production line although it was not nuts and bolts coming off of the end. Blackpool by that time was a sea of blue. Even Reginald Dixon the well known organist at the Tower Ballroom was in uniform as a Corporal drill instructor and his duties seemed to leave him a lot of time to continue to play the organ.
It was a welcome break to go along to the ballroom to enjoy his recitals. 'Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside' always seemed to be booming out some time of the day, but it was no holiday for us.
The boarding houses had been taken over in the same way as they had been at Skegness and they had crammed even more double bunks in so that there were about ten times the number of "guests" that would have normally have been accommodated in peace time.
It was a new experience to eat in our billets which was a change from the mass catering that I had been getting used to but although the landladies did their best with the ration allowances they did seem to dish up some strange things at times. Nevertheless, my taste buds had already undergone a change and I recall that I was eating a lot of dishes that I would have previously turned up my nose at. It was either that or go hungry!.
Our days were divided between morse training and drill with weekly visits to the swimming pool for our bath. The bath arrangement killed two birds with one stone as all the boarding house bathrooms were either locked up or otherwise out of bounds to us. We used the bedroom washbasins. The alternative to a [underlined] real [/underlined] bath was to partially heat a swimming pool.
The tram-car sheds had been converted for signals training and had been fitted with long tables equipped with headsets and morse keys, and stony faced civilian instructors seated at the
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end of each table.
Half the day was taken up in this environment getting used to the incessant dit,dit,dit,dah,dah,dah, at increasing speeds until the bell went to give us a break or when someone cracked up under the pressure and had to be carried away screaming or crying. It was not only the WAAFS that were affected that way!. No-one who ever went out that way ever came back but there were other ways of being withdrawn from training. It very nearly happened to me when I got 'stuck' at one speed and it was only after pleading with the chief instructor that I finally made the breakthrough.
Then one reached the stage where there was a progress test undertaken in the most nerve racking place. It was in the upper floor cutting rooms of Burtons, 'The Fifty Shilling Tailors', which had also been requisitioned.
The room was set out in a semi circle of tables facing a raised dais upon which there was one table with an elaborate brass morse sending key and a headset. All of the other tables just had headsets.
As we progressed through the course we were tested at an appropriate speed with no re-test if we could not meet the requirements, until the final test came up.
If anyone failed at that point they were washed out, finished, ceased training, call it what you like; and were sent off somewhere else to be something else.
The tension started to mount when the Warrant Officer who was conducting the test, appeared in his white dust coat and issued a dire warning about cheating. After that he set a metronome going to monitor the speed, and by the time he made his first signals check to ensure that everyone was hearing satisfactorily every nerve in the body was jangling.
By the time the opening dit,dit,dit,dah,dit, had come across some people had already gone to pieces but the remainder squared up their papers, checked that their half a dozen pencils were at the ready in case of breakages, and with one more deep breath just ploughed on hoping to get the test piece down with no more than the permitted number of mistakes.
It was inevitable that a good many people 'went for a Burton' in that place. 'Going for a Burton' was a phrase among aircrew
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when referring to those who for obvious reasons had disappeared from active service. That was the signals side of Blackpool apart from the fact that we even tried to read everything in dots and dashes. The paper, the hoardings, even our letters from home. The locals must have thought we were all daft but as in most skills it was a case of practice making things perfect or at least proficient, but I recall that we used to get some strange looks.
A lot of our time was spent in Stanley Park, the Tower Ballroom, and the public baths where we had our weekly bath; (unless one was rich enough to bribe a landlady). and that weekly bath in our case was combined with dinghy drill.
It is indellibly [sic] imprinted on my mind.
Stanley Park was bad enough with incessant marching up and down doing rifle and bayonet drill with a crazy old F/Sgt who worked us up to a pitch where we could have quite cheerfully put one through him. I'm sure old Freddie Fox knew that too.
The baths were something quite different.
Few people had swimwear and in fact it was considered 'cissy' to wear it anyway so several hundred blokes in their birthday suit's were quite a sight and there was a great deal of speculation as to the sight when they were replaced by WAAFS in the same state of undress. The mind boggled!.
To my knowledge no-one ever found out although there were a few bets taken. but security was very strict and WAAF Police replaced RAF Police when the switch was made and a roll call confirmed before the actual change over was made.
Despite the fact that I had been brought up by the seaside I was not a good swimmer, probably due to the fact that I had been pushed in at the deep end at an early learning stage. Being a slow learner I had swallowed a lot of water before being dragged out and pumped dry. It is hardly surprising that thereafter I was not attracted to deep water. Especially the cold variety.
Nevertheless, I did manage to swim the required width across the deep end to qualify as proficient but it was only the preliminary to the so called 'dinghy drill'.
I always seemed to go straight into a state of shock when it came to donning an icy cold, wet and heavy Sidcot
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flying suit, plus parachute harness and 'Mae West' life jacket which was inflated by the mouth after being thrown in. In practice the inflation was done by operating a pressure cylinder toggle but we had to do it the hard way.
There was an awful lot of floundering around after entering the water without swallowing too much especially with all the weight one was carrying, and suffering from the others making waves and generally simulating heavy seas before getting into the dinghy. It made things very difficult and I did not even enjoy doing the aggravation bit to others either.
There were times I could have cheerfully packed it in and remustered to a less demanding ground job but somehow I stuck it out.
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The day finally dawned when the agony was over and with others I was off to Yatesbury in Wiltshire to learn all about procedures and equipment.
At last I was doing something tangible and I sailed through the course to be awarded the 'sparks' badge at the end plus a few more pennies in my pocket.
I certainly needed the latter as at Mildenhall I had for some reason been overpaid to the extent of being some £5 in the red at one time so deductions had been savagely made until the debt had been paid off. I could have settled it in cash at the time but I was told that the accounts section did not have a procedure for it so for a long time I had only been receiving 5/- five shillings, (25p) every two weeks and in a place like Blackpool my cash balance did not last long. It was no fun at all.
I was very glad when it had been finally settled and I no longer had to rely on the kindness of others for the odd cigarette, cups of tea and buns as well as the odd postal order from home. I'm sure a lot of others were pleased about it too.
I did manage to make up for the lack of certain 'home comforts', namely food, on one occasion though.
On a physical training run at Yatesbury one afternoon I decided that I had had enough and dodged the column by peeling off between some huts followed by a shout from a Cpl. who had seen me go. With that I put on a spurt with the intention of rejoining the party further down the route but did not reckon on the ability of the PTI.(Physical Training Instructor). He caught up with me first and that was me on a charge.
Later, when asked by the officer why I had not stopped when told to do so I simply told the truth and said that I thought that I could run faster than the PTI and that I had hoped to beat him back to the group. My award for failing to do so was three days C.C. (confined to camp), full marching kit parades twice a day at the guard room and kitchen fatigues to go with it. I didn't mind one bit!. I had nowhere to go anyway and I finished up being one of the few people in that place who was getting [underlined] four [/underlined] meals a day for a while.
It was worth peeling buckets of spuds and cleaning a mountain of dirty dishes and pans. The cooks were sympathetic and served up generous helpings as they would for themselves. I do not
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ever recall seeing a skinny cook!.
Someone had got hold of the idea that if you were particularly good at morse beyond the basic standard required then there would be a chance of being earmarked for Coastal Command so with others I put in the extra effort and time and achieved the extra speed almost up to Navy Telegraphist standard.
In principal it seemed a good idea when Bomber Command losses were reaching somewhat frightening proportions but it did not do me or anyone else any good at all as far as I can recall.
As soon as the course was over we were dispersed all over the place; mainly in Bomber Command, to consolidate the training doing all the things that Wireless Operators did and still wondering if it was all worth while.
I went to Marham in Norfolk.
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Photo
YATESBURY 1941
-19-
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I covered a lot of ground whilst I was at Marham but I still had to get airborne and there was a long way to go.
I suppose that being aircrew under training had a lot to do with the fact that I was given a wide experience of different jobs in a very short space of time. That is what I thought at the time anyway!.
I started out on the flight line doing daily inspections and ground tests on Wellington and Stirling radio equipments and was later transferred to what was then called Flying Control; as the R/T (Radio Telephone) operator.
Theoretically my job was to relay the controllers instructions to aircraft but everything seemed so incredibly slap-happy during daylight hours that I often found myself doing the actual control whilst the controller kept an ear open in the background.
I found myself particularly attracted to the two Thompson machine guns that were kept in boxes in the control tower. So much so that I was permitted to clean and polish then regularly; provided that I did not put the magazines on!. One particular controller seemed pleased to have someone around that was familiar with then as he certainly was not. My Hone Guard experience again. We only had one in the platoon but everyone knew how to use it!.
On one occasion during a quiet lunchtime with no movements notified I was on my own in the control tower when a Stirling arrived in the circuit and the pilot asked for landing instructions, but the pilot would not circle whilst I got in touch with the controller so I finally gave landing permission. Having given taxying and parking instructions I dashed out of the tower to marshall [sic] it in next to the tower. I was amazed to find that the pilot was a very small lady of the ATA. (Air Transport Auxillary [sic] ) and her only crew was a flight engineer.
I did not have such choice after that but to sign for the aircraft and then had another surprise when an Anson landed and taxied in without any warning at all. The pilot was non other than Jim Mollison who was doing the taxi driving to take the Stirling crew out.
The controller who had seen the activity from the Mess soon came dashing along after he had seen the aircraft in the.......
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circuit and were very surprised to find a brand new Stirling neatly parked but I got a hell of a rollicking for my efforts.
Things got tightened up eventually when another aircraft arrived that no-one seemed to know about. As R/T operator I also performed the duties of 'airmen of the watch' and although I had registered the notification signal in the log and written the details on the movements board it would appear that the controller had not placed a great deal of importance on the movement. As a result he was unaware of the visit of a VIP, (Very Important Person). None other than the Under secretary of State for Air!. Phew!, that caused a stir when he did realise what the score was. The Station Commander was not too pleased either!.
I suppose someone's head had to roll and it was possibly mine as I started a series of detachments to widen my scope of knowledge; unless it was to keep me out of the way!.
I did the rounds of Honington and East Wretham and numerous jobs and being of an inquisitive nature soon found out how things ticked.
At one time I was surprised to find that elements of the Czeck [sic] . Air Force were making a great deal of fuss over what they considered to be their low pay (they were paid RAF rates, Sgt's about £4.50 a week) then the unit moved and things went quiet.
Although I was expecting to be recalled to Marham it was still a shock when it happened. Even more so when I was required to draw flying clothing and prepare to go back to Yatesbury for the air training course. After that everything happened so fast that I wondered what had hit me. It was already mid 1942 and as our activities increased so were our aircraft losses increasing. It was with some apprehension that I embarked on this part of my training. My feelings were not improved when on the morning of departure; waiting for transport at the Guard Room. I was detailed off by the SWO (Station Warrant Officer), to help collect a coffin from the morgue and load it on the transport where it was draped with the Union flag.
I don't know if the SWO had remembered me from another incident which surely should have stuck in his mind, but whether he did or not I have reason to remember it as I was taught another lesson.
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It so happened that I snored; even in those days, which was not a good thing in amongst a crowd of people. In the barracks where we were jammed in with hardly room to move between the beds it was a considerable source of annoyance to my neighbours; if not the whole room although I was not the only one with the problem. It was just worse when I had put a few pints under the belt.
It was not unusual to wake up in the morning to find myself surrounded by a selection of footwear that had been hurled in my direction during the night. Whether any found it's target I would not know. I was usually too far gone.
There was one night that the others in the room could no longer put up with it even when well aimed No. 9's did not do the job and suffice to say that when the SWO marched onto the parade ground is the morning for the colour hoisting parade there I was, still fast asleep in my bed at the foot of the flag pole.
It was a hell of a situation as I struggled back to the billet with my bed and bedding with the SWO hurling dire threats after me. Good job I wore singlet and PT shorts in bed!.
However. it had not resulted in direct punishment. I was still on the mat of course but in my defence I stated that as I had known absolutely nothing about it by virtue of being asleep throughout the whole episode I could not be held responsible.
You can't tell SWO's things like that and get away with it even if the case was dismissed. It was not surprising that after the incident I found myself on guard duty every other night for two weeks, and that included the evening parade as well as the morning colour hoisting parade that the duty people did. It was very uncomfortable being under the eagle eye of the SWO all the time so my turnout and drill had to be impeccable to avoid further punishment. Somehow I got away with it. When detailed off for the loading up I was foolish enough to ask what had happened to the poor chap in the box; only to be told by the man, with a glint in his eye, that it was a Sgt. Air Gunner who had 'copped a packet' a few night [sic] previously. After that I was only too glad to see the coffin subsequently placed in the guards van and draped with the union flag in the care.....
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of the escorts whilst I took off to another part of the train and tried to forget about it.
Back at Yatesbury there were some familiar faces among the entry and we were in a different part of the camp; more or less segregated from the 'sprog' wireless operators, but otherwise there was little difference.
It was not long before many of us were sporting Leading Aircraftsman 'props', and a few more pennies came in useful as well. There was no such thing as a flying pay supplement in those days.
As usual the day was split between job training and other activities, and I was looking forward to the air experience part of it. At last I was going to get airborne and I was all set to enjoy it. It was the beginning of many occasions when I was to feel somewhat disillusioned about taking to the air.
Our initial flying was done in the De.Haviland Dominie as the RAF called them. Many were in fact ex. civilian Rapide's that had been requisitioned and as a result had had a name change and were flown by a mixture of civilian and service pilots.
They were fitted out with several radio positions at which we carried out exercises under the supervision of a Cpl. Instructor with a similar set-up on the ground where we also worked in rotation.
There was of course no toilet compartment, and not even the paper bag that is standard in today's aircraft. There was just an open square biscuit tin of the type that the ancient 'hard tack' biscuit came in, (circa 1917), and there were plenty of those.
That type of biscuit was being substituted for bread several times a week in most units as a great deal of our flour was being sent to the bottom of the Atlantic by the U.Boats, and the civilian population had preference when what limited flour supplies were being distributed. Hence the endless supply of tins. We were obliged to use them instead of paper bags but it was all very crude. It was loose on the floor for anyone to use as necessary. Ugh!!!.
It was a most nauseating experience as most of us were getting airborne for the first time so we were a bit queasy, and more!. It was all part of the elimination process. Anyone who spent
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more time at the 'throw-up' tin was threatened with withdrawal from training and remustered to ground wireless operator.
It was very difficult to force one's self to overcome the discomfort sufficiently to get back to work but the process was motivated by the fact that the rule was that the last one to use the tin was the one that had to dispose of it after landing. Yuk!. I made sure that it was not me.
I was not sorry to progress from that stage to the single engined Proctor for solo exercises. Then I only had myself to worry about…….and the pilot!.
By that time I was getting increasingly aware of the varying abilities of pilots. Not that I had had any alarming experiences, but the seat of my pants was always a very sensitive indicator of how a machine was handled.
It is difficult to explain but I had always had the same sensitivity either in a car or on the back of a motor-bike and that feeling was beginning to develops in respect of pilots. I had come to the conclusion that there were pilots and 'drivers airframe' to use a stores nomenclature description of an item, and it was always to be the same. I knew whether I was comfortable or not.
THEN I MET A PILOT WITH A REPUTATION…………..!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Photo
YATESBURY 1942
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On completion of the course the next move was to an Advanced Flying Unit at Penrhos, North Wales, on the Lleyn peninsular.
I fell in love with that area right from the start and still have a soft spot for it. The years have changed it very little. It was only a small airfield operating Ansons in which Wireless Operators and Navigators carried out more advanced exercises which covered a lot more countryside and took us almost up to the level where oxygen was needed. Just one more thing to contend with.
The pilots were all service types doing a stint as taxy driver to get more hours and experience as they progressed in their training but I had hardly settled in when I picked up a 'buzz' that was going around concerning a certain pilot who apparently was putting the wind up a lot of people.
He had gained a reputation for doing some crazy things and until quite recently had made a habit of flying under the Menai bridge which is the magnificent old bridge built by Thomas Telford across the straits between the mainland and Anglesey.
The practice had just been strictly forbidden under threat of the most severe punishment because someone else had tried it but had killed himself and a few others in the process.
Most people seemed to be keeping their fingers crossed hoping that they could avoid flying with him so I faced the future with some apprehension when I found myself on a flight detail with him as pilot.
My first impression of Sergeant. Francis, Cadell, Macdonald was that he did not look the sort that could put the wind up anyone. I had expected a 'jolly hockey stick' type such as the Pilot Officer Prune, (the accident prone cartoon twit), who featured in an Air Force Magazine, but as he did not fit that category I was forced to the conclusion that he must be downright ham-fisted.
It was a surprise to find that he was a little older than the average pilot, certainly on the wrong side of thirty, and it was many, many years before I was to find out exactly how old he was.
First impressions were of a strangely rugged character with rusty fuze wire type of hair with a heavy drooping moustache to match who seemed strangely out of proportion.
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It took a second look to find the real reason for that impression. His torso was that of a six footer, with well developed chest, arms like the branches of a tree but he had short stocky legs giving him an overall height of no more than 5ft 7ins.
In standard battledress which was designed to be purely functional he looked as if he was suffering from a severe case of 'ducks disease'.
We climbed aboard the aircraft after a briefing that was brief and to the point. "If we get into trouble I will tell you what to do, whether you jump or not, and you only jump when I tell you to. Got that?”. Then he started up, taxied out and took off and although I had my eyes shut during the first part of the routine I opened when there were no unusual sensations and wondered what all the fuss had been about. My sensitive parts had given out no alert signals and it all seemed pretty normal to me.
As the exercise progressed I virtually forgot that I was in an aeroplane despite what he was doing with the machine although it was impossible not to notice that he seemed to be trying to turn it inside out in the gentlest possible way.
The main issue was that I did feel any discomfort at all although a few hill sheep might have done so as we steamed up one side of Snowdon and down the other and we seemed to balanced on one wingtip as we went around the Great Orme on Anglesey with Puffins and other sea birds getting somewhat agitated by the disturbance. My insides took no longer to settle down after that flight than they normally did so I decided that I could cope with that sort of treatment at any time and it certainly made life interesting. My companions still had different ideas though as the stories of his various escapades became more and more exagerated [sic].
Before I left Penrhos I learned a little more about him whilst he was still scaring the daylights out of others.
He was reputed to have previously been Chief Engineer to Gar Wood the racing driver of pre-war years and although I have never found the need to verify the story I have never had reason
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to doubt it either.
As far as I was concerned he certainly knew what he was doing and that was good enough for me.
The operator training became more and more demanding as time went on and I had reached a point where there was a great deal of satisfaction in being able to transmit and receive messages in morse, juggle with frequencies and identify my control station through a cacophany [sic] of background noise. It was gratifying to be able to code and encode messages efficiently but as usual it was not all work and no play. I think we would have gone daft under the pressure if it had been. The pattern was the same as before with the days split between training and exercising.
There were invariably some high jinks in Pwllheli where the Royal Navy had taken over the nearby Butlins as a training establishment and in the traditional Navy way had named it HMS something or other.
There were all sorts of derisive remarks about Nary terminoligy [sic] as they called the bus the 'liberty boat' and they had to salute the 'quarter deck' on leaving and boarding their 'ship'. We called it the main gate!.
Of course we countered with suitable remarks about our 'wizard prangs', 'bombs away' and 'chocks away', but some they resented their 'ship' being called HMS Bullshit, all of which resulted in some good nattered rowdy exchanges in the local pubs.
There was a lot of ale sloshed around. and a great many fried eggs consumed in the basement kitchen of a sea front hotel after chuckout time at 6d, (2 1/2 new pence) each.
The 'end of course' party was a great success and I recall putting in a great deal of effort into assisting one member of the course with some conjuring tricks. He was a member of the Magic Circle and why he picked me I haven't the slightest idea. Little did he know what that did for my confidence which was being somewhat undermined by the realisation that I seemed to be accident prone. As it happened, the, programme went without a hitch and that little exercise did me a great deal of good.
I only vaguely remember the return to camp after that party. It was somewhat hilarious as we came back via the beach where several of us had to be rescued from the sand dunes where we
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had capsised [sic] and ploughed up a lot of sand.
I finally collected my flying log book that recorded the entry of the flight with one Sgt.F.C.Macdonald and normally it would have been just one more entry without much significance as I continued on my travels once more.
[underlined] Fate decreed that we would meet up again!!. [/underlined]
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Photo
PENRHOS 1942
Page 30 And there’s more!
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I continued the process of going up and down the countryside like a yo-yo which was quite an experience for someone like me who had never ventured very far from the home town before the war and I was certainly getting to know my way around.
My next journey was to a gunnery school on Walney Island just off Barrow-in-Furness, flying old hacks such as Blackburn Botha's and Bolton Paul Defiants which seemed to be a very chancy business.
Most of the time the direction of take-off was straight towards a hill and if that was not bad enough the Botha was a death trap on one engine. If there was an engine failure it could not maintain height on one and the emergency exit was straight into the propellor. Turning or not it was dicey.
The Defiant was not so bad although it had a nasty habit of flopping onto it's side in the air if the gunner failed to inform the pilot that he was rotating and firing on the beam. The pilot needed that information so that he could counteract his controls and it was not all that easy to get out of either if in trouble. I have the greatest admiration for the chaps that went into battle in those things.
Somehow I struggled through that period in the depths of winter and at one stage I was very close to being put back in training when I went down with a severe cold and only just avoided going sick, especially as we had strict orders about flying whilst suffering from a cold which resulted in bunged up nose and ears. I felt so bad one evening that I doped myself with whisky and asprin and retired to bed early after a hot shower even though it meant going to and from the ablutions through several inches of snow.
By the time the others came back to the hut later in the evening my condition had them so worried that they woke me up.
There was a considerable cloud of steam rising from me but once they were assured that I was not on fire the threw more blankets on me to continue sweating it out.
Despite the fact that I was a bit wobbly in the morning I still managed to fly my last detail and in fact even get a good score but the rest of the time there is a blurr [sic] .
I have vague recollections of Northen [sic] ale which appeared to be a lot stronger than average and of an hilarious evening at
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a vaudeville in Borrow where most of the course occupied the front row of the stalls, booing and cheering the acts as seemed appropriate.
There were often rowdy exchanges with the conciencious [sic] objectors who were formed into non-combatant pioneer units to man things like smoke generators to mask the docks from air raids, and some energetic clashes with strong minded and well muscled WAAFS who manned a lot of the searchlights and barrage balloons. All good clean fun!.
Eventually, in the end came the passing out parade and the award of the cherished Air Gunners brevet with promotion to Sergeant, and although that was only the outward sign of qualified aircrew it did at least take the place of what had by that time a very grubby white cap flash.
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There was still a lot of training to do, and more travelling as well.
The travelling was not so easy by that time as most of us had gathered more flying kit so everywhere we went it meant struggling with two kit bags.
The next port of call was a Wellington Operational Training Unit at Turweston, which was a satelight [sic] unit of No.12 OUT Chipping Warden, both near Banbury. Oxford. 'A' and 'B' Flights were at Chipping Warden and 'C' and 'D' Flights were at Turweston.
It was there that crews were put together more or less by mutual agreement.
In the first 24 hours everyone just browsed around gathering more paperwork, dealing with arrival procedures and generally making one's self known.
I had hardly settled in when the 'jungle telegraph' was sending out the news that a certain Scotsmen had also turned up. The notorious F.C. Macdonald!.
There were frantic efforts being made by people to find themselves another pilot of their choice. Anyone but him!.
I was not fussy, or for that matter as quick off the mark as some. I had met a Navigator who had also been at Penrhos and had not yet found himself a pilot and although he could not remember Macdonald he found him and introduced himself.
By the next day Macdonald had made up his mind and the crew lists went up on the notice board.
I was looking them over when he came up with a group and announced rather ungraciously, “so we have got you have we?".
A remark that was not designed to inspire confidence although I must confess that I felt a lot happier with someone of known qualities so I was not unduly concerned.
That was the way that the crew came together. I don't think any of us were very special.
Macdonalds background was still vague and was always remain so although I gathered that he was married but separated.
Peter Hobbs, the navigator, was an ex Cpl. accounts clerk who
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had been in the Voluntary Reserve. Both he and Macdonald were a little older than the average and were newly commissioned Pilot Officers.
We actually started with a commissioned Observer/Bomb Aimer but he did not last long.
It transpired that he had already flunked a pilots course, and a navigators coarse so they made him a Bomb/Aimer before they found out that he was too tall for the front turret so off he went to retrain once more.
He might well have been doing courses later on in the war to qualify for some-thing although it is just as likely that he may well have distinguished himself somehow.
He had certainly been been [sic] determined to be aircrew anyway but I must admit that his case was the result of a policy that I was never able to come to terms with.
To commission someone first and then go to considerable lengths to see if he was any good at anything was odd to say the least. However, that is another story!.
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In the place of 'mastermind' we got 'Hoppy’ Hill, so named because he bounced and rolled on the balls of his feet when he walked around invariably with a novel of some sort tucked under his arm. I never did find out what he had been doing before he joined the RAF.
Then we had another Mac. McIlroy, a Canadian Rear Gunner who had been at Walney Island at the same time as myself although I could not recall him. He had been with the Canadian Pacific Railway in some capacity although in his own words he had spent most of his time doing trying to do nothing.
Then there was me. A cabinet maker/polisher who had finished up doing almost anything to remain employed; and I mean anything. My last civilian employment had bees as a milk roundsman!.
Nevertheless, whatever we had been doing we were all in the same boat (or aeroplane) and we all had one thing to common. That was to get on with it and hope to come out of it is one piece.
We were a fairly wild bunch in our off duty periods but I would not think that we were any worse than any other crew.
It was from that point onward that living, working and playing as a crew started. It was for me anyway. Almost to the exclusion of everything else.
Suddenly it seemed that my youthful ambitions had been fullfilled [sic] although it was a pity it had come about under such circumstances.
The most important thing was that we got on well together and we concentrated on getting moulded into a crew which involved an airborne discipline that few people could understand considering our peculiar life style.
Although our crew seemed to be the ideal balance of officers and NCO's with commissioned Pilot and Navigator some crews had formed up with some very odd mixtures with Sgt. pilots and commissioned gunners but which ever way they were mixed the pilot was always the captain is the air.
This arrangement was incomprehensible to some Army and Navy types and even the USAAF. It did not seem compatable [sic] with the normal chain of command yet it worked satisfactorily within the RAF.
Mac, as he was always to be knows, still looked as lumpy in
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his new uniform as he did when we had first met despite a change of rank insignia and a fancy cap but there were more important things to concern ourselves with than how people looked.
We had far more serious things on our minds.
Flying had become a very serious business and if we were going to be together for any length of time we would be relying on each other a great deal for survival and it was to that end that Mac went about his part of the programme as if he had been born with wings.
As far as I was concerned he was an absolute natural and on more than one occasion I was asked by wireless operators in other crews how I got on with him.
I think some of then may well have been regretting their choice of pilot and were looking for a way out but I usually pointed out that I was in no way considering a change. Particularly as no-one saw us overshooting from missed approaches to the runway or had seen us swinging about all over the place on landing or take-off as I had often seen others doing, so what more could I ask?.
On more then one occasion I was told that I would be sorry, (as if I had made the choice): But I never was....Not once!.
I got the distinct impression that for some reason Mac was not very impressed with wireless operators, although from his occasional remark he seemed more interested in having a spare gunner aboard, and I was beginning to feel very spare until one night I had the opportunity to exercise some of my training. We were flying is the local area of Chipping Warden one night when the voltage regulator down by my left foot went haywire and burst into flames.
The voltage shot up and batteries started to cook immediately so I had to work very fast to tell Mac what I was going to do before switching the Ground/Flight switch to ground which cut us off of the engine driven generators, then go rapidly through the fire drill whilst Mac called control for an emergency landing on what little internal battery power we had left.
He did happen to mention afterwards that perhaps a wireless op. might have some use in a crew after all. Only perhaps!.
As time went on we did get to know him a little better although he was one of those chaps you could never get really close to.
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He was not actually unsociable but uncommunicative. More often then not when asked a question on a subject which was not directly related to what we were currently doing his answer would be a knowing wink, a tap on the side of his nose with his forfinger [sic] which could be taken to mean anything; like, "I don't know", or, " leave it to me” or," mind your own bloody business!".
No doubt some people would call it the attitude of a dour, canny Scot but I did get a satisfactory answer on one occasion when I asked him about flying under the Menie [sic] Bridge. His words for once were encouraging.
"Only a bloody fool would attempt that without the wind on the nose, at low tide and through the widest span'", and then I knew that he was not as crazy as some people would like to think.
That in my book added up to a calculated risk, and there were some more to come.
As we ploughed on through the course a great deal of time was spent in the 'Harwell Box' which was a compartmented type of simulator in which we practiced all of the airborne procedures for a bombing sortie, [underlined] only at twice normal speed!. [/underlined]
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All the clock faces had been altered to achieve the time factor and we had to work frantically to keep up with all of the information that was being fed to us from umpteen different sources: It certainly kept us on the ball, particularly the navigator.
That was not the only simulation. For the first time our operating heights were soon to be up in the rarified [sic] air above 10,000ft for lengthy periods. Above that height the use of oxygen was essential and mandatory, and just to wake sure that no-one treated the matter lightly we were introduced to the decompression chamber.
Eight at a time with a medical orderly, we entered the tank which was fitted with inter-comm and after it was sealed the pumps started to reduce the pressure as one would experience in flight.
When 10,000ft was reached on the internal altimeter we fitted our oxygen masks and then the pressure was progressivly [sic] reduced until the altimeter read first 15,000ft, then 20,000 and finally 25,000ft by which time various parts of our internal plumbing were beginning to respond to the pressure change.
We had been provided with note pads and pencils and were than told to start writing our names on the pads as the oxygen supply was turned off.
I was no different from the others when the voice on the inter comm said that the oxygen was back on and we were called by our names and asked to describe any sensations that we had experienced and the answer was unanimous. Nothing!. But the shock came when we were told to look at our pads.
Our signatures had tailed off into an unintellible [sic] scribble and then re-appeared at the bottom of the page.
The realisation hit us all. Although most of us had experienced some light headedness as the pressure lowered we had not been aware that that was the warning that could lead to oblivion and possible death. It was frightening to think that the process was so insidious that it was possible to be unaware of it.
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After that little demonstration no-one needed any further warning on how to recognise the early effects of the lack of oxygen and I was later to find that my tolerance was quite low and I usually needed oxygen at 8,000ft, and that if I needed to move about I had to be fairly quick when going from a main point to a portable bottle especially later on when I was often sitting next to a damned great hole at the back end of the aircraft where there was no main outlet.
The training got more and more realistic both in the air and on the ground. We had got used to the parachute harness and packs by that time and the short briefing on it's use such as "after you have jumped, count ten and pull that", but suddenly it got serious now that we were going to have to face all sorts of unknown difficulties whilst we were defying the laws of gravity.
We started more intensive training off a rig. First without 'chutes just jumping off of a 12ft platform onto coco mats and then right up in the eaves of a hanger with harness and weighted cable system.
The landings were the same spine jarring thump either way as we made contact with the ground with feet together, knees slightly bent, slight angle to the direction of landing to roll over shoulder and hip on contact.
That was the classical way of doing it if you had the opportunity!. A very good friend was not so lucky when his turn came. He had already received a smashed arm when the aircraft was hit but although some of the crew put his 'chute on and threw him out he lost consciousness on the way down and busted a leg is several places on landing. But he fared better than the others. They all went down with the aeroplane!
Perhaps I was fortunate in my approach to the training and found no great difficulty but others were not so lucky and were required to do it again and again until they had improved their technique but not without a few sprains and bruises as one ploughed on through the course.
We finally completed it with a better than average crew assessment and then we were all on our travels again, but for the first time as a crew.
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Our next destination was to a Stirling Conversion Unit at Stradishall, near Bury St Edmunds. Back in-Bomber country again!. We had known that we were destined for "heavies' long before we left OTU. In fact, I had known before I left gunnery school as I had only done the short course for wireless operators and bomb-aimers, and my log book had been annotated accordingly.
Nevertheless, I had hoped that I would finish up on Lancasters or Halifax's as I already knew enough about Stirlings to be very wary of them.
When I had marshalled in a new one on delivery to Mareham [sic] I had been amazed that the pilot of the monster had been a very small lady of the ATA.
The Stirling was impressive. Although it looked very big it’s dimensions were not much more than the other 'heavies'. It was just that it looked so incredibly bulky.
It stood high on an undercarriage that looked more like some scaffolding around a building, placing the pilot's eye some 22 1/2 ft above the ground which was very high for those days and did not make the assessment of the distance between the wheels and the runway any easier whom landing the thing.
I was also well aware that they had been causing all sorts of problems when the Marham Squadrons were converting to them resulting in all sorts of hair raising incidents and bent aeroplanes.
At least I was familiar with it, and the radio compartment but the fact that I was going to finish up as a crew member on one was a thought that I had not entertained.
Soon after arrival the crew was made up to seven by the addition of a Flight Engineer and a Mid-Upper Gunner.
'Paddy', the flight engineer was of course from the emerald isle and was no stranger to the Stirling having been a ground engineer on them at Waterbeach until he had remustered. He was several weeks into his conversion training and it was a long time afterwards that I learned that he had never flown before he got airborne with us. He must have wondered what he had let himself in for.
Certainly he had a nasty shock when instead of finding his pilot to be another fresh faced youngster he got this 'gnarled old man' as someone described his.
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It was suggested that his main task would be to help the poor old bloke in and out of the driving seat!.
It did not take him long to find out that Mac was something different.
The mid-upper was at the other end of the age scale. Ralph was a fresh faced youngster who had just about changed his Air Cadets uniform for RAF uniform although of course he had done the gunners course since joining and had been at Stradishall for a few weeks on a familaristion [sic] course. But he had not long been out of school.
The crew was now complete. although for a while there was a little doubt about us staying together as Mac found out that he was not exactly built for the Stirling; or visa versa.
The lady ATA pilot had been small but she had seemed to cope but I suppose it was a matter of proportion, and Mac's proportions were somewhat different.
With the controls and the seat adjusted to their limits he still needed some special padding made up to improve things. and the seat of his pants took a terrific beating as he wrestled, wriggled and sqirmed [sic] to handle the thing.
The take-off and landing characteristics of the machine did not help such either. An uncontrollable swing to starboard could develop very easily and the tall undercarriage would be incapable of standing the strain and 'crunch', another one would bite the dust adding to the numbers that ended up damaged by that sort of accident which was already in excess of the numbers lost by enemy action.
It usually depended on how fast you were going at the time whether you walked away or were carried away from the wreckage. Not a pleasant prospect!.
In theory the idea was that the engines were opened up on a staggered basis having due regard to any cross wind. until a speed was reached when the rudder would give effective control, then all engines could be taken to full power.
The snag was that with a full load there was never a lot of runway to spare so it was usually a choice of two evils. You either took a chance of running out of runway if you did not get the power on soon enough or you slammed it on at the beginning of the take off run and took your chance with a
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swinger'.
Mac seemed to have it down to a fine art.
Whatever the length of the runway. Whatever the load, the strength and direction of the wind. Whether the runway was uphill, downhill, or both, with bump or a hollow in the middle, his computer brain had it worked out. Whatever the circumstances and however tired he was we always seemed to make a perfect take-off and landing. So far I had not experienced a bad one with his at the controls.
Nevertheless, he was wearing out his pants at an alarming rate in the process.
So much so that the instructors were having serious doubts as to whether Mac and the Stirling were quite right for each other.
Then something happened that removed all the doubts.
On the night of 13th June 1943 we were doing night circuits and bumps in preparation for his first night solo.
After several circuits the check pilot gave Mac the thumbs up after another satisfactory landing and vacated the aircraft the aircraft in the vicinity of the control tower before we taxied around again for the next take-off.
After the usual pause for the routine cockpit check we entered the runway and were soon thundering along gathering speed; when it happened.
At the most critical point, almost half way down the runway, with about 90mph. on the clock, the port outer seized with a crunch that could be felt throughout the aircraft despite all the other sensations, and 30 tons of Stirling started to swing to port.
It was a wonder that the prop did not sheer off which would have been normal but the reflex action that went on in the cockpit was fast and furious. It had to be to prevent us from becoming another statistic.
Paddy closed down the dead engine by stabbing buttons and switches that cut the ignition to the engine, cut off the fuel, operated the bulkhead fire extinguishers and 'feathered' the propellor as Mac called for maximum power on the inboard engines as obviously his hands were very busy with the controls.
As Paddy took over the throttles and the propeller pitch controls the power came on with a bellow as he shoved the inboard
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We were just at the 'unstick' point and almost at take-off speed as the swing to port became more pronounced with Mac struggling desperately.
At least we were almost airborne which was better than being splattered all over the airfield and his efforts were being rewarded as we then started to go slowly into a starboard turn with only just enough speed on to keep us flying.
Standard procedures dictated that we had to go into a right hand circuit as it was invariably neccessary [sic] to turn away from the dead engine. There was so little margin of control if you went the other way that a nasty mess was the likely result.
Still close to the ground with wheels and flaps still down Mac was straining every muscle to maintain control but slowly and surely we increased our speed still swinging to starboard.
From my position in the astro dome I could see the hangars and the control tower dead ahead!.
If that wasn't out of the frying pan and into the fire!.
It looked as if it was going to be decidedly messy and certainly it was going to do me no good at all if I dived for my crash position…...and then we started to climb and bank as the speed had built up sufficiently.
With wings almost vertical we went between No's. 1 and 2 hangers, taking a telephone line with us. I had a very unusual view of the water tower as we went around it straight into a very low level emergency right hand circuit for a landing that was just like all the others. As smooth as silk. Even under those circumstances.
It was shortly after we had landed that I became aware of the fact that I seemed to have been holding my breath for a very long time and I had been very close to ceasing to breath altogether.
We taxied around to the control tower to pick up the instuctor [sic] pilot and when he came aboard he was still very much out of breath as like most of the staff in the tower, he had abandoned it rapidly as we headed straight for it.
He just managed to gasp "you'll' do" before we taxied back to dispersal.
There was so doubt in our minds anyway. He had tamed the beast and there congratulations all round.
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Mac's reaction was normal. A wink and a tap on the side of his nose. No comment!.
After that there was very little let up as the training including flying intensified. Mac continued to wear out his trousers in his efforts to maintain control and that’s what it was all about as far as he was concerned. Total perfection, and he never, ever, let the machine take over. We had absolute confidence in him.
The only other incident of any note throughout the course occurred shortly after we had landed one night and had got back to the billet. A Ju.88 intruder who had followed someone in tried to shoot him up on the runway without success. He sprayed lead all over the place and I think the most damage was done to a window above my bed in the barrack block. I was under it!. There was no one hurt although my bed was showered with glass.
That sort of effort did not impress us very much if that was the best they could do. It all seemed a bit panic stricken and I had seen plenty of similar activity on the South Coast where air raids on Worthing had been mainly of the hit and run type.
I had been close to several attacks as they came blasting along the railway line and the shunting yards but they never hit the gas works which was opposite the hospital; which was just as well as my father was invariably fire watching on top during a raid.
Not one bomb fell on the railway line or the signal boxes in the local area but there was a fair amount of damage to civilian property and loss of life. The flat in which I had spent the first few years of my life was one that collected a direct hit although mostly the bombs fell in open ground.
There is still evidence to this day of the occasion when an Me.110 straffed [sic] along the line. The metal footbridge between East Worthing and Worthing Central still has the canon shell holes in it and my wife remembers it well.
She was walking along the road parallel to the railway when this chap came blasting in firing both front and rear guns and she was obliged to make a hasty dive over a low wall into someone's garden for safety.
Even then I thought it was a bit panic stricken and not very effective.
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It was whilst I was at Stradishall that I saw the half scale Stirling in one of the hangars. A very interesting little machine. It was about the size of a Wellington with a cockpit just big enough for two in tandem, and four little two blade props on Pobjoy engines. It had been built for test purposes early on, whilst the full size machine was still in the design stage. Even then it was-fall of snags but they pressed on.
No-one sees to know what happened to it eventually. It had been pranged and was not airworthy but it just seems to have dissapeared [sic] . Perhaps it will turn up at the back of a barn one days!.
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[underlined] THE SHORT BROS. S.29."STIRLING" [/underlined]
Built by Short Brothers, Rochester & Belfast and Austins, Longbridge.
First flight (Mk.I) 14th May 1939. Followed by Mk's II, III, IV & V.
Began with daylight operations in 1941 before switching to night operations until the end of 1943. Later used as glider tugs. paratroop and supply dropping and finally transports.
2,374 of all types manufactured but none remained in flying service after the early 1950's.
[line of stars]
[underlined] Model B.Mklll [/underlined]
Span...................99ft 1in.
Length………………87ft 3in.
Max. all-up weight…………70,000lb.
Max. speed…………270 mph. (Economical cruising 180mph. fully loaded)
Range……………….Max. 2010mls. (According to load).
Service ceiling………17,000ft.(14-15,000ft with max. load)
Engines………Four 1,650bhp. Bristol Hercules Mk.XVl
2 stage, supercharged, sleeve valve, 14 cylinder radials.
Defensive armament…….8 .303in. Browning m/g. 2 in dorsal and front turrets. 4 in rear turret. All power operated.
Max. bomb load………..14,000lb. (Max. bomb size 2000lb.
[line of stars]
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[deleted] 44 [/deleted]
[underlined] FOR NORMAL BOMBER OPERATIONS THE CREW CONSISTED OF:- [/underlined]
Pilot………………………..………..who was always the captain.
Navigator……………………..…..who was also trained as a bomb aimer.
Observer/bomb aimer…..….who was also trained in navigation and was front gunner.
Flight Engineer………..………...was responsible for monitoring the engines and other systems. Often acted as co-pilot.
Wireless operator/gunner….communications, radio direction finding and trained reserve gunner.
Mid-upper gunner……………..)were interchangable [sic] between positions
Rear Gunner……………….…….)but generally preferred one position.
Note:- On occasions another pilot was allocated to the basic crew for operational familiarisation and became the co-pilot.
[line of stars]
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[deleted] 45 [/deleted]
It was the middle of June when we left Stradishall and it was a pleasant change not to have to travel too far to our new unit. We moved by truck just a few miles up the road to Chedburgh, a satelite [sic] station of Stradishall.
Most Stirling units were concentrated in East Anglia and we were to join a new Squadron being formed on the day we arrived. The Squadron had been numbered 620 and we would be the partner to 214 Squadron which had been in residence for some time. It had been formed by the standard procedure of hiving off 'C' flights from established Squadrons. In this case 'C' flights from both 214 Squadron and 149 from Mildenhall; by coincidence the same Squadron that I had been with at Mildenhall previously. To assist the rapid build-up new crews direct from training were being added so with virtually a snap of the fingers the new Squadron was born on the 17th June 1943.
Chedburgh was just another war-time airfield that like so many had just mushroomed all over the countryside by the hundred. A tremendous achievement both in planning and engineering considering the enormous amount of material and man-power each one absorbed. It was not surprising that Britian [sic] was often referred to as an unsinkable aircraft carrier. There were over 100 airfields in East Anglia alone!.
They were all built to the same basic pattern with Nissen huts all over the place with dispersed accomodation [sic] tucked away in woods and down country lanes that ensured that everyone had plenty of exercise in the process of getting to and from their place of work.
The airfield was situated alongside the A143 Bury St Edmunds to Haverhill road and the set up was much the same as any other unit.
The Station support services comprised an Administrative Wing, a Technical Wing and a Flying Wing and within the latter were the flying units, the Squadrons, which were independant [sic] units.
Altogether the station was manned by between 1800 and 2000 people including Squadron personnel, with an establishment of 16 air-craft per Squadron. plus 4 reserves. Theorhetically [sic] that should have given the station a total of 40 aircraft but we were rarely up to even the basic strength and then not for very
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All the arrival formalities that we had done so often were soon completed with introductions to the Squadron and Flight Commander as well as the specialist leaders, in my case the Signals Leader, who was an operational Wireless Operator filling the position by virtue of his previous experience and seniority.
With all that attended to Mac had received his instructions from 'B' Flight Commander and we boarded the bus that continually circled the outer edge of the airfield where the aircraft were dispersed.
On the way we passed many Stirlings poised like great vultures, except for the odd one that looked as if the vultures had been at them and had gangs of men working on them.
When we stopped at one dispersal pan Mac said "this is it". 'This' was a pleasant surprise. We had become so used to flying old hacks that had seen better days that to be looking at what appeared to be a new one was unique. Even more of a surprise was to be told that this one was 'ours'.
This particular Stirling was serial No.EF433, built by Shorts at Belfast, and was still new enough to have a new smell about it.
The Squadron identification letters of QS and aircraft letter 'W' had been freshly painted on it's sides over some other lettering that turned out to have been 214 Squadron's identification, with whom it had apparently done three operations before being transferred on the formation of the Squadron.
We were concerned with getting to know that piece of machinery more intimately than anything else we had had dealings with in the past.
We spent hours going over it with the ground crew; testing and adjusting until we had it ticking over like a well oiled sewing machine. We air tested it and put it through it's paces again and again. The gunners tested their guns over the sea. Pete checked his box of tricks. Hoppy put the bomb release mechanism through it's sequences and tested the front guns. I tuned my radio and made contact with the control stations as well as testing the radio direction finding system. Mac and Paddy did everything they could to ensure that the engines and controls gave the right responses by throwing it around at height including a landing procedure with first one then two engines
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feathered and everything throttled back just to see how she stalled as well as a maximum height climb until they were at last satisfied that if anything went wrong with it it [sic] would not be our fault.
When all that was done we were ready for anything and both crew and aeroplane were in a partnership which we hoped would be for some time. As it turned out it was longer than than [sic] the average!.
We were soon to find out what we had let ourselves in for on a series of night operations that were not without a little excitement.
[line of stars]
Four days after leaving Stradishall we found ourselves on the Battle Order for the night of the 22nd June and from the moment the order went on the board everything started clicking into place as we started a procedure that hundreds of other crews were doing up and down the country in order to deliver thousands of tons of bombs and incendiaries to the enemy.
Mac had already been through it the night before, flying as second pilot with a crew to Krefeld, but the only thing he would say about it was that we would find out soon enough, accompanied of course by that tap on the nose.
I was naturally apprehensive at the prospect of flying over enemy territory now that we were finally committed and not unaware of the losses that had already occurred in 214 Squadron in the short time we had been on the base. Fortunately there was plenty to do to take our minds off of the inevitable as the procedure had become standard for major exercises and operations and we knew precicely [sic] what to do.
The first thing was to ground test and then air test the aeroplane and with [deleted] that [/deleted] over to try and get some sleep before the briefing and all the other business whilst the ground crew prepared it for the flight with bombs, fuel, flares, ammunition, oxygen, first aid packs and safety equipment such as the dinghy, inclusive of the distress radio and a multitude of other individual items to be checked over or stowed.
Our next step was to change into clean underwear of the aircrew type. The pure wool and silk mixture. Not only for warmth in the sub zero conditions we were likely to
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encounter at altitude but just as important to reduce the risk of infection if injured. That was the general idea anyway, but at the rate we were soon to be flying we very often had to wear underclothes a week or more before the laundry caught up with us.
'Night Flying supper' was always something to look forward to at whatever time it was scheduled. The rare operational egg and bacon special. That meal was not just a 'perk' but possibly the last one that one would get for some time depending on the circumstances, and then we were off to the operations block.
Once we got there we were cut off from the outside world. All the outside telephone lines had either been disconnected or were at least monitored and even the local telephone boxes had been disconnected or secured as soon as the teleprinters had started clacking away earlier to advise that the operations order was following.
Within that environment there was a lot of activity and the amount of stuff we had to get together was quite extraordinary.
There was basic stuff such as parachute harness and pack. Life jacket, (the Mae West), helmet complete with earphones, microphone and oxygen mask, all to be tested on the rig in the safety equipment section. Then to change into sea boot socks and flying boots. Then to empty pockets into the locker and don the heavy fishermans roll neck sweater. The next step was to draw rations and escape and evasion packs that all had to be stowed into the numerous pockets of the life jacket and as if that was not enough we then gathered up our specialist equipment.
The navigator and wireless operator carried the most and it was quite a pile of stuff. Maps, charts, rulers, pencils, computer, (of the Dalton circlar type for wind calculations etc) , sextant, star tables, code books, lists of call-signs, frequencies, identification beacons. colours of the day information etc. Some of the secret stuff was typed on rice paper for the purpose of disposing of it by eating it if if [sic] the need arose.
It was hardly surprising that we needed large canvas flight bags for all of the odds and ends apart from having to carry all of the other gear.
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After assembling all that there was a short briefing by the specialist leaders before the main briefing took place, and it was at this point that the pilot, navigator and bomb-aimer were given advance knowledge of the target so that they could make their special studies of route, and target photographs before everyone else trooped into the main briefing room where the whole thing was put together so that everyone knew what was going on.
The teleprinters had been spewing out stuff for a long time after the planners at Command and Group HQ had held their planning meetings and sometimes the Operations Order was yards long. The operations order contained details of take-off times, route, turning points, target data, ack-ack defences, possible fighter activities, heights to fly and speeds, winds and weather en-route and return, fuel and bomb loads, pathfinder marking, alternative and emergency airfields, radio procedures, radio beacons, frequencies and callsigns, etc, etc. and even details of any POW camps if they were near the target.
The complex mass of stuff had been sorted out and the whole station was in top gear as we at last struggled into the main hall to assemble around our own table where there was a great deal of chat with clouds of tobacco smoke floating about by the time the whole assembly was called to order by the senior briefing officer. That was always a dramatic moment and the climax of all the activity that invariably seemed to be a race against the clock. Heaven help a crew that was late!.
The windows had been shuttered as soon as preparations had commenced and the 'fug' must have been murder for non-smokers.
As soon as everyone was in and accounted for the main doors were closed and two RAF Policemen took up position outside. Everyone settled down within the chaos of equipment all strewn around the floor and on the tables as the briefing got under way as soon as the big wall map was uncovered.
The briefing officers included the Flying Control and Met.Officers. The Armament and Engineering Officers, The Wing and the Squadron and Flight Commanders, and very often the Station Commander
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who took no part in the proceedings although he occasional took part in the operation with a 'scratch' crew but he invariably had a few words of encouragement at the end of the briefing.
When the curtains were drawn back from the wall map there was a bit of a gasp as eyes followed the coloured tapes across to the target..Mulheim, and then with such waving about of an old billiard cue that had been 'liberated' from one of the messes the show got under way.
It was a source of relief to find that we were not part of the main force. Our detail was 'Gardening'. The code name for mining, which we would be doing by flying part of the route with the main force and then dropping out to sow our 'veg' as we approached the Frisian Islands. I was glad of that and would not have cared for a trip to Mulheim first time out.
Mac would still say nothing about his trip to Krefeld. In fact very few people would. When asked, the usual answer was, "you will find out soon enough", and as far as Mulheim was concerned Mac would only say that we should think ourselves lucky that we were not going there. No-one argued with that!.
As soon as briefing was over there was a mad scramble for the crew bus to take us out to dispersal and to load all the gear into the aeroplane.
Having stowed everything where it should be there was time for a tour around the outside to make sure that all protective covers and control locks had been removed.
When all was ready it was just a matter of waiting for start up time with a few minutes quiet contemplation, a pee on a wheel, and a cigarette.
Any chatter there was at that stage was about anything other then the operation ahead of us.
Although the start up and taxy times had been given at briefing there was usually a signal from the control tower as back up bearing in mind that radio silence was strictly imposed from the time that the operation had been notified.
The signals were yellow/green verey flare for start up or a double red for cancellation so when the yellow/green went up the game was on. Some game!. Suddenly it was all deadly serious.
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My only consolation was that it was my own choice. I could have been blown to bits in the infantry, or roasted in a tank, or faced several different ways of drowning in the navy so it seemed as good a way as any of taking my chance.
With the start up everything in the aircraft seemed accentuated. The smell of paint, leather and fuel brat was all mixed up to create the odour that was peculiar to an aeroplane.
There was the additional smell of the rubber oxygen mask that was attached to the now sticky leather helmet and would be stuck to my head for the next few hours.
There was no way around that as the earphones and microphone were an integral part of the helmet.
Then there were the atmospherics on the otherwise silent radio receivers that mingled with all the other muffled noises as the aeroplane case to life in the hands of Mac and Paddy.
Starter motors whined. Engines coughed and spluttered and the airframe vibrated from end to end with the initial rough running in rich mixture. Flaps were operated, bomb doors were closed and brakes released with hissing air and sighing hydraulic systems after the wheel chocks were waived away, followed by the rolling motion of the heavily laden aircraft as we taxied to the marshalling point near the runway threshold. Depending where the dispersal was in relation to the runway in use determined the length of time taxying, and the order of take off, but normally by the time we reached the threshold the oil temperatures and pressures, and cylinder head temperatures had risen sufficiently for the engines to be run at near full power against the brakes to test the magnetoes [sic] .
As was usual in aero engines there were two magneto's to each engine, each serving one of the two sets of plugs per cylinder. That added up to 112 spark plugs altogether and it was neccessary [sic] that every one was doing it's bit when full power was called for. Then the superchargers were tested, and the variable pitch propellors, with the aircraft shaking and rattling until all four engines had been tested after which they were throttled back to a nice healthy tick over.
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That was the decision point of 'go,no-go'. The engines had to give power within certain tolerances before a full load take-off could be attempted, and a decision that we would have to 'abort' if all was not well would here been an anti climax at that stage.
It would have meant entering the runway at the allotted time, rolling down and turning off at the intersection or the end, and then justifying it to the engineering officer and the flight commander. It was not a decision to be taken lightly.
That first time, with a live load and everything checked out satisfactorily, a green aldis lamp signal flashed from the caravan in acknowledgement of the aircraft's letter signalled on the downward identification light and we were ready to go.
We entered the runway with the one hundred and one checks complete and the adrenelin [sic] started to flow as we went through the familiar procedure.
Line up, brakes on, one third flap, engine cooling gills set, superchargers in low gear, props in fine pitch, mixture rich, engines wound up, a momentary pause for a final check of revs and boost with the aircraft straining against the brakes....brakes off; and a surge of acceleration as we started down the runway. Then the continuing acceleration and the tail coming up followed by a final bellow from the engines as the throttles were shoved to the stops.
The runway lights flashed by at ever increasing speed. The aircraft gave a little sideways fidget as the line was corrected and we were soon approaching the critical speed.
Very mindful of several tons of high explosive and a great deal of high octane fuel surrounding us we continued to thunder down the runway until those of us not in the cockpit knew by all the familiar sounds and sensations that all was well up front. The flight engineer who had followed the pilots hand on the throttles up to the stops had now taken them over and applied the friction locks as Mac devoted all his attention to controlling the aircraft as at the same time the engineer was calling out the increasing air speed.
The rumbling stopped; the attitude changed and we knew we were airborne. The next call was "undercarriage up" and as soon as they were showing up the next call was "flaps in" and another
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change of attitude as the aircraft was 'cleaned up' before there was a final change of engine note as they were throttled back after reaching a safe height and speed.
At that point we all started to breath [sic] a little easier.
All the time the intercom between the pilot and enginneer [sic] was lively as the action and subsequent indicator response was called out and acknowledged.
With so such to do and so such depending on it being done correctly it was a rigid discipline, and very soon we were climbing on the first heading to the rendezvous position before climbing further to our operating height.
On that first occasion we set off at medium level under cover of the main force and once more we were on our way. This time with a difference……it was for real!..
[line of stars]
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As soon as we got clear of the coast the gunners tested their guns with a couple of bursts and the smell of cordite drifted around for a while, after which they settled down to their long spell of sky searching.
It was a lonely and demanding job but very neccessary [sic] as they methodically scanned up and down and left and right with the turrets following their search.
You could not see them out there but there were a lot of aircraft milling about with between 600 and 700 hundred converging on the main rendezvous position from East Anglia, Lincolnshire and Yorkshire to make up a solid stream. Even in good night conditions you were lucky to be able to see further than 700 yards so that if anything did show up there was not a lot of time to take action.
Some separation was provided by the various waves being at predetermined heights, and by time separation between the waves going through a check point or turning position, but nevertheless there were still a large number of aircraft packed into a relatively small area of sky at any one time.
When I was not in the radio compartment my position was in the Astro dome. That was the clear vision dome on top where the navigator took his star shots from and where I could assist in the search.
From there I could still remain plugged into the communication system and listen for routine broadcasts from the Group control station every half hour. These included up-dated forcasts [sic] of the weather in the target area and a common barometric pressure setting for the altimeter to ensure that we were all flying on the same datum.
Any message received was rapidly de-coded and passed to the navigator or the pilot although it was more common that only the station identification would be transmitted, (no message). It did not do to miss anything like a recall though, and to find that you were the only one over the target and getting a great deal of attention.
On occasions I would be required to release a flare over the sea for assessment of the wind drift. It was released down the flare chute and ignited after entering the water and then the rear gunner kept his sights on it to read off the drift angle.
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whilst the navigator did the timing and his sums which was very crude by modern standards but the results were a very useful check against the Met. forecast which with the best will in the world was often well out and navigators needed everything they could get to keep us on track. Pete was forever beavering away with his rulers, dividers and computer to cross check everything and did not rely on any one specific facility. The best I could do for his were radio bearings from the UK using the direction finder equipment.
Unfortunately that became suspect as we got deeper and deeper into enemy airspace. The Germans sent out false signals on the same frequency to confuse things and the continental broadcasting stations were suspect as well due to them being made on linked geographically located transmitters. [underlined] The same as we did for UK broadcasts. [/underlined] It was impossible to get bearings on that network. One equipment that they found difficult to interfere with was 'GEE', which was our most important navigational aid up to a certain distance imposed by range and height. That was the 'Magic Box' which used Information from a number of special high frequency transmissions which were received and displayed on an oscillascope [sic] . When the information had been transcribed to some special lattice charts positions could be fixed with considerable accuracy, and from running fixes it was possible to assess wind speed and direction for the purpose of correcting headings. It did not do to stray far off track.
The flight engineer continually monitored the engines, and all the vital functions that kept us going including fuel flow and fuel remaining as well as transferring fuel from the smaller tanks to keep the main one's topped up. There was very close co-operation between Mac and Paddy as Mac was meticulous in his handling of the engines.
The bomb-aimer/observer whose main function occupied very little time often spent time as co-pilot or assisted in map reading when conditions were favourable, so everyone had their job to do and a little bit more. It was team work all the way.
Positioning for mine dropping was meticulous. The Navy provided the charts and told us where they wanted them dropped, and the charts went back to the Navy.
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The mines went down in their specified area on their parachutes which softened the blow of them entering the water after which they submerged to do their evil business at a later date.
I was glad to see those go. Their explosive content of Torpex was far more devastating than that in our bombs; not that the outcome would be any different if we had a direct hit in the bomb bay!.
It all seemed too easy. We saw a little sparkling flak in the distance that someone had stirred up, possibly a flak ship.
Those were the blighters that could crop up anywhere so every sighted had to be logged so that some might be done about them later; if only to give instructions to avoid the area. The trouble was that it was easy for them to more from one anchorage to another before the next day!.
As we droned back to base I found it difficult to reconcile the fact that it really was me going through it all. It all seemed so unreal like a dream.
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I had moved on.
Someone else now had the refuelling job.
If ever I needed to call the W/T (morse) fixer service I knew what was at the other end of the facility and how they could help us.
I had worked in one of Bomber Command's transmitting stations at Honington, (mainly polishing the wretched floor), but as a qualified wireless operator I had often been allowed to plug into the transmitter side-tone as it squawked away and take down the transmission for practice.
Mostly of course at that time it was incomprehensible as it was in code, but now I had found out what it was all about being one of the recipients within a collective call sign.
There were facilities available on the shorter range R/T (radio telephone) service usually need directly by the pilot and although I had means of using it from my compartment it was very rarely necessary [sic] .
Apart from air to air and normal air to ground control there were some very useful services to be obtained such as the D/F (direction finder) cabins which I had also spent time in.
These were the strange tepee like wooden cabins stuck out in some field near the airfield with their double walls filled with fine shingle for protection against shot and shell and an aerial array sticking out of the top. I [sic] was from there that a highly experienced operator was able to give pilots a course to steer for base, or a bearing, and in dire emergency, assistance with a descent through cloud procedure.
I had spent more time in the teleprinter communication cabins and had done duty as the R/T operator in what was then called Flying Control as well as doing daily inspections on aircraft radio equipments.
I had time to reflect on what it all added up to as we droned steadily towards base. There was little else to do except listen out on the control frequency, load the colours of the day into the verey pistol and switch an the IFF (radar identification signal), make up the log etc as we approached the coast, descended and identified the flashing beacons that pin-pointed airfields and other geographical locations by their code. (I had even
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been part of the operating team on one of those at one time); until we identified Chedburgh's among the dozens that were winking through the night.
With navigation lights on and gunners still keeping a good look out for intruders we called the tower and got our joining instructions; joined the circuit, landed and taxied around to our dispersal.
The ground crew were waiting and marshalled us into position and finally when the chocks were in place everything was shut off and at last the dull roar that had been going on in our ears for hours finally subsided.
It took some time to adjust and we found that we still shouting at each other for a long time afterwards.
Apart from that and to get the tacky helmet off perhaps the most relief was gained by being able to slacken the lower straps of the parachute harness that if properly adjusted made life very uncomfortable, and then to have a good pee on a wheel and light a cigarette. What a blessed relief that was!. It became almost a ceremony!.
There were a few minutes to wait whilst the skipper had a few words with the crew chief to pass on any information relative to defects or malfunctions and then finally the crew bus arrived and we boarded on route to operations still drawing hungrily on our cigarettes, that as I recall, tasted pretty horrible at the time.
On arrival at the ops. room for debriefing there were excited exchanges with other crews all milling about after we checked in our parachutes. The room was still thick with tobacco smoke as the windows had remained closed since the briefing and would remain so until until [sic] the end of the de-briefing or to the time when all was quiet. The time when all aircraft had landed back at base or had been notified as landing elsewhere or endurance times had been reached. After that time aircraft that had failed to turn up were chalked up on the state board as FTR. (Failed to return).
We then spent a little more time answering questions put by the Intelligence Officers and their assistants as they probed for information, and completed combat reports as appropriate as they pushed more cigarette across the table.
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Finally came the specialist debrief when we handed in our logs and code books. Returning all equipment. Changing out of our flying clothing and at last making our way to the mess hall for our eggs and bacon, and to top it all off, a nice long walk back to our tin hut where others were already asleep or just tumbling into bed.
That is when it hit. When you were winding down. When it was all over and you felt completely drained. I know I did. Apart from anything else I was never very good at being up half of the night.
It might have been a routine trip for us but later as we found that [underlined] Eleven [/underlined] out [sic] 96 Stirlings had failed to return from the Mulheim raid and one of them had been from our Squadron. The casualty procedure was already under way and we had not even been there long enough to know the unfortunates concerned!.
That was the pattern of our lives. We usually reported to the flight office at 1400 hours the next afternoon whatever time we had landed, to see what was in store for us and a special effort was made for more than one reason.
If we had slept late and had to make a dash for it it [sic] was easy to miss lunch and we would have to go through to tea time before eating again. There was no other way of finding something edible unless one happened to find a mobile NAAFI wagon doing it's rounds. Even the so called 'sausage rolls' or the inevitable currant bun was welcome then. We very soon got around to keeping a tuck box of some sort to tide us over by hoarding some of our flying rations.
If there was no flying there was a serious attempt to be the first in the queue for supper. We always seemed to be hungry in those days. Or perhaps it was just me!
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On the 25th we were detailed for another mining job. This time in the Bay of Biscay, off the estuary the Geronde [sic] and in the approaches to the Atlantic U.boat bases.
Again it was hours of concentrated low flying over moonlit waters that could be so very, very deceptive. It placed a great deal of strain on Mac but that is where he seemed to be in his element and we were glad to get home again after a flight of 5 hours 45 minutes.
The mines had been placed with the same meticulous care as before and everyone seemed of the opinion that mining was 'a piece of cake' although not everyone was happy about spending so much time near the wave tops, especially as on one occasion Mac was close enough to cause the rear gunner to complain about the spray drenching his turret!.
There was some speculation about whether Mac was volunteering for mining but we never found out. What went on in the confines of the Flight Commanders office only ever translated itself into what went on the Battle Order and the Flight Authorisation Book.
That night others were not so lucky and another aircraft and crew from the Squadron failed to return.
We were all beginning to feel a little jaded by that time and we were hoping for some free time, if only to catch up on some sleep; but we had to wait for that.
[line of stars]
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We dragged ourselves down to the flight office in the afternoon hoping to hear the magic words "stand down", only to find that we were on the Battle Order again for another operation that night, and later on, in the briefing room, I was to experience a very strange feeling in my innards, somewhere between my heart and my stomach when the target was announced as Gelsenkirchen, in the Ruhr, or 'Happy Valley' as it was commonly dubbed by aircrew. It had to happen sometime!.
For Mac, it was already his fourth operation in five nights so it was not surprising that he was tight lipped about it. He knew what we were in for!.
For the rest of us it was to be our first time over the enemy coast to face all the perils that went with it. Since no-one would talk about it it [sic] had to be imagined although it not do to dwell on it.
I do know that as we approached the target that I was glad that I was not a pilot after all. How I would have reacted in those circumstances I am really not sure. Perhaps I would have coped but since my responsibilities towards the crew at that moment in time were limited I decided that on looking at that scene as we approached I would rather not know. I promptly retired to the protection of my armour plated seat. As if that made any difference!.
It did not seem possible that anything could fly through that unscathed. There were a lot of explosions and steel splinters out there but it soon occurred to me that the armour plating was only psychological protection. The others had a lot less protection so I went back to keeping a look-out and to hell with it.
As we started the bombing run the sight of the destruction being wrought upon a town by hundreds of tons of high explosive and incendiaries was bad enough but there was also evidence of life or death struggles going on around us as there had been on the run in. The searchlights probed and flak peppered the sky and through it all, flying more or less straight and level, Hoppy guided Mac to the aiming point chanting his left's, steadie's . and right a bit as the target slid up the sight wires.
In the initial stages of the approach the flak had been scattered as the guns went for individual aircraft but as the 'stream'
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Mac had laid down his own ground rules about what was expected of us when we were away from home shores.
In any case he strictly limited the use of the IFF. This was the device that sent out an identification signal to our radar stations, but which some people were known to use over enemy territory in an attempt to confuse the enemy radar. We most certainly did not!, and On/Off entries were made in both the signals and the nav. logs accordingly.
He would not permit the use of the infra-red rear facing fighter warning system which was just as well as we were to find out later that their fighter A.I. (airborne intercept) radar could home on it.
He was insistant [sic] that there should be the absolute minimum use of any radio equipment, and if it was not needed it was to be switched off. (He even used to switch off his R/T set unless there was a very good reason for having it on!.)
The ban even included navigational equipment if there was any chance of an emmission [sic] from it.
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Perhaps he knew something that we didn't but he was never one for explanations and since he was the boss what he said was never questioned. Not openly anyway!.
Like most pilots he carried a mini route map to help him keep orientated and the navigator was kept hard at it to keep us on track and on time as well as keeping in the middle of the stream rather than being a sitting duck waffling around on the fringe where we could be picked off by a roaming night fighter.
My duties had become very restricted by the limitations imposed by Mac. I could not even use the main transmitter without his permission and he was even reluctant to have it switched into the stand-by position which kept it warm and ready for use.
Only the main receiver plus it's associated direction finding equipment were available to me so I was not able to do much to assist in the navigation although there were plenty of other jobs to keep me occupied.
The results of people straying off track had already been obvious when sparkling exchanges of fire between aircraft were seen, or a sudden concentration of ack-ack and the probing fingers of a cone of searchlights and occasionally an orange ball of fire in the sky that would fall to earth and disintregate [sic] . Having no wish to be part of that scene it was 'softly softly catchee monkey'.
One job I often did was chucking leaflets out of the lower rear escape hatch but generally in the final stages of the bombing run I had another job that was another of Mac's specific requirements.
In order to take a photograph of the bomb strike a photo flash was released automatically down the flare chute and a barometric capsule activated it's 'chute and ignited it. Some photo flash!. It contained about 25lbs of magnesium mixture that produced a 3,000,000 candle power flash but the release mechanism of this thing had been known to fail with disastrous results. If it went off inside the chute or failed to clear the aircraft if it malfunctioned the results were as spectacular as getting a direct hit with an ack-ack shell.
It was usually assisted on it's way by a shove from me when I was not otherwise engaged. Just another safety measure that Mac had very quickly picked up from somewhere,
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and I imagine that the rest of the crew were somewhat relieved to hear the call "flash away---chute clear" call on the intercom before I went back to my other duties.
Once more we had run the gauntlet without problems and although the homeward journey was tedious we were eventually back over base and once more flopping into our beds an hour later when it was all over. Even then sleep did not come easily.
There were some more mines to be dropped in the Bay of Biscay on the 25th; again in the approaches to the Atlantic ports and U.boat bases and once more they went down bang on the button.
There was a special technique for accurate positioning but as usual Mac had his own variation. The brief was to transit at medium height and then down to the dropping height after a 'GEE' fix. Our way was to go down to the wave tops after the fix and then climb to dropping height after which we went down to the wave tops again to avoid being picked up by the Coastal radar stations.
It was not only the position in which they were dropped that was important but [underlined] how [/underlined] they were dropped. Too high and they could be out of position and possibly break up on impact. Too low and they were still likely to go up on impact by hitting the water before the 'chute deployed. Either of those results made the effort a waste of time....and there is no fun being blown up by your own mines!.
As soon as they were gone we were racing home again with the taps wide open to avoid the attentions of any prowling Ju.88's in the area….and then we climbed back up to above 2000ft. On that occasion our flight time was 5hrs 35mins.
By that time I was finding it difficult to reconcile our efforts with all the experiences that I had had on operational stations and of other lurid stories told by others of combats, fires, crashes, injuries and deaths. I knew it was not a myth and that it could and did happen so perhaps some people were just unlucky as the BBC news bulletins were regularly giving out that "XXXXX of our aircraft are missing". Just a cold statement of fact but often they were crewed by people we knew. The figure was frighteningly high on occasions, especially among the Stirling force, and there were not only operational losses. On the 2nd July two of the Squadron's aircraft collided in the Chedburgh
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circuit and crashed nearby with the loss of 15 lives. There was only one survivor from that tragic accident which included some ground crew getting some air experience.
We had a few days break before the next operation and like the I others I managed to catch up on some sleep and letter writing as well as sinking a few jars in the Mess but it was not all fun and games.
Hoppy and I took time off to go to Ely for a look around the Cathedral which we had so often seen from the air or the train and of course there were other activities laid on if there was no flying.
There was the often repeated talk about our conduct should we be unfortunate enough to become POW's and it was sometimes made all the more interesting when the talks were from people who had already escaped or evaded to make a home run. There talks on first aid and sea survival and how to make the most of all the equipment that was available to us if we got into trouble. There were not many idle moments but on those days we achieved some sort of normality. One could not be in the front line all the time, and it was too good to last. On the 3rd July we were on the Battle Order again to find that at briefing targets at Cologne were detailed so off we went again.
The defences were even more lively than I had ever seen before. There was evidence of a lot of fighter activity around the City and some very nasty sights as aircraft were hit in their vitals. There must have been some desperate situations as people fought for their lives if they had not already been blasted into eternity. How we went through that inferno I will never know and we were very relieved when we came out into the clear again and were heading for home, still keeping a good look-out for a long time.
It took time after slipping between the sheets before that scene finally faded from the mind. The brain needed time to wind down allowing the need for sleep to take over.
There were [underlined] seven [/underlined] Stirlings lost that time, again about 10% of the Stirling force among the total losses for the operation. It did not bear thinking about for too long and it was rarely the subject of conversation. At that rate according to the law of averages it would not be long before our number came up but
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people normally kept such thoughts to themselves, or shared their fears with their Chaplains.
For me, I soon gave up the struggle of concience [sic] . If people were getting killed or maimed on both side fighting for God and country then any rational person was bound to have doubts at some time. Possibly most people, like me, tried to push such thoughts to the back of the mind and just concentrated on eliminating the enemy, trusting that a forgiving God would understand.
I suppose it was a sort of psychological con. trick that one played on one's self.
It couldn't happen to us!!!!!
[line of stars]
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On one break between operations and sleeping there was flying practice of the kind that I found the most-enjoyable.
Fighter affiliation was the one exercise that involved us all except the navigator. He could get his head out of the 'office' and enjoy the fun. It allowed Mac to demonstrate his skill by causing more than a few Thunderbolt, Hurricane and Spitfire pilots to have to work very hard to get a bead on us, with a very good chance of getting them in our sights first, which Mac insisted was the object of the exercise.
It required complete team work between gunners and pilot and they had a fine old time giving their running commentaries and instructions which were interpreted by Mac into evasive action. The inter-comm was alive. A team of acrobats could not have put a routine together any better as we skidded and banked and slithered this way and that way to the frustration of the fighter pilots.
My place was in the Astro-dome as usual looking for any attacks that the gunners were not concentrating on....just in case!. I never had the opportunity to get into the turrets. The only way that I was ever going to do that was if one of the gunners became a casualty and although I was not over anxious for that experience I still had to keep in practice.
It was inevitable that Mac would get the opportunity to show off to our American friends one day.
We had recently had a liaison visit from USAAF crews and we had shown off our aeroplane only to be left smarting from some tactless remarks about our 'pop-guns' and the lack of them in certain parts, and "where did we stow the pool table", etc, etc. Certainly the fusulage [sic] of the Stirling was big enough for one, but they were more subdued when we told them that we could carry some three times the weight of bombs that they could!. We kept quiet about the fact that they could fly more than twice as high as we could, and very often did.
On one particular occasion we had just completed our exercise and the fighter was orbitting [sic] out of range somewhere when a B.17. (Flying Fortress), came stooging in looking for all the world like a porcupine with guns sticking out of everywhere.
We were a little above him so Mac shoved the nose down, piled on the power to build up the speed quickly, then stopped and
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'feathered'; (turned the propellor blades edge on to the slip stream) both outboard engines before coming up alongside him. After a little hand waving came the big surprise. We then slid up, over the top of him, came down the other side, then underneath and back into the original position before waiving [sic] goodbye to the astonished, and possibly alarmed B.17. pilot and then peeling off like a fighter. All that on two engines!!!!. Very good for morale!.
It has to be said that although the Stirling could not get to a decent altitude it could be thrown about in a very lively fashion and Mac's handling of it had to be experienced to be believed. We might have done some strange things at times and he threatened on several occasions that he would loop it but one thing I do not ever remember him doing was a heavy landing of the sort that some people seemed to make a habit of.
One measure of the quality of successive landings could always be taken from what was known as 'creep' marks on the tyres and wheels.
When a tyre was fitted on one of those enormous wheels a line was painted across wheel rim and tyre so that after a number of landings with the wheel being jerked into motion by the impact with the runway it was possible to see how far the tyre was creeping around the rim. It was only allowed to go so far otherwise the inner tube could distort and fail.
In most cases tyres needed re-fitting about every seven landings but I do know that our aircraft did not have a refitting as often as that.
As for looping, we never did, although we were never very far from it on the occasion when he did attempt it. He had several tries but the result was the same every time. We started running out of air-speed long before we got up to the top and he was obliged to roll out of it with dust, fluff and debris of all sorts floating about loosely in a brief spell of weightlessness. He gave it up after a while having calculated that he needed at least 300mph on the clock before the pull up to make sure of getting over the top but one thing he would not do was to push 'Willie' to that extent,
Someone else's aircraft maybe, but not ours!.
It goes without saying that such fun and games were never
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attempted without a lot of airspace under us. At least 7000ft. of it to make sure that to make sure of recovery if anything did go wrong, and I loved every minute of it.
On the 9th we were back to mining in the Frisian [sic] Islands this time, in the approaches to Wilhelmshaven and Bremerhaven. There was a lot of flak going up from the islands or ships but we had gone in on track fairly low and as soon as the mines had gone down we went again, skimming the wave tops and once more we skirted all the defences finally arriving back at base with no more problems other than just feeling tired even if it was one of the shorter trips.
Someone did mention to Mac that he was likely to slam into the side of a flak ship one night but he reckoned he would always jink around it before they could bring any guns to bear.
[line of stars]
Among the odd jobs that cropped up between operations were trips to pick up a crew or part of one that had diverted or pranged somewhere, or taking a crew to pick up an aeroplane after it had been repaired. Every day it was something different, and some nights as well with a mass exercise to test some procedure or just to keep the enemy guessing. Spoof exercises were boring but very worthwhile as it put the German defences on the alert only to find that the force had turned away half way across the North Sea.
Mac still went out of his way to practice low flying and I recall with shame the number of sailing boats all over the Broads that we capsized with our slipstream as we steamed along with about 200mph on the clock.
It seemed funny at the time anyway. Especially the poor bloke on a bike who was wobbling all over the place as he was looking over his shoulder at a massive Stirling at about 30ft bearing down on him, to be finally flung, bike and all, into the dyke.
None of it was authorised of course but Mac always used to say that if the flight authorisation book was annotated 'local flying' it looked suprisingly [sic] like 'low flying' and that is what he would be doing for as long as he could get away with it.
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On the 24th we were briefed for a raid on the docks and the U.Boat construction plants at Hamburg with a maximum effort being called for.
Every available aircraft was put on; many with 'scratch' crews drawn from the operations staff. This was one with a difference!. The briefing was long and detailed as we were going to drop 'Window' for the first time.
'Window' was the code name for the bundles of foil strips that were to be discharged from aircraft at a steady rate from a given position en route and as every aircraft in the force was contributing it was expected to cause such a smother of signals on the enemy radar that it would be quite impossible to track individual aircraft. It sounded like a good idea to me and I was quite content to spend a lot of time shoving that stuff down the flare chute if it was going to keep us out of trouble.
It did work and losses were cut considerably despite the fact that three of the Stirling force failed to return out of a total of 791 aircraft dispatched. Nine others were also missing.
It was a fairly long flight of 6 hours 55 mins. but was without incident until we were over base on return. Someone ahead of us had done a 'swinger' and blocked the runway so we were diverted to Mildenhall and it was a strange bed for the night for us. The arrangements for diverted crews were a bit rough and ready. After debriefing we were given bedding and then had to hump it, with all of our other gear, around the camp, through the main gate to the pre-war airmens married quarters which were being used as barracks, and we finally flopped into hastily made beds in the kitchen of one of them, dead beat. I'm sure we could have slept the clock around but it was not to be.
We were hauled out of our beds at mid-day by the RAF Police as there was a panic to get back to base. We had no time to have a drink or a meal or clean our teeth or wash or shave. It was a mad scramble to get out to the aircraft as quickly as possible after returning the bedding. That basically is what caused my problem. It was not until we had got airborne that I realised that in the 'flap' I had left my flight bag in the billet and that was
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serious. Among the contents of that bag were secret code books but Mac was adament [sic] when I asked for a turn round. His comment was simply "hard luck". so when I reported the loss on return to base the cat really was among the pigeons.
It was a long time before the enquiry was concluded.
I could have shortened the period, and certainly Mac was soon wishing he had turned-back but he would not take me over later in his car, or lend it to me (not that I had a driving licence), so we had to put up with a Squadron Leader chasing us all around for statements. It must have been time consuming and frustrating for him when we kept disappearing into the protection of the briefing room which were 'off-limits' to him.
The bag was eventually recovered from where I said it was. It was in one of the cupboards in the kitchen where we spent the night. (I had put it there for safety!), and later I got a formal reprimand for my sins. It did not make a lot of difference in the long run.
[line of stars]
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Nevertheless, I was feeling very apprehensive about the outcome of the oversight as we set course for base, air testing the aircraft on the way, and once the loss was reported I was issued with a new kit before we dashed off to try and get a few hours more sleep and a clean up. There was not much time to spare as we were on the Battle Order again. Hence the panic to get us back!.
Even then none of us felt particularly wide awake as we dragged ourselves into the briefing room once more. This time to be briefed for a raid on the Krupps complex at Essen.
Essen was considered to be one of the hottest targets in the Ruhr, being right in the middle with some fairly formidable defences to work our way through.
It was a case of running the gauntlet for a long time with a big of a wiggle here and there to dodge the ack-ack and the searchlights that someone else had stirred up but nevertheless, around Essen itself it was pretty fearsome.
Somehow we got through it and were homeward bound just wanting our beds but it was not to be. Routine W/T (Wireless Telegraphy-morse) broadcasts from Group HQ confirmed that the weather had indeed taken a turn for the worse, as we had been warned about at briefing.
Fog was forming all over East Anglia and we did not have a lot of reserve fuel. We had carried a maximum bomb load instead so someone at Group HQ planning must have been keeping his fingers crossed. The problem was that there were a lot of pilots wanting to get on the ground quickly as the low swirling fog was thickening up rapidly.
The countryside was covered in almost 100% cotton wool with church spires and masts sticking up through it and it did not make it easy to find a runway underneath it.
Our diversion was to Waterbeach and by the time we arrived on the scene it was going full blast. Aircraft were milling around over the top burning up precious fuel and others who had been called in had made missed approaches and rejoined those circling so when we were called in without too much delay Mac pulled out all the stops and made it first time on the BABS (Blind Approach Beam System), much to the relief of all concerned.
There was a lot of nail biting and it did not improve matters
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when we actually passed over one flaming wreck on the final approach. We had made it but some others holding off near the coast ran out of fuel and had to abandon with the inevitable loss of life due to parachute failures, crash landings and drownings.
At least we were home and dry once more even if it was going to be another cold and somewhat damp bed for the night, which was more than could be said for some poor blokes. Nothing at all was heard from another six Stirlings, Three of then from our Squadron. There was another large gap in the ranks that would need filling!.
The weather had cleared up by mid-morning and we were hauled out of our beds again feeling more dead than alive, with another panic to get back to base as we were on the Battle Order yet again!.
I must confess that at the time I felt that we were really pushing our luck.
"Willie' did not come up to scratch as we airtested it on the way back. We had actually taken off with what would normally have been an unacceptable 'mag' drop being unladen but it really did not make a lot of difference so we handed it over to the ground crew to sort out and once again we went through the same procedure as before. Grabbing some sleep, cleaning ourselves up etc. but when it came to briefing time 'W' still had not become serviceable despite Mac's rantings and ravings. He and Paddy had spent quite a lot of time out at the dispersal with their sleeves rolled up. We were allocated EF492 which someone else had air tested.
It finally resolved itself as the operation was cancelled almost immediately after the briefing. That was one time I was very relieved when the 'op. scrubbed' message came through considering the diabolical weather that had been forecast.
Despite the extra time that was available 'W' still failed to give satisfactory engine responses even after they changed all the plugs, ignition leads and magneto's on the troublesome engine so we were still down for EF492 when we were briefed on the following day for Hamburg yet again.
'Windowing' was the routine once more starting long before we entered the flak and fighter belt.
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The only break in that routine was when the flare was loaded as we once again approached the target in the midst of the docklands complex.
There was a lot of chatter and excitement from those up front as we got nearer. I went forward to join Pete who had virtually abandoned his charts about fifty miles from the city. There was absolutely no doubt where the target was. No spoof target fire could have possibly looked like that.
There was a damn great fire up ahead that, obliterated any aiming point so we jostled ourselves into the stream and Hoppy aimed for the middle.
The scene was almost beyond description, with a carpet of fires delineated by the waterways and streets with bursting bombs and other erupting areas of fire with photo flashes and flak tracers climbing lazily into the sky. Probing fingers of searchlights and cascading chandeliers of red and green Pyrotechnic markers.
It was an obsolutely [sic] apalling [sic] inferno down below us. It was sea of flame with smoke reaching up almost to our height to even penetrate the aircraft which bounced and bucked in the updraft.
I had never seen anything like it before and it was a long time before the flames faded into the distance as we left it all behind us. The rear gunner reckoned that he could still see them nearly 100 miles away and everyone was wondering what could have caused such a conflagration. We were to find out later that a combination of freak conditions had caused what was to be known as the 'firestorm’ but it was with some relief that we eventually arrived back at Chedburgh, into a hut now full of new people and to flop into our own untidy beds ready to sleep for a week.
[line of stars]
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We had another free day before the next operation was scheduled.
A day of rest and an opportunity to write to my parents, who, although they never showed their feelings in their letters about the family must have dreaded each day for what news it might bring them, knowing what I was doing. But the following day we were on the Battle Order once again.
We had a shock when we found that the target was Hamburg once more, and there seemed something sinister in going for the place so soon after the last attack that surely must have torn the heart out of the place.
EF433 was back in business as they had sorted it out at last and we had a rough time weaving in and out of a multi searchlight cone and concentrations of flak as we approached the target area. Once again it was a combination of Mac's skill in weaving about and a fair slice of luck. It was not surprising that our gunners were getting a bit 'twitchy' by this time, and so would I have been in their situation. One moment of slackening concentration on their part and we could easily be one of the 'flamers' we saw all too often so when Ralph blasted away at a shadow that swept across the top of us without warning the very fact that he identified it as a Halifax almost immediately was taken for granted. We learned later that Ralph's fire had been accurate enough to have wounded the Halifax engineer in the foot!. It was unfortunate but it really was a case of shoot first and ask questions afterwards. A split second hesitation and there was no second chance if it had been a roaming night fighter trying to drop something nasty on us. We had been warned about that possibility.
Worst things could happen in the 'stream' with hundreds of aircraft converging on one spot with a night visibility of 500 to 600 yds. at best. Collisions were always a possibilty [sic] despite the attempts to achieve separation in the planning, but if someone was out is his timing, and at the wrong height that was it. What the Halifax was doing at our height and mixed up with the Stirlings is anyone's guess. Pete was adament [sic] that we were on time but a total of six Stirlings were lost that night despite the protection of 'Window' and other methods that were being used to give us some cover.
The Special Duties Force had all sorts of tricks up their sleeve
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to confuse and jamb the German fighter control system including German speaking operators on board to imitate their controllers and transmit spurious instructions.
They played merry hell with the system causing Luftwaffe pilots to continuously change channels and in the general confusion they were soon forced to make some drastic changes and then the main force joined in as soon as they entered the fighter belt. Every aircraft transmitted noise on a selection of frequencies which overlapped and were manipulated in such a way as to produce a solid spread of noise across their operating band.
It caused a buzz of excitement when this was detailed at briefing but was Mac was still reluctant to have our main transmitter in use. It produced a typical comment, "It's all very well these clever sods deciding that we will do this and that and the other, but I'm not having a fighter home on our transmissions right up our chuff".
Nevertheless, I had my orders and I could appreciate the value of it. He was finally convinced when I asked him try to listen into the din that was going out on the airways. There was a solid spread of noise from hundreds of aircraft using a microphone in an engine housing feeding to the transmitter. It blotted out everything else so I was allowed to add my bit. Operation 'Tinsel' was good value as far as I was concerned.
Once more the journey was made over the North Sea which always looked so angry and inhospitable when there was sight of it. The very thought of finishing up in the 'oggin' filled me with dread but that was the way so many went following an emergency signal going out at frantic speed to the fixer service. If the sender was lucky it would be followed by a long transmission when the key was clamped down before he dived for his crash position and the transmission ceased when the inevitable occurred.
Everyone who heard those transmissions logged whatever they heard and a D/F bearing if they managed to get one although the transmission would be acknowledged smartly by the base operator for the benefit of all those that might be listening.
The sender would no longer be listening. He would have far more important things to occupy his mind; if he had been lucky!.
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It was not always easy to ditch copy-book style, with the tail down, along the bottom of the swell, exactly at the right speed, at night, and with the aircraft flying like a brick lavatory. Maybe without even a qualified pilot at the controls. But some made it just the same and the rescue services did the rest.
For us once more there were the dulcet tones of the WRAF in the control tower when Mac called for landing instructions, and eventually after all the paraphinalia [sic] had been attended to; to climb into a cold and untidy bed, for most of us, in the same state as we had got out of it!.
The next night we were off to Remchiede [sic] in the Ruhr and marking was carried out to the ultimate. Something different was being tried. There were route markers, turning point markers, target markers, back up markers and shifters, but it was not to Mac's liking. It might have helped to place more bombs in the right place but it also seemed to be an invitation to the night fighters to concentrate their efforts in a nicely defined corridor.
That was the night I did something that I only ever did the once. We were carrying a second pilot on his first operational trip. Paddy spent most of his time in the astro dome, the flare was loaded and there was no window to throw out so I was virtually 'spare'. I retired to my armour plated seat, receiver volume turned right up so that I would be alerted at the first signs of a transmission; and then I dozed off!. At that point in time I decided that if I was going to get killed I did not want to know about it.
It is not possible to go right off in such circumstances so I was still conscious of thumps, bounces and weaving sensations but we still sailed right through it all although eight other Stirling were not so lucky. Two of them from our Squadron!.
[line of stars]
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There was hardly time to get our breath back before we were at it again. We went through the old familiar routine and there were a few gasps when we found that the target was Hamburg once more.
In the meantime a story had gone around in respect of an NCO crew who had turned up for a briefing in their best uniforms, having told their commissioned captain in advance that they were refusing to go, but when they announced that fact to all and sundry that they really had had enough after their last rough trip there was one hell of a commotion. They had all been placed under close arrest and were stripped of their rank and aircrew insignia after which they finished up in the ‘glasshouse'. Subsequently, when they had completed their term they were employed in the Sgt's Mess of another operational station with the glaring signs of removed badges for all to see………and lesson to everyone!.
How much truth there was in that story is anyone's guess but it did show up the anomaly in the aircrew set up that everyone was well aware of.
Despite the fact that all aircrew were volunteers once you were in that was it. There was no going back and staying that you did not like it or you did not want to do it, on moral or any other grounds. You were stuck with it.
Failure or refusal to carry out your duty in the air was classified as LMF. (Lack of Moral Fibre) and led immediately to a Courts Martial. The action was swift although there was a subtle difference between that charge and 'cowardice in the face of the enemy'.
I am sure that a lot of people who were justifiably scared out of their wits still pressed on rather than give way and be labelled with that stigma. In many cases the condition was recognised by other crew members and the individual often 'rested' on medical. grounds which eventually sorted the chap out one way or the other.
In this particular case where there was more than one person involved it was much more serious and no doubt could have been construed as mutiny rather than LMF. It begs the question of how a similar problem would have been dealt with in either of the other services. I have a fairly good idea...but this was
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the Air Force way!!!!!!!.
The briefing was well under way and everyone did their little bit until it finally came to the Met. man's turn.
He commenced to put up a chart such as I had never seen before; or since.
It was smothered in the usual blue and-red symbols of high and low pressure systems. Warm fronts. Cold fronts. Occluded fronts, and the craziest pattern of isobars that looked as if they had been put on by a demented spider.
There was a buzz of anticipation as he finished pinning up his chart, then he turned around, coughed nervously and confessed that he had not got a clue.
What a brave chap!.
The announcement was greeted with good natured hoots, howls, and whistles accompanied by the stamping of feet until, he had an opportunity to explain that the situation was very complex and that it was impossible to draw up really accurate forecast. This was the best that he could do.
His forecast was absolutely grim. We were to expect anything and everything. There were no soft options.
He probably did not realise at the time that all the noise we had made was little more than a cover for the twinges we nearly all had in our guts.
His chart may have been a joke but the weather was not. There were umpteen layers of cloud with heaped up cumulous and dirty great Cumulo [sic] Nimbus embedded in the layers with the most incredible wind sheers in them that was a navigators nightmare quite apart from the fact that if you did happen to be unfortunate enough to blunder into the worst of that it was enough to tear your wings off with updrafts and downdrafts of around 100mph adjacent to each other!.
We encountered ice, snow, hail, rain, thunder and lightning and even that rare phenomenae [sic] 'St Elmo's fire' that lit up the aircraft with a silvery blue glow of discharged static electricity around all of it's extremeties [sic] including the propellors that were turned into enormous catherine wheels.
Mac fought the elements and that aeroplane for hours as it bucked, bounced, and groaned with every lurch. We couldn't get above it so there was only one way....onward!
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Hail about the size of marbles hammered us until we thought that every piece of perspex must give way under the onslaught but somehow we got through although we had to bomb under the parachute sky markers that the Pathfinders had been forced to drop above the diffused glow of the doomed city below us.
It must have been too much for some. It was a shocking night all round. For us as well as Hamburg. We lost thirty aircraft altogether and another 50 were badly damaged, without a doubt as much by the elements than by enemy action and on the whole it is not suprising [sic] that the bombing was scattered all over the place.
We were all utterly exhausted after that. None more so than Mac, and were very relieved to get back to base and flop into our beds again. We were very lucky. A lot of good blokes went to a more permanent resting place that night without achieving a lot on that ill fated mission.
There were some angry mutterings directed at the commanders who had made the decision to go out an such a night.
There is a story told of one Aussie pilot who was so incensed at the debriefing he insisted on phoning Group HQ and when he was connected fired a real Aussie broadside down the line. The story goes that when he had finished the person at the other end said "do you know who you are talking to?", "No" said our Aussie. "This is the C in C, Air Chief Marshall Harris" (short pause), the next question was from our Aussie friend, "do you knew who this is?" to which the C in C said "No". "Thank Christ far that" was the answer to that before the phone was promptly replaced!.
[underlined] Noel [/underlined]
Happy reading
[line]
and there are another 70 pages to ‘Water under the Bridge’ Part 1
[underlined] Alan [/underlined]
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On the lighter side there were a few evenings out together in Bury St Edmunds where someone had found a pub that was just right for us.
It was a back street 'spit and sawdust' place with the very apt name of 'The King William', and give us a common meeting place that we were otherwise denied as we were split between two Messes.
Mac used to get a small recreational petrol allowance for his car but it didn't go far. One or two sorties had proved fruitless as everywhere we went we seemed to be up to our armpits in aircrew and allied troops of all nations, and despite various reports about a certain pub having some beer we would be lucky to get in the door before they sold out. In others it was not unusual to get a watered pint. With war-time beer being limited to 2 1/2% alcohol to start with who wanted a watered pint! We most certainly didn't so once we found the 'King Willie' we kept very quiet about it.
The landlord and his wife had recently heard of a service bereavement in the family and when we turned up they virtually adopted us. We were treated like family and we could not have asked for more. In those days such a place that never ran out of beer, eggs and bacon, or time was the nearest thing to home. We probably spent more time in the private rooms than in the bar.
After 50 years that old `pub` no longer dispenses jars of ale. It has been converted into a private dwelling but the old pub sign boarding across the front that used to bear the name has been painted over, but it will always be the 'King Willie' as far as I am concerned.
I will always have a soft spot for that place and 'mine hosts'. There must have been times when Mac's elderly but mechanically perfect Triumph Dolomite was on auto pilot when we were on our way back from Bury after an excursion but it always did it without fuss even if it was grossly overloaded. Anyway, Mac was quite used to nursing a grossly overloaded machine and under the circumstances I never had any worries.
There was the consolation that of course if anything did go wrong; and one day it did when I was not with then, we would not have far to fall, and on occasions we were past caring.
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After a short break we were on the Battle Order again on the 10th August and that night we had a very close shave.
The targets were at Nuremburg, and everything was as normal as it could have been under such circumstances until we were in the final stages of the bombing run when Ralph suddenly snapped out "go port--go-go-go", and Mac threw the aircraft over without hesitation.
I searched around frantically to see what it was all about because I was as usual looking in the opposite direction to where Ralphs turret was pointing.
My heart nearly stopped when I saw a Lancaster no move than 100 feet above us, sliding diagonaly [sic] across, with a 'cookie'. 4000lb blast bomb just leaving it's bomb bay!.
That instant `jink' undoubtedly saved us as we actually felt the displacement of air buffet us as it passed within a few feet of us between the mainplane and tailplane....and then it was gone. So was the Lanc!
Whether we were late on target or the Lanc. was early, or why the Lanc. was at our height, or why the bomb aimer had not seen us goodness only knows. There were lots of theories put forward and Mac had a lot to say about it for a change.
Our own theory was that a new Lanc. crew had done a panic stricken dive to the target and were more intent on getting rid of their load and out of it, and we were well aware that such things did happen from the whispers that did the rounds.
Hoppy was more concerned that the manoeuvre had spoiled his bombing run and he had lost his initial aiming paint so all he could do was to dump the bombs into the inferno that was Nuremberg below us but we were still sweating over that incident for some time afterwards.
It certainly had the affect of increasing our vigilance in the future and we were not going to be caught out like that again if we could avoid it. Things were dangerous enough as it was without being 'bombed' by our own aircraft.
Sixteen aircraft failed to return that night and three of them were Stirlings out of the 119 Stirlings sent out!.
Despite the savage losses within the Stirling force we were
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off again on the 12th but from all around the briefing room there were sharp intakes of breath when we saw just how far the tapes stretched across the wall map, right down to Turin, Italy, and everyone knew immediately that it was going to be a 'hairy' one. Mainly because every Stirling crew member was only too well aware of just how high a Stirling would go. Even the Wellington and some of the 'oldies' could do better than us so we knew that there was no way we would be flying over the Alps...it had to be through them!. As the plan unfolded we soon learned that that was exactly what we were going to do. The bolt hole if in trouble was North Africa!. Our Stirlings were a standing joke in Bomber Command. Even WWI aircraft could get to greater altitudes. We were lucky in normal circumstances to get above 15,000ft fully loaded despite the fact that the Operations Order often called for heights that were unobtainable. There were occasions when we managed to 'claw' a bit more at the expense of high fuel consumption by using more revs and boost and with a bit of luck, climbing at a ridiculous 200 feet per minute with 5deg. of flap when it was possible to gain another 1000 to 1500ft before starting the run in to the target but it was not always a good idea as it reduced the airspeed at the most vulnerable time. It did of course produce an increase in airspeed in a nose down approach to the target but it was a 'swings and roundabout' situation. It was certainly a waste of time gaining height that way for any other reason as having achieved it it [sic] could not be held in level flight and would slowly sink back to it's own level like a waterlogged hippo. The net result was that we got the full treatment from both the medium and the heavy flak as well as being bombed by our own aircraft!. The die was cast and we were stuck with it and it seems appropriate to relate an incident as I recall it.
A New Zealand pilot of 214 Squadron received a replacement rebuilt machine and to his delight he found that it out-performed any other Stirling that he had ever flown and kept singing it's praises until the news got around and an investigation was started to try and find out all about this 'Super' Stirling.
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All sorts of people flew it and sure enough it went up to around 20,000ft feet just like a Lanc. and there was much scratching of heads. Then they brought the jigs in from the repair depot, (SEBRO), at Cambridge and the matter was solved. They found out that the tailplane was out of incidence, so they promptly put it back to the 'correct' specification and 'presto', it was back to what a Stirling should be.
It might have solved the technical problem but it did not help the pilot much. He was so peeved about that he refused to fly it until it was changed back and he was threatened with disciplinary action but it was overcome by allocating him another 'normal' aircraft so he had to fly that or face the consequences. My recollection of the final verdict is that the powers that be decided that an incorrectly rigged tailplane could cause a structural failure in flight and that was the last word as far as I am aware. Stirlings continued to be produced to the same specification and displayed the same problem right to the end of it's days, even when many were converted or built as Mk.lV and Mk.V transports that were subsequently to be found littered around airfields all over the world.
I think most of us at that time would have been prepared to have taken a chance if there had been a choice of the two evils and Mac summed it up in his own inimitable way. "Bloody stupid sods", but since there was no choice through the Alps it was.
At the other end of the spectrum there was another `rogue' aircraft that arrived on the Squadron after a rebuild but it must have had a very limited test flight prior to delivery. Rogue is hardly the word that it's crew called it after air testing It. It creaked and groaned. The wing tips fluttered and it could not be trimmed from a lop-sided attitude in flight. Despite the most careful handling it showed great reluctance to exceed 9,000ft and was finally landed very delicately as it seemed that it was about to fall apart. It still took another independent short air test to confirm it's condition before it was promptly grounded and handed back to engineering!.
Despite the problems with the aircraft and the conditions encountered in flying right down to the South of France, skirting around Switzerland and heading through the mountains the Fiat factory......
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in Turin received our calling card but Mac was not at all happy with the return journey.
We had used a lot of fuel as a result of the engine settings that he had insisted on as we had weaved in and out of the mountain tops and to make matters worse it seemed to be getting light much earlier than anticipated.
The planned route was given up in favour of a straight line course for home shores and in the improving light Mac went down to deck level to get under radar cover and to make sure that no-one could get underneath us.
There was little I could do. Radio communication was out of the question even if it had been needed. We were far to low for reeling out the trailing aerial without loosing it so I went into the front turret as all of the others up front concentrated on map reading and safety look-out.
We were scudding along and were about 30 to 40 miles South of Paris when Mac let out a yell, "all gunners stand-by.....open bomb doors". He had spotted something that looked like a good place to jettison the incendiary containers. That 'something' appeared to be a German troops early morning parade forming up in a barrack square and we blasted into the parade ground leaving a very nasty mess behind us from front and rear guns as well as the containers.
That got rid of a bit of weight and we continued to steam along until we came to the shores of the Normandy coast where we spotted what looked like another troop assembly for morning bathing which we blasted into as well leaving that area rather messed up as well.
It did seem as if Mac's apptitude [sic] for low level flying was paying off as we had no-one chasing us so we stayed down low until half way across the Channel by which time I had vacated the front turret then it was back up to height, IFF on for radar identification, and on to base.
Mac had his own reasons for imposing a discreet silence about that episode despite what might have been a considerable contribution to the war effort. As far as anyone else was concerned we had dumped the containers and fired off the ammunition in the Channel to lose weight but having run for home more or less in in a straight line we got it........
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in the neck for arriving home early, a little earlier than others. There was even an accusation that we might not have even been to Turin and Pete's charts were impounded, but the target photo proved that we had. What they thought we had been doing for 7hrs 25mins. I really do not know but it was not very pleasant until we were proved to be in the clear but our unauthorised activities were [underlined] never [/underlined] reported.
The relief of crossing home shores again on the return journey was always an anti-climax as there were many hidden dangers on the home run with most of the crew drained by the physical and mental concentration of picking a safe pasage [sic] through enemy defences.
It was too easy to relax too soon with the gunners fighting the overwhelming desire to close their eyes, and even up front it was just as easy to be lulled by the steady throb of carefully synchronised engines with the aircraft flying itself on auto-pilot, particularly during the dark hours.
It was not unknown for the occasional Luftwaffe fighter bomber to infiltrate the home going bomber screen [sic] with a chance of shooting one down or following it through the radar screen to his base to shoot him down when he was most vulnerable during the landing and to give the base a plastering as well.
There was one occasion that I thought Mac had gone barmy when we were homeward bound over the sea and he called me up to take over his seat whilst he went down the rear. The night was as black as a coal cellar otherwise I am quite sure that I would never have had that opportunity but I dread to think of what might have happened if we had been bounced.
Of course, Paddy, in the right hand seat was quite capable of flying the aircraft within certain limits should an emergency arise, that was part of the job. So could Hoppy and although I had done several hours in the Link trainer (Flight simulator) my own efforts were very limited. My best effort was when I had an outside horizon but I was not very good on instruments alone and with the hood down. Under those circumstances I invariably 'pranged' it by losing control so when on that occasion I sat there gingerly making adjustments to the controls; as I thought, Paddy said after a few minutes "easy isn't it?", and when I nodded he added, "especially on auto-pilot"!. Rotten
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swine, and I thought that I had been doing so well to keep it straight and level.
After that I just sat there until it was time to return to my radio compartment to take a routine broadcast. Then I knew why I had been afforded the privilege of a front seat.
There was Mac, comfortably seated on the Elsan toilet down the back end, smoking a cigar, seemingly without a care in the world. Skippers privilege; no-one else was allowed to smoke!.
After the last operation we learned that three Stirlings had failed to return and one of them was from our Squadron.
The briefing on the 16th was for the long haul down to Turin again but we had an engine pack up 1 1/2 hours out and we were forced to return. With obstacles like the Alps to contend with it was no time to invite trouble but it seemed a terrible thing to do to jettison about 1000 gallons of precious fuel over the bombing range at Thetford followed by the bombs. It all had to go to get the aircraft down to landing weight but not all of the bombs went down safe. They never did. If the arming links did not release from their clips the pins were pulled and they went down live.
I remember only too well the occasions when as an airman on the very range, looking after the flashing beacon that there were some hair raising incidents. I have always maintained that the safest place was the target area. Being 2000 yards from it was no guarantee that you would not get earth thrown in your face,.....even when the Lufwaffe [sic] had a go at knocking out the light. At least on those occasions it gave me a bit of fun then with the Bren gun!.
We were certainly more rested than those who had done the full round trip when we found out that there was another operation planned for the 17th.
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Excitement mounted when the Battle Order was posted calling for a maximum effort and every available aircraft and crew was on the board to start with although it was whittled down for various reasons as time went on. We were allocated a 2nd pilot as EF433 was still undergoing an engine change so we were down for EE945 but it seemed a struggle to get many serviceable.
There were gasps and whistles as the wall map was uncovered. The tapes went right out across Demark and jinked about all over the place before they ultimately took up a course for Berlin from a turning point on the German Baltic coast very close to the Polish border. That was the crafty bit. We had been going on that route with variations for some time but that time we were not going to Berlin but to some place by the name of PEENEMUNDE.
The briefing was lengthy and very detailed. We were going in at medium height in bright moonlight to attack an experimental radar establishment (so we were told) and there was an order of the day from the man himself, 'Bomber Harris' to the effect that we were expected to press home the attack with the utmost vigour, and that if we did not knock the place out the first time we would be going back again the next night to finish it off.
Apparently Peenemunde was very special and I did not like the sound of that any more than the rest of our brief.
The aiming point for our wave was the quarters of the technical staff with the intention of killing as many as possible and the other waves would deal with the research and manufacturing plant. There was a lot of quiet whistling through clenched teeth at that announcement. It had a particularly dirty feeling about it to set out to deliberately kill people although we were not so naive not to be aware that the type of bombing that we were engaged in invariably took it's toll of innocent civilians including women and children. Somehow this felt different.
The Pathfinder technique was something new too. We had a 'Master of Ceremony's', who would be flying around the target broadcasting target and marker information to keep the bombing concentrated in the right place. A very dodgy process at low level and under a lot of falling bombs so Mac had to keep his R/T set on whether he liked the idea or not.
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Despite the maximum effort called for all the Squadron could muster was four serviceable aircraft and in fact only a total of 54 Stirlings were committed so we were not the only unit having difficulty in keeping aircraft flying but we got off and were under way without any trouble.
It was a long trip taking a Northerly route across the North Sea with many feint turns to keep the enemy guessing until we eventually turned South to cross the Island of Rugen with the head of the stream pointing to Berlin but in that case using the island as a final navigational check point to line us up with Peenemunde.
In such a bright moonlight night dozens of aircraft could be seen lining up but the rear gunner spotted one that seemed to be lining Itself up on us and it was not one of ours!. He kept an eye on it until he was sure of it's intentions and then there was a sharp warning, "fighter low, corscrew [sic] starboard, go" and opened fire as he spoke.
There was a lot of firing from both gunners as banked and dived followed by a yell from the rear gunner "got him" as the would be attacker went diving earthwards with smoke and flame pouring from him.
We soon levelled out again with the target area now clearly lit up ahead by markers, exploding bombs and fires. The Flak was very light and the target stuck out like a 'sore thumb' although there was a little confusion about the precise aiming point. The MC had been a bit late in giving corrections to bomb upwind and to one side of the markers but Hoppy had already locked on to his target and it was too late to do anything about it once the button was pressed, He always maintained that he went for the correct target anyway as it was obvious that the markers were out of place but there was a lot happening around us and there was more excitement to come.
The bomb bay doors had just closed when Mac suddenly ordered "guns stand-by-fighter dead ahead" and I swung around in the astro-dome to see an Me.110 about 200 yds ahead going from left to right with the crew plainly silhouetted in the cockpit by the light of the moon.
In the time that it had taken me to turn around Mac had already
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rammed on full power, banking right and Hoppy was scrambling into his turret. Ralph was rapidly rotating forward but it was a forlorn hope that we might do something effective. There was no way a thirty tonner was going to produce the sort of urge [sic] that was necessary and we soon lost him as he went into the dark side. I don't suppose the German crew even saw us.
The intercom was a bit lively after that as we cleared the target area and finally headed for home. The fighters were showing signs of getting very busy and there was evidence of combats all around us so it was not surprising that Mac did his usual and to hell with orders to climb away from the target. I heard him explaining to our co-pilot that he did not think it was a good idea to reduce his airspeed to about 150mph in those conditions and our co-pilot was learning a few things too. It must have paid off for him anyway. He stayed with the Squadron to the end advancing from Sgt to Sqdn.Ldr. and with a DFC.!.
Mac did the very opposite to the briefed instructions by shoving the throttles right forward with the nose down and 'high-tailed' it out of there like a scalded cat and kept it going until we were down to about 2000ft which we maintained over Denmark before climbing again.
We got home without any more trouble. The rear gunner had his claim of a `kill' of a Do.217 confirmed by other sightings although it was never acknowledged in the record books and fortunately we didn't have to go there again. We had well and truly put the place out of business and the Yanks made sure that it was unlikely to recover.
It was long afterwards that we learned that the so called 'radar delelopements [sic] ' at Peenemunde were in fact the V1 and V2 rocket research and developement [sic] that had received top priority, but at a terrible cost.
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The raid had cost us 41 aircraft including one Mosquito over Berlin where a diversionary attack was-going in. Of the two Stirlings lost one was from our Squadron and we lost not only the 'A' Flight Commander and another 'freshman' pilot who was down as second pilot.
Altogether there were nearly 300 casualties of which 131 had a been consigned to watery graves; never to be found!.
Later on some more interesting facts emerged. Apparently the Luftwaffe had dispatched their night fighters to Berlin at first due to the Mosquito's stirring things up and in the excitement they had a fine old time shooting each other up; and down, before it became obvious that the main raid was-somewhere else. Then the fighters were diverted to the Peenemunde area and other units were alerted.
The net result was that when the whole flock descended to land, very short of fuel, on diversionary airfields it was every man for himself and quite a number were lost in mid-air collisions and taxying accidents.
One significant loss that could be attributed to that episode was that the senior General of the Peenemunde production staff was among the many casualties and production was put back sufficiently to gain time for the introduction of countermeasures when they did finally launch them.
[line of stars]
I was not sorry when we found ourselves free for a few days as we waited for the nights to get darker and for nearly 300 air-crew and 40 aircraft to be replaced; but it was only a few days.
On the 23rd August EF433 was back in business again and we were off once more. The target was Berlin; the 'Big City' as it was known to aircrew. It no longer gave us any cause for concern when the target was announced....we had been well and truly blooded, so off we went again although it was not without a spot of bother.
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It seemed that there were battles going on all around us with intense activity for a long time. There were 'flamers' going down in all directions and we were all keeping a very sharp look-out whilst Mac weaved about so that at times we could see below us but we were lucky again even when Mac had to take some very lively action to duck out of a searchlight cone that definitely had our number.
The pale blue high intensity radar controlled master light locked onto us first and then a number of others joined in and chased us around all around the sky.
We had seen that situation often enough to know that once you were trapped in that lot there would be a fighter not far away waiting to finish us off if the concentration of flak did not get us first; and the flak got [underlined] very [/underlined] concentrated.
That was no time to just 'corkscrew'. Throttles forward, fine pitch, nose down to increase speed and then Mac more or less played tag with them as they chased us but he used some very rapid changes of direction before they could reverse.
That night was perhaps the most desperate searchlight situation we had ever been in. On occasions the whole interior of the aircraft was illuminated as plain as day and it was like being a fly caught in a spiders web but eventually Mac's tactics paid off as we broke free. We were very glad to get home again after that.
It was becoming increasingly obvious that the relatively quiet earlier missions were a stroke of luck as we were now having to fight our way through almost every time. The odds in favour of us completing a tour were shortening considerably, and to make matters worse the flying time was getting longer. The last three ops. had all been over seven hours and Berlin was nearer eight, and 56 aircraft had been lost on that raid, 16 of them Stirlings!. The beds in our hut were getting new occupants before we even got to know the previous one's!.
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No-one seemed to be getting posted away or 'tour expired'. There was always someone from the 'committee of adjustment' gathering up the possessions of those who would have no further use for them unless they had been particularly lucky.
As far as we were concerned it was still not a subject of conversation although we were a little superstitious about the situation. Despite the fact that our beds were scattered about the hut none of us ever moved from the beds that we first flopped into so that we could be grouped together, although it would have got some of us away from draughty doors and windows.
We just stayed put as the occupants of the others changed regularly and I learned later that Mac and Pete had adopted exactly the same procedure!. Among the most recent casualties that brought things rather sharply into focus was the loss of another McDonald, (slightly different spelling), ex 214 Squadron, on the last operation. We had got to know him and his crew quite well as they were the most experienced, and we had wished them 'Good Luck' as they left the briefing room.
It was his 30th and final operation before being rested and it was a long time later that I learned that only his W/Op. had survived as a POW. Apparently, at the last moment, on leaving the briefing room, he had been offered the chance to stand down and finish his tour there and then but the crew voted to turn it down!. It did not help to reflect on the fact that when the Squadron had been formed there was a McDonald, a MacDonald and a Macdonald. One, Sgt MacDonald had already goes missing on the 25th July, so we were the only one left!.
As usual, despite the long trip the night before, we reported to the flight office in the early afternoon where we learned of the Squadron's loss, hoping as usual, that we would be 'stood down'. Some were but for Mac and I it was a different story.
For us there was a flight detail with some S/Ldr Staff Officer from Group HQ who for some reason wanted to demonstrate the 'corkscrew'.
I don't know why it was us. Perhaps Mac had volunteered again
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as we suspected he did an occasions, but as it only required a minimum crew of three for such details the others were sent off. There was no Battle Order on the board so they did not need a second telling. They were off like scalded cats!.
It was no real problem with two pilots up front so I was down as 'gunner' for the flight and there was a chance that we might learn something new although we had certainly done our share of 'corkscrewing'; and a bit more the previous night when Mac had got into an energetic but still smooth manoeuvre in such a way that it did not communicate the extent of the motion to the back-side. The evidence of that was that Pete, sitting in his darkened 'office' doing his sums, was only half aware of what was going on apart from the occasional interior illumination, came on the intercomm [sic] and nervously suggested to Mac that he "chuck it about a bit"!. That was a bit of a surprise to the rest of the crew. I knew that we were being 'chucked about,' quite a lot. How else was it that I was in my seat and often getting glimpses of the ground through the the [sic] Astro dome on [inserted] the [/inserted] [underlined] top [/inserted] of the aircraft.
When we got out to EF433 I was more concerned with the pre-flight checks of both mid-upper and rear gun turrets in case I had to make a dive for one of them in the event of an intruder chancing his luck, and then basically I was a passenger.
I was a little surprised to see Mac in the right hand seat as I took up my position on the flight deck between the two pilots as we started up and taxied out…..even then I was getting alarm signals in my sensitive parts as I was subjected to an G experience that was rare since flying with Mac.
The brakes squeeled [sic] and shrieked and the aircraft rocked and a lurched about until finally it was heaved off of the runway in about the clumsiest take-off I could ever remember and into a climbing turn that seemed to strain every rivet. And that was before we corkscrewed!.
After climbing to about 5000ft with the engines bellowing I was listening to this chap explaining to Mac how it should be done but it still caught me by suprise [sic] when he went into the most violent, wildest manoeuvre that I had ever thought possible. The wing tips must have flexed by about 6ft although I did not know for sure as I was brought to my knees by the 'G' forces
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one minute and was floating to the roof the next desperately trying to hang onto something to avoid being thrown around the cockpit and possibly finishing up in someone's laps. Even so I could not avoid noticing a purple tinge developing around Mac's neck that had nothing to do with 'G' forces. As it went on he was obviously getting very angry and not learning a lot!.
Eventually he got very emotional as he turned to the other pilot and the intercom [deleted] n [/deleted] fairly sizzled with an outburst that contained phrases like, "how dare you treat my aeroplane like this" and "what the bloody hell do you think we were doing over Berlin last night" and "what the bloody hell do you think the gunners are supposed to be doing whilst all this is going on" and a lot more besides which is unprintable. An argument ensued, the outcome of which was that Mac finished by telling the other pilot to relinquish control by his "I have control....now sit back and you might bloody well learn something". I crept away somewhat embarrassed and took up my position in the mid-upper turret reporting in when I was established and I soon knew how Ralph felt as Mac put us through the same manoeuvres as we had done the night before, (and he was driving from the right hand seat), with no further comment from the visitor.
At least, being in a gunner situation for a change I learned the value of keeping my eyeballs in their sockets which is more than I would have done if the other chap had been driving!.
Having got that off of his chest we headed straight back to base and landed with the Squadron Leader still fuming at the indignity of being lambasted by a Flying Officer, so he stamped away from the aircraft with a flea in his ear!.
Mac left him to his own arrangements to get back to the flight office whilst we spent a long time looking around the aircraft for signs of sprung rivets and other signs of over stressing like wrinkled skin.
Mac was muttering darkly all the time about "ham fisted buggers" and other uncomplementary [sic] remarks that are unprintable.
He was more vocal than I had ever heard him and definitely not impressed that 'Sir' had not done as many ops as we had!.
No doubt the demonstration was well intentioned even if it was a case of 'teaching grandma to suck eggs'.
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On the 27th we were in the briefing room again to find that targets in Nurnburg [sic] were to receive our attention so off we went in the company of another 673 aircraft.
My recollections are that the flak was the worst I had ever seen so far. There seemed to be a solid wall of shell bursts in front of us as we closed in on the city, and 'flamers' were going down right left and centre.
At briefing it had been mentioned that the night fighters were likely to be repeating some new tactics that had already had some success; as far as they were concerned anyway.
It confirmed our suspicions that something different was going on.
Previously the fighters had kept clear of the ack-ack and waited until they saw someone in trouble before going in for the kill but they had started getting in among us and having a go at anything they saw regardless of the possibility of being hit by their own stuff. Between those operating those tactics and others using AI (Airborne Interception Radar) they were beginning to knock us down like clay pigeons.
The searchlight/flak/fighter combination was lethal under those conditions and between them accounted for the loss of 33 aircraft, 11 of them Stirlings from a force of 104. [underlined] Three [/underlined] of them were from our Squadron detail of seven that had ultimately got under way. The loss of nearly 50% really knocked the stuffing out of us. None of them had been with us for more than a few weeks and one of the pilots had flown with us as co-pilot recently.
At this point I was hoping that a spot of leave would help to prolong things but it was not be.
After a brief rest the next place to receive our attention was Munchen-Gladbach [sic] on the 30th and this one started off on the wrong foot.
All was well until start-up when the starboard outer starter motor stripped when engaged.
It was not unnatural that most of the crew immediately started planning the evenings entertainment to occupy a bonus night off as we knew that there was no spare aircraft. I must confess that I had no knowledge of the starting handle!.
There was no reason why a wireless operator should I suppose
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although it was in our own interests of survival that we should know quite a lot about everyone else's [inserted] job [/inserted] . But that was some starting handle!.
Nearly 20 feet long, shoved through a hole in the engine casing to engage it, and with a large double. crank at the bottom designed for two people to turn it.
With Paddy in the cockpit juggling with throttles and mixture controls, and Mac jumping up and down shouting unprintable words of encouragement to the owners of [underlined] four [/underlined] pairs of arms, mine included, we cranked that engine until at last it spluttered into life and then we all piled aboard and got under way.
We soon made up for lost time by taking a few short cuts to catch up the force as there was no way that we were going to be a loner over enemy territory but I doubt it very much if many aircraft had been started that way to go on ops.
We had a bit of a skirmish later as we approached the target. The rear end Mac hollered and fired as we jinked away from an Me.109 which spun away pouring smoke and flame although we did not see what finally happened to him. We were far to busy searching for others as it was obvious that the fighters were very active all around us. McIlroy was only credited with a possible for that engagement.
There was no doubt that our two gunners were really on the ball as once again they had fired first but others were not so lucky and for one reason or another six Stirlings failed to return.
[line of stars]
We were briefed for Berlin on the 31st although there was some doubt about W becoming serviceable although they were half way through the starter motor change. In the event it was not rectified in time and at the last minute we were allocated EF117, but Mac was very peeved about it. It had not even been air tested!.
We did not get very far in it before we found that the rear guns would not fire and then the intercom went dead on us.
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Mac was fuming and we pressed on for a while desperately trying to rectify the faults without any success but he decided that we would not waste the trip or the bombs as we turned away from the enemy coast and diverted to overfly a place that most people tried to keep clear of; Texel, in the Frisian Islands. They started firing as we approached so it was taps open, speed up with a bit of a weave on and Hoppy planted the bombs as close as he could to the batteries and the searchlights. Their effort was certainly reduced as we turned away so perhaps we had done a bit of damage in the process. It was counted as an operation as we had been over enemy territory but there was one a hell of a row as the brief was to dump the bombs in the sea or jettison them on the Thetford range.
In addition there were even accusations of possible sabotage and collusion from higher up until the faults were proven to have been electrical malfunctions that could not have been fixed in the air. Mac was furious about the whole business but it did not help. One can only speculate on what the outcome might have been if we had not been forced to 'abort' the mission. There were 16 Stirlings lost that night out of the 57 dispatched. One of them from our Squadron!.
The gaps around the mess tables were getting noticeable again and if the absence of any entries in my log book is anything to go by we were sent on leave whilst the Stirling Force was being put together again.
I do vaguely remember one leave that started with a fair old session at the King Willie and I must have forgotten where I was as we pulled out of Bury. St. Edmunds station. Apparently I had to be restrained from dispensing leaflets out of the window!. Despite my indiscretion I still managed to retain some of them.
There were a few mining operations undertaken by new crews whilst we were away and on our return we were to find that one new crew had arrived and had already been lost in that short period. It was not long before we were back in the briefing room again to find that the target was the Dunlop factory at Montlucon, Italy, but it was another washout. We never even left home shores.
An engine seized shortly after getting airborne and we were
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obliged to jettison bombs and fuel on the range before landing. We were in 'W' and it had only done a few hours local flying whilst we had been away but sleeve valve Hercules engines really made a thorough job of it when they seized, so of course Mac was hopping mad.
We ail got blamed for the various things that had gone wrong and a lot of accusations were flung around in the heat of the moment. The frustration was understandable as we all knew that he was driving himself, and us, as hard as he could to get the tour over as quickly as possible but eventually he calmed down and we renewed our efforts.
[line of stars]
It was during our last leave that Mcllroy spent a few days with me and the family as we had a welcome break from the East Anglian scene.
We walked miles over the Downs at the back of Worthing where I had spent all my earlier days, and past the spot where in 1940 I had gazed in awe at a shot down Heinkel 111. although it was an area now that was not so regularly visited by the German Air Force.
It had been different then, when the invasion was imminent although they had been forced by their losses and other commitments to limit their efforts in our direction.
I can still recall vividly the occasion when I found myself right under a scrap over Worthing, between three Spitfires and a Heinkel 111. that had dared to venture in the direction of London.
The Air raid siren had sounded and I had seen him going over very high, leaving vapour trails but he had obviously been forced to turn tail and he was in a shallow glide going very fast as he came over the hospital and the gas works. Then those Spits gave him a real hammering.
With hot empty cartridge cases and links cascading down all around me I had watched mesmerised as the top gunner had winged two of them, one going off East towards Shoreham staggering a bit and the other in the direction of Ford and Tangmere trailing smoke. Then the third one went in for the kill if the
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way that the guns suddenly went askew was anything to go by. That was it. He continued out to sea and plunged in about a mile off of the pier. He had put up a good fight but it had not done him much good.
Now the skies were relatively clear but that did not mean that the area was safe. There were elements of the Canadian Army en-camped in the area and they often imposed a threat to life and limb.
I was glad of McIlroy's company in a bar one evening when some of his countrymen who were somewhat 'tanked' up started making derisive remarks about Brylcream boys and a scrap was imminent.
It all looked very ugly for a while and of course those chaps had been trained to the peak of fighting efficiency and no doubt still had a bee in their bonnet about the Dieppe affair.
Just in time Mac defused the situation. He pushed me out of the way, took of his raincoat to reveal his Canada shoulder flashes, gunners brevet and stripes, and drawing himself up to his full height of 6ft plus asked who was going to be first. There were no takers and we moved to another bar to continue drinking in peace.
No doubt that lot had more than their share of fighting later on, on 'D' Day and after.
[line of stars]
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That was all behind us as we finished our leave and got back to the task of taking the fight to the enemy.
On the 16th we found ourselves on the Battle Order for an operation that turned out to be a very dodgy one.
There were the usual mutterings, quiet whistling through clenched teeth plus a few caustic comments from the assembly when we found that we were off to do some damage to a railway station and tunnel at Modane, a mountain pass between France and Italy. What caused most of the comment was the unusual method of attack. Modane was at the Northen [sic] end of the Tunnel-de-frejus, deep in the Alps!.
As it was in a valley, the floor of which was 3,467ft above sea level, with the tops of the valley at about 11.000ft and only three miles across the tops it was impossible (so they said), to approach the tunnel mouth direct due to the sheer rock face above it.
The plan was to approach from a valley at 90° to the tunnel mouth, plant the bombs in the valley wall to bring down a large amount of debris before doing a smart left hand turn into the main valley.
The task was a risky one, bearing in mind that it was at night. Anyone who failed to get it in one was to initiate the left turn and take the station and yards at Modane as the secondary target.
One way or the other it would make it difficult for the German military traffic that was plying between France and Italy through the remote pass.
Fortunately the Met got it right that time. The weather was perfect. It was beautiful moonlit night and we entered the mountain region between the peaks bang on track and worked our way through until the target area loomed up ahead. We rushed towards the rock face at around 200mph and Hoppy did his lefts and rights and steadies and then he goofed it!. !
What happened next caused my heart to miss a beat. Calm as you like as if he was on the bombing range Hoppy said "missed it-round again"!.
I think that is what upset Mac more than anything else as we banked over into the valley expecting him to give Hoppy some verbal about the secondary target but what came next caused
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my heart to miss a few more beats.
We were all alarmed to hear Mac say, 'that is just what we will do too, and get it right this time or you go out next, we are going back to the tunnel"!.
By now we had got to know Mac well enough to know that when he had set his mind on something there was very little that we could do about it. I got the distinct impression that I was riding a runaway roller-coaster as I braced myself in the isle [sic] between the pilots positions.
The horizon went haywire as we banked over into the initial turn and started to descend. We had not quite got to the station yards when we went into a tight 180deg. turn to head back underneath the rest of the force that was still hurling bombs all the way down the railway line.
I don't know how serious Mac was about chucking Hoppy out but he gave it to him straight, "no more messing about" as we charged at the tunnel mouth and when the "bombs away" call came we did not hang around to see the results although I don't see how we could have avoided hitting something. Our greatest concern was getting out of the situation.
All I could see was a kalidascope [sic] of nasty looking rocks as there was only seconds to make the turn, no room to turn back, no chance to climb with aircraft still coming in over the top of us. All we could do was wriggle and twist along the valley floor hoping to God we would not go the wrong way and find ourselves in a cul-de-sac.
It was very uncomfortable for a while as Pete and Hoppy had consulted their maps and assured Mac that all was well. And so it was as suddenly we came out into a wider valley and were able to climb.
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Obviously we had not done the exact reciprocal of our inbound route and it did not matter a lot as we all breathed a little easier until Mac let out a whoop with an "all gunners stand by" and we were all on the alert again. Then he told us what it was all about as the gunners reported "ready".
He throttled back and in rich mixture we were soon whispering along without even a flicker of flame from the exhausts, and then we all saw clearly what he had seen as we went into a turn. We were able to pick out dim convoy lights on a road halfway up the mountainside, so it seemed likely that it was the Southern end of the tunnel that we had just bombed. Mac said "if that is not a military convoy I will eat my socks" and followed it up almost immediately with a gentle turn onto a Northerly heading to within a few hundred yards of the mountainside. All gunners blazed away in turn and there was all hell let loose before we turned away.
The results were spectacular and certainly not quite what we had expected.
There were explosions, scattering lights, and liquid fire pouring down the mountainside with more explosions in the waterfall of fire and after about 20secs. we turned about and repeated the performance.
It was an appalling sight as obviously vehicles including fuel and ammunition trucks had been hit but turning away with most of our ammunition gone and somewhat shocked, we made our way home, low down across the tip of Switzerland and across France just as fast as we could.
Mac's orders were specific. Not a word about it, and he swore each one of us to absolute secrecy as we had not been ordered to do it, or whether we had done the right thing even though we might have contributed considerably to the war effort.
It was never reported and has remained under wraps until Mac can no longer answer for whatever damage was done. With more operations still to do if we were lucky it was best to forget the episode although some explanations were called for as our target photo showed a very messy tunnel mouth and the expenditure of several thousand rounds of ammunition was explained as an attempt to supress some ground fire in the valley. [underlined] And a ticking off for attacking in the wrong direction [/underlined] !!.
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I did not do another operation until the 3rd October as I went on the sick list for a few days.
I received an injury not from enemy action but from one of my own crew, although the outcome showed the sort of crew spirit that there was even if I had to be the 'dogs-body' to prove the point in respect of my own particular crew.
Macdonald and I had been into Bury St Edmunds to the King Willie for a couple of quiet drinks and on return we went to the Sgt's Mess where there was a dance in progress.
As soon as we entered the Mess we found ourselves in the middle of a group of people, Station Commander included, who were being treated to a drunken comedy act by Paddy who seemed to be doing his damndest [sic] to climb a wall by making repeated runs at it.
He must have been in the bar as soon as it had opened and obviously had had far more than his share.
The affair had just reached the stage where the Group Captain had already ordered the RAF Police to be brought in so Mac stepped in to sort things out his way. Exercising his right as 'Skipper' he ordered me to get Paddy out of the Mess and out of trouble. I wish he hadn't!.
With the assistance of another Flight Engineer from the Squadron Paddy was talked out of the building but we had not got very far when the other chap slipped and went down and a very confused Paddy decided that I was responsible.
I was still trying to hold him up but he turned on me and belted me one!, and I tumbled into an open trench.
I could have coped with that but grabbing a large paint drum half filled with solidified paint he heaved it at me and I remember nothing after it bounced off of my head.
I woke up in the sick bay the next morning with the great grandaddy of all headaches and adorned by large pieces of sticky plaster.
In the meantime wheels had been in motion as it had been decided that disciplinary action would be taken against Paddy for the rumpus that he had caused in the Mess. As far as my condition was concerned it was a different case so it looked as if Mac was going to have to do without his favourite engineer for a while if that reached it's logical conclusion…..until Mac did a deal with someone. That is, in addition to me!.
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He came to see me in the sick bay with a proposal that he said would satisfy all concerned.
The deal was that I would be charged with being responsible for the whole affair and as I was hardly in a state to argue I went along with it. The net result was-that Paddy was in the clear, I was fined five shillings (25p) for being 'drunk and disorderly', a scar on my forehead, and an entry on my documents as well as a few days off; but I had an opportunity to even the score sometime later.
Whilst I was on the sick list and grounded the crew did another two operations with a relief W/Op, going to Hanover on the 22nd and Mannheim on the 24th without incident. and each of those two nights I spent in the control tower biting my nails until they were back. One of our Squadron failed to return from the Hannover raid…..and it was nearly a turning point for me.
There was a limit on how long you could remain out of a crew without being, permanently replaced and the relief W/Op was sufficiently impressed with the rest of the crew to ask if he could stay with them. Mac must have pulled a few more strings and the MO signed me off despite the sticky plaster so I was back in the crew instead of becoming spare man.
The other chap had previous been spare because his crew had gone missing whilst he was sick so he went back to being spare.
Unfortunately, when he did get crewed up again the following month he was killed in a flying accident. That's fate! and it was being tempted far too often for my liking.
Eventually Mac did get around to thanking me in an embarrassed sort of way for my involvement but I think that when I weighed up the final outcome I was the one that was most thankful, so despite a sore head and some red ink remarks in the records, we just pressed on as if nothing had ever happened.
[line of stars]
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The operation we were briefed for on the 3rd October was for aircraft factory targets at Kassel and as 'W' had been unserviceable on air test we were allocated EE971. After air-testing that one Mac and Paddy agreed that 'it would do'. Not quite like our 'W' but they could accept it.
A few things had changed by that time. The Luftwaffe hit and run raids were almost a thing of the past as they were well and truly on the defensive and East Anglia now bristled with AA sites which very rarely permitted a raider to get very far.
We had got bold enough to assemble all the aircraft for the night's operation on the runway in front of the main camp area and in sight of the main road, and on this occasion there must have been as many as 28, possibly 30 aircraft lined up, and very impressive it looked too.
I have always thought that one lone raider bold enough (and lucky enough) to have got through the defences to shoot up that line would have done an awful lot of damage, but fortunately no-one ever did. The resultant mess would have wiped out half the camp and the Marquis of Cornwallis pub at the same time.
Nevertheless it was a great morale booster for the locals who were crowding up to the other side of the fence to watch procedings [sic] , many with pints of ale held aloft in salute. It did restrict activities a bit when many crew members were saying goodnight to their favourite WRAF under the mainplane, but the less said about that the better.
Off went both Squadrons in grand style and we were just approaching the coast outbound when the port outer packed up with a great deal of spluttering and backfiring so it didn't look as if we were going to get very far.
Mac and Paddy juggled with the engine controls but the engine steadfastly refused to do much more than 1000revs without protesting so they shut it down and feathered the prop.
By that time Mac was keen to get another op. under the belt and apart from calling me a 'jinx' he decided to 'press on'. We were not keen but he didn't ask us so we went all the way on three engines, bombed the target and headed home with Paddy biting his nails with concern at the high fuel consumption and the strain of the extra power being extracted from the other
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three engines. I do not think he would have put 'W' under so much strain but this one was not ours and that was that.
As soon as we cleared the enemy coast wee started to economise on fuel with a change of engine settings, firing off ammunition into the sea. Flares, incendiary containers and all sorts of stuff being dumped to lighten the load with Paddy getting more and more agitated as he endeavoured to work out our fuel state which was not made any easier by Mac's persistent nagging.
My request to make an emergency call was refused as was a further request to call the emergency services for the state of Tangmere, although we did change course in that direction. I was further refused permission to switch the IFF to the emergency code, in fact he was downright bloody minded.
Nevertheless, I was all ready to go straight into all my emergency procedures with IFF, radio and verey [sic] signals if the need arose, without permission, as we approached home shores.
We were just about overflying Tangmere when Paddy and Pete come up with the results of their combined calculations.
When I heard that on the intercomm [sic] I thought immediately, 'Tangmere, here we come', with one hour to base and one hour five minutes fuel, so we were not amused when Mac said, "what the hell are you worrying about then. Navigator, a direct course to base please".
A direct course for Chedburgh was made in defiance of standing orders that forbade us to overfly London and hoped to God that we would not lose too much height and find ourselves tangled up in the London balloon barrage.
It was bad enough when the banshee wailing of the balloon barrage warning came in on the radio. That in itself was a bit unnerving but we were all in Mac's hands and I was hoping that he would be prudent enough to settle for any airfield whilst we still had a limited reserve of fuel. And it was limited. Paddy had made it quite clear that he had calculated to the last drop of [underlined] usable [/underlined] fuel on the evidence of gauges that he was doubtful of. He could not do more other than protest further to Mac as we cleared the London area, in fact everyone protested that what we were doing was unnecessary, although perhaps not in such mild terms.
His only answer was to request that I open all of the fuel tank
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cocks on the bulkhead behind me and he started to rack the aircraft from side to side to drain every last drop into the main tanks.
That was enough for me. On went my 'chute and it would not have taken much more for me to be heading for the rear hatch which I had left open after jettisoning equipment over the sea earlier. It was just at that time that Paddy decided that he had definitely had enough. As far as he was concerned Mac had gone 'bonkers' and he was getting out whilst he still had a chance. He struggled out of his seat, clipped on his 'chute and had just got by Pete, and I was seriously. contemplating joining him when I received an order from Mac to "restrain him".
That upset any plans, so he was 'restrained', if that is what you would call tripping him up and sitting on him, although it was not for long as Mac had decided that we were serious and he agreed to go for the nearest airfield if Paddy would go back to his seat.
No sooner had he done so the port outer spluttered and died so they started up the port inner for the first time in hours and although it would not run at any speed without backfiring it was kept going as we desperately searched around for an airfield.
Mac was very busy struggling with the controls when one was sighted and we immediately headed for it. I fired off the colours of the day as fast as I could load and fire and when they were gone I fired off all the reds and then everything else in the rack, greens, yellows, star shells and even smoke puffs in the hope that the control staff would be suitably alerted to an emergency. Mac was far too busy to even use his radio and it was all very tense in the cockpit. I was half hoping that Mac would still give the order to abandon, and I was still ready, but instead he instructed Paddy to select wheels and flaps only when he asked for them and that's when the starboard outer spluttered and died. It was in those desperate moments that Paddy 'goofed' and we lost about five thousand feet rapidly after he feathered the starboard inner by mistake, and although he promptly rectified the error we were by that time descending like the proverbial brick lavatory. Not surprising as we were for a time flying; if you could call it that, on between one
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and one and a half engines.
I was back in the astro dome by that time as we aimed at the threshold of the runway at an alarming angle to keep the speed up. My legs and fingers were crossed as I looked hypnotically at where I was quite sure that we were going to make a large sized hole and then the nose came up …….."full flap" was Mac's breathless request over the intercomm [sic] and we were flaring out above the runway with the speed falling off as all power was taken off with another almost whispered request ...."wheels down" and then we floated whilst Mac held her off, to kiss the runway within seconds of the undercarriage 'green lights' coming on with warning horns blasting our ears.
Another perfect landing!!!! even if the approach had been a bit abnormal.
Mac established contact with the control tower to find that we were at Wratting Common, another Stirling base and we managed to stagger to the end of the runway and turn off before everything stopped with a splutter as we ran completely out of fuel!. We subsequently had to be towed away but not before we had managed to compose ourselves.
It was really an amazing piece of flying that had made the best out of a very bad decision that so easily could have ended in disaster…..and we all knew it.
Why else would Paddy come rushing past me towards the rear door, ashen faced, then jump out and spend a lot of time throwing up and kissing mother earth!
As for me. I stayed in the semi-darkness of the doorway until my colour came back and my knees stopped knocking before I ventured out...and I needed the ladder!. I don't think the others were much better.
After a few hours sleep we were back out to the aircraft which had been repaired and refuelled. The problem had only been burned out ignition leads which was something that Hercules engines quite often suffered from and we were soon on our way back to base still feeling as if we had experienced a very dream [sic] but we were still better off than some. Another five Stirlings failed to return that night.
Not another word was said about the incident. No apologies....nothing! Perhaps it was best left that way if we
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expected to continue as a crew…..and we did, although Mac was somewhat subdued afterwards -and was suffering from strained back and shoulder muscles for several days.
[line of stars]
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We had a few days break before we were detailed for another operation on the 8th. It was my birthday on the 9th so I planned a celebration if all went well but that night, as the 8th turned into the 9th we got the sort of party I could have done without. The main target was Hannover although-we were part of the secondary force within the main force with everyone heading for Bremen and at a certain position the main force turned towards Hannover leaving us virtually as decoys.
The fighters had been scrambled to intercept the track to Bremen and I was half way through a large bale of leaflets that I was dispensing out of the rear escape hatch when the rear gunner suddenly yelled "fighter--port quarter--corkscrew port--go" and over we went straight into evasive action as the fighter opened up. The rear gunner opened up at the same time and the interior of the aircraft was lit up by flashes as we were hit and bits and pieces were flying around in all directions. There was not a lot that I could do although I instinctively started to throw out leaflets as fast as I could without bothering to cut the string on some as I came up to the standing position to kick some bundles out. As I was to find out later, a good move. Mac was throwing the aircraft around all over the sky and the firing seemed to go on for a long time with smoke, flashes and a great deal of noise as something stung me in the face, and then it stopped as quickly as it had started. Immediately the rear gunner was back on intercom to report that his rear turret was damaged and had jammed solid when he had resorted to turning it manually.
He also reported a hell of a lot of debris from us had smothered the attacker before he had broken away suggesting that we had lost a few bits of aeroplane.
It was later on when we were piecing together details of the attack that we figured that it must have been my leaflets in the slip-stream, and he also reported that the fighter appeared to have two glowing tails; which is what I had also seen in a brief moment through the hatch.
There was a hell of a lot to do. We were in no doubt that we had collected a considerable amount of damage yet everyone checked in OK and unharmed which was a relief.
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I made my way back to the radio compartment to find Paddy curled up behind the armour plating of my seat which he had dived for after seeing me hopping about in the illumination of tracer that was flying about.
I asked him to check me over as there was a lot of wet and warm stuff running down my face and producing his torch very soon re-assured me that "it's hydraulic oil you bloody twit" before he was off down the back end to make some repairs.
Everyone was checking around thoroughly at that time but there were no fires or fuel leaks and all engines were turning without fuss. All other indications were normal….and we were still flying, complete with bomb load so we pressed on somewhat gingerly at that point in time.
There was another very good reason why I had dashed up front so rapidly after the action. Despite the fact that I had been standing on the edge of quite a large hole to dispense the leaflets, my 'chute had still been in it's stowage a long way from me; and I never ever did that again that's for sure!.
Everyone eased their parachutes in the stowages. Paddy put his on as he had to negotiate the open hatch which we had decided to leave open under the circumstances and as we continued to Bremen we checked and re-checked all our vital functions.
Paddy used a fire axe to clear the rear bulkhead and turret doors before the turret became operational again with a healthy short burst. But Mcllroy was in a very draughty situation as most of his perspex had gone and there were holes all around him, after which he made some first aid repairs to the hydraulic piping in the area of the position where the ventral turret would have been; if it had been fitted. First aid was the operative word; he used the medical first aid kit!. More to stop slippery oil sloshing about than anything else.
The intercomm [sic] was lively and as we had a freshman second pilot with us he was learning very fast. For a change Mac was not telling anyone to quit the chatter as he usually did so bit by bit everything was satisfactorily cross checked and it was reassuring to find that all the essentials were working despite the fact that there was a lot of internal damage: There were holes in the main bulkhead up front near my position and
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even some of the instruments in the cockpit had lost their glass. With everything giving the right responses it was no time to pull out of the stream and becoming a sitting duck for another enterprising night fighter so we stayed with it, bombed and stuck to the route for the return journey still regularly checking and cross checking.
I really thought that that was the one time Mac was going to have to use his "angle of dangle" equipment as he called it; to help him fly the aeroplane. It was in fact a weighted Scots doll suspended by a cord in line with his nose that he always set up for use. He always said that he could fly on that if all else failed but fortunately it was not needed and stayed up on the scuttle.
Eventually Paddy and I replaced the rear hatch and things returned to near normal but I could not help reflecting that I could have been a lot more effective with a pair of .303's sticking out of the bottom instead of dispensing a pile of paper which no doubt the German population used for the same purpose as we would have done in those days of paper shortage.
As it was, we had nothing protecting the underside and the Luftwaffe knew it well enough. After all, they had a fair sized scrap business going in recovering crashed Allied aircraft and re-cycling them into fighters for the defence of the Fatherland, and it was costing us dearly.
Although the attack on us had been from the rear so many losses of the period were being caused by something that for some reason or other our intelligence people did not know about, or if they did it was not made common knowledge.
It could have been that the Luftwaffe system was so effective that few, if any, aircrews ever got back to tell the tail [sic] .
They had developed a weapon along the lines of a British invention of WW1, the COW (Coventry Ordinance Works) gun, originally intended for shooting down airships.
They had put together a pair of 20mm cannon with periscope sights on an upward firing mounting in several types of aircraft, including the Me.110. and codenamed it 'Schrage Music' as part of their 'Battle Opera' control system.
With or without radar they were getting into the bomber stream, picking a target and positioning themselves underneath in the
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blind spot out of sight of the gunners, even to the point of following through a 'corkscrew' so that the gunners never got contact, or the Wireless Operator through his infra-red 'Fishpond' equipment, (if he had got it on) for that matter.
All they had to do was to keep up the shadowing until they got their aiming point 'spot on' then hit the button.
The aiming point was usually the starboard wing root where there was a concentration of fuel lines, fuel tanks, control lines and crew. It was very adjacent to the bombs, one engine, flares, oxygen bottles and other things that go bang in the night.
One short burst in that vital area was usually enough and the aircraft invariably exploded within seconds of the strike giving the occupants very little chance to escape. No wonder that we had seen-so many aircraft just explode and dissapear [sic] in a fireball.
It is on record that one of their night fighters fitted with the system was credited with [underlined] Five [/underlined] Lancasters in a 30 minute sortie so it was hardly suprising [sic] that there was very little feed back of intelligence information.
As we got nearer home we were very careful how we prepared the aircraft for landing. Fortunately the bomb doors had operated satisfactorily and Hoppy had made sure that there were no hangups. That was the last thing we wanted as a primed hang-up was a very sensitive beast.
Finally there was more to do before joining the circuit. Air pressures, hydraulic pressures and electrics were all normal. Mac did a mock landing procedure at height to test the responses at landing speed. There was no way that he was going to have the aircraft fall out of his hands at same vital stage of our final approach, but flaps, undercarriage and control services all gave the right reaction so it was on to base for a landing. Even then he was not entirely satisfied. Our first touchdown as a bumper to see if the green lights stayed an indicating that the undercarriage has locked down and to check that the tyres were not perforated.
Only then did we make an approach for a normal landing which was, as ever, as smooth as silk.
We gave ourselves a bit more time that morning to look around the aircraft after we had parked in dispersal and what we saw
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in the morning half-light made us gasp.
It did not seem possible that nothing had been seriously damaged yet there was hardly a square foot without a hole in it.
There were holes in the undercarriage doors, the flaps, bomb doors, control surfaces, engine cowlings and nicks out of the propellor blades. The rear turret had suffered most of all with 80% of the perspex gone and there were dozens of holes around the foot well.
A count showed that there were 96 groups of damage altogether but what brought me out in a cold sweat was to find a nice group of five holes through the rear step of the bomb bay where I had been sitting when the attack started. It was just as well that I had jumped up when I did or I would never have subsequently raised a family!.
I would not have been surprised if McIlroy had not been in a similar sweat. Not only was his turret a mess but his flying suit was nicked all over and ruined. There were tufts of fur sticking out under his arms and around his waist and even his flying boots had been chipped.
His turret doors had been ripped open like a tin can and the bulkhead doors had been badly holed as well. His parachute in it's stowage between the doors was later found to have quite a lot of lead embedded in it. When they opened it up it was like a colander and it is doubtful if it would have been much use if he had been forced to use its but he had not got a scratch on him!. I will never understand it.
As far as EF433 was concerned, although she had served us well she was done for. She just sort of sat there drooping and creaking so it was just as well that Mac had treated her gently. She was taken apart and sent to Cambridge for repair.
We learned later that when they stripped her down further and further they were still uncovering signs of damage including a cracked main spar, so she was very close to falling apart.
I have often wandered whether all that internal damage was battle damage or the result of the terrible handling she got on the corkscrew demonstration. I am incline [inserted] d [/inserted] to think the latter and it would not surprise me if that particular pilot had not ultimately torn the wings off of something.
However, the repair depot did their remarkable jig-saw puzzle
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repair job with so big an aircraft and there must here been sufficient of EF433 left for it to retain it's identity as it later went back to the Squadron after it had moved to Fairford. Eventually it was transferred to 1665 CU as OG-N until the following February when a mishap with a 'swinger' wrote her off at the end of the month.
In the meantime EF189 had been produced and painted up as the new 'W' so within the period of quiet that seemed to have descended on us that also received the attention that we had previous lavished on EF433. Stirling operations were slowing down a bit and few operations were undertaken. Rumours regarding our future were rife and Mac was very busy checking out new pilots as they came in to bring us up to strength. Several operations were scheduled but cancelled although there was still a bit of mining to do from time to time.
We did not mind a bit. The Bremen affair was not easy to forget and although our last flight in EF433 may not have been all that significant we had get quite attached to her. Some poor chaps had never got any further than their first trip and we had always considered ourselves very lucky that the attack on us had been made with small calibre ammunition. If we had been hit by cannon fire it would have been an entirely different matter.
[underlined] Thirteen years later I found out why there had been no cannon. [/underlined]
As an Air Traffic Controller at Amman in Jordan I was swapping yarns with an ex Luftwaffe pilot, then senior captain of the resident airline, Air Jordan, and an honourary [sic] member of our Mess, when the incident was recalled.
We had got so far with reconstructing the episode that we both went for our log books as the whole thing had reached the proportions of a gigantic 'line-shoot', Nevertheless, there were the details of date, time. and place to match those in my log book.
Apparently he had been a test pilot on jets and had been called in to try out the aircraft in operational conditions.
I don't know who was the most surprised but he had claimed us so badly damaged that we most likely finished up in the sea, and even if we hadn't then we must have had casualties on board. The burning question was "why only small calibre ammunition?",
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It transpired that he had used up all of his cannon ammunition in knocking down two other Stirlings already, so he would have been responsible for two of the three Stirlings lost an that raid. His name is not important in this narrative but it is significant that our combat report of the episode (which has never come to light) had put special emphasis an the aircraft with the fiery tails and it may well have been one of the first reports that identified jet night fighters to the intelligence people. Nothing: was ever mentioned about it so it may well have been kept quiet for good reasons.
Nevertheless, the Messerschmitt aircraft factories continued to be pounded regularly.
[line of stars]
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It was the 3rd of November before we had the opportunity to take our new 'W' on ops. We were briefed for mining in the Kattegat between occupied Denmark and neutral Sweden.
It should have been a 'doddle'. It was a lovely moonlit night and we had to overfly Denmark at medium height before going low level to the dropping area.
All went smoothly until just after the drop when we were engaged by a flak ship with a stream of sparkling tracers squirting at us which started Mac wriggling around all over the place with the taps wide open and down to the wave tops until we put him behind us. We were just beginning to breath easy again when there was a yell from the rear gunner as he spotted an Me.109 on our tail. We must have come in for some very special treatment as a loner crossing Denmark and it was as well that Mac had kept us as low as possible until the drop. Once we got back down there again that's just where we stayed as the intercom between the gunners and pilot got very lively.
It was the fighter affiliation stuff all over again as we slithered and twisted and turned, only this chap was not using a camera.
He sent several bursts after us but they all went wide as the gunners assessed the point at which he was coming into the right position for a deflection shot and then we side slipped and banked out of his sights once more.
We never fired a single shot as Mac had said only to let him have it when the gunners were absolutely sure of a hit so we played tag for a long time.
In the later stages we came to a rugged shore line and still the 109 could not get at us.
In and out and round and round we went across country where the landscape showed up in great detail. We could see people in gardens and lights blinked from friendly windows and open doors. We went around chimney stacks, over power lines and we must have given that enemy pilot a real run for his money until eventually he broke off and disappeared. He either did not care for the low level stuff or he was getting low on fuel but we were glad to see him go after a very hectic 30 minutes. We continued to stay low just in case he had a partner somewhere
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and we were still skudding along weaving about for some time before it was considered safe to gain some height and sort out the navigation.
It was hardly surprising that Pete had lost track of where we were. The number of tight 360° turns had been sufficient to upset both the magnetic and gyro compass's. We were too low for 'Gee' to be effective and I was still refused permission to break radio silence for a D/F fix so we staggered around somewhat blindly for a while trying to sort ourselves out.
At one time we saw an illuminated coastline some miles ahead which puzzled us a bit until the penny dropped...whoops..Sweden!. That gave us a clue as to which way we were going...the wrong way, so it was a smart about turn and back to low level again trying to stabilise the compasses as we picked up the Danish coastline again and crossed the country as quickly as possible before finding some higher cloud to hide in and set a rough course for home.
Pete still could not make a lot of his plot. 'G' was not helping a lot. D/F bearings that I was able to obtain from UK beacons only seemed to confuse the issue and when I looked over his shoulder at his chart it was a mass of hastily pencilled in headings and speeds until it looked like one of those kids dot puzzles that produced a picture when the dots were joined up. Only his picture looked like a bundle of loose knitting wool!.
All we could do was press on in a rough direction, picking our way in and out of convenient clouds whilst Pete gathered as much information as he could. It did not help much that Mac would not fly a steady course but even when he had satisfied himself that we were just off the Dutch coast Mac still had his doubts until Hoppy reckoned he had got a good visual pin-point. He estimated that we were over the Zuider Zee and would be able to confirm it when the Western side came into sight. Sure enough it did, but it was not the sort of confirmation he had been looking for!.
Just as we crossed the coastline, in and out of cloud at about 7,000ft, a number of searchlights switched on as one, in a perfect cone, smack on us, and it seemed several dozen ack-ack guns let loose at the same time.
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The salvo must have gone off about 50ft below us with the sound of gravel being sprayed all over us and we bounced up with Mac piling on the power, banking and balling [sic] "that's Dover you bloody fools".
There was all hell let loose as we wound into a corkscrew followed by the lights and a lot more flak. Mac was hollering "Darkie-Darkie" on the R/T to identify ourselves. I slammed on the IFF (radar identification) switch and fired off the colours of the day as fast as I could fire and reload the pistol and then as if by magic it all fizzled out.
The guns stopped firing, the lights wavered and flickered out and the violent evasive action slowed as Mac asked if everyone was OK. By the grace of God we were and then we immediately started checking around the aircraft which seemed to have taken a bit of a battering.
Despite the presence of several shrapnel holes everything seemed to be working satisfactorily so we set course for base with a lot of discussion as to how we had found ourselves over Dover.
The general opinion was that we must have done a zig-zag course right down the Danish, Dutch, Belgium and French coasts without interception. Perhaps our course had been so erratic that the German fighter controllers had just held back waiting for us to make a navigational error that would have put us within their grasp, or some other problem we had on board manifested itself and did the job for them.
As it was the Dover defences had done us far more damage and we were very thankful for either a slight error in the guns predictor or perhaps a little aiming off just in case we were a friendly aircraft with a spot of bother.
We would not have been the first RAF aircraft that the Dover guns had put on their score board though. They had to be very wary of unidentified aircraft. The Luftwaffe's equivilent [sic] of Farnborough; Rechlin, was known to have quite a comprehensive selection of airworthy Allied aircraft that they played all sorts of tricks with. In such circumstances it was more often a case of shooting first and asking questions afterwards and a risk we had to take if there was any doubt about the position at which the IFF was switched on.
During the final part of the flight back to base we had to go
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over the aircraft with a fine tooth comb to test everything before attempting a landing in the same way as we had done for our previous operation and it was a relief to find that everything worked and ended with a perfect final landing.
I have often wondered how many of the others felt as I did as we prepared for that final landing. Legs, fingers and toes crossed as we took up our crash positions, until we were safely on terra firma again.
I was beginning to wonder how much longer we could keep up that sort of escapade without coming unstuck somewhere.
After we had taxied into dispersal and shut down, the ground crew seemed somewhat concerned as we clambered out. I distinctly remember one of them saying "oh no, not again. You chaps must have a guardian angel somewhere". I could appreciate the sentiment when we looked around the aircraft with them.
The underside was like a pepperpot with slivers of metal hanging loosely from everywhere yet nothing vital had been hit.
We did not fly it again as it was withdrawn for repair and subsequently relegated to the training role' as yet another 'W' was prepared for service.
We were very lucky that night. [underlined] Four other mine laying Stirlings failed to return. [/underlined] Mining was no milk run!.
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[underlined] Picture page. [/underlined]
Macdonalds crew
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We were reprieved after a decision was finally made to withdraw Stirlings from the main Bomber Force and start preparing them for another task.
620 was once of the first to go and crews that were close to the end of their tour were not being retained. That meant us...and it was a great relief when we were told. There was only one other crew made 'tour expired' with fewer operations than ourselves although they had originaly [sic] come from 214 Squadron when the Squadron had been formed.
Certainly it was a relief not to have to fly the two ops that I was short of for the full tour. I had already seen what happened to 'spare' people but it placed our crew in a unique position. We were the [underlined] only [/underlined] crew to have actually started and finished a 'tour' on the Squadron since it had come into being.
The credit really belongs to Mac of course but in that short time we had lost 17 aircraft on ops and 9 in accidents. [underlined] More than the whole Squadron establishment strength, plus six!. [/underlined]
Our gunners had accounted for two enemy fighters. We had carried seven 'freshmen' pilots to introduce them to ops and two of them had not survived Chedburgh.
We had lost 147 aircrew killed or missing of which 47 were known to have become POW's. It was a sad tally.
In the same period of time the Command had lost nearly 1000 bombers with their crews in an air war that showed little sign of abating.
The Squadron distinquished [sic] itself later by towing gliders and dropping parachute troops and supplies into the invasion of Europe, Arnham [sic] and the Rhine crossing, as well as numerous SAS and SOE operations into enemy occupied territory with some very severe casualties.
[line of stars]
We were more concerned with the present at that time. We celebrated with a wild night at the King Willie and a few more nights in the Mess as the strain began to fall away with the added bonus of some special leave.
On our return there were, a lot of new faces but we were more concerned with clearing the station and preparing for our next posting. There was trouble of a different sort on the horizon!.
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As soon as we had returned from leave, refreshed, we found ourselves; that is, the five NCO's lined up outside the flight office with Mac demanding an answer to a very delicate question. It was not very delicately put.
Apparently a certain WAAF who had been fairly liberal with her favours; to say the least, was beginning to show signs of motherhood, and since [underlined] some [/underlined] of us were known to have been in her company at times we were all suspect. Of course, it did not help her case a lot when she was only able to claim that it was one of the Macdonald crew!, and why that did not include Mac and Pete the two commissioned officers I do not know, but Mac's question was blunt and straight to the point. "Which one of you buggers was it", which rather stunned us and for a moment we just shuffled our feet as we studied each other.
I forget who stepped out first followed by another until all five of us had stepped forward. I know for certain that we had not all sampled those favours but a crew is a crew through thick and thin. 'All for one and one for all' and all that stuff. There was not much that could be done under those circumstances so whilst they were trying to pin it on someone else (and there were plenty of others), we were only too pleased to pack our bags and sneak off quietly to our new unit.
[line of stars]
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We had been posted to No.3. Lancaster Finishing School at Feltwell as a complete crew, for instructional duties as strange as it may seem. The unit was just setting up to convert the Stirling Squadrons that were not moving out of the Command and Mac and Paddy went off to a Lancaster OTU in Yorkshire for a couple of weeks whilst the rest of us just familiarised ourselves with the Lancaster. The ground school was just getting going so we soon learned our way around. Apart from the Pilot and Engineer's speciality it was not difficult as most of the equipment was the same or similar and a nice little challenge to convert to a different type.
As soon as Mac and Paddy returned we flew intensively as a crew and within a matter of weeks we were into the training programme and open for business.
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Actually the unit was a bit of a hybrid. Part Operational Training Unit, part Conversion Unit and part Holding Unit for despite the savage losses the Command was still building up it's strength as fewer demands were being made in other theatres of the war, and the station was soon packed to the gills.
Crews started to come in from all over. The Stirling Conversion Units were still in the business of converting people from Wellingtons and then they came to us for changing to the Lancaster until the Stirling CU's were run down. After that they came direct from the Wellington OTU's as well as those Stirling Squadrons that sent detachments for conversion as their aircraft were being replaced by Lancasters.
We became very busy with the flow of people through the unit. Some of them knew the Lancaster better than we did as they were refreshing for their second tour, and very rarely for their a third. They had come off all manner of aircraft and had been 'resting' as we were now doing. There was a great deal of experience to draw on which I was only too willing to put to practical use. There did not appear to be any 'instructors' courses as such. You just threw yourself into it and you just turned out to be good, bad or indifferent at it. In all modesty, I seemed to cope satisfactorily.
After a few months Paddy got fed up with it and eventually got himself crewed up with a pilot of 115 Squadron that was converting and went back on ops. with him. Pete found himself in a spot of bother as a reult [sic] of a little over exuberance at a party and was given an option that he could not refuse....so he went off to a Mosquito Squadron at Downham Market, but not until most of the old crew, with the exception of Hoppy and Mac, attended my wedding in the March.
The bells of St.Mary's Broadwater, Worthing, were rung for the first time since the threat of invasion had silenced them in 1940. That was a traffic stopper if ever there was one and in the ensueing [sic] celebrations the rest of Macdonald's crew left it's mark on the local area. [underlined] I think the marks are still there!!. [/underlined]
I don't mind admitting that for the first time in my life I was smitten with the uncontrollable shakes when standing before the alter [sic] . Call it what you like, fear……………..
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apprehension, whatever, it got hold of me and I shook. My eldest brother, in navy uniform, survivor of numerous sea actions and two lost ships and my best man, came in close and propped me up. All that happened was that I transmitted my shakes to him and we both stood there like jellies and did not settle down until the ceremony was nearly over. Not a pretty sight!. Nevertheless, I married my childhood sweetheart despite the circumstances; something I never thought I would ever have the opportunity to do, and the marriage has stood the test of time.
Eventually Feltwell became so busy that we opened a non-flying ground school at Methwold a few miles away and having already been promoted to Flight Sergeant I got the job of setting up that part of the school for Wireless Operators.
Rather than lose my comfortable room in the pre-war Mess at Feltwell I cycled to and fro' daily and I am sure that it did me a lot of good as far as keeping fit was concerned. I enjoyed cycling anyway having been a founder member of the 'Worthing Wheelers' cycling club and a regular cyclist...even in my job.
To have to peddle a loaded tricycle from one end of Worthing to the other twice a day was quite an accomplishment which I had done for nearly two years and prior to that I had had a job with a builder and cycled 16 miles each way daily; so what was 5 miles.
Getting my bike out from the shed in Worthing where it had been tied up in the roof was no easy task. I have vague recollections of peddling half the distance from Worthing to Feltwell, including across London to save a few pence when some station staffs insisted on there being a ticket for the bike when it was placed in the guards van..to finally arrive in the rain.
The time passed and I only flew occasionaly [sic] to keep my hand in as momentous events occurred on the battle fronts that we, or at least I, felt at times that we were missing out on. I didn't push things though....I wasn't that daft!. There was enough going on at Feltwell and Methwold to keep me busy.
Even the odd operation turned up and that is how we lost a crew and our Chief Flying Instructor. He had opted for a mining job, got together a crew and it did not present any problem in arming up and self briefing. I'm glad he didn't pick me as his Wireless Operator. He took off at the appointed time and was seen clearing
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the immediate area, climbing, and shortly after he disappeared from view there was an almighty explosion as his load blew up and the aircraft disintregrated [sic] , scattering the landscape with a thousand pieces of man and machine. What a hell of a useless way to go for another seven young people. It was a sobering thought that it could have been any one of us that might have drawn the short straw for the privilege of making up the crew.
Life was anything but dull. When the Tannoy started blaring out one evening calling all sorts of people to report here there and everywhere a few of us went up to the airfield to see what it was all about.
It was quite a circus when three B.24's, (Liberators) charged in one after the other.
Apparently these three had not only lost their formation but had also lost their way to such an extent that they had been as much as 100 miles off track and an hour late in getting back to their base arriving at the time it was getting dark.
Just as they were getting into the circuit in a bit of a panic as they were not very experienced at night flying Flying Control yelled 'bandits' as there were Luftwaffe intruders suspected to be in the area, and promptly snuffed out the airfield lights.
[underlined] Panic stations!! [/underlined]
They had been given a course and distance to fly to Feltwell but bandits or no bandits they set off with all their navigation and anti-collision and formation lights on. The bandit scare was obviously false as they arrived in the Feltwell circuit looking like Christmas trees and firing verey signals all over the place. No self respecting Luftwaffe intruder would have passed up that invitation to do a bit of damage. As it happened, they did it to themselves.
The Feltwell controller told them to spread themselves out a bit for landing but they were not having any of that as it was dark by that time. There was no way they were going to lose each other having get that far so in they came, landing lights on. No. 1 got down and was told to go to the end of the runway and follow the 'follow me' illuminated van but got disorientated so slammed on the brakes to come to a juddering halt on the runway. No.2 piled right up the back of him, his props chewing at the……………………
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fusulage [sic] , and No.3, seeing what had happened flung his aircraft into a turn and belly flopped when the undercarriage collapsed. What a mess!, but they were lucky. There was not a single casualty although it took a lot of cleaning up.
We entertained the NCO's in our Mess afterwards and it was a source of amazement at the attitude those blokes had to the whole business. They were not in the least concerned that they had written off three aircraft but it was the manner in which they entertained us to a show that was straight off a Hollywood film set.
They were mostly unshaven, cigar chewing, gum chewing, with side arms and knives slung all around them who seemed hell bent on emulating the six gun cowboys of the wild west films and on the whole it was a lot of fun listening, to their wildly exagerated [sic] stories of 'combat over Germany' totally ignoring the fact that many of us had already done complete tours of night operations over enemy territory. They were not interested but it was better than going to the cinema. Most of them had been in the UK long enough to have sampled 'Limey' beer and were not slow in telling us what rubbish it was so we plied them with it until it was running out of their ears. In the end they weren't so tough. Most of than had to be put to bed!.
As time went by and crews continued to pour through the unit it was obvious to me that my time for moving on could be getting close so I started making the appropriate noises to ensure that I would get something different next time and would not have been surprised at anything that turned up. Nevertheless, there was one big surprise; my appointment to a commission which I had been quite convinced would have been turned down somewhere along the line.
When the appointment was promulgated I did not tell Dorothy but took a few days off having arranged to meet her in Oxted in Surrey, and on the way stopped off at Moss.Bros. in Covent Garden to get fitted out. It felt good. I went in as a Flt.Sgt. and came out an hour later as sprog Pilot Officer, no doubt looking like a tailors dummy, all bright and shining, including my cap, hot foot for Oxted.
Dorothy was not at the station so I set off across the field to meet her half way.
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When we did meet there were expressions of surprise and elation and in the excitement I threw my new, expensive cap into the air. That's how it became 'operational'. It landed in a cow cake and took a hell of a lot of cleaning; in between the laughter.
Later on we continued our journey to Worthing and I was suitably 'shown off' by my proud parents but it was a very odd situation when I met one of my old school pals who was a ground wireless operator.
He was one of those who I had always kept in touch with and had been one of the group at the garden gate on the day war had been declared. He had been totally brainwashed!. The poor bloke kept calling me 'Sir' and the only way I could break him of the habit was to get out of uniform to have a drink together without embarrassment on both sides.
Shortly after leave I found myself detailed for a short course at Fighter Command HQ, Bentley Priory, Stanmore.
There was about a dozen of us and we were told that the course was to train Wireless Operators in the use of R/T broadcasts and relay work of the type that the Pathfinder Force was developing. There was also a suggestion that after the training which was part of the Fighter Controllers course we would be assessed for our suitability for broadcasting airborne fighter control as well.
The first day was spent being shown all the fighter control systems as well as seeing them in practice in the famous fighter control/plotting operations rooms and then we were in business.
The next three days were highly amusing as we worked 'aircraft' from a mock control room with the plotters moving radar plots around the table to set up interceptions as the information from the filter room created the picture. It was the 'aircraft' that caused most of the fun. They were in fact Wall's ice cream tricycles with radar reflectors stuck to a pole on the side with low power battery operated transmitter/receivers in the body of the thing. The 'pilots' of the ice cream carts provided the motive power of course and wore the usual headset plus the restrictive..................
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headgear that pilots wore when they were practicing instrument flying.
As a result we could only see a compass and our feet whilst we were in a world of our own either peddling like the 'clappers' and making turns, or in the control room.
It was a highly amusing sight to see a couple of dozen demented ice cream carts cavorting blindly about a strangely marked out rugby pitch, and the occasional crunch as hunter and hunted came together in a perfect interception. Such crude simulation did not have the advantage of vertical seperation!!!!!. It was enlightening, interesting; and amusing but nothing ever came of it.
[line of stars]
It was getting increasingly difficult to get down to the South coast at that time. It was only by virtue of wearing uniform that I got through the security screen whether it was to Worthing or Oxted. There were troops jam-packed in every nook and cranny and there was hardly a bed to spare in any house or hotel. The streets and wooded areas were gigantic vehicle parks with acres of camouflage netting in some open areas disguising the enormous build up. Both my parents and my in-laws were billeting Commando's and the nights were filled with the rumbling of tanks, guns and other vehicles.
Once or twice whilst I was down that way the Luftwaffe had a go at night reconnaissance of the area but got a hot reception every time. During the day there were standing patrols of fighters that discouraged their attentions and I remember one that tried it one night that found himself facing a daunting barrage of fire that I would not like to have faced. Everything and the kitchen sink was thrown at him as he came through East to West at about 2000ft. Every piece of ack-ack, light and heavy, and hundreds of machine guns let loose from the hills, street corners and vehicle parks with a tremendous racket. It was just too dangerous to stay out in with shrapnel and spent rounds falling like rain. If that intruder got his picture and got back home that night then I reckon he was a very lucky chap.
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As we got towards the end of May it was impossible to meet my wife or get in touch with her. She was in the depths of Montgomer's [sic] HQ scheduling convoys down from the North into the Southern assembly areas although I did not know precicely [sic] what she was doing at the time. It was not until after the HQ had been disbanded that I learned about the restrictions that had been imposed. It was little wonder that I had not been able to get in touch when 'Q' Movements staff were under guard for days and were ever escorted to the toilet!.
[line of stars]
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Back at Feltwell the training programme slowed down and everyone was crewed up into a reserve Squadron. Orders of the day were published imposing all sorts of restrictions.
Crew members were on a two hour stand-by and not allowed off of the station. I was crewed with the remainder of the old crew as Pete and Paddy had already moved on and two others joined us. We regularly ground tested and air tested aircraft to operational standard although our efforts were not always successful. There were always problems with the wicked little 'Gremlins' that attached themselves to aeroplanes. 'Gremlins' were the imaginary demons that were blamed for the many problems that aircraft suffered from.
One of them had a real go at us one night before Paddy had left us. We had landed from a night flying detail and had hardly settled on the flare-path when Mac started giving Paddy a verbal broadside for not having fixed the slow running on the starboard outer engine as it had just cut out when he throttled back. With some surprise Paddy looked at his instrument panel, borrowed my signal lamp to light up the wing and calmly announced that there was no need to worry, it would not need fixing as it had just fallen off!.
That caused a bit of a stir in Flying Control when they were told on the R/T and then something else went wrong and we could no longer communicate with them. There was a lot of choice language from the whole crew and muttering from Mac about "cheap bloody meccano sets" and "it couldn't happen to a Stirling" and other appropriate caustic things as we taxied in.
Before we got to dispersal we were met by one of the controllers on a motor bike who signalled us to stop and then he climbed aboard to tell us to switch the blasted R/T set off. Then we knew why we could not hear the tower. We were stuck on transmit...and in the meantime they had evacuated all the female staff from the control room!!!. Nevertheless, it was quite a programme to get the maximum number of aircraft fully serviceable and operationally ready.
When the big day dawned....'D' Day, 6th June, I found out at breakfast as the majority of us did. The two hour stand-by was
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changed to a one hour and we waited with our ears glued to the radio for the minute by minute news of the events of that day. There was no doubt in our minds that this was the 'big one' that we had been waiting for.
It was incredible that nothing had leaked out although the aircraft had all been tested the previous day, and had been painted with white bands around the wings and the fusulage [sic] . In addition they had all been fuelled and bombed up the night before plus there were two more bomb loads stock piled in each dispersal. All we had to do was to sit around and wait for the signal to report for briefing and we would be off, so we sat around and waited and waited, with nothing to do except go out to dispersal from time to time to move aircraft a few feet as it was not good for them to be in one position for too long with a full load on.
As it happened we were not required. The Luftwaffe were caught napping and by the time they got themselves organised they were very much on the defence. The Allies committed so many aircraft that thousands and thousands of sorties were flown. Even the Bomber Command effort had to be flown on a race-track pattern in and out of the target area for safety and there was no room for us; fortunately!. After three days we were stood down and we went back to the training programme. The rest is now history.
Bomber losses were still heavy at times as the Command reverted to strategic bombing to disrupt enemy communications, supply and fuel resources and there was always the dread thought of the possibility of a repetition of the losses that we had suffered in the attack on Nuremburg the previous March. That had been an absolute disaster when [underlined] 95 [/underlined] of our aircraft were lost. Many of them were crews that had passed through our hands a short while before. It had been a reminder that we were not out of the woods yet and from time to time the Luftwaffe were still a force to be reckoned with.
With the invasion well under way my wife was posted to Newmarket as a result of her Surrey HQ being run down. That was a very convenient arrangement when a sympathetic C.O. arranged for me to be detached to Newmarket airfield as detachment commander for a couple of weeks. Very cosy…..our messes virtually backed
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on to one another!.
It was about that time that Macdonald got himself Courts Marshalled for unauthorised low flying….it had to happen some time. He was returning from an investiture at another airfield, including I believe for his own DFC, but landed on three engines and one bent propellor as a result of low flying over Thetford Forest, and it had taken a bit of explaining.
I was not with him at the time but I remember enough of the case to know the prosecution was badly prepared and could not produce the prop. or bits of tree or photographic evidence and the case was dismissed. I also recall that although Mac was in the left hand seat it was in fact in the hands of Mcllroy in the right hand seat. A piece of evidence that got overlooked, but he was still sailing close to the wind. It was probably similar doubtfull [sic] factors that caused him to prang his car with some of the others on board somewhere out in the Fens when the road did something unexpected. Only Mac was damaged and wore a patch over one eye for a time making him look like a pirate. What hurt him most of all was that in those days before the National Health Service, even in war-time, his accident was treated as self inflicted and he had to pay hospital fees. Even in the RAF hospital at Ely.
By the end of the year the work of the unit was almost complete. Reserves were being built up and replacements could be made by other conversion units so No.3. LFS. started running down with Methwold being cleared first. That kept me busy for a while dismantling all the systems that I had put in and returning stuff to stores, and in the meantime I was pulling strings to get the sort of posting that I wanted.
By the end of January 1945 nearly everything was cleared up and to my delight my posting came in for No.9 (Special Duties) Squadron, sister Squadron of the famous 617 (Dam Busters) Squadron which was more than I had dared to hope for.
Unfortunately a change in circumstances caused the postings staff at No.3. Group HQ. to have a re-think within 24hours of issuing the posting notice.
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My posting to No.9.Squadron was cancelled before I finished packing!.
Instead, after more days of delay I was crewed with some of the remaining chaps at Feltwell and posted to XV Squadron, Mildenhall so it was back on ops. again to fill the gaps that were still decimating units.
'Gaps' was the operative word as in my period of 'rest' at Feltwell the Command had lost a mind boggling figure of around 2000 aircraft.
It would have been nice if the old crew had managed to get back together again but things did not normally work out that way. Pete was already half way through his tour on Mosquito's at Downham Market. Paddy was getting on with his second tour with 115 Squadron. The others had been crewed up and departed. Squadron Leader. F.C.Macdonald.DFC. had been appointed as Flight Commander of 622 Squadron; also at Mildenhall, and it was a whole new ball game.
I only had the opportunity of socialising with Mac once in the very short period that I was there. The hand of fate caught up with me at last.
Our first operation was the last that XV Squadron's new, all officer, all second tour, all ex instructor crew was to do and it was late June before I got back to Mildenhall again, mainly to thank the parachute section for packing my parachute correctly!.
By the most amazing coincidence when the WAAF in the parachute section went through the books to find the serial number of my 'chute it turned out that she had also been the packer!
The poor girl got a sloppy impulsive kiss and a donation to their social fund but when I went to look for Mac I could not find him. There was very little interest; no-one wanted to know as he was away somewhere and although I tried several different ways of communicating with him later I had no direct contact again until 1954.
My search eventually led me to a scruffy motor engineers workshop on the outskirts of Wisbech where he seemed to be both the proprietor and chief mechanic; there was no-one else!.
He was the same old Mac. Uncommicative [sic] and shabby, like the shabby old Triumph Dolomite that stood next to a shabby old
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caravan that appeared to be both his office and his home.
There was not much left of the old sparkle and fire in his eyes although at the time it might have had something to do with the fact that the mid afternoon refreshment served in a dirty cracked cup came from a whisky bottle rather than the tea pot, but he was just as dammed uncommunicative as ever. Never a word when a nod and a wink would do. About the only thing I can remember him saying was "I thought you had got the chop and I was going to write to your wife" but of course, he never had. He did confess to being a bit surprised that I was by that time a Flight Lieutenant and the Operations Wing Adjutant at Mareham but his comment was typical. "I never thought you had it in you". He never was complementary....just a dour Scot.
He really looked as if he could here done with some assistance but there was no way that I could do anything without offending him although I did find out that he had done another 15 ops. and had ditched a damaged Lanc. before his wings had been well and truly clipped.
Shortly after that meeting I was off to foreign parts and on my return to the area about three years later nothing had changed although shortly afterwards he did another disappearing act and it took many years to track him down again. The trail eventually led to Troon and then to Dunoon before it fizzled out once more and it was many more years before he surfaced again with the assistance of the RAF Association and the Mildenhall Register. He was in very poor circumstances in Glasgow where Paddy found him and there was every indication that he would rather not have been found. He was content to be a survivor and the past was over and done with; what he could remember of it at the ripe old age of 82!.
We had not been far out in our estimates in 1943. He must have been one of the oldest Squadron pilots in the Air Force at the time at the age of 38!.
He disappeared again for a short time but following the trail left by Paddy I made a visit to Glasgow and finally tracked him down in a home for the elderly but he was no longer the Macdonald we had known. I don't think he knew who I was. He died six years later!.
I have never regretted my 'choice' of the pilot in which I placed
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my trust and my life and those sentiments are shared by the surviving members of the crew. We look back on those days and wonder how we ever came out of it unscathed considering that in our subsequent flying after the war we nearly all had the experience of climbing out of 'bent' aeroplanes.
Pete flew in a civilian capacity with Freddie Laker as both Navigator and Flight Engineer. They were lucky to walk away from a wrecked aircraft on the Berlin Air Lift. Paddy walked away from a wrecked passenger Mk.V. Stirling in the Middle East and I climbed out of a Proctor upside down on Oakington's runway.
For the record, Mac, Pete, Paddy and Ralph were all awarded DFC's for their efforts, Mac and Pete with bars, but sadly we are no longer a complete crew.
For me, those years were the most traumatic of any life and I will never forget those occasions when we were so close to each other in that short period that seemed like a lifetime.
TO
"THE SKIPPER"
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THERE ARE OLD PILOTS AND BOLD PILOTS
BUT
VERY FEW
[underlined] OLD….BOLD PILOTS [/underlined]
Anon.
[page break]
IN MEMORY OF THE AIRCREW
OF
BOMBER COMMAND
WHO WERE KILLED OR MISSING
IN
OPERATIONS OVER EUROPE
1939—1945
[row of circles]
[page break]
[underlined] ACKNOWLEDGMENTS [/underlined]
To Michael.J.F.Boyer……. whose research and detail in his excellent books:- [underlined] Action Stations--Part-One [/underlined]
[underlined] and [/underlined]
[underlined] The [/underlined] [underlined] Stirling [/underlined] [underlined] Bomber [/underlined]
were valuable sources of information.
To Martin Middlebrook & Chris Everitt for research details made available in the [underlined] Bomber Command War Diaries [/underlined] .
To Jock Whitehouse & Spencer Adams whose energy and enthusiasm helped to correct the many inacuracies [sic] in my early drafts.
and
TO MY DEAR WIFE DOROTHY who was obliged to tolerate the many years of typing and interuption [sic] of more important matters.
not forgetting
THOSE CREW MEMBERS WHO ARE LONG GONE:
WITHOUT WHOSE SKILLS THIS STORY
[underlined] COULD NEVER HAVE BEEN TOLD!!. [/underlined]
[line of stars]
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[underlined] PREFACE [/underlined]
On the 3rd February 1945 seven aircrew were posted to XV Squadron, Mildenhall, to form the crew of a Lancaster.
The pilot was Australian, the rear gunner was an American in the RAF. The navigator and mid-upper gunner were Scots and the remainder of the crew were from the counties of Sussex, Nottingham and Warwickshire.
They had all completed a previous tour of operations and had been resting for varying periods as instructors at No.3. Lancaster Finishing School at Feltwell in Norfolk.
The school was closing down and as the staff were being dispersed one pilot had been given the option of forming his own crew prior to posting back to an operational Squadron. That is how we all came together.
Some of the new crew had flown together whilst at the school and the pilot and flight engineer had previously flown together on Manchesters and Lancasters in operational Squadrons.
The time had come for them to get back into the fray as the bombing campaign was being stepped up to an awesome number of aircraft being employed to deliver thousands of tons of bombs to the enemy as the war was rapidly drawing to a close.
The Third Reich was reeling from savage attacks from both East and West. Their Navy was just about bottled up and had lost most of their capital ships. Her Army was being lost in great chunks and the German Air Force was being severely restricted by fuel shortages and although they fought on desperately the final blows were not far off. Anyone with half an eye could see that; except Hitler. If he had not been so crazy he would have given in a long time before we had reached the critical stage, but since he would not, and the Allies would accept nothing but unconditional surrender, Germany and it's long suffering population had to bludgeoned into submission.
I was the Wireless operator/air gunner of the crew and we were part of that final effort although there was an awful lot of killing still going on in all theatres of the war.
At the time it seemed that we had a good chance of being in at the finish so on arrival at Mildenhall we got stuck into refresher training and emergency drills against the stop watch
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until it did not seem possible to trim any more time off of the procedures and the 'Skipper' was satisfied that we were now moulded into a crew and ready for anything.
For me it was quite an experience being back at Mildenhall again having been there as an 'erk' in 1941, and now I was back again as a commissioned officer and experienced crew member although I did not have a lot of time to dwell on the fact.
A lot of water had passed under the bridge and we were perhaps somewhat unique in that we were an all commissioned crew starting a second tour of operations.
That was a very rare combination and as I thought at the time we might make a name for ourselves.
HOW WRONG I WAS !!!!!!
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On the 7th of February we found ourselves on the Battle Order for an operation and subsequently the old familiar pattern of activity fell into place as we trooped into the briefing room.
The target was detailed as the oil refinery at Wanne Eikel, at the eastern end of the Ruhr industrial complex, which, suprisingly [sic] was still trying to produce something despite the hundreds of tons of bombs that had been dumped on and around it over the years.
Our job, within a force of 100 Lancasters of No.3.Bomber Group, was to try and put it out of business and further disrupt the already desperate fuel situation that was severely limiting the activities of the German War Machine.
As far as I was concerned it was going to be a change to be on a daylight raid. I figured that at last I would be able to see what was going on and that I might even get a chance to assist in doing something really useful from the astro dome. Even the prospect of flying higher and faster than I had done on my previous tour in Stirlings was something I was certainly looking forward to.
I had polished up my gunnery in the various turrets on the firing range including stoppage clearance although inwardly hoping that the occasion would never arise when I would have to put the practice into use as it would mean taking over from one of the other gunners who had become a casualty.
Even so, there was no way that I was going to be caught out in such an emergency----not when the end of my war was in sight!. After briefing and collection of all the usual paraphernalia we all trooped out to the airfield in the crew bus to get on with the pre-flight checks until the time came for us to start up and taxy out for take-off.
With the usual heart stopping lurch Lancaster ME434...coded LS(XV Squadron) D for 'Dog'; the 12th that had carried that identification, (not all Lancasters); took to the air as the end of the runway came into sight with everything straining to get up to a safe height with it's heavy load of bombs and fuel.
The load was around 2000 gallons of petrol with 1 x 4000lb blast bomb and 12 x 500 pounders. Not the maximum that a Lanc. could take but enough to require some delicacy-in handling.
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Everything was normal as we gained height and climbed on course following a route that took us over Newmarket where my wife was.
I was wondering what she was thinking as the thunder of up to 100 aircraft filled the air. I had only seen her the night before and had told her that I was going to be busy so she knew that something was going on.
We were soon changing course for a point on the South Coast near Beachy Head and as it came up on track my home town of Worthing was in sight, to the West as we crossed the coast with the sky clear and bright as we continued to climb to our operating height.
The rest of the force closed around us as we formed up into the usual 'gaggle' as we approached another turning point on time.
Unlike the USAAF, we did not fly in a tight defensive formation as the RAF preferred to present any attackers with a loose, weaving, inconsistent mass of aircraft with a less restrictive field of fire. The exception was underneath, which is why some of XV Squadron's aircraft that took up position at the bottom of the pack had been locally fitted with a pair of ventral guns to cover what would normally be a blind spot.
We were not one of those but a 'Gee-H' leader, carrying some special homing and bombing equipment with which to pin-point the target through cloud. The yellow bars on the tail fins identified us as such.
We crossed the French coast which was no longer as hostile as I had last encountered it and in fact it was an inspiring sight to look down from over 20,000ft in such brilliant conditions on an area that only a few months before had been wrested from German domination.
It all looked very peaceful down there but there was always that false impression of things outside the aircraft and one could easily be lulled into a false sense of security by it.
Despite the impression of a bright summers day out there and the warmth of the sun falling on my shoulders in the astro dome it was, nevertheless minus 12° out there.
It was uncomfortably hot for me so I discarded my 'Mae West' life jacket as we changed course once more to head across Belgium
5
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towards the Ruhr.
It soon became obvious that the bad weather that we had been warned about at briefing was not far ahead. In the distance a huge wall of angry black cloud appeared; from just about deck level right up to the heavens, stretching from North to South as far as-we could see.
It was a typical squall line associated with frontal conditions and the nearer we got to it the more obvious it was that the Met. people had underestimated it's severity.
The formatiom [sic] leaders still did not break radio silence with instructions and as it was obvious there was no way around it we were soon doing what everyone else was doing as the force started spreading out with maximum climbing power until we plunged into it, in an attempt to get out of the top.
At 23,000ft we were still in it and ploughing on yet there were still no instructions to change our plans but with the first of the Ruhr defences ahead of us, and the aircraft icing up to the extent that she was getting very sluggish, Geoff Hammond, the pilot, was getting concerned that we could not possibly go much higher without the risk of losing control plus the chance of carburettor icing as well.
With the sun obscured it had turned very cold inside the aircraft as the heating system was fighting a losing battle and I thought that perhaps it was time that I put my life jacket back on. I thought better of it for the very reason that I would have to take my parachute harness off to do it but with the aircraft waffling around like a drunken duck it perhaps not the best time to do it.
We were all somewhat relieved when Geoff announced that we were turning back and descending to try and find better conditions although it was some time before there was even the slightest improvement.
We could not get out of cloud completely and the ice was still not clearing although it was no longer building up so we set course for our secondary target; Duisburg, from where we could have made a dash for clearer areas. However, Dave Howell, the navigator, although he was able to place us over the target area on radar, was not satisfied that he could pin point a target so we just kept on going and descending as the cloud started
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to thin into layers. As the conditions improved ice started to strip off and clatter about with a great deal of noise although it was no problem and certainly better than being loaded with half a ton of ice in the wrong places.
Even-the Lancaster had very limited de-icing equipment. It was only installed on the leading edges of the wings inboard of the inner engines, and therefore not all that effective. It was policy to increase the-bomb carrying capacity by reducing such [underlined] unneccessary [/underlined] [sic] frills.!!!!!.
It seemed that it was going to be an abortive sortie and that we would be taking our bombs back home and dumping them on the range but after a short conference on the intercomm [sic] Geoff decided that our best bet would be to go back to Krefeld in a final attempt to plant the bombs on the enemy side of the 'bomb line' so we turned around again and headed East for Krefeld.
We were still in and out of cloud at about 8,500ft by the time our new target came up by which time Dave and Jim Murphy the bomb-aimer had decided on a target reference and between them the bombs were dropped in one salvo.
As soon as they had gone we started into a port turn to make for home when Jim reported that the bomb doors would not close, probably due to icing…..; [underlined] when it happened!!!! [/underlined]
The aircraft gave a violent lurch and being in the astro dome I was horrified to see the starboard wing just rear up as if it was going to wrap itself around us.
With my heart in my mouth I went scrambling towards my parachute stowage but before I got there I was brought to my knees alongside the radio compartment as the aircraft rolled right over and the next few moments were rather desperate.
We went into a spin; which way up I shall never know, but to the accompaniment of the sound track from some old aviation film we, were descending at an alarming rate as Geoff yelled "prepare to abandon" on the intercomm [sic] although no-one really needed telling. The trouble was that there was little that we could do about it.
Geoff and Des Cook the flight engineer were fighting the controls together with linked arms as the altimeter unwound rapidly but the spin had locked everyone into their respective positions.
Dave and I were both desperately trying to get to our side by
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side parachute stowages without much success and although our heads were probably only a couple of feet apart I swear that our eyeballs; out on stalks-must have nearly touched.
It has often been said that when one is faced with death one's whole life flashes before you but I do not recall any such images.
The only thing that flashed into my brain-box was "Dear God; this is it-I hope it doesn't hurt too much", and then suddenly the aircraft righted, or at least stopped spinning and we were released from the centrifugal forces that had kept us locked allowing us to get the 'chutes out of the racks as at the same time the order came from Geoff to "abandon...abandon...abandon”. Reaction to that order was automatic after the amount of time that we had spent practising the procedure in the previous three days.
Helmets with oxygen and intercomm [sic] connections were torn off. Dave and I grabbed our parachute packs on the run and slammed them onto our chest clips by the time Jim Murphy had jettisoned the front hatch and had virtually gone out with. Dave went next, feet first and I followed so closely behind, head first, that there could not have been a foot between us.
Archie Macintosh, the mid-upper gunner, was hot on my heels even though he had had to negotiate the main spar to get up front and then the way was clear for Des.
Des had already released Geoff's sutton harness and removed his helmet and connections as well as his own whilst Geoff was still struggling with the controls and he was ready to go the same way as the rest of us.
We had all thumped Geoff's arm as we passed so he got another thump from Des prior to his departure after which Geoff was able to make a dash for the exit before the aircraft went out of control again. As usual, the rear gunner had made his own arrangements by rotating on the beam and jettisoning the turret doors then throwing himself out backwards.
From the word 'go' there was a lot to be done and it says a great deal for a well practiced drill because we figured out afterwards that we were all out in 12 secs. flat, and not suprisingly [sic] , even faster than we had achieved in practice only the day before when Geoff had insisted that we do it again and
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again until he was satisfied.
It was with the same mechanical process that I counted to ten before I pulled the rip cord although I have to confess that I cheated a bit. It was more like 2,4,6,8,10 and after I had done it my heart was in my mouth as nothing seemed to happen.
I had felt some urgency to get the 'chute open as quickly as possible as we had been in cloud all the time and I had no idea of our height at the time of going out. I was just hoping that it would open before I dived into something solid; like the side of a house before it did.
I had made sure that I had put the 'chute pack on with the 'D' ring under my right hand which had been on it from the time I had clipped up. I had heard too many stories of people who had gone out in a panic only to be found later at the bottom of a hole with the right hand side of the pack half torn away by bleeding fingers; yet as sure as I was that I had done everything correctly it seemed like a lifetime before anything happened.
There was a violent jolt and I was swinging under a rustling canopy, still in cloud and preparing rapidly for a heavy landing. For a brief moment there was a tremendous sense of relief as I found myself looking down at the 'D' ring clutched in my right hand. Then the thought struck me that I had better hang onto it as there was a five shilling fine for opening a parachute; but only by mistake. What a bloody silly thought!...so I tossed it away smartly just before I broke cloud.
I estimated that I was about 1500ft and on looking around I found that I was much too close to a turbulent river for my liking, especially as I was a poor swimmer and I had no life jacket on, so I started hauling on the shroud lines to do something about it. With not a lot of time to spare I concentrated on the landing.
I was agreeably suprised [sic] that crossing hands on the lines and pulling them in opposite directions worked like the instructors said it would and with a little more heaving and hauling I soon got a fair idea of where I was going to land in an open field!.
I need not have worried about going into the river as a strong wind was carrying me away from it but if it was not bad enough that landing by parachute was the equivilent [sic] to the rate of
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descent of jumping off of a 12ft wall I seemed to be doing about 30mph on the level so I was not keen to get a busted leg at that stage.
When I was just a few feet above the ground I turned the release buckle to unlock the harness and a fraction of a second before touching terra firma I banged the release buckle and Presto!. I came out of the harness, into a forward roll over the shoulder and hip and immediately up on my feet to grab the lower lines of the canopy and collapse it. It was a classic landing-I was down safely and I could only hope at the time that the others had been as successful.
I had seen no sign of them during the descent but I was to find out all about that later. The most important thing was-where the blazes was I?. The time was 3.30pm and as we had crossed and re-crossed the 'bomb line' there was every chance that I might be on the Allied side.
The terrain gave no indication of where I was and there was not the activity that one would expect of a battlefield area but with those thoughts running around inside my head I gathered up my parachute and shoved it under the base of a tree among some roots as I decided to get away from the immediate area.
[line of stars]
10
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Continuation of “Water under the Bridge – Part II. by A.T.GAMBLE.
I could faintly hear shouts and whistles coming from one area so I scrambled off on my hands and knees in the opposite direction into an area of 4ft nursury [sic] pines towards a road that I had seen on the way down. By the time I got there the shouts and whistles had become considerably louder.
Within a few seconds of reaching the edge of plantation the road was in sight but I stayed under cover until I spotted a Jeep coming along displaying the American white circle with a star in so with great relief I broke cover, stood up and waived [sic] . I immediately regretted it.
The chap standing up front next to the driver let loose with a sub-machine gun so I promptly went to ground again.
I just had time to notice that his uniform, although a sort of blue, was not quite the familiar RAF colour and pattern, Then I knew which side of the line I was on; the wrong side. !!
I was only half aware of the sounds of ZZZtz’s as lead cut into the area around me as I did a reasonable imitation of a rabbit on my hands and knees heading for the middle of the trees wondering how the blazes I was going to get out of this situation, until l was finally forced to stop, exhusted.
I buried my identity card which I should not have been carrying anyway, plus two £1 notes, and drew my pistol which had been tucked in my tunic, cocked it and laid down trying to be very, very small.
A siren was wailing in the distance and the shouts and whistles got even louder with sounds of more local movement that was just audible above the hammering of my heart.
I did not know what to expect but what happened was very sudden. A heavy boot came down on my gun hand. The pistol went off and I was hauled to my feet facing the business end of a nasty looking machine pistol and about half a dozen grinning chaps of my own age; in Luftwaffe blue!.
There were some others behind me and one of them relieved me of my Smith & Wesson .38 and with my hands now free it seemed the most logical thing to do was to put them well above my head. With as cheerful a grin as I could muster I said "good afternoon", to which the bloke behind the pistol said, "gooten abend, fur sie das krieg ist fertig". (good afternoon, for you the war is finished) and although my German was not good enough
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to interpret, the inference in the manner in which it was said was sufficient. I was without any doubt a Prisoner of War!.
In the middle of the group, with a prod and a push I was ushered to a large house, past a battery of heavy looking anti-aircraft guns and the thought struck me that they might have been responsible for my present predicament as there was no doubt in my mind that it was ack-ack that had got us, but I didn't ask. I was not going to give them the satisfaction of an affirmative reply as they already seemed pretty smug about the whole business.
I was led into the house, and up the stairs from the baronial hall of heavy oak panelling and flying staircase and into a room being used as an office.
An officer behind a huge antique desk greeted me with a broad grin, so with very little to lose I gave him a parade ground salute which he smartly returned. So far so good….but what was running around inside my head at the time was the irony that it was just my luck to have come down in the middle of the Luftwaffe flak unit that had shot us down!.
The proceedings that followed were all conducted in German and a lot of sign language apart from one question directed to the single ribbon on my tunic. It was only the 1939/43 star as it was then, but the officer pointed to it and enquired "DFC”?. Well, a DFC was about the equivalent of their Iron Cross, whatever class, and I thought it might influence the treatment so "ja” it was. As it happened it might as well have been a VC for all the difference it made.
Everything was turned out of my pockets. Collar studs were taken from out of my shirt. (They obviously knew that we often had special one's with compasses in them). Then the cufflinks, (they often had the same use). Then all of the buttons from my jacket and trousers. (Again some buttons could be used as a matching pair with one balanced on the other to produce a crude compass). Then the stitching that secured the tops of my flying boots was cut to deprive me of the tops as they were obviously aware that often money and maps were built into the layers of fleece and silk.
A polished metal mirror that I always kept in my left breast pocket was also removed before I was handed a piece of paper
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and pencil, and it was not difficult to understand the next request. Number, Rank, Name, although it was difficult to comply right away until I had secured my trousers with my tie.
Among my possessions now laying on the table was a nearly new pack of 20 cigarettes, so I indicated a request for one but the crafty blighters handed them round first leaving just one in the pack for me. Even then they did not light theirs. They probably pulled them to pieces later to see if there was anything other than tobacco in them. I knew there was not. I had only got them from the Mess bar the night before.
Now those in the escape and evasion pack that had gone down with my life jacket were an entirely different matter but it was no good bemoaning the loss of that stuff.
It seemed that the initial procedures were finished when the officer made a few calls on a field telephone after which I was ushered outside to take my place between two armed escorts on bicycles and with a boot up the backside and "Schnell" off we went with me at the trot.
I found out later that I had come down between Veirson and Alderkirk, about 10mls West of Krefeld but we were soon away from there as was persistently prodded and booted to keep me on the run which was no easy task in sloppy shoes which used to be flying boots, and trousers without adequate support but they seemed in a great hurry and obviously 'I was of no consequence.
There were regular encouraging shouts of "rouse" and "schnell" accompanied by more kicks in the rear so there was no alternative to keeping on the move.
What surprised me was the fact chat the area we went through was devoid of all civilian population. Villages, shops, farms and houses were deserted. There was no sign of life at all. Derelict filling stations had rusty 'Shell' signs hanging lop-sided. Shops with tatty Coca-Cola signs were all boarded up. It was more like a no-man's land that I jogged through with little evidence of all the troops that I expected to see considering how close to the front line that I was. It was even more surprising since in the early hours of the next morning one of the biggest offensive's of the war was launched by the Allies
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on the Northen [sic] battle front in an attempt to break through and reach the Rhine. They must have been known that something big was about to break.
The very fact that we did not achieve immediate success is a matter of history but with great armies lined up and about to be locked in battle less than 30mls to the West I can only assume that if there was any strength of German troops in the rear they were very well hidden. The only traffic that I saw was the occasional military vehicle travelling very slowly hugging the edge of the tracks through wooded areas.
I was just about done in when we finally arrived at the Luftwaffe airfield at Krefeld around dusk.
I was duly handed over and signed for at the guard room with my two escorts still showing signs of being in a hurry to get back to their relatively isolated unit before the RAF or the USAAF started chucking stuff at what was a prime target.
Perhaps they figured they would have more chance against our ground forces but whatever; they were off as fast as they could go with their hand generating flashlights whirring away.
My first impression of the place was the similarity between their buildings and our pre-war bases at home. It all looked so familiar that they might have been built to the same plans….perhaps they were!. Even the cell block behind the guard room was identical as was the exercise yard behind it, but I was not impressed when I was shown to my room.
In the cell was the same sort of wooden dais that served as a bed, (no comfort for the wrong doers), and of course no pillow or mattress. Just a single thin blanket.
It was not long after I had been locked in and I had taken stock of the situation that I realised that it was some time since I had eaten or had a drink, about eight hours actually, so I started making a fuss to attract the attention of a guard and demanding to be fed.
The sign language conveyed the message alright but the only reaction was a great deal of laughter and sign language from them which simply meant "you have had it mate"!.
I have no doubt it was due to a typical military process which ensured
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that there would be no issue of food to a prisoner until he came on ration strength in the morning!.
Everything that I had been provided with for such emergencies (had I been allowed to keep it) had gone down in my life jacket.
I finally went into an uncomfortable and restless sleep with visions of that egg and bacon that would have been waiting for me back at Mildenhall, and grumblings in the tummy. I was also very concerned at the sort of reaction that there would-be when the inevitable telegrams arrived. There was no way, that anyone back home would know what had happened to us. We would just be 'missing' until something was sorted out.
In the morning the routine was simple. An early visit to the ablutions under guard with no means or opportunity of washing, other than splashing a little water on the face and return to the cell to find that 'breakfast' had been served.
It had been placed on the floor outside the cell door. I could have eaten a horse, harness and all but all that 'breakfast' consisted of was one slice of sticky black bread with a smear of bright yellow grease on it and a mug of some brown stuff that they called coffee.
I did not dare laugh at their reference to "cafe' and brot und butter" as there was no was of knowing when I would get anything else particularly as my insides were already protesting at not being fed for nearly 24 hours. Nevertheless, I nibbled and sipped any way through it having never ever tasted anything quite like it before.
Had I gulped it down I have no doubt that I would not have kept it down for long. It was absolutely ghastly.
There was no activity at all until mid-day and after a visit to the ablutions a meal was provided on a small folding table in the passageway and I had company.
My companion was a young Luftwaffe airman of about 17 who spoke quite good English and although he could have been a plant I very much doubt it.
Over the meal which was about a handful of turnip stew. a tablespoon of sourcraut [sic] and a thin slice of black bread without any scrape, plus a mug of the brown stuff we managed to communicate sufficiently for him to tell me his story.
Apparently he had wanted to be a pilot but his eyes were not
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up to the standard required so he had become ground crew of some sort which he had been a bit peeved about. He was in the cooler for striking an officer and what's more he did not seem too worried.
I found it embarrassing when after he had made enquiries about the various insigna [sic] on my uniform and found that I was an officer. It was he who suggested that the scar on my forehead was a duelling scar so I want along with it. After that disclosure he jumped to his feet, clicking his heels and bobbing up and down in typical German fashion until I suggested that we had better get on with our food, what there was of it, before it got cold. Especially as we were using the same utensils...his!. Then we were locked up again and for my part still hungry.
I have often wondered how that lad got on. After all, striking an officer was, and still is a serious offence, especially on active service. He was probably sent to the Russian front in a penal battalion to fight for his beloved Furher [sic] . They might as well have shot him outright. Whilst I was having visions of egg and bacon I was disappointed when supper turned up. It was a mug of a different shade of brown stuff of indefinable flavour and so to bed. It was the same routine the next day and my insides were still trying to come to terms with the 'snacks' that arrived three times a day and even the Luftwaffe airman had disappeared but things livened up the next day.
There was a terrific rattle of light ack-ack when the airfield was straffed [sic] by USAF P.51's, (Mustangs). They did a hell of a good job from what I could see through a small peep-hole in the top corner of the window, only just accessible .by climbing on the bed stood on it's end.
There were quite a few fires and explosions and a hell of a racket from the defences but I was forced to abandon my grandstand view very quickly when lead started splattering all over the outside of the building. It was too close for comfort and the window finished up with a larger hole in it that it had had before causing a bit of a draught.
Archie Macintosh had been brought in the night before but apart from one brief meeting we had been unable to communicate as
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he had been put in a cell at the other end of the block and we were fed at different times.
I was beginning to get a bit fed up with my own company when on the afternoon of the 10th I had plenty of company.
The entire crew of a B.17. (Flying Fortress) were brought in and distributed among the cells so two of them joined me.
They were a bit suspicious at first but were soon convinced that I was genuine as I was sharing their discomfort. Despite the increase in numbers we were not provided with any more blankets and only a small increase in total food, although we were being fed in the cells at that stage. Fortunately my new cell mates had only recently been well fed back at their UK base and were quite willing to forego the "Kraut junk food" so I had my fill. I am sure they changed their minds about it later on.
At least there was someone to talk to relieve the utter boredom of my four walls and I must confess that I was astonished when I heard their story.
Apparently they had lost an engine and could not keep up with their formation so before the fighters could get at them they had just force landed, fired the aircraft and that was that.
I found it difficult to reconcile such an action with what we might have done in similar circumstances but their orders were not to risk lives at that stage for the sake of an aeroplane. There were plenty of them!. Even so I thought that it would not have been difficult to have done some hedgehopping to our own lines rather than finish up in the situation they now found themselves in.
The next day we were all mustered outside the Guardroom after our morning drink and with one guard per prisoner we set off to Dusseldorf by the process of alternatively walking or hitchhiking on military transport. Archie and I were at last able to compare notes.
He had gone out just behind me but had not been able to execute as neat a landing.
He had landed in some fairly tall pine trees and after he had finished crashing through branches he finished up swinging about 20 feet from the ground somewhat winded.
He had a lot to think about once he had recovered and certainly
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did not fancy getting a busted leg by releasing himself from that height, although that is what the Luftwaffe wanted him to do as soon as they arrived on the scene.
There was a lot of shouting and a few shots to give him encouragement so he eventually got a good swing going until he was able to grab the branch of another tree, release himself and clamber down. The rest was routine so that was two of us that were OK anyway.
As we plodded along we took in all that was revealed by the countryside and the signs of the desperate shortages in Germany were even more obvious.
All the things that made up the daily life back home that we took for granted; the butcher, the baker, people, transport and tradesmen were just not there. The area was desolate apart from the odd military vehicle that picked us up and saved our legs for a few miles.
It took a long time to cover the 16 miles by those means and there was no refreshment at all-not for us prisoners anyway!, but we duly arrived at the Luftwaffe airfield at Dusseldorf to be handed over and signed for as usual at the guard room.
Then our escorts came up with an extraordinary gesture that took us completely by surprise They came down the line and shook us all very politely by the hand, with of course the inevitable heel clicking, and then we were led away to our cells. There was four in mine, including Archie.
We were not fed or watered. Only water was available when it was possible to visit the toilets although the guards were very reluctant to let us use the wash basins--but we managed.
By that time I was used to being hungry and our American friends were getting aclimatized [sic] --but getting very vocal about it. It was a total waste of time, even when we were ushered outside at 4.30 the next morning.
Naturally we were hoping that we were going to be fed but all we got was a pack of three dry sandwiches, containing some garlic smelling sausage and being told that they had to last several days. Some only lasted a few minutes as about 20 of us were packed into a bus which took us to what was left of Dusseldorf station and whilst we were waiting around for something to happen we found that Jim was among us. That made three of us accounted
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for.
Jim's descent had been perfectly normal. There had been a reception committee waiting for him and he had gone straight to Dusseldorf where he had waited several days for something to happen. At last it had.
We spent all day on that train, and the next as it clanked and groaned it's way across country. It was a painfully slow journey, and sometimes we were shunted into sidings for long periods, and on others we were just held up by the signals.
The guards were touchy and there was one outside each of the compartments all the time. The only time we were allowed out into the corridor was for the occasional visit to the toilet, still under escort, and the facilities were a bit primitive to say the least.
Drinking water was limited and was only made available twice a day from a bucket with a ladle which we all had to use, so it was not surprising that we were getting thirsty, dirty and hungry. Three sandwiches do not go far---mine went on the first day and nothing else had turned up.
Sleeping was another big problem although we dozed quite a lot as there was-nothing else to do, but ten in a compartment brought it's own problems, especially at night. We took turns for a few hours at a time up on the luggage racks but without any heating on the train it did not take long for the body to get chilled right through so it was necessary to get back into the sweaty and rather smelly huddle of bodies to warm up again.
We had to disembark several times as the train went forward slowly on it's own over either weak or hurriedly laid sections of track or where unexploded or delayed action bombs were suspected and it was all very tedious.
The next night we stopped at one station to change the train crew, I think it was Siegen, and it was another of those rare occasions to get out of the compartment.
The German equivalent of the WVS were on the platform and the ladies of the tea urn were approached by our guards with a proposal to dispense some in our direction and with a great show of reluctance they eventually obliged.
Of course, we had to take it in turn to use the tin cups provided as we had nothing and the news was relayed that the hot drink
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was 'chocolate'. I saw some strange expressions from the others that were ahead of me in the queue when they got theirs and I don't suppose mine was any different when I got my measure.
As chocolate it was more like dirty washing up water and that the average German had long forgotten what chocolate really tasted like.
It was more like the sort of brew that you would get if you dissolved a Horlicks tablet in five gallons of hot water!.
It was welcome just the same and we dare not make any disparaging remarks about for fear of being deprived of it.
I was just wondering if I should finish my ration by washing in it when the air raid sirens started wailing and there was immediate panic everywhere as we set off for the shelters.
We were herded down some steps into caves which had been hewn out of the natural rock alongside the station and some of us helped the guards with their packs. Someone else 'accidentally' knocked over the abandoned drinks trolley in the general rush and we eventually finished up in a dimly lit shelter where we were pushed well to the back as bombs started crashing down outside causing the lights to flicker and dust to start filtering from the roof onto everyone. [The raid was short but the bombs were heavy one's and are thought to have been Mosquito's on a 'siren tour'].
The rest of the occupants of the shelter, mostly civilians including children were terrified and apart from one old bloke, stayed huddled up in the corners. He shuffled across to our group and peered at us through the shield of guards for a while until it dawned on him who we were and then he went frantic.
He lunged and spat, yelling "terror fleiger" doing his damnedest to get through to us but the guards closed ranks into a solid wall in front of us and he shoved off when the all clear sounded. The guard commander was taking no chances that any further demonstration might get out of hand and we left last!.
I doubt if they would have been so protective If they had known what we had been up to. It was some time later after we had re-embarked and were clanking along once more when they found out. First one went to his pack and then another, to find the cupboard bare. Even the: wine bottles were empty!.
They got very upset about it and there were all sorts of threats
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of punishment for stealing but we just laughed it off and it came to nothing.
Their rations were not all that good anyway but by that time we were past caring. I do not remember anyone saying that they did not like garlic sausage or black bread but in that situation you soon forget about any fads and fancies you might have had.
We finally arrived at Frankfurt on the morning of the 15th and I was surprised to see so such of the station still standing. It was not until I took a second look that I realised that the broken framework of the roof had no glass and the only solid thing seemed to be the platforms, and there was a lot of those missing.
It was even worse outside!.
The roads were just avenues between piles of rubble that had once been houses, shops and businesses. What a mess. I had seen some of Coventry after they had done some clearing up in the areas that had been devastated, and a great deal of London's East End but this lot was not in any way isolated. It spread as far as the eye could see. We had seen signs of it from the train as we were pulling in but when we were actually in it was obvious that anything still standing was little more than a blackened shell.
It was not surprising that the population were showing signs of hostility as we were herded out of the station and we were surrounded by the guards almost shoulder to shoulder. It was with some relief that we were all shoved into the relative safety of an old electric tram which eventually rattled and whined it's way up the hill in the direction of the infamous interrogation camp; Dulag Luft, at Ober-Orsal, the place that most of us knew about from the talks that we had from either repatriates or escapees. We had a pretty good idea of what to expect, and were prepared for it.
The tram ran out of line after about two miles and then we were on foot again until we reached the camp at about 2pm.
This time the guards did not shake hands when we were handed over. They were probably still sore about their stolen rations and were as anxious as we were to get a meal. Nevertheless, I was glad that it was policy for the Luftwaffe to look after Air Force prisoners. They seemed reasonable enough under the
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circumstances.
Perhaps they were being particularly nice now that the stuffing was being knocked out of them and although they would not have admitted it many of them must have known that the end was near.
We queued for a long time as forms were filled in and cross checked with other papers and then finally it was time to have our photographs taken.
Most of the staff seemed to be Luftwaffe aircrew who were either grounded by the shortage of fuel or were convalescing but either way they were not very good with a camera. They had been clicking away merrily for some time with the lens cap still on and a buzz passed down the line not to tell them until they got near the end. I was only a couple from the end and it gave me great satisfaction to point it out to them. Much to their embarrassment Everyone fell about hooting with laughter and there were a few derisory remarks made in German about the efficiency of the Luftwaffe. It did mean of course that we had to do it all over again which involved getting colder and hungrier but it was all part of the scheme of things that almost everyone was engaged in. Crudely put, it was 'goon baiting', and something that they failed to see the point of.
After hours of standing around and being herded to and fro' I was eventually ushered into a room that might easily have been one of our own flight offices. It was a cleverly laid out stage set that was a perfect replica using RAF furniture, carpets and fittings that had been captured and put to use. In addition there was even one of our own Marconi TR1154/55 radio equipments sitting on top of one of our filing cabinets with an RAF flying helmet, goggles and oxygen mask draped casually over an open drawer, plus a gunners Irvin fur flying jacket on the door hook to create the right effect. In addition there was a wall map with pins and tapes showing routes and other areas exactly the same as the one in our briefing room.
I could not help wondering how many of these stage sets they had got for the various aircrew categories both RAF and USAF but it was so obvious I was immediately on my guard.
When the officer, or the chap that was dressed as one spoke from behind the desk it was in perfect English, without any accent, that it might easily have been an interview by a flight
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commander on posting; except that he was in the wrong sort of uniform!.
He asked all sorts of questions relative to target and route, the call signs, equipment, and frequencies as well as the codes, all of which I refused to answer. I stuck to number, rank, and name.
After a while he pushed over a packet of Players cigarettes and then launched into some searching questions about the Bomber Codes that we used and even showed me some copies that they had obviously recovered from pranged aircraft. Naturally he wanted to know about the sequence of use and although I told him that it was a random sequence and just issued for an operation he really did not believe it, but it was true and so simple that it was unbelievable. As a result he was not convinced and suggested that as an officer I must know more than that (which I did of course), but it seemed that the best way was to act ignorant, and I doubt if they were ever able to decode anything from any one transmission. It was that simple yet very discreet.
He started off again about the target and why we had been around Krefeld but eventually got fed up asking the same questions over and over again, and getting a blank stare for an answer.
All the time he had been questioning me he had been referring to a folder on the desk in front of him and eventually with a sigh he held it up and showed me the front cover. As plain as the nose on your face the wording was '15 Squadron, Mildenhall'.
It had obviously been put together over the years from snippets of information plus a good deal of intelligence gathering through spies and the like and they may have managed to find sufficient evidence from the wreckage of 'D' Dog to tell them where we had come from. After all, 4ft lettering on each side of the fusulage [sic] would be enough. Nevertheless, he displayed a certain amount of smugness at the disclosure and when I said "well, if you know all that why do you persist in asking damn silly questions" he went one better. He said he knew Mildenhall quite well, and that included 'The Bird in Hand', which was a local favoured pub. Then he trotted out some more local knowledge and rounded it all off with the fact that I would be pleased
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to know that all the crew had been captured uninjured which was a great relief, although it was a sprat to catch a mackerel. He started off right away again about Bomber Codes. No way. Two could play that-game so it was back to number, rank, name again.
All the time the interrogation was going on, in addition to the guard by the door there were two electricians in white overalls working on a side wall putting in electrical conduit and I was doing my damndest to show more interest in what they were doing than my interrogator and especially the materials that they were working with.
The conduit seemed to be rolled up paper' tubing with a foil coating and a crimping tool rather like a large pair of pliers was being used to shape the curves and the corners.
The electricians looked at me with puzzled interest and I grinned back at them much to the consternation of the interrogator. It all seemed a bit daft to me. With Allied ground forces approaching the Rhine for the final big blow and their country being blasted to bits and their armies in the East and the West retreating from overwhelming forces. With death and destruction everywhere wasn't it typically German to be putting in electrical modifications?. I suppose they could have been wiring demolition charges just in case but surely they would not have bothered with conduit---or would they?.
I was dragged back from my meditations when asked to complete a small white card with personal details and when he saw my home address he asked how I managed to get across London with the mess that it was in with the VI's and V2's still a pouring down the question took me by surprise The damage from those weapons had been very isolated however devastating it might have been in the precise spot of impact. At the worst we had learned to live with the things even when one had taken the end off of the London hotel in which my wife and I had been staying and another had blown up a cow in a field just across the road from where we had been staying in Surrey but life went on just the same so I told him. "No trouble".
That was not good enough and he still persisted that London was in a terrible mess so I let his have it straight. I told his that I could still cross London any way I wanted. By taxi,
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bus, underground or on foot as I had done only three weeks previously...or stay in the city if it suited, and certainly a lot easier than he could get across Frankfurt from what I had seen of the place. That was it. End of interview! Could it have been that he had heard all that before and he was soon going to have to believe it?.
I was promptly dismissed and escorted to my 'private' room. It was three paces by one and a half most of which was taken up by a bed, and of course, the radiator!.
The window was shuttered and this type of room was commonly known as the sweat-box and considered by many to be the means of extracting information from people.
Although we had been told about this I am still more inclined to think that since the Germans were generally more advanced in their use of central heating systems than we were they were also inclined to overdo it a bit; even in those days.
I had been locked up for about an hour when the rattling of keys alerted me to the possibility of food arriving but no such luck.
When the door opened it was to admit a tubby, faded civilian, in a faded shapeless suit. He looked like something out of 'Scrooge'` in his cock-eyed steel rimmed glasses, and announced himself as a representative of the German Red Cross as he produced a foolscap sized questionnaire. We had been warned about this one too!.
Red Cross he might have been but the requirements of the questionnaire seemed to be bending the rules a bit and he seemed somewhat upset when I only entered the same basic details that had gone on the white card.
We had been warned that anyone who had been careless in their disclosures would be dealt with later and I was taking no chances.
It would not be the first time that 'Lord Haw-Haw' (William Joyce) had made use of such information and mentioned the names of people that had recently become guests of the Third Reich in his propaganda broadcasts.
Another significant factor was that William Joyce knew Worthing well enough to have made the most of it having been in lodgings just around the corner from home before the war. I was very
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careful.
The little grey man got quite angry and made dire threats about not getting any food if I did not co-operate. Big deal...that was nothing new. No food had past my lips for at least 36hours!. Not long after his departure clatterings at the door suggested food again but instead an elderly guard brought in a dirty metal bowl with some lukewarm water in it and a razor with a blade that had definitely seen better days. One thing was for sure, there was no way a desperate POW was likely to cut his throat with it!.
The rest of the equipment was a dirty damp towel and a piece of 'soap' more like pumice stone which had no intention of producing a lather. It made very little impression on my seven days growth of beard or the 'tide marks' on various parts of my anatomy that had not been exposed for the same amount of time.
I felt better for it anyway even though I still had no opportunity to clean my teeth and it was probably just as well that I had not got my steel mirror to assist in those ablutions. I would probably had a fit.
Some time after that the clatter at the door was followed by the same guard with my meal. Not very much and not very nice but even a dollop of turnip stew in a tin bowl was welcome at that time which was probably nearer 48hrs since my last bite of anything.
It did not take long to figure out the routine. There was a lever by the door which when turned allowed a piece of red painted angle iron to drop on the outside indicating that a visit to the toilet was required.
On my first visit I was going down the corridor and was horrified to see an ashen faced Flight Lieutenant, his arm in blood soaked bandages, just painfully stumbling along, using the wall for support, and I instinctively went to give assistance although he feebly protested that I would get into trouble. I did!.
I got a rifle butt smack between the shoulder blades and down I went. When I struggled to my feet the guard was screeching his head off about "sprachen verbotten" and "schnell" as I was prodded along to the ablutions where another chap was able to tell me about the set-up.
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Apparently the Flt.Lt. was the pilot of a Tempest which was a type fairly near to the battle scene and as they wanted information from him they were withholding medical treatment until they did. His arm was already gangrenous and he smelt awful but there was nothing I could do for him when came back out of the toilets. He had just managed to make a little more painful progress down the corridor and that episode most certainly put all of my problems to the background. I was definitely not amused at the procedings [sic] .
I spent the rest of the night doing what everyone else seemed to be doing. Making sure there was a signal bar going down every few minutes of the night just to annoy the guard. It did!.
On one occasion when he got around to me he was very angry and protested to some considerable length in his pigeon English that "alles ist pissen unt shitzen" so it seemed worth while going without sleep. It was too hot for sleeping anyway with the radiators pinging away.
At 5 o'clock they next morning, after a drink, an untidy collection of prisoners were assembled outside with the usual shouting and shoving and then we were marched the five miles down to Frankfurt station to await a train. The weather was cold and miserable, we were cold and hungry as we staggered along in no particular order and then I was thumped on the back by Des which cheered things up a bit. He had already found some of the others are although I did not feel much like walking it certainly helped to swap experiences and pass the time.
Des had a very good story try tell.
Despite the fact that in his haste he had only secured his 'chute by one side clip and had made a very dodgy descent with every chance of the canopy 'candleing' [sic] and dropping him like a stone he still made a reasonable landing without injury. What was more important, his landing was undetected so he made some very positive arrangements to evade capture.
For two days and nights he worked his way Westward and had made considerable progress towards the front line to the point of having to dodge German patrols and guards.
In the early hours of the second morning there was gunfire all around him and he even heard American voices in the distance when he got a bit too bold.
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He had already fooled a guard earlier by grunting "gooten morgan" after the guard had shown his presence by lighting a cigarette, then strolled by him whistling Lillie Marlene but shortly afterwards made a lot of noise by falling in a ditch and was challenged. There was no way that he could bluff his way out of that and he was promptly bundled off to the rear to spend the night in a village hall before being handed over to the Luftwaffe, so here he was after all that.
It was after mid-day before a train was finally shunted in by which time most of us were just about asleep on our feet but were eventually embarked with more pushing, shoving and shouting accompanied by the liberal use of rifle butts.
The guards must have thought we were all daft by the way we kept bursting into song from time to time. We did our best with that fine old marching song 'Colonel Bogey' which cheered us up considerably. The Air Force had it's own words to that particular piece so we managed to tell them just what we thought of them without them knowing it!.
We finally arrived at Wetzlar later in the day having recovered from our earlier exertions but we were very, very hungry.
When we disembarked we were once more jostled about until the whole party, about a hundred, were ready to move off.
Then Dave turned up, although why we had not bumped into him before was a bit puzzling. Des had already met him and lost him again but it appeared that he had been at the other end of the column and this was our first chance to mingle since we had left Frankfurt.
There was a great deal of chat and it seemed that Dave had been picked up even quicker than me. He had come down in the open and the German Air Force was there to welcome him with open arms. He had been a bit concerned that the reception committee gathering below him were going to use him for target practice and was relieved when he finally touched down and rapidly divested himself of his 'chute and harness before doing basically what I had done. There was no other choice!.
We were chatting away as we trugged up the hill away from the station and eventually the boundary wire of a camp came into view looking somewhat ominous on the skyline but before the front of the column got to the main gate there was a flurry
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of activity.
Suddenly there were a couple of shots and the sounds of whistles as half a dozen guards with dogs came rushing out of the gate and we all came to a halt as they broke though our ranks and raced around the perimeter wire.
They raced out of sight and there was a lot of shouting and dogs barking for a few minutes before another shot was heard and shortly afterwards the party came back dragging a body unceremoniously by the legs along the whole length of the column. The body was that of a young American Air Force Sergeant who had a leg and a body wound in addition to a neat hole in his forehead!.
We soon found out what it had all been about when we got into camp but not until we were fed; this time with a difference.
For a start it was a well run POW transit camp run by the Americans and it seemed to have everything. It was a long time since any of us had been in a dining hall like that one. As traumatic as our arrival had been food was still uppermost in the minds of most people.
Surrounded as we had been by drab ugliness for so long to find ourselves in a clean cheery place with larger than life Disney cartoons and other such characters painted everywhere I half expected to see a Coca-Cola dispenser in the corner but what was on the tables was mind boggling.
There was Spam, beans, sausages, potato, bacon, bread, biscuits, butter, cheese, tinned fruit, dried fruit, chocolate, you name it, it was all there. All the things that came in Red Cross parcels. There was real coffee with reconstituted milk with real sugar on tap, or tea, and we hardly needed a second telling to "get stuck in". It was magnificent.
I can't remember how long we sat there just stuffing ourselves like kids at a Christmas party but eventually when we had had enough we were off to the showers, to be told that an issue of clothing would be made when we had cleaned up and for a start there was a new towel and real soap.
We all needed a good scrubbing before we were all pink and glowing once more and all the gear we had been wearing had been well and truly soaped and trampled on before we went on to the clothing store where most of us needed a complete change to
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bring us up to a acceptable standard.
Like most aircrew I had gone into the bag with just the flying gear that was being worn at the time but like any clothing it was bound to suffer from being worn day and night in all conditions for ten days. Gunners were probably better off than most if they had managed to hang on to their furs, but being military equipment most of them had had it taken from them.
There were other things that came out of the Alladins [sic] cave.
In addition to new underclothes, socks, boots, shirt, a greatcoat and a blanket there were cigaretts [sic] , pipe and tobacco, razor, shaving brush and soap. Toothbrush and paste. A comb and what military folk called a ‘hussif’, (housewife or sewing kit) which was very useful for keeping things in repair and of course for putting buttons back on things.
It was nearly all American Red Cross clothing and the like, mostly olive drab kharki [sic] but that did not make it any less welcome.
The camp seemed to have lavish supplies of everything and the fact that there were no guards patrolling the perimeter suggested that the administration had been bribed with goods to keep it that way with only the towers manned. It was certainly not beyond the realms of possibility knowing the capacity of our American friends to organise such things.
We were soon off to the barrack blocks with arms full of 'goodies' and to finish drying off those items of clothing that we wanted to keep and it was there that I finally heard the full story of the lad that had just got himself killed.
Apparently the poor chap had become very depressed since his capture mainly because as a waist gunner in a B.17. (Flying Fortress) when his aircraft had been damaged, he had panicked and failed to help the ball turret gunner out of his position. (Gunners in this very cramped turret needed assistance to both get in and out) but he himself had baled out and his buddy had gone to his death in the crippled aircraft.
It was hardly surprising that it had affected him very badly and he had been threatening to do something drastic which he had eventually done by going over the wire.
He had had the usual shouted warning when he went over the trip wire but kept going and started to climb the fence. On the way
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over he was hit by the first shot but still struggled on until the next shot brought him down outside but still crawling. There was very little doubt about the third shot that we had heard. That had been a pistol.
Whether he had begged the guards or whether they had needed no encouragement no one seemed to know although he must have been in view from the opposite side of the compound. Either way he was very dead and it was very sad to think that another young life had been needlessly thrown away.
We were not all that happy about our introduction to the POW cage but however much we had been shaken by the episode creature comforts were still uppermost in our minds and I spent the rest of the day sorting myself out and puffing away on my new pipe.
It was just as well that we had got away from Wetzlar station when we had.
I had no sooner made up my bed and was contemplating the luxury of spending the night in it when a racket started in the town as it got a pasting from USAF Thunderbolts and we had a grandstand seat as bits of the town and the station went flying in all directions accompanied by shouts and cheers from the 'grandstand'.
Nevertheless, I did get that night's exhausted, dreamless sleep in a real bed and not troubled by hunger pains. It was sheer ecstacy [sic] and I must confess that I was no longer so worried about how my wife and my family must have been feeling about my disappearance. The way things were going I was confident of getting home in the not too distant future so it was just a case of surviving until that day.
After a leisurely and handsome meal the following morning, the 18th, the whole camp apart from the permanent staff assembled with all their personal possessions and with a Red Crass parcel between two prisoners we were herded; (we refused to march), down the hill.
The station was in a bit of a mess but we were packed into a train on a side line and then left there waiting for something to happen.
What we did not want to happen was for a return of the Thunderbolts to finish off the job that they had started the day before. We had noticed that the carriages had got large
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lettering--P O W in white along the top but there was a lot of muttering about the potential dangers from roving Allied train and tank busters.
An impromptu committee was soon formed from some of the more senior prisoners and it was decided to 'encourage' someone to move the train to a relatively safer place. A collection of cigarettes was quickly organised and for the sum of several hundred cigarettes the guards, station staff and train crew were bribed accordingly. We only moved a few hundred yards into another siding, but It was certainly safer than being in the station notwithstanding the fact that we had an anti aircraft flak car at the front and the rear of the train!
Once again we were packed into compartments, twelve at a time and once more we were obliged to adopt the same procedure as before. Up on the luggage racks for a period. Limited visits to the toilet. Limited drinking water and no distribution of food at all. Fortunately we had all fed well and with the contents of our Red Cross parcels we could last several days.
W were still clanking along on the 19th and perhaps it was just as well that the POW had been plastered along the top after all.
We were buzzed several times by Allied aircraft including one cheeky chap in a Thunderbolt who braved the fire from the flak cars to fly parallel to us waggling his wings and waving from his open cockpit. It was very encouraging even if a little foolhardy but it provided for some more light entertainment.
Although we could not open the windows or the doors we crowded as many as we could into the them [sic] all waving as hard as we could go which caused immediate reaction from the guard in the corridor.
In he came and pulled down the blinds and then the game started.
As soon as he left to pull down those in the next compartment up went ours with a clatter and back he came again. It did not last long---he gave up first!.
At one time we passed through some absolutely devastated areas including some marshalling yards that looked as if a giant had trampled through them.
On one occasion we were on one of the few complete through lines, and everywhere else was a mass of bomb craters, smashed rolling
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stock and rails that were twisted into the most fantastic shapes like so much spagetti [sic] .
Repairs of sorts were being carried out by what looked like Russian or Polish women in headscarves, quilted jackets, sacking and string boots and who were wielding long handled shovels. They looked such a sorry dejected bunch that we put up a cheer but the only response were vacant stares.
One of the most incredible sights among all the mess was that of a huge circle of locomotive sheds surrounding a turntable locomotive roundhouse like the spokes of a wheel which had copped a real packet.
There were several 100 ton loco's reared up on their ends and wrapped around each other like so many discarded Hornby model trains. I don't know where it was. It could have been Frankfurt as it was not far away and we could have come back in that direction, or Wurzburg, but the effectiveness of that yard had been reduced to zero, making it even more difficult to move things about, including us. It did not seem logical to take all that trouble with POW's who were a definite liability.
We found out later what it was all about!.
Apparently Hitler had ordered that all POW's were to be brought down into the area surrounding Birchtegarten [sic] to be used as hostages and I would not have given much for our chances with Hitler in residence backed up by his SS fanatics.
Fortunately Hitler did not get out of Berlin anyway and a lot of his Generals were only going through the motions of obeying orders.
It was a dodgy situation all round and several of his Generals had already come to a sticky end in the hands of the SS.
Meanwhile we were being transported with great difficulty and at one time we passed through a hilly wooded area, still deep in snow which made it all look like a Christmas card scene. It was probably in the Steigerwald area; but at the top of one climb, with the locomotive chuffing and clanking we noticed that there were numerous little sidings among the trees with tanker wagons by the dozen stowed in them. We were to remember those later!.
It was about that time when the young guard positioned in the corridor by our compartment got himself into serious trouble
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with his Oberfeldwebel.
He was armed with an old French rifle of 1914/1918 vintage and we had been working on him for some time about his chances of defending himself when our troops caught up with him considering the numerous automatic weapons that our front line troops were armed with.
He eventually took the bait after some disparaging remarks about his antique rifle and proceeded to show us what a good weapon g it was; by taking it to pieces!.
We had got to the point where one of us had the magazine, another had the rounds and the bolt, another the bayonet until his rifle parts had been well distributed among us and with the train going slow enough to make jumping possible, he was within seconds of being clouted when the NCO on his rounds could not see him in the corridor and burst in on us.
He was blue in the face, waiving his pistol about and of course, shouting.
The guard got a great grand-daddy of a dressing down as he stood stiff as a ramrod and then, sheepishly re-assembled his rifle as the bits were handed back.
After some shouting, with the assembled rifle at the high port the NCO, having said his piece stomped away to a fair bit of tittering from us which turned to laughter as the guard had the last word.
As soon as the NCO was out of earshot, he said, out of the corner of his mouth, "oxen scheissen", which needed no interpretation so we finished up having a damn good laugh with him. For him it probably ended alright but little did he know how close he had been to getting his head bashed in.
In the early hours of the 20th we arrived at a suburban station on the outskirts of Nuremberg. ‘Lagerwasser’ was a dreary little wooden platformed affair and immediately the old routine started. Shouting, shoving and pushing to keep us all grouped together in the darkness we eventually walked about three miles to the camp. Then we walked back again as they were not ready for us!. That episode caused a bit of an argument as we did not know how long we were going to have to wait and it was damn cold. In fact it was actually freezing and eventually we were allowed back into the relative warmth of the train but those negotiations
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cost us almost all the remainder of our precious cigarettes.
Eventually detrained again when it was light enough and we moved down the road in small parties, strung out, until we were well away from the station and with a lot more slow, slow, quick, quick, slow stuff we were all inside the camp at full light.
In the dark and confusion I had lost Archie but had picked up Jim again but the most important thing was that we were more or less in the same group, and that was the only satisfaction that we got out of entering a grim looking place that did not get any better as we took stock of our surroundings.
The board over the main gate said Stalag X111d, and what a dump it was after our experience at Wetzlar.
Apparently it had been recently cleared and was filling up again although at that time we had no idea where the previous inmates had gone. Wherever it was they appeared to have stripped the
place before leaving.
We were counted off, 150 to a barrack room which was actually a very largo hut. Barrack Nr.69 was no different from the others. The bunks were triple stacked and by the state of them most of the wooden slats; (no spring beds or mattresses in those places), had been used for fuel which was the only type of fuel available for the two empty stoves.
We found ourselves places to sleep; and that included the floor as very few of the top bunks could be used after the available slats had been re-distributed to make up as many of the lower bunks as possible. There was not much point in having more gaps than slats up top and doing a balancing act all night with good chance of crashing down on the chap below so everyone co-operated without any fuss.
It goes without saying that the floor was favourite at that time although later on the rats made a bit of a nuisance of themselves. We were obliged to secure our rations very carefully in something they had difficulty getting into.
Shortly after 'settling in' we were called to a room at the end of the hut for a check to be made on our identities by some of the permanent POW camp staff and I was amazed at being interrogated by our own people but these boys knew what it was all about.
They had been in the 'bag' a lot longer than us and knew all
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about 'ferrets' and 'moles'.
Some had come from Stalag Luft.3. in Upper Selesia [sic] and had had the most awful experiences marching through the countryside in the depths of the Winter leaving many of their comrades frozen solid on the road-sides where they had dropped through sickness, starvation and fatigue, many of them having been shot as stragglers.
As 'sproggs' we were very fortunate to have the benefit of their experience but I was suprised [sic] to see a map of Europe spread out on the table and to be asked if there was anything we had seen en route' that might be of any use to our advancing armies.
I got Archie called in and we gave them enough information on the fuel tanker wagons that we had seen up in the mountains for a plot to be put on the map. I still do not recall exactly where it was though.
It was heartening to think that somehow we were actually able to pass on that information and the tankers might go up in smoke. It was not beyond the realms of possibility.
There was a radio somewhere among us. There had to be as we got regular BBC news bulletins after we got settled in. But to imagine that there was a transmitter as well was mind boggling. It must have been a remarkable piece of equipment with it's numerous components concealed in all manner of things with wiring connections and aerial secreted in belts, braces and tin cans. It is worth bearing in mind that a lot of earlier Air Force prisoners were highly trained technicians who could build such equipment out of basics.
I was never privileged to see anything of it. That was the province of the veteran POW brigade and the fewer people that knew about it the better.
It was still freezing and we did not dare use any more bed slats to get fires going as there was always the chance that some might be needed to line a tunnel.
That was only a thought at the time but I found out later that there really was a tunnel linking us with the next compound.
Of course, the toilets were frozen although still in use, and other parts of the ablutions were also locked in deep freeze.
The only running water available was in the compound kitchen where it was used sparingly for producing hot drinks and later
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on some sort of food.
It is understandable that creature comforts were still our primary consideration in such primitive conditions so the first cup of 'hot stuff' that was dished up was very welcome even if many of us had to go to the end of the line and wait until the owner of a drinking utensil was prepared to lend it.
We had been in the camp several hours, when an air raid hit the city, starting with the wailing of sirens in the distance and then the camp sirens.
Then the roar of hundreds of B.24's, (Liberators) reverberated and shook everything as they came in from the South with mass formations glittering in the weak sunshine but they were surrounded by enemy fighters like a swarm of bees around a jam pot.
The fighters must just about have met them head on and they wheeled in and out of the formation. Flak peppered the sky and they still droned on as one fell out of the sky with flames pouring from it. Then the smoke markers and streams of bombs from the lead aircraft was followed by clouds of bombs from the rest of the formation with the most spine chilling whistling rushing sound as they descended followed by the steady roar of explosions they plastered the city in great swathes.
Some went wide, perhaps jettisoned as aircraft got into trouble, and the station that we had only recently vacated collected one or two!.
What was most vividly imprinted on my mind were the numbers of crippled aircraft falling out of the sky at one time. There must have been at least a dozen. Some breaking up, others on fire or exploding with bits and pieces raining down and all the time the continuous roar of the battle with the crackle of machine guns, the thud-thud of cannon mingling with the heavy crack of anti-aircraft guns. It was a savage battle.
There was an awful lot of killing going on up there as well as down below and there were a lot of parachutes too.
The luckier one's fell clear of the city, and I would not have given much for their chances if they had come down in it.
We added to our numbers by one that day and he did not go on the ration strength. He came right down in camp and was promptly hidden before the guards came out of their 'funk' holes where
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they invariably dived with their tin hats over their back-sides.
We learned later that the B.24's had come from Italy and were going though to UK bases, hence they had run into the defences instead of having to fight an extended battle right across the country.
The fires in the city burned all of the rest of the day with the occasional explosion of delayed action bombs which made it very difficult for the fire fighters as well as the inhabitants.
When that bit of excitement was over the rest of my day was spent sorting myself out. I was lucky enough to salvage an old tin can from a rubbish dump and as soon as it was cleaned and polished with sandy soil I was able to join the drinks queue a bit nearer the front.
I had also found a piece of barrel hoop that looked as if it might be turned into something useful so I started working on it. It took two days of hammering and grinding with stones and lumps of concrete before it eventually finished up as a combined cutting tool and shallow spoon to make me more independent.
Ever the optimist, there was never any need for a knife for a long time as most of the food we were getting was easily dealt with a spoon; or the fingers!.
The first night was cold and rough, but we managed to get through it, as usual, fully dressed, rolled up in a blanket and anything else that was available. Even wrapping paper and cardboard was useful; either as cover or to provide some sort of insulation underneath. It was a noisy night too as a few Mossie's turned up and stoked up the city with cookie's.
It did not take long to finish off the Red Cross parcels that we had left Wetzlar with and the food provided during the next few days was very basic.
The day usually started with the ersatz 'coffee', without milk or sugar of course. There was a slice of black bread at midday and the thickness varied according to the number of people sharing a loaf. Sometimes there was a pat of ersatz margarine about the size of a ten pence piece, or a bowl of vegetable stew was a luxurious alternative; if you had a bowl to put it in, otherwise it was handful. In the evening there was a mug of ersatz 'chocolate'. No milk or sugar of course, and that
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was the basic ration when there was no supplement from the Red Cross parcel.
The mid-day 'meal' was quite a performance as there was no mess hall. When the rations came in there was a whole crowd of 'observers' who followed it's progress to the cookhouse and the division and supply to the huts to ensure that there was no pilfering along the way. Considering that we were a mixed bunch of RAF and USAAF, Officers and NCO's it was all done quite amicably. The final division of the bread was usually done by the chap with the sharpest knife under the eagle eye of more 'observers'. He had to be very careful when it had to divided between nine or nineteen people!.
The next day brought another devastating attack on the city. Again they were B.24’s but this time coming from UK bases on their way back to Italy but the concentration was not the same.
They would have spent a lot longer running the gauntlet as attack after attack had been met and probably many losses had been incurred. This time we went for cover as a lot more bombs went very wide of the target and in our direction. They were not quite in the camp but when one or two holes erupted within a few hundred yards of the wire in open ground only the foolhardy would have stayed to watch.
The next day was just another cold and miserable day. The city banged and burned but there was no heat for us. Not that we expected it after what had happened just a few miles away.
It was well below freezing at night and Jim and I found it warmer to do what others were doing by just wrapping ourselves up together to utilise a bit of animal warmth. It was either that or freeze.
I shall never understand what rats found to scavenge for in that place but they were always busy at night and could often be heard in the vicinity. Perhaps they were cold and hungry too and were looking for a warm place but we very soon learned that it was not a good idea to take one's footwear off at night unless you wanted something gnawing at the toenails!.
On the 25th the city was still burning and another batch of prisoners came in. Some more huts were opened up and as we stood there looking for familiar faces among the new arrivals we found one. Lynn Clark, the rear gunner. We soon had him billeted in
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our hut and it was not long before his story came out. After the order to abandon came he had already managed to put his 'chute on and rotated his turret on the beam so all he had to do was jettison the doors and chuck himself out backwards. The snag was that his bulky flying boots got stuck between his seat and the guns as he had not depressed them sufficiently so he found himself hanging out of the back watching us go one by one underneath him and disappear into the cloud.
It was no time to mess about so he pulled the 'rip'; the 'chute deployed and yanked him straight out of his boots. It's a wonder that he didn't break his legs considering that it was all happening at speeds somewhere between 150 and 250 mph but he was lucky and made a good landing, albeit without any footwear!. Unfortunately he too was soon picked up after he had spent some time improvising some foot covering out of his parachute that had served him so well. Later on he was provided with some well worn second-hand boots but certainly better than lashings of parachute silk/nylon. Nevertheless, he had not seen Geoff either and we were beginning to wonder if he had been able to get away somehow and that what we had been told at Ober-Orsal was all 'bull'.
The city still continued to burn all the next day with the occasional crump of a delayed action bomb going off but the highlight of the day was the mid-day meal when real potatoes were dished up.
We knew they were real as there was still a great deal of earth attached to them that had not come off in the boiling. At least it showed that none of the goodness had been lost in the cooking!.
There was even a smear of evil smelling semi-liquid French cheese in lieu of the coal based margarine that in better days would have been condemned for human consumption....and possibly animal consumption!. But we eat it just the same!.
The RAF stoked up the city again that night with a few more 'cookies': Those 4000 pounders certainly did go off with a crump that shook the dust off of everything and that was from three to four miles away!.
Another day dawned and with it good news. A large consignment of Red Cross parcels had come in with more people and lots more
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rumours. Even the rumours were a heartening charge from the daily dose of 'bull' that we were getting from the OKW (German High Command) news bulletin which was always good for a laugh when it was read out by an English speaking guard. I wonder if he ever listened to the BBC London news broadcast.
Every evening now we were getting a summary of that compiled by our own sources, inclusive of information from new arrivals that were not being processed by Dulag Luft. There was a great deal of difference between the two bulletins.
We even got another blanket issued on the 28th so that at last we could manage to keep warm without going into a huddle at night but the most important issue was the distribution of four Red Cross parcels between [underlined] five [/underlined] people. There was a lot of good stuff in those....including cigarettes!. I don't think I was the only one going around puffing happily and blowing smoke all over the guards as if to say "that's real tobacco".
I got real satisfaction out of that as a couple of days before I had traded some soap for a couple of their's and an enamel spoon; but only once.
Theirs tasted like a mixture of dried oak leaves. old tea leaves and pulverised straw-perhaps they were, but like a lot of other things in Germany at the time it was ersatz, (substitute), and tasted like it.
The pattern of each day did not vary much. A bit of a thaw during the day allowed a little more water to come through although it all froze up solid again at night.
The food issue was still the same old rubbish but it was safest to eat it first and then top up with something from the parcel. It would have been so easy to have gone for one big blow out and be done with it and it exercised one's self control to the utmost. It did not always work!. Scrounging and bartering with the contents of the parcel was an occupation undertaken by some with the mental agility of the street trader but it was not for me. Some went around trading in such a way that they doubled their stock but I confess that I was one of those who helped them do it as my stock diminished. It takes all sorts and I soon packed it in when I found that I was being outsmarted. If we all had that sort of ability for success we would probably all be in the stock exchange.
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We did get a little light entertainment on the Ist March that also gave an insight into the plight of the Luftwaffe.
We had often noticed activity at an airfield a few miles away to the North East and on this particular day we observed a couple of FW.190's tail chasing which was the standard procedure for a fledgling to learn new tricks but it was obvious that it was a very inexperienced pilot that was doing the chasing by the way he teetered around every turn at about 3000ft not far from the camp.
We watched them for a while as they went through some very basic manoeuvres. The trainee wobbled around every turn very gingerly and after a short break they had another go. They went on to some more advanced stuff and at one point when the turns got tighter and tighter I think we must have all been willing the outcome when he wobbled and side slipped, wobbled some more and then lost it.
He stalled, flipped, and dived earthwards out of control and wallop, in he went with a plume of smoke to mark his grave.
A great cheer went up from the camp but the guards were most upset about it and we were confined to barracks for two hours. As far as we were concerned that was one FW.190 that would not have to be shot down so we indulged in a little community singing, bawling at the top of our voices everything from 'Abide with me'. 'Colonel Bogey' and 'Lillie Marlene' liberally sprinkled with RAF words, much to the bewilderment of the guards who had been stationed in the doorways of the huts.
On the 2nd March the day dawned much the same as any other until some more prisoners came in and as our compound had filled up the next one became active. We were soon at the wire making shouted enquiries about this that and the other when Geoff appeared; looking a bit pale but otherwise fit and well.
It transpired that he had made a reasonable descent but he also had landed slap into the arms of a reception committee although that did not explain his late arrival at Nuremberg, but that was soon explained.
He really was at Dulag Luft at the same time as us but he had been out of circulation for seven days after his interrogation.
It seemed that towards the end of the interrogation, when presented with the little white card and pencil he told the
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interrogator precisely what he could do with it...in Aussie terms,....sideways; so he got seven days solitary confinement for insulting a German Officer!.
According to Geoff, "Ve haff vays of delink vis you" is not so funny when you are the one being dealt with. But now we were all accounted for. Years later, as a solicitor, practising in Australia, I am sure that he was more careful in his selection of words in difficult circumstances.
As a matter of interest it was the small white card that triggered off the Red Cross reporting procedure that notified all and sundry that so and so was a POW so he could have saved himself a lot of trouble.
Between the 3rd and 7th there was not a lot going on. It did start to get a little warmer during daylight hours on occasions and it soon became neccessary [sic] to find ways and means of filling in the time.
There were a few scruffy packs of playing cards about but unless one was good at poker there was no point in taking a hand unless you were prepared to lose your shirt. The stakes were usually items in short supply and our American friends seemed to have the manopoly [sic] of the schools.
I was of the opinion that I had lived rough enough already to risk my meager [sic] stocks which had already suffered from my attempts at wheeling and dealing especially as I saw a few who got the bug and were going down the drain fast for promissory dollars or pounds in the form of I0U's to be redeamed [sic] later.
Draughts,(or checkers) was favourite with most people, using home made boards and pieces made from cardboard and soot from the still empty stoves to distinguish black from white and it did not take long for regular afternoon and evening classes to get going on all manner of subjects in one hour sessions. It certainly filled in the time with subjects as diverse as music, fishing, maths and agriculture.
I found considerable interest in the German classes which were given by a Flt.Lt. who I suspect was one of the Luft.3. boys and he was as interesting as he was fluent. It is highly probable that he had been partly educated in Germany before the war and apart from the introduction to the language he told us a great deal about their history, the people and their culture.
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There were rumours that he was a 'mole' or a 'stooge' but if he had been I am sure that we would have known about it and not tolerated him for long, but then we thrived on rumour at that time.
Later events were to prove his credibility but there was always a little suspicion about who was who so we generally stuck to people that we did know and bit by bit accepted others on recommendation and found oneself accepted. I even found a Flt.Lt. who came from my home town and who's home was no further to the West of my local pub than mine was to the East. He had been in Wg/Cdr. 'Willie' Tait's crew on 617 Squadron at one time and had helped to make a mess of the battleship Tirpitz before he too had run out of luck.
The days just went by with very little to mark one from another and although I had started keeping a diary using cigarette packs there is a long gap without note after the eighth as things became rather desperate.
The Red Cross supplies were running out. The bread allowance became less and less. At one time twenty two people shared a loaf and sometimes we only got one ancient hard tack biscuit instead.
The days and nights just blurred into each other and there was a general feeling of helplesness [sic] as we became weaker and weaker. People had got into the state where they were falling all over the place especially when going from the horizontal to the vertical. One had to be very careful to let the world stop spinning before attempting too much.
On the night of the 11th RAF Mosquito's made another noisy attack on the city but most of us were too far gone to get very excited. More than half the hut had gone down with the flu' and the limited supply of Asprin did very little in the way of relief. They were only dispensed to the most seriously ill who had complications and the only way was to try and keep warm relying on friends to bring a little nourishment as it became available.
Certain things happened during the period that I cannot put a date to but I know they happened.
Some Red Cross officials toured the camp and the Camp Commandant lost his dog.
The Commandant, in elderly silver grey haired Hauptman, always
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smartly dressed, used to walk around with his staff and his Dacshund [sic] until one day it disappeared around the corner of a hut on his own personal inspection for something to cock his leg up against; [underlined] and did not come back!. [/underlined]
He was very upset over the loss of his little 'Fritz' but he had underestimated the skill and determination of our cooks so our stew that day had a little more 'body' in it. I’m glad I did not know at the time!.
In the same period the civilian contractor who used to bring the rations in by horse and cart was distracted long enough for his horse to disappear in the same way as little Fritz and he made a terrible fuss. Not so much about the horse but the harness and the blanket!.
He eventually stopped hollering when the items were returned plus an additional blanket but there was a lot more fuss when the cart was towed back to the gate by hand and then a search party was sent in to find the horse. All they found were a few nasty bits and pieces down the toilet pit. Everything edible had gone into the pot and was stewed and diluted for several days before it ran out.
As a result of this latest escapade all starts of reprisals were threatened with Courts Martial for theft and with shooting; the lot....but it all fizzled out. It might have come to that if things had been normal but they were anything but normal.
Towards the end of the period I was getting over the worst of my ills and I eased myself from my bed in stages into the vertical position for my daily constitutional and tottered out of the hut.
I had not gone far when I started a nose bleed so I was staggering along, head back, my one and only handkerchief in use to stem the flow when there was a blinding flash, a searing pain in the back of the neck and the next thing that I remember was that I was face down In the dirt.
When I climbed to my feet blinking in pain with a few angry words welling up inside me I was facing a full blown inspecting party comprising of an SS General and his staff which included two giant sized troopers, one of whom had bopped me with his rifle butt.
I think it was astonishment that stopped what might have been
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some ungentlemanly language but was halted in my tracks when the Generals Adjutant or his ADC stepped forward and barked "you must salute a superior German officer".
I was in no condition to argue so he got his salute. It wasn't the parade ground sort though. It was a very sloppy afair [sic] in which two fingers were more prominent than the others and I was shoved out of the way whilst they continued their inspection. After that I staggered back to my bed feeling worse than when I had got up.
The days and nights continued to blurr [sic] into one another and then ran the 13th came the devastating news that President Roosevelt had died the day before and an impromptu memorial service was laid on.
It was difficult to take it in and the guards crowed a bit as if they had somehow been responsible and suggested that it could mean the end of the war without appreciating that that was not the way a democracy worked. It seemed such a tragedy that the great man had not survived long enough to see the end of the war than was obviously not far away.
The following day we were still feeling a bit numb but there were some rumours of parcels coming in that cheered us up a bit but it was very difficult to show a bold front when we were all so cold and hungry....but we tried.
It was not until the 15th that things showed real signs of improvement. The toilets at last came out of deep freeze and then some fuel came in so the boilers were stoked up for the first time in a long while. We had hot showers and made full use of the water that was available and washed some clothes.
Drying them was the problem so there were a lot of people just wearing a blanket for a while, not that anyone cared about that when Red Cross parcels were distributed. One between two!.
Apparently they had come in by truck the night before and during the day some more arrived. Thank God for the Red Cross. What sort of a shape we would have been in without them I dread to think and at the time few people, including myself had any idea of the vast operation that the International Red Cross had going.
The RAF had another go at the city on the night of the 16th yet despite it all some more fuel came in and there was more hot water for a while to continue the cleaning up process. The
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place was turned into a laundry, and like most laundries things got 'lost' but no-one cared much. The most important thing was that we could clean up and that there had been no sign of lice. On the 17th there was another surprise. I suppose it had something to do with the recent inspections that some of our deficiencies were being made up. We were issued with new enamelled spoons and bowls and by way of payment the city got another pounding during the night.
It was followed by some excitement the following day when long columns of prisoners arrived at the main gate. They had all come from Wetzlar...new POW's and the old permanent staff as they evacuated the place and brought all of their accumulated stores that they could manage.
It seemed as if Nuremberg was becoming an assembly point for POW's but it was getting very difficult to absorb the numbers. It did not seem possible that any more could be crammed into the place, but somehow they were.
There were over 200 in our hut by that time and all of the top bunks had to be brought into use by re-distributing the bed boards plus the clever use of all sorts of materials such as string, strips of fabric, and cardboard plaited and replaited and finally criss-crossed to serve as webbing. It was suprisingly [sic] strong especially as some of it had a centre core of fine wire that had been stripped after some of the lighting had been re-routed!.
The new arrivals had brought a large quantity of food parcels so there was a generous issue which led to a bit of a party later in the evening which was rounded off with some community singing. It was all going quite noisely [sic] until the sirens started to wail and the lights went out as another raid fell on the city.
The days started flying by as things improved; especially the weather. There was no longer that bite in the air that seemed to cut right through you, made worse by the fact that you were not getting adequate food.
The showers were no longer permanently frozen so when there was water it was at least possible to have a drink or to have a wash.
Rumours were rife but usually the jungle telegraph managed to
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pick up something from the outside and one rumour of even more food parcels coming in raised our spirits some more. So did the sound of heavy gunfire in the distance on the 25th. That really was a good sign.
There were some French parcels distributed on the 25th but most of us thought that the contents were very inferior although welcome. It was hardly likely that they could have been anything else considering the conditions that the French had been living in for years. They were the bulk version similar to the British ones we got sometimes and were divided between 13 men or went straight to the cookhouse.
The American pack was the most favoured as it was based on the 'K' rations that were liberally distributed to their troops, and were made up of several packs about the size of a 200 cigarette pack. They came in three variations. Breakfast, dinner and supper, and were complete with cigaretts [sic] , matches, can opener and that most civilised item; toilet paper!. Nevertheless, the Americans were not all that keen on them. Too much Spam and coffee powder!. They should be so lucky!.
I got to wondering if the German POW's in our hands got Red Cross parcels and what they would to like. Not that they would need them as desperately as we did, but at that stage of the war with transportation in Germany at breaking point food supplies were probably worse than they had been for years and everyone suffered accordingly.
We were more keen to get out of the wretched place but with the end so near there was no point in trying all the normal escape methods. We had in fact been told by our own administration not to do anything risky. It was only a matter of time.
There was a lot more speculation when definite news reached us that 30,000 food parcels had somehow arrived by train which was possibly just as well as not even basic rations had come in for days. Supplies had been very spasmodic since the dog and the horse had disappeared.
Even more important was the news that Allied forces were less than 100 miles from Nuremberg but what put a slight damper on that was that we received instructions to prepare for a long march so with an issue of parcels was advice on how we should
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turn the contents into 'marching rations'. There being a limit on how much we could carry.
The veterans soon passed the ward around and everyone was soon busy, and trying to avoid the temptation to have what POW's referred to as a 'bash'. A real feast. It was not practicable. The idea was to process as much as we could into convenient and lightweight food. Everything other than the tinned goods had to be considered. Tinned food was to be consumed first but the biscuit, fruit, (raisins and prunes), peanut butter. powdered milk, flaked chocolate, coffee and sugar was all to be pounded together with as little moisture as possible so that when it dried out it could be cut into bars about the size of Mars bars and then wrapped in anything suitable. It made good sense and on the basis of one bar per meal, three times a day there was more nourishment in that than we had been coping with for same time.
Then there was the problem of carrying it all along with blankets and other personal bits and pieces. Trying to carry a parcel as some people seemed prepared to do would have been back breaking so I set myself the task of making a rucksack from the lining of my US. army greatcoat with the aid of my 'hussif'. I put a lot of time in on that and as far as I was concerned it was a masterpiece and copies were being made by others.
It had padded shoulder straps, waist straps, draw string, blanket roll straps on top and other ties on the bottom. I washed and darned my socks ready for the off but I was not in all that much of a hurry. My mind was concentrated on other things.
Every night I dreamed of a shoot out down the road so that we could all get out and go home. But it was not to be.
The 28th came and even more prisoners arrived and were squeezed in. Tents were put up on the spare ground between the huts and the latest news was that armoured forces were only 70 miles from us. So near, and yet so far!.
The longer we hang about the nearer our forces got to us and in the meantime it was just a case of hanging on to our marching rations and eating up any surpluses from regular issues of parcels which everyone was getting. No other food was coming in.
On the 29th more prisoners were squeezed it somehow The place
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was bulging at the seams.
Some of them had come from an Army camp at Hammelburg, 170km. North West of Nuremberg and same very interesting stories came out of that lot.
Apparently an American armoured column had blasted through the German lines with the express intention of releasing the prisoners of Hammelburg but it had all gone disastrously wrong. Although some had been released the Germans reacted very quickly to block their escape route to a safe area and there was all hell let loose. A lot of casualties had occurred and some of the escapees found safety back in their barracks but the Germans took more prisoners and only remnants of the raiding force got back to our lines. So the story went although it seemed too far fetched to be credible.
Each time the story was told it became more and more lurid until we treated it as what the Americans would call "scuttlebuck' or we would call 'bull' despite the protestations of "on my Mother's life' etc.
Eventually it turned out that basically the story was true although officially not a lot was said about it but it did tie up with an OKW news bulletin that a couple of days previous had reported an American armoured column approaching Wursburg was counter attacked and had suffered very badly. Certainly some of the new prisoners had been taken on that raid so it was not all 'bull'.
April 1st brought more parcels and as by that time most of us had our marching rations set aside so we really did have a 'bash'.
With parcels had come another suprise [sic] in the form of even more prisoners. Thirty two members of the Serbian General Staff, also from Hammelburg!, although the normal compounds were by that time so chock-a-block that a temporary compound was set up with tents alongside ours. Then things changed dramatically.
The guards no longer patrolled the compound from the inside but only the outside of the perimeter fence which had been extended, so down came the trip wire and the inner fence which normally we were forbidden to approach at the risk of being shot. Even a stand-pipe was set up to provide then with running water so it was a free for all as ours was still limited. Of
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course there were protests from the guards as it seemed that just about everything was 'verboten'. They just could not understand why we would not obey the rules and it made them very angry.
The very fact that the internal fence on one side had come down saved us from the daily ‘apel' (role call) which had become an obsolute [sic] farce. The guards never got it right anyway.
If a head count did not produce the right answer they tried all sorts of methods but we had all sorts of ways of adding and subtracting people. What gave them most trouble we found was having more people than they should have done so then they would try an identity check which was a bit daft anyway. It always worked out simply because our own administration drew up the nominal rolls anyway. As long as it tallied they had been happy. Now they had given up the whole charade, and left it to us.
A strange phenomena occurred whilst I was attending an open air Easter Sunday religious service. Just at the end of the closing hymn and with many people kneeling in private prayer, there appeared, it seemed, just to the North and very high, an enormous V shaped cloud in an otherwise clear blue sky. I have no idea what caused it but many theories were put forward.
The most popular one was that it was a very high flying aircraft doing a photo recce' of the battlefield but we could see no sign of the aircraft itself. The cloud hung there a long time before dissipating like a cigarette smoke ring. To me. and others no doubt, it was another sign of hope, and so unusual that I just hoped that a little miracle would happen and that somehow we could just walk out of the main gate and go home, but no such luck. Such thoughts were becoming an obsession it seemed.
The next day we were warned to be ready to move out at 7am the following day so there was feverish activity to get everything prepared.
One of the veterans who had already had experience of one of these marches tipped me off that cigarettes, soap, and chocolate were the most useful currency for bartering with the guards and the German population and I had already observed that soap was being thrown away wholesale down the toilet pit.
There was so much of it, still packaged, under the twenty seater
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'thunderbox' that It was not difficult to recover several dozen unspoiled packages of soap. As much as I wanted to carry anyway. The following morning we were up bright and early and the dream came true as we started to evacuate on time.
It was just after eight o'clock when our compound started to file out of the gate and it was a wonderful feeling. Even the air smelt different.
In all there was about 9000 of us with several hundred guards, many with bicycles, and in a long snake column about four abreast we were on our way. Naturally there was a lot of speculation as to the prospects of getting away if and when the opportunity presented itself; it would not have been difficult but our own administration had thought of it first and issued orders that we were not to attempt any chancy breakaways as the escape committees had everything under control.
That order absolved the officers at any rate from their duty to resist and/or escape so there was nothing more to do but to go along with it however frustrating it was.
I knew what it was all about as we had filed through the gate when I saw the Flight Lieutenant who used to give the German lessons, in civilian clothes, and carrying a small suitcase tucked up very tightly in the middle of a group so I tried to keep my eye on him as it was very suspicious.
In the melee I never saw him go and I never saw him again but I'll bet he was home long before I was, with a great deal of information which would help the advancing Allies.
y
TO BE CONTINUED..........................
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One or more pages is missing.
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party went for cover.
There was no cover so everyone scattered as the parties started laying out the markings after the first burst of firing and by the time the Thunderbolts came back for a second pass we had been identified. It was too late for some though. Our casualties were one killed and two injured and for a long time after that everyone spent a lot of time looking over their shoulder. The casualties were sorted out by a small party that was left behind with a guard and the rest of us just ploughed on, and on, and on, and although most people had made some attempt to get fitter by walking around the compound for an hour or so a day we had not reckoned on doing mile after mile without a break.
It was not surprising that by mid afternoon there were lots of complaints about blisters and aching bodies but we were just prodded on by the equally disgruntled guards.
By late evening we were still going; albeit slower than when we had started and finally after it had got dark it started to rain. Nevertheless it was about 10pm before a break was finally called.
I was absolutely shattered as were most people and I took shelter under a railway wagon on the temporary railroad that had been laid at the side of the road and then gorged myself on a large can of stewed steak from my ‘heavy’ rations.
We were not allowed to rest for long. Before there was time for a nap and with the rain still coming down in buckets we were the move again but not before I had investigated the wagons with a view to hiding in one for a few days but found that they were all full of coal and had no covers so that was
that. Nevertheless, a liberal handful of fine ballast from the track into the axle grease boxes made sure that they would not move it very far without finding the odd problem.
Finally, soon after midnight the word came down the line to stop for the night and most of us just flopped where we were. We had done some 22mls, it was still pouring down and as there was very little cover not many had the energy to go any further to look for any.
All I did was to dispose of another can of something, curled up in my already wet blankets at the foot off a tree and went
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out like a light.
It was dawn then I woke, to a clear steamy morning and like most people I was soaked through. I had been sleeping in a puddle several inches deep which had accumulated from the steady downpour, and the prospects were not good until we saw signs of a cheery blaze a bit further up the line.
The whole column had virtually collapsed where they were when the halt had come and some more fortunate characters had been near a saw mill where there was a mountain of off-cuts which they used for shelter. That was until someone set fire to them!
It had of going nicely and it did not take long for us to take full advantage of the situation. The sight of hundreds of naked bodies dancing around getting warm and drying out their clothes whooping away like a tribe of Red Indians was more than the guards could cope with.
They tried very hard to put out the fire and get us to assist but it seemed that we were pulling in opposite directions, and they were losing the battle. We were stoking it up!.
They had not a hope in hell, not even after threatening to start shooting someone after loosing off a few into the air. Right from the start every one was marked by half-a-dozen prisoners and they would have been flat on their backs immediately they had pointed a rifle at anyone:
We kept the fire going as long as we could and most people got dried out and comfortable again as the enormous pile of glowing embers was reduced to little more than charcoal; then we were ready to leave!.
We understood that the mill owner was still going on about compensation as we left and how the poor old Hauptman dealt with it we would never know but he was looking very grim about it having wined and dined at the mill owners home for the night. Once we got ourselves sorted out and got going again we plodded on through the day for another 16mls before a halt was called for the night.
That time, to avoid a repetition of the previous night we were all to be billeted in large enclosed buildings such as churches, church halls, village halls, barns, etc. I was in a party of about 300 who were packed into a small village church around
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which they placed a guard. No doubt they had noticed a thinning of our ranks since the previous night but they would not let anyone out for any reason whatsoever.
It was not surprising that the place was defiled. I was not proud of the fact that someone had used the pulpit as toilet but it was the one place that no-one could sleep and they were lucky that the altar was respected.
The guards made a terrible fuss naturally and I was glad that I was not among the cleaning up party that was left behind, but that was the last time they bothered to confine us at night.
The main party had started to move out at about 9.30 and the pace was steady although slow before we got to Birching about mid-day to find a great deal of activity.
There were dumps of Red Cross parcels along the main street in front of the Town Hall and they were being distributed as we passed through...one each!. Even the guards were getting them but I suppose there was a good deal of sense in that, if only to keep them off our backs.
There were Red Cross trucks, (American and British Army types) and a couple of ambulances going up and down the column, and beyond, picking up stragglers and bringing them back to the fold. Some of them should have been to hospital and were really in poor shape but they had cleared all the hospitals of the walking wounded as well and everyone that could stand on two feet was having to hike it. The Red Cross took some of the worse cases further along the line of march so that they could rest up before we caught up with them.
Nothing else was provided and water had to be scavenged from where it was available in order to have a drink of something. I even got used to instant coffee being made up cold...it was wet!.
We moved off later in the afternoon and stopped for the night at Belingries where Jim and I found a warm corner in a stable where we spent all the next day and night before we were on the move again. I suppose we could not really complain about our conditions as there were two guards in the next stall sharing the same facilities and making the most of the contents of their food parcel.
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It must have been like a Christmas present for them the way they were going on and like us the only thing they had on their minds was survival, food and shelter. They were only Grade 3 troops and were looking for an end to all the discomfort and misery just as much as we were That's what made it all so damn silly!.
Things got better and better as we plodded into Bavaria. The countryside looked lush and green with well tended fields and the early signs of crops was heartening The weather was fine and most of the civilian population treated our progress kindly. We treated it like a Sunday School outing, waiving, smiling and cheering the population. No doubt they thought we were daft but we were not downhearted.
On rare occasions Allied aircraft flew along our line of march waggling their wings so it seemed that they were monitoring our progress.
Some of us eased out of the column from time to time to do a little trading and on one occasion I was able to add some fresh bread and garlic sausage to the stores of our little group comprising most of the crew and I occupied myself happily after being elected cook.
We picked another barn for the night and found a good supply of mauve dyed potatoes of the sort we had at home for animal feed. The farmer was a bit concerned when he found us with them. He made it quite clear that they were for 'swine' only and that it was a criminal offence to use them for human consumption. It was a continual source of amazement to me that whilst their country was being torn apart with the utmost disregard for human life and property there was still so much regard for common law but I suppose that they had been conditioned by years of shortages and regulations.
I had first noticed the tendency at Nuremberg when we did have fuel for the stove and we were toasting the black pumpernikal [sic] by sticking slices on the side of the store and in came a guard who became very angry when he saw what we were doing.
Toasting bread was ‘verboten’ by law as it destroyed the nutritional value of the bread and we were breaking the law!
As prisoners we were well aware that they could impose civil
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as well as military law if necessary. They had made the same threats for the same reason when we had our bonfire but as there was no time for that sort of nonsense there was precious little that they could do about it. In any case, a few gifts of cigaretts [sic], soon overcame the problem.
We finally got on the more again the next day about mid-day but by now we were doing little more than just strolling along enjoying the freedom and the weather. I had the opportunity of selling a spare blanket to a Polish farm worker for 6 eggs but he could not understand that we were mixed British, American and Commonwealth POW's. Nevertheless, there were a few more exchanges after a lot of sign language and I was better off by 30 Reichmarks which caused a spot of bother as the transactions had been witnessed by a straggling guard who wanted to confiscate the goods. Again it was 'verboten' to sell German military equipment. It was easily resolved. He got 10 marks and was told to "getten ze stuffed" so he wandered off somewhat bewildered.
There was a distribution of Belgian Red Cross parcels, and a large wedge from a round Bavarian loaf at one point and eventually we caught up with the main column again to find a comfy spot in another barn and a good night's sleep with a handsome meal tucked under the belt.
I suppose that now we had put a fair distance between us and the battle front there was no longer the urgency to force us along so we continued to stroll through open farm lands and cross a lot of main roads and the Danube; which was not blue. In fact it was quite mucky.
At one point shortly after crossing the river we crossed a bridge over a closed off section of either dual carriageway or autobahn and there was some interesting activity in the road through a deep cutting which had been closed off to traffic near Seiganburg.
To our amazement the road had been turned into a temporary airstrip with Focke-Wolf 190's lined up and being serviced under a great deal of cables and camouflage netting. I wondered how long it would be before our chaps identified it as camouflage and gave it a good pasting even though we did not see so much of them quite so often as we had previously.
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There was plenty of evidence that they were still busy not too far away though.
We continued to plod on past decorative Bavarian farm houses which, with their high pitched roofs and fancy gables looked very attractive. We were close enough to some of them to see into their fine big kitchens in pine and stainless steel where women in crisp pinafores seemed to be up to their arms in tubs and flour. We did not get more than a passing glance though. The guards were catered for with steaming hot canteens of soup and hunks of home made bread cut from big flat round loaves, supplemented by thick slices of farmhouse cheese. It is understandable that all we got were dirty looks!.
We found accomodation [sic] that night in a barn at Swienbach and once again contemplated the possibility of doing a runner but when we made enquiries we also found out why the column was thinning out!.
It appeared that our administration had been organising parties of 25, each with two guards, to do an about turn during the hours of darkness to find a route to our own lines.
How the selection was made I do not know but it was understandable that those who had been in the bag the longest had first choice and if anyone deserved priority it was them. It was also interesting to learn that the guards were being provided with safe conduct passes which would ensure that they would get preferential treatment when they were finally picked up.
We were still told not to go it alone as there would still be many pockets of fanatical resistance and it was just not worth the risk. Geoff had already tried it once and he had a close shave. He had only got a little way beyond the fringe on a daylight attempt when he was apprehended by a couple of trigger happy SS field police. He had been sent back with a warning, but there was a very good chance that those blokes did not send any of their own back to the line if there was any chance of them being deserters. A little on the spot summary punishment was likely to be meted out without having to justify the action. With our guards it was different. Things were so slack that on one occasion one of them sat on the roof and placed his rifle between us. I just could not
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resist the temptation when a hare appeared in the field and I grabbed his rifle that I had been eyeing anyway, quickly worked the bolt to 'put one up the spout', aimed and fired, but missed, so I hurriedly handed the gun back to it 's owner as the Oberfeldwebel came running up to see what the shooting was about. That turned out to be another big laugh. What else was he to think when he found the guard with a smoking rifle in his hands?. The guard must have figured that he would be in less trouble if he admitted to the use of his rifle for sporting purposes than to admit to allowing a POW to get the better of him so he got a good dressing down for wasting ammunition and I got a dirty look. It all helped to pass the time and keep up morale.
The next day we received the news that we were heading for a camp at Mooseburg but although we started off fairly early we soon got the message that Mooseburg was not ready for us. That immediately started the 'go-slow' process again.
At one time we were lounging around at the side of a track that led across the fields when we heard the skirl of pipes and from over a rise to one side of the main column came a small formation of Scots troops in full marching order with a piper in the lead. What a glorious sight they were with kilts swinging, brasses glittering. It looked damned silly to see half a dozen guards marching with them!.
The sight was enough to inspire some of us to drag ourselves to our feet as they converged on us. Some of us even saluted but they just ploughed on ignoring the Air Force rabble. Good luck to them. They were still going strong as they disappeared from view over another rise. Good luck to them. It looked good and it no doubt made them feel good but there was no doubt that they would be back behind barbed wire long before we were.
We just flopped a bit farther along the track and found ourselves a comfortable billet for another night of relative freedom.
The next day I got organised with another group for scavenging and the like.
Things had been going so well that like others I had already got through my marching rations and generally had lightened my load. No-one was hungry any more but I was approached with an offer that I could not refuse.
The offer was made by a Captain of the US. Infantry who wanted
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fourth to complete his team. The others were two American Air Force Sergeants so I left the crew to join his outfit. It was hard luck on the crew though-they lost their cook!.
The Captain was very interesting and enterprising character. It was his third time as POW, having escaped on two previous occasions, but this time he was no longer going to stick his neck out as there was a state-side ticket waiting for him as soon as he was out of his present situation. He was a very shrewd and tough bloke and it did not take us long to decide just how we were going to operate.
At the first opportunity we scavenged some bits and pieces from some farmyard pumping machinery and rebuilt a broken down 'dog-cart' on which we dumped all our kit and went into action immediately.
Two did the pulling whilst the other two went off scavenging. Within the first half day we had done so well at the butchers, bakers and farms a few km. each side of the column that to were soon re-trading among the others at a 'profit'. My carefully hoarded stock of soap was proving to be most useful currency although coffee and cigaretts [sic] were sill the most valuable.
It was too good to be true. We had not gone far with our cart getting piled higher and higher when the owner of the bit’s and pieces that the cart had been built from discovered they were missing. He rapidly caught up with us on a broken down horse and demanded the return of it.
There were more dire threats of punishment for stealing which of course never came to anything but it left us with having to carry, eat or trade the fruits of our transactions, and the two with the column just had to carry that much more. It was worth it though.
Part of the plan was that it was this pair that staked out a comfy site for four when we made camp and generally the scheme worked well.
The Red Cross trucks were still going to and fro’ but with a difference. They were coming from the South East, loaded, and discharging their loads at various places, loading up the sick and lame and actually [underlined] backtracking our route to the Allied lines [/underlined] to deliver them to safety before loading up again and refuelling for the return journey to us, mainly with ‘K’
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rations.
It still was a source of amazement that the Red Cross trucks were nearly all British or American types that had been re-painted accordingly, loaded, and transported from Italy through Switzerland with neutral drivers under the International Red Cross Organisation.
We were told that some 2000 of them had set out and split up near Munich, one column going in our direction and the other North Westerly to meet other POW's converging on us from the North.
If that produced a farcical situation then it was no more farcical than the latest method of communication that had been adopted between our administration and the rest of the Germans to keep us informed of what was going on.
A sort of HQ. unit had been set up by the more senior officers and their selected staffs who were up front and they never missed a chance to harass the guards....and that included their CO!.
Right from the outset the guards bicycles had come in for a lot of attention.
With monotonous regularity they had lost tyre valves, and chains. Tyres had been slashed until constant canabalisation [sic] of what was left had reduced the original number to only a couple of serviceable bikes, and we had reached the ideal solution where they no longer had a pump between them. We had!.
It was not suprising [sic] therefore, that the last bikes were allocated to the Commandant and his Adjutant....but on conditions imposed by us!.
It was agreed that if we had equal share of them there was a good chance that they would no longer be vandalized but the daftest thing of all was when our own Adjutant went up and down the line on one to pass information it still had a machine pistol on the handlebar clips!.
On the 6th we only moved a few km. and there were more food parcels distributed The awful French one's again but anything was welcome in the food line, if only for bartering.
One of the team and I slipped away one one occasion and crossed a railway line to a group of cottages where we made enquiries for eggs.
At one cottage we called at we were received by an obvious
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1914/18 veteran who was minus one leg but who was quite philosophical as we discussed the terms of the deal in a mixture of broken English and German and he seemed friendly enough. When the terms were agreed he shrugged his shoulders and indicated in the direction of the chicken house and then left us alone with two teen-age girls, possibly his grand-daughters, to collect the eggs.
He was either very trusting, or taking no chances and possibly very relieved to find the eggs were all we had helped ourselves to even offered to give them a four minute boil before we departed. Again, after the difficulties of conversation it was the shrugg [sic] of the shoulders and the well worn phrase, “you soldat-me soldat”.
These eggs went down very well with Spam, beans and fresh bread that someone else had aquired [sic] .
Every day brought the sound of gunfire and battle closer well as Allied aircraft sweeping over us on occasions as they plotted the movement of the long snake of people. There was no doubt that that is what they were doing as our identification process had not been needed for a long time.
That evening we were quite close to Mooseberg and we made camp in a sheltered part of a farm with beds of hay and camp fire was set up with bricks and ironmongery that we had accumulated.
As usual as soon we were all together I planned the menu around the spoils of the day, particularly as our team leader, Capt. Dunkleburg, (a good old American name), had just knocked over a plump farmyard hen.
I don't know if he had been a horseshoe throwing champion back home but he was adept at throwing a short length of wood up to twenty feet with deadly accuracy and he had brought the chicken down by catching it across the neck and it was ready for the pot in a few minutes.
After that it was my responsibility as I had been the team cook on joining, and had been able to make all sorts of dishes from anything that became available including nettles and turnip greens, wild berries and even watercress from the streams where most of our water was drawn from.
Everyone seemed to be happy with this arrangement and our chicken supper was simplicity itself. I must admit that I felt a little
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guilty when others drifted around our site sniffing the aroma like Bisto kids but it was a matter of survival, although I did feel a little sorry for those who could not cope with looking after themselves.
Lashings of coffee was consumed and dispensed to others who wanted to make use of our fire and we were off to sleep like babies.
The morning of the 17th started with a leisurly [sic] breakfast which was still in progress long after the time we had been told to be ready. Then the farmer and a guard arrived making a lot of fuss and accusing us of stealing again. I suspect that more than one chicken was missing but nevertheless we pleaded innocence. They threatened us with all sorts of consequences for our actions as we started to clear up bones, feathers and damp down our fire so they eventually called in the Hauptman.
When he arrived on the scene he let rip with a very good immitation [sic] of Hitler and as we took very little notice he worked himself up into a fine old state until he was just about purple with rage. We didn't understand much of it, but Dunkleburg did, and he knew what he was getting at before he got a little calmer and reverted to English. Then he gave us an ultimatum. He was going to count ten and then he was going to shoot someone if we did not get moving.
By that time the situation had got decidedly dodgy but we took our cue from Capt.D, and started to spread ourselves out as the count started.
Ien...drie...swie...by which time he was spluttering again and by the time he had got to ten he was clawing at his pistol holster which was a beautifully polished leather affair with a fancy-lanyard disapearing [sic] into it.
Capt.D. had gathered himself into a crouch like some old gun fighter from a Western, poised as if to try and beat him to the draw..although of course totally unarmed. The guards looked alarmed and backed off as the pistol was withdrawn seemingly in slow motion as Capt.D. prepared to charge.
On the other end of the lanyard appeared a fancy pearl handled ladies handbag model of a .22 which was pointed skywards and fired.
Putt, putt, putt, and everyone relaxed immediately and rolled
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about laughing as we carried on clearing up. The old boy's face was contorted in anger and embarrassment as he stomped away. I think that was the last I ever saw of him.
I imagine that as he was just about to hand us over he was getting the wind up and was going to have to do a lot of explaining about how he lost 2000 prisoners and half of his guards on the way from Nuremberg!. That is always presuming that anyone else was still worried about such things.
We finally reached the camp, Stalag V11a, Mooseburg, by mid-day and then began the process of sorting ourselves out. Eventually we had a hot shower and a meal of sorts and then sat around most of the afternoon whilst the administration figured out what to do with the 1700 strong RAF contingent now that we all been segregated. It was goodbye to all the friends we had made outside RAF circles so I was back with the crew again.
The time spent lounging around was not boring anyway. There were Yanks all over the sky around us, knocking hell out of anything anything [sic] that moved now that we were within the safety of the camp.
We had news that Prauge [sic] had fallen. The Yanks were reported to be only 20 mls from Berlin and the Russians virtually had the city surrounded, so what was there to worry about.
All we had to do was sit tight and survive and eventually we were given an area of huts for the night although they provided little more than just a roof over our heads.
The 19th started with a roll call, with promises of hot water and food which did not materialise. All that happened was that we got moved to another compound with huts in the same condition as those we had just vacated, lacking everything except the bed frames.
I got very fed up with the whole deal. My shaving gear was just about used up. Like others I had over two months growth of hair falling all over the place. My boots were falling off of my feet....they had not worn at all well. There was a long queue at a single tap and no ablutions. There was no heating and precious little fuel for cooking fires. The remaining bed boards were carefully guarded by those who had managed to get a few together. Issued rations were a couple of potatoes, a hunk of
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bread and some mouldy cheese. I went into a nasty fit of depression so I turned in to sleep it off.
The floor was the best place with the shortage of bed boards so it was a matter of just curling up in a corner wrapped up in anything to keep warm.
Over twelve hours sleep cleared the air a bit and the next day I felt a lot better. All the crew except Jim had got together again for parcels and food share out as for some reason Jim had gone in with another group but the waiting game was not improved by a change in the weather so any cooking or brewing up had to be done in the hut. At times it was like 'smokey Joe's'.
The change in the weather did not stop the air activity all around us but fortunately it was mostly ours. The Luftwaffe was rarely seen.
The next day was the same but supplies were improving a little and carefully hoarded stores were opened up. I got a replacement pair of boots; not new but at least the soles were not flapping and I was able to replenish the shaving gear.
The following day looked like being a repetition until an order came through to prepare to march again. The burning question was "where the hell can we go from here?.
The Russians were already through Poland into Czechoslovakia to the East and the North of us, and were coming up through Austria to the South and not all that far away. Even Italy was suggested although the only obvious way was back and perhaps that was not a bad idea as I was not partial to the idea of the Russians over-running us.
There had been lots of stories already concerning the Russian way of life and from what I had seen and heard of the Ruskie POW's on the far side of the camp there was no doubt that they were a strange lot.
Of course they had had it very rough and had no protection under the Geneva Convention as non-signatories which had a lot to do with it. They were very badly treated and their food rations were even worse than ours….and they had to work for it, officers and all.
As a result they had become a desperate band of brigands with little more than survival in their minds and they were up to
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all kinds of mischief.
Only the day before they had been bearing a coffin out of the camp for burial and the German gate guards made sure it was a corpse that went out. They plunged a bayonet through the flimsy coffin and the corpse screamed!. They had buried the original in the compound and although it might have been interesting to have got mixed up with them I don't think it would have been exactly pleasant.
We got back to using the bunks again after a load of rough boards had been dumped in the compound for the purpose of making them up although a number got sidetracked for fuel, mainly for brewing up.
Brewing up was something of a ritual and when fuel was short it was foolish to be extravagant with resources. The most economic were the tin can arrangements that had come down from Luft.3, although some copies had been made.
Usually mounted on a small board they consisted of hand wheel driving a metal fan in a perforated lower chamber with a fuel chamber on top. All driven with a string or bootlace drive. It sounds very crude but the gearing was such that it worked like the bellows of a forge furness [sic] . They were very economical and would burn anything from a handfull [sic] of twiggs [sic] to lumps of tar off of the road. There was always a great deal of whirring going on at brewing time. i
The owners of these masterpieces would usually brew up a can of water for others if a handfull [sic] of fuel was produced and it was amazing how bits of fire was transferred from one to the other rather than use a seperate [sic]match for each start up.
The 25th April dawned a beautiful day and there was considerable relief when we were told that we would not be marching after all as it could only be a few days before we would be free.
The sky was getting thick with aircraft at times, mostly ours, but the odd German Air Force fighter was seen invariably high tailing it for safety to their temporary landing strips, often trailing smoke, with a swarm of stars and stripes after them.
These were exciting times and the guns seemed even nearer as the excitement increased when we had a news flash that Augsburg, about 45mls to the West of us had fallen into our hands.
It seemed to us, and it proved to be the case, that it was a
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race between the Americans and the Russians as to where the gap would be closed, whatever may have been previously agreed. The thrust between us and Munich, and onward to where they finally did join forces did solve one very important point.
It prevented what might have been the fulfilment of Hitler's original plans to surround Birtchesgarten [sic] with his SS fanatics and at least 40,000 POW hostages for a fight to the finish.
Everything was going so well that we were no longer bothered about keeping a reserve of food or conserving fuel supplies. Part of Geoff's bed went into preparing lunch and some of mine went at supper time.
The 26th was another beautiful day. We had a bit of a surprise when a large party of guards marched through the camp to the boundary wire at the edge of the compound, then downed arms, cut the wire and rapidly filed through leaving their rifles behind. It is quite possible that they just went off to somewhere quiet and then sat down waiting to be picked up.
They got out of sight rapidly after I dashed out and picked up one of their rifles to send a couple of shots after them but I only fired over their heads.
That's all there was time for as our administration collected all of the rifles and took them back to camp HQ.
It was not long after that news came through that we were taking over the running of the camp and we were one more step nearer home.
A bread ration came up. The interior fences were torn down. Where the guards had cut the wire we strolled out into the open as if it was a Sunday afternoon along the prom. Along the river bank, chatting to a couple of pig-tailed giggling teenage fraulines and even picked up some firewood which had been our main purpose for going outside.
It was not long after our return that the PA system instructed us not to stray too far if we were outside and although there was a tremendous sense of freedom in doing so it really was not neccessary [sic] for obtaining fuel.
Warning notices, air raid shelters, fence posts and the like were all available to us by that time. It was a change not to hear the PA blasting out 'Achtung' and OKW rubbish but we were being kept informed almost hourly by
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relaying BBC and AFN programms [sic] .
There was an announcement that our documents and personal possesions [sic] were available for collection from the admin office if we wanted them.
After all that had gone on since 7th February I actually got back my mirror and cuff-links that had been confiscated but it would seem that someone had aquired [sic] a very nice white silk scarf that I had been wearing at the time. Perhaps it had been considered service property, which was fair game. I was just surprised that anything was returned under the circumstances.
News came later that Regensburg had fallen and our forces were encircling Munich, and although the weather turned very nasty in the night and the hut leaked like a seive [sic] no-one was concerned about such minor discomforts.
Even the, following day when there was no let up in the downpour we did not worry about it. Even the natural water supply was a luxury!, and a visit to the clothing store gave us the opportunity to change some more of our tatty clothes.
On the 29th P47 Thunderbolts buzzed the camp and then did a bit of straffing [sic] in the local area. Perhaps it was just as well that the cut wire had been repaired and we had been confined to camp until further notice!.
By 11 o'clock there were all the signs of a battle starting to the North so there was another good reason for staying under cover.
Geoff and I had taken cover under our hut and in fact I was brewing up whilst the battle was going on and one or two people who were foolish enough to still be wandering around were hit by stray bullets but fortunately not seriously.
By 11 o'clock the sounds of battle had gone right round the camp to the South of us, giving us a chance to venture outside.
There was still a lot going on almost on our doorstep. Some big guns were firing over the camp from the hills and shells could be heard rushing overhead followed by a 'crump' as they landed between us and the town.
Then one found it's mark when the church steeple and a sniper with it disappeared in a cloud of dust and debris.
News in those conditions travelled as fast as a bush fire and
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we next heard that the senior Allied POW officer and the local German Commander had been out the previous evening under a white flag to confer with the American Commander, but the German was adamant in his response to the ultimatum. He refused to surrender the area without some sort of fight so that was why it had all started up again but it did not last long.
There seemed to be a bit of a lull and then on the top of the hill, along the ridge, dozens of tanks appeared and just took up position menacingly. About mid-day another party went up the hill under a white flag to parley once more and I can only assume that enough people had died to satisfy honour and to find terms on which to end the slaughter especially when faced with that threat.
By 1 o'clock all firing in and around the area ceased. The Stars and Stripes flew in the town and in the various compounds national flags of all kinds were flying.
Those flags had been hidden for a long time at great risk and at last they could be proudly displayed. As far as we were concerned it was all over, and we could look forward to going home.
We were nearly all bursting with excitement wondering what to expect when later on in the afternoon a convoy that was a sight to behold came in through the main gate.
The lead Jeep had a General saluting all over the place. Some said it was Patton as it was the US. 7th Army that had relieved us but there was so much going on with the bustle and the noise it was difficult to take everything in.
Behind the Jeep came a Sherman tank and a whole convoy of armed troops who toured the camp as we shouted and cheered, and cheered some more, and cried a bit too until we were just about drained of emotion.
The PA system belted out cheerful music and then the circus was in town.
Another convoy came in and news reel camera crews set themselves up as Red Cross trucks, ambulances, mobile hospital, mobile bakery, mobile laundry and trucks with mountains of goodies followed.
There was everything from chewing gum to fruit juices and even fresh fruit that some of us had not seen for months and in some,
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cases, years.
Everything was eventually set up in the central compound and we marvelled at quantity of the goods and the generosity with which it was all being dispensed. There was even a Padre' tossing packets of chewing gum into the crowd.
It was announced over the PA system that we could go outside again but only through the main gate, and then only after we had been processed by the general office and provided with a repatriated POW document. It was worth it, although at that particular time I found plenty to occupy myself in camp and did not venture out.
Although we thought that the fighting was over it started up again not far from our compound as dusk fell. No doubt some brave German still trying to defend his Fatherland but it did not last long.
We had already been warned not to try and make for home on our own as some had attempted. There were still some fanatical pockets of resistance in areas that had been encircled and had yet to be secured.
The most noise that night came from the Russian compound. Although they had had their share of all that was coming into camp they had been conditioned [deleted] but [/deleted] [inserted] to [/inserted] such hardships that they were still out for anything they could get and went on the rampage. They raided the camp bakery and having carted off all the bread and the flour that they could carry they finished up by smashing all of the equipment. It took some time to round them up and try to convince them that there was no need for it. It didn't work.
It all flared up again the following morning. They had their freedom, as we all did and got into town but it was not long before they were smashing the place up, pillaging and looting and generally being a damned nuisance until something happened that I though I would never see.
The limited number of Military Police in the area had to be backed up by deputies drawn from the POW ranks and included Officers and NCO's They were armed with the rifles that had been left behind by the departing guards and were needed to guard German shops, homes and the population against rape and downright vandalism.
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As one Welshman who was involved said to me at the time, "There's daft for you. Yesterday the Germans were our enemies and today we are protecting them from certain elements of our Allies". There's no answer to that but I think the Ruskies eventually got the message.
Some of the excitement had died down by the next day until the circus got going again.
The camp had another visit from some top brass and there were more news reel camera crews shooting just about everything in sight.
American Forces Air Mail blanks were distributed and collected again but that is one area where the Yanks did not get top marks. Mine never got home. Probably they were shipped to the States first and then they were dumped on the assumption that we would have got home first.
The mobile bakery was going full blast now that the camp bakery had been ruined but some of the veteran POW's were having problems with the fluffy white American bread. One chap was stuffing great lumps of the stuff into his mouth and complaining that the 'cake' did not fill him up like pumpernikal [sic] . There was plenty of everything else anyway and no doubt by the end of the day he would have tried everything that was on offer and like me, the pains in his tummy would be from eating too much!.
The camp PA system continued to broadcast AFN and BBC relays. The BBC gave news of 32,000 liberated POW's in the drive for Munich and that had to include us. That would be good news for the folks back home who would be getting the same news and were no doubt feeling very relieved that they would soon be hearing from their loved one's.
It was not all good news though. What the army found in places like Dachau, between us and Munich was a very different story, and the world was soon reeling in shock and horror at the scenes of the almost indescribable conditions that were found there.
By comparison our situation was a picnic.
Those that did venture into town could not be stopped entirely from a little 'souvenir' hunting.
They came back with bicycles, radios, weapons, motor bikes, and all manner of household goods but although it was a free
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for all I do not remember that it got too far out of control as it did at the time of the Ruskie's excursion.
One group near us came back from a hunting expedition with a deer that was soon given the treatment. It was barbicued [sic] on a spit over a pit that used to be an air raid shelter and there was everything that one could wish for.
It was open house and became a communal feast. People just contributed anything that they had. There were chickens, eggs, rabbits, ducks, fish, you name it. It was the biggest, most hilarious barbicue [sic] that I have ever been to or ever likely to go to, and of course some alcoholic beverage found it's way into the camp as well.
During the proceedings one American came back from visiting a nearby tank unit and he was absolutely plastered.
He was teetering all-over the place, hanging on to half a case of Champagne on his shoulder and every time he looked like capsizing and people went to help he he [sic] , fought them off. He was very protective of that 'champers'. Even when he fell into an old air raid shelter it could not be prized from him so we left him with a happy smile on his face. There was plenty more.
Although we were getting a little restless at the delay in moving us it was understandable....there was still a war going on!. But on May 3rd. parties started moving out and leaving their surplus goods behind and we spent a lot of time walking around the area inspecting the staggering amount of transport, troops and armour that we came across. We only had to show our identity slips and everywhere we went we got first class treatment with the utmost generosity, but there was the inevitable sad story to remind us that for some people the war was not yet over.
One of the tank crews was suffering from a traumatic experience, the memory of which was still fresh in their minds.
Apparently, when they had been confronted, not far from the camp, by armed school kids in cadet uniform they had tried to discourage them by firing over their heads but it had not been successful. The youngsters still showed defiance and continued firing. The tank crew had no choice but to fire on them for the benefit of their own infantry who were just behind them, and of course some of them had been injured before they gave up.
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In it's way it was very sad but it just showed that it was no picnic out there.
When the next piece of news came it was difficult to take it it [sic] in.
Berlin had fallen to the Russians and Hitler had killed himself in his Berlin bunker. The German High Command had collapsed and a cease fire was imminent.
The excitement reached a new high when that news had sunk in.
The call forward of people for evacuation was speeded up and those called were taking messages for us as well so I was looking forward to being home for my wife's birthday on the 8th, but the days were slipping by rapidly.
We were bathed and de-loused, (the first of many de-lousings) on the 6th for moving out on the 7th only to be frustrated by another deferment.
We were interviewed by an American female War Correspondent and were photographed charging around on bicyles [sic] and yet another frustrating day went by. Some people had got totally fed up by that time and were having a go on their own despite the regular warning being given. I played it safe and was rewarded on the 8th when our party was called forward.
All of the parties were of 28 people and Geoff was in charge of ours when we finally moved out at 5.30am. when we boarded a convoy of trucks, that set off for an ex Luftwaffe base at Straubing to the North of us.
It was a rough and dusty journey, but eventually we rolled into the place and again I was struck by the resemblance to our own pre-war airfields. I could have found my way around there as easily as Marham, Mildenhall or Stradishall but we did not have chance to go far. It was not worth it anyway as we were likely to be called forward at any time.
We were off-loaded on the road leading through the camp with the hangars dead ahead and told to stay put.
There was very little sign of damage so either the Luftwaffe had evacuated smartly or surrendered, but there we were, at the side of a tree lined avenue waiting….and …waiting!
Des and Lynn had been left behind at Mooseburg but they turned up in a later convoy and were not far from us as evening came. Still stuck on the road!.
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Fortunately the weather remained fine and although there was a NAAFI type building on the opposite side of the road none of us wanted to be confined. We had had enough of that.
We relieved the NAAFI place of a small stage about 8ft by 8ft and about a foot high which we set up between some trees. Several parachutes from the stores were used for bedding and a canopy and we had a neat little camp site that was the envy of many.
A metal grid was set up on some bricks to serve as a fireplace and we were able to dispense hot water and coffee to all and sundry as well as being a meeting point. I
We were just about to settle down for the night when the bomb shell came. Germany had capitulated…the war was over at last! As if there had not been enough excitement for one day.
There was still a little light left when there was a flurry of activity up at the airfield and troops were charging in that direction from all over. Curiosity got the better of us and no sooner had we got to edge of the airfield than a half dozen Ju.52's approached from the North East firing red verey signals
as they went into line astern for landing.
As soon as they had landed they were surrounded by armed troops and then the doors opened.
The occupants were mainly women and children, obviously families of Luftwaffe personnel being evacuated from Chechoslovakia [sic] out of the path of the advancing Russian forces. They looked very frightened as they were hustled away but I am sure that they would have been taken care of by the local population even if the military got different treatment.
We were not allowed to get too close but the airfield attracted us like a magnet and we soon found it to be a very busy place. No wonder they did not want us in the way.
There were mountains of stores dumped all around the perimeter.
There were dozens of Mustangs and Thunderbolts in another area and the remnants of dozens of German aircraft of all types piled up in another area.
Then came the next surprise when about twenty Me.109's and Fw.190's appeared in the circuit...all flying white streamers from their wingtips in the act of surrender. The sight of those brought just about everyone up to the airfield as they circled and landed, finally taxying into a neat line in front of the
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hangars.
The pilots hardly had time to switch off before the 'reception commitee' was up on the wing and the elegantly turned out pilots in their No.1. uniforms were unceremoniously whipped out of their cockpits, frisked and relieved of any Iron Crosses around their necks, and watches, binoculars, pistols and holsters were removed before they were lined up and marched away.
I suppose they did try to surrender with some dignity but they were not allowed to do so and neither was the next group that came in.
We had had the families, then the Staffel, and the next arrival was a Ju.52. carrying the unit commander and his staff. It included his female secretary, filing cabinets and all....plus...the pig!.
The latter was no doubt the product of the unit pig farm and an insurance against going hungry at a later date. So here was an almost complete unit apart from the poor old ground staff who were probably having to hike their way back from somewhere just inside the Chech [sic] border about 60 miles away.
The volume of gold braid on the senior officer did not save him from going the same way as the others, so he was bundled off one way, no doubt protesting about his rough handling....and the pig went the other. To the cookhouse!.
One of the last to land in the fading light was a Feisler Storch light communications and spotting plane and the pilot demonstrated it's capability by virtually stalling it into a very short landing run and …..plonk, stopped.
The pilot got out, like an entertainer in the circus, grinning, as if to say "who's a clever boy then", until a huge coloured American airman grabbed him by the collar and he was put through the mincer like the others.
We loved every minute of it and wandered back to our camp site very happily not expecting anything to climax that but the finale came shortly after daylight went completely.
The day was finished off with a giant pyrotechnic display that must have used up everything that could be mustered from all of the combined stores plus stuff from wrecked or surrendered aircraft.
The way some of the stuff had been put together to blast off
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some 200ft into the air must have made the excercise [sic] near lethal but I am sure that there was no shortage of the necessary explosive and technical skills to put on such a show at such short notice.
The night sky was filled with star shells and flares of all colours and enormous explosions for well over an hour before we retired to our communal bed with stars in our eyes, and hope for what the next day would bring.
When May 9th dawned we were up early, washed, shaved, breakfasted and the site tidied up in case anyone else wanted to make use of it after we had gone, all ready standing by long before 7.30 as we had been told to be.
About 8.30 a flock of DC3's (Dakota's to the RAF) started pouring in, landing and taxying into the park directly ahead of the road we were on.
We had seen these depart on the previous day and it was a well drilled procedure by which they took up position in five ranks of ten nose to tail so all we had to do was to was [sic] for the call forward. It did not come!. Instead, truckloads of GI's came rumbling into camp straight past us and out to the aircraft which taxied out as soon as loading was complete and away they went…..all 50 of them!
We did not know whether they were front line troops who were in need of a rest or even walking wounded but it got us a bit steamed up to think that someone seemed to be jumping the queue but we knew that they would be in again in the afternoon so we continued to wait impatiently.
By mid afternoon the flock were back again and after landing formed up with the same precision and then another convoy of Americans arrived, again going straight out to the airfield. Fortunately it was a smaller party and some of our groups ahead of us were called forward but leaving us still sweating it out.
There was nothing more to but to open up our site again and brouse [sic] around the rest of the camp to occupy the time.
There was another firework display but we could not work up much enthusiasm for it. All of our thoughts were concentrated on what might happen the next day.
Again we were on call to be with some of the first away so once more we prepared ourselves and then watched in dismay as another
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convoy came sweeping in and went straight out to the airfield. When the aircraft came in they were promptly loaded and were away again leaving us still stuck on the side of the road. There were some angry mutterings.
Eventually the group leaders had a conference to elect a spokesman who went forward to speak to the load masters and whether it was that that did the trick or whether it was the luck of the draw I would not know but all of the RAF roadside gipsies were moved up to the airfield for the afternoon shuttle.
In came the aircraft as before and as soon as they were parked each party was allocated a specific aeroplane from which they unloaded jerrycans of petrol and other stores which included 'K' rations from which we got an issue and then we boarded....at last.
Like a well oiled machine the 50 aircraft started up, rolled out in sections of ten, took off and in loose formation headed West at about 4000ft.
The precision of that operation made a lasting impression on me as it was shifting about 300 tons of fuel and suplies [sic] in and about 2800 people out each day. With over 40,000 repatriates to get out of the area it was understandable that it was going to take time however frustrated we might have felt at times.
We landed at an airfield near Rheims, France, and were trucked to a huge tented encampment in the grounds of some Chateaux. We got de-loused again, had a label tied on and were then provided with vouchers to exchange for cash, shown the accomodation [sic] and told to be ready by daylight next day..
To someone like myself who, had only been in the 'bag' a short time it was a short step back to reality but for those who had been behind the wire for years it was the start of a long period of adjustment.
The bright lights, the incessant broadcasting of AFN (American Forces Network) and the delights of the tented city with it's cafateria [sic] tents, beer tents, cinema, magazine stalls and one-arm bandits was a different world. Obviously American servicemen (and women) did not expect to be cut off from their home comforts just because they were fighting a war in foriegn [sic] parts, whether they were in our [sic] out of the line. i
Whilst I was having difficulty in deciding what to spend my
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money on…and a beer was one of the first things, others were very reluctant to spend at all. I found that those who had hoarded for years in order to survive could not easily break the habit but we all mucked in together until eventually we had had our share of everything that was going and then it was early to bed, a real one, in preparation for an early start on the next lap.
We were up at 5 o'clock the next morning, piled onto trucks and commenced another bumpy, noisy and tiring drive, seemingly in the wrong direction, to an airfield at Juvencourt, which I found out later was between Troyes and Chaumont. I did not hear any complaints. If everyone was like me they were too pre-occupied with their own thoughts at the prospect of getting home soon to be concerned about a such a journey. Even if it was about 100 miles!.
We expected to be going into another camp but there was great excitement when, on arrival, we found a flock of waiting Lancasters on the airfield and we loaded 25 to each aircraft ready for the off.
The Lancaster was not built for passengers so we were distributed all along the fusulage [sic] and my diary records that I was in one of 514 Squadron's aircraft, from Waterbeach, Pilot, Flying Officer Tasker. His W/Op turned out to be one of my old mates from training days, Tommy Gookie.
There was no opportunity for chat though. Anyone who who [sic] has ever flown in a Lanc. without a helmet will know just how noisy they were but it was a terrible racket when those four beautiful Merlins started up and we taxied out and took off, setting course in a bit of a gaggle, heading West. I did have the opportunity of a few minutes in the top turret but there was quite a queue for it.
I lapped it up but it was a bit nerve racking for some of those who's flying had been cut short when they had been flying 1939 vintage fighters and bombers. Those chaps were going to need quite a lot of rehabilitation that was for sure.
After about an hour's flying all the changes in engine note and attitude suggested that we were preparing for landing and after touching down and taxying in we scrambled out of the door to find ourselves on the tarmac at, of all places, Tangmere.
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Just 18 miles from my home town!. Then the inevitable occurred. First we had to go through a very rudimentary customs check and then we were deloused again. There was no way that anything illegal or catching was going to be allowed into the country but I was beginning to get a bit fed up with having a hose stuffed up trouser legs, sleeves, down the trouser front and back and in the hair dispensing clouds of strange smelling itchy powder. Then it was tea and sandwiches in the hanger served by WAAF's who for some reason seemed to treat us as if we were something from outer space. I did not realise it at the time but that is probably what we looked like.
For the next part of the programme we were bussed to Barnham railway station to board a train that was sitting in a siding, but not before I had attended to one most important matter.
I was sorely tempted to slip away but thought better of it. Instead, I dived into a phone box, called the operator, but before I could tell her that I wanted a reverse charge call she asked if I was a returning POW, so obviously I was not the first she had had on the line.
Having been assured that I was she said that there was no charge and got a number for me in Worthing. In a flash I was talking to a local Chemist who I had been in the Home Guard with. He took a message to my parents, just up the road and on the way met my father-in-law so the whole jungle telegraph got going to spread the news.
Quite a few used that phone but eventually the locomotive whistle brought them back on board and we were off.
The trip was a long one and at times very slow as we wound our way all round London making occasional stops at stations for the ladies of the WVS and the 'Sally Ann' to dispense tea and sandwiches, whatever the hour, until eventually, somewhere around midnight we arrived at the reception centre at RAF Cosford, near Wolverhampton.
The train ran right into the camp which had it's own internal railway system being a storage area and maintenance unit and we dissembarked [sic] almost directly into a well lit hangar.
There were lines and lines of tables creating avenues which were alphabetically indexed; and from then on it was every man for himself for a while.
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The first part of the process was an identification check. There were boxes of Records Office duplicate I.D. cards with photograph after which there were a few questions and once past that check we were back in the Air Force. Some who had not worn too well in the 'bag' took a bit longer but all were eventually filtered through perhaps after calling an officer to verify or a Doctor to advise on suitability for immediate clearance or a spot of R & R. (Rest .and Recuperation) first. Cosford also had a very large hospital so it was ideally suited.
After that we were provided with a temporary I.D. card and authorisation chits for this, that and the other. Leave warrant, ration card, advance of pay, clothes coupons, petrol coupons, cigarette and confectionary coupons…..all taking time as we worked our way down the line of tables until we were further directed towards another hangar which was a monster clothing store for an issue that would at least allow us to change out of the odds and ends that we had been wearing for so long. Half of mine by that time was American drab olive so it was back to blue.
The clothing issue was very basic. Airmans battle-dress and cap. Underclothes, socks and boots. Shirt, collar and tie.......separate of course, and nothing to hold them together, and finally a. piece of braid or a set of stripes appropriate to rank and..........the sewing kit!, plus a new kit bag to put surplus stuff into. Goodness knows what time it was before the process was complete and then we were off to a barrack block, a steaming hot bath and to bed.
We had been told that the Mess dining room was providing a 24 hour service and very few people overslept. We were up and about gathering everything together and I forget how many peices [sic] of braid and collars I sewed on for others before the need for breakfast was calling.
I felt a bit like a fish in a bowl wandering around the Officers Mess again among others dressed much the same as myself. The permanent staff were very helpful and the stewards could not do enough but there had to be a limit to how much one could eat in one go. There was only one thing on the minds of most people, and that was to get home as soon as possible. One of us had already gone. Jim only lived at Coventry and I was told
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that he had ordered a taxi and was off…..and to hell with the expense!.
Buses had been scheduled to run to Wolverhamptan [sic] for main line connections for those who were cleared to go and other nationalities, including Commonwealth personnel were being assembled to go to clearing depots that had been set up in various parts of the country to prepare them for repatriation. For me it was a quick call to Newmarket and I was on my way.
I must have got quite used to the scruffy character reflected in the shaving mirror without realising that there was a lot more of me that I had just taken for granted. When I first looked in a full length mirror it took some time to realise that the wild man from outer space was in fact me. If clothes maketh the man then I really looked like a rag-bag…..but a clean one!.
Clean I might have been but I had over three months head of unruly hair which was almost white from the liberal use of de-lousing powder that would not wash out. My ill fitting serge battle-dress had come straight from the stores and looked like it and although I could have delayed my departure to make myself more presentable I didn't. And I do not know anyone who did!, but as soon as I was back in the public eye it not surprising that I was getting some funny looks.
There were a few more to come before I finished my journey but one incident imprinted itself on my mind.
I have no idea where it was exactly but after changing trains and we got under way, I was lost in thought and the other person in the compartment; a member of the bowler hat and brolly brigade, went to some length to point out that it was a First Class compartment and that I appeared to have made a mistake.
Normally I would have treated it lightly but as his expression suggested that he had a nasty smell under his nose I'm afraid I was in no mood for that sort of nonsense. I cannot recall exactly what I said, but it certainly was not complimentary, I do remember that it was he that moved out and not me....after all, I did have a First Class ticket!
I finally arrived at Newmarket where it seemed that half my wife's HQ had turned out to greet me but why they were on the down-line platform when I arrived on the up-line platform I
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don't know and there was an awful lot of running about before we fell into each others arms. Then it was back to her office for a whirlwind of activity and excitement as a leave pass was arranged.
There was of course a very lively party in the evening before we finally retired to our room with some people that we had often stayed with on previous occasions. It was ironic that the lady of the house was the German wife of an old jockey of some repute.
Old "Willie" Warne had been the Kaisers jockey prior to the 1914/18 war and had been too late to get out of the country when that war started. The result was that he had been interned in Germany throughout the conflict. We had a lot to talk about!.
The following morning we were off to Worthing for a reunion with my parents and the rest of the family with the exception of two of my brothers who were still away in the forces.
My uniform and other clothes were waiting for me, all cleaned and pressed; although a little on the loose side and eventually, after lots more soaking in the bath most of the signs of the de-lousing powder disappeared. Nevertheless, a haircut was necessary, before I could get my cap on. The old barber that I had used for years nearly had a fit when he saw the state of my hair until I told him how it had got that way. That was the only free hair-cut I ever had out of him!. After that it more or less resumed it's natural colour and I was reconciled to a more civilised routine even though a touch of jaundice limited activities for a while. Something was bound to happen when the diet was undergoing that sort of change.
It was another twenty six years before I left the Air Force. I will never know why I was one of the lucky one's and it never ceases to amaze me. Sometimes I have thought that I have lived on borrowed time since those days.
If I had been a cat I would have run out of my nine lives a long time ago and I have always considered myself very fortunate to have enjoyed a longer period of relative peace than the older generation had experienced between two dreadful wars.
My youthful ambition to fly had been fullfilled [sic] ; even if it had been the hard and dangerous way. The war had finished and our country and our society seemed safe and secure at last.
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It had been achieved at the most dreadful cost in human lives and suffering. There were a lot of my old school friends and others that I would never see again.
Historians have since put forward many academic arguments on the conduct of the war as they have done throughout the years over long and bloody conflicts to try and prove points and discredit theories as well as personalities which is easy enough to do in hindsight.
The fact remains. Hitlers evil Third Reich was destroyed, and only just in time before the introduction of a new generation of weapons might have prolonged the war or even given Germany the chance of recovery. Then the pages of history would have been written somewhat differently and I doubt if todays armchair strategists would be in a position to express themselves quite so freely.
The overall number of casualties was appalling and the Royal Air Force had it's share as it wielded one of the most powerful and flexible weapons ever forged.
Bomber Command alone lost 47,293 aircrew killed or missing on operations over Europe, and another 8000 were killed in training and non-operational flights between 1939 and 1945.
A staggering 9000 bombers of all types were lost in the same period and at the peak of the air war 40% of Britains [sic] war production was concentrated in the manufacture of aircraft and supporting services.
Between them the Allied Air Forces devestated [sic] 70 cities and manufacturing centres severely curtailing production.
The Hamburg raids of 1943 disrupted U-boat building and caused the terrible fire-storm that resulted in more than 40,000 deaths. Altogether 3,600,000 homes were destroyed. 7,500,000,people were made homeless and there were 1,000,000 casualties caused by the bombing on the European front alone.
The costly raid on Peenemunde in the Baltic gave us breathing time to develope [sic] a defence against what could have been devestating [sic] damage from the V1's and V2's.
Sea and Air co-operation effectively swung the balance of the U.Boat war and a steady flow of war materials and food was assured from the vast resources of the USA.
The German Navy got bottled up and was no longer an effective
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force. The Luftwaffe was being depleted as their bomber force declined in favour of fighter production. Although in 1943 their production of fighters actually increased they were faced with the fact that experienced pilots cannot be produced, at the same rate as machines and the bombing was starving them of fuel.
Once Germany was forced onto the defensive as was Japan the writing was on the wall.
Towards the end of the war Germany had committed enormous quantities of some 20,000 anti-aircraft guns and vast quantities of ammunition to the defence of the Third Reich, tying up 1,000,000 troops and another 1,500,000 people in fire fighting, clearing up bomb damage and re-housing.
The destruction caused by Allied air raids affected German war production to such an extent that it was estimated by German sources that in 1943 alone, it cost, in terms of production, the [underlined] equivalent [/underlined] of 10,000 heavy guns and approximately 6000 heavy tanks. If the resources that those figures represent had reached the battle fronts the outcome of many a campaign might well have different.
Those figures are just some of the grim statistics on the balance sheet of a war that need not have happened if Hitler could have been prevented from embarking on his plans of world domination.
The overwhelming Allied air power was a major contribution which helped to reduce the casualty figures of the ground forces who eventually squeezed the discredited leaders of the German nation into surrender, giving Europe a chance to sort itself out and lay plans for a more peaceful future.
History will show that the transition into an uneasy 'peace' and the rebuilding of shattered countries and communities was not easily achieved but I am proud to have been part of it.
Alan.T.Gamble.
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"NIL DESPERANDUM”
[underlined] PREFACE [/underlined]
My war came to an end with Victory in Europe, when, after returning from German POW camp I was sent on leave to await further instructions.
For some time I expected to be called for duty in one of the areas of either Europe, the Middle East, India or the Far East where there was still a great deal of conflict going on, but it seemed that there were still plenty of people around to cope and it was many weeks before something was found for me to do.
I was content as long as my pay and allowances were being credited to my account, so I sat back waiting for something to happen and enjoyed being with the family again. My wife Dorothy was still in the Army and soon used up her leave entitlement to be home with me at Worthing although I managed several periods up at Newmarket where she was still stationed which was not too far away so I had a comfortable time rehabilitating myself until a telegram from the Air Ministry requested my presence at Whitehall to determine my future.
Meanwhile I had had plenty of time to contemplate both the past, present and the future. At least I still had a future of sorts which was a lot more than some of my old school friends whose short lives were about to be recorded on the memorial tablets.
My youthful past had been humdrum until joining the Royal Air Force and I could not see it getting any better by doing what so many were doing by getting `demobbed' and back into `civvy street' as soon as possible to pick up the threads of their previous occupation. Apart from anything else I was not even sure that I wanted to resume my previous occupation.
I had made the grade from the ranks to commissioned officer more by luck than anything else and despite some bad moments I had been introduced to a different sort of life; and it attracted me.
I had asked myself time and time again; should I throw it all away or capitalize on it? The answer always came out the same, whichever way I looked at the situation. I really had nothing to lose as I had very little to start with, so I approached the postings department at Air Ministry with an open mind and tongue in cheek.
I was kept waiting for a long time after I had presented myself, and bit by bit I progressed from the main reception to the clerks office then to an outer office until finally being called into the inner sanctum to be asked by a chap who simply asked what I would like to do.
It was such a surprise that I was barely able to splutter out "anything you like" and no doubt if I had not already given some thought to my future I could easily have blurted out "civvy street" and that would have been the road that I would have gone down. Nevertheless, my remark produced a contemplative "hm" and a lot of paper shuffling. I just looked at the ceiling and shuffled my feet!
The next question was "what about administrative work?" and I recall that my reply was something to the effect that "if that is what you would like me to do I will have a go" although my insides were churning. Me! administrative work! What the hell did I know about that, but the die was cast and I was sent off for a few more days leave to await further instructions, which took the form of a telegram instructing me to report to No. 47 Group. HQ, Hendon, for disposal.
I duly reported to the HQ which was in a group of huts, which is still there behind barbed wire in front of the Restaurant of the RAF Museum and by adopting the philosophy of leaving my destiny in someone else's hands the cards were shuffled once more. I was earmarked for administrative duties and sent home, once more to await further instructions.
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It was not long before, they arrived and then I was en route to Lyneham, in Wiltshire, all shiny, new and refreshed for the beginning of a new era.
[line of stars]
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[underlined] CHAPTER ONE [/underlined]
Lynham [sic] was a flying station of No. 47 Group, Transport Command so it made a change for me to be outside Bomber Command but I did not have a lot of time to contemplate the Yorks and Stirlings that were being flogged to and from many parts of the world. The arrival preliminaries were soon over and I found myself being employed as assistant to the Adjutant of 511 Squadron and was soon up to my ears in routine paper work, a lot of which was processing claims for campaign medals but it seemed an easy way to earn a crust for the ten days that I did the job and I learned a lot more about the running of, a unit like a flying Squadron which had not changed a lot since I had been a 'sprog' airman at Mildenhall in 1941 where I had started my first stint of admin in the orderly room. There was something else that had not changed. Stirlings being Stirlings, whatever the mark, could still get into an uncontrollable swing on take off and landing as I found out from the signals that were coming in reporting aircraft all the way down the route to India having swung and busted the undercarriage in some God forsaken place and I had not been flying a desk very long before one did the same thing at Lyneham which finished up careering into the operations block causing a number of casualties among ground staff.
It had previously entered my mind that if I could keep away from flying for a while it would not do me any harm but after that episode it did not seem to make any difference. I think that I would have been most upset at being pranged by a runaway Stirling whilst sitting at a desk; especially after successfully completing a tour in Bomber Command on them without damage to myself.
However, I was whisked out of that job overnight and flung straight into a properly established job in Station HQ. That of Station Assistant Adjutant although the job title of the appointment was a mis-nomer as far as I was concerned. It really was personnel administration and I inherited a staff of twenty headed by a Flight Sergeant Chief Clerk. All of a sudden I was an Admin Officer!
The reason for the sudden move requires a little explanation as I did not physically take over from the previous encumbant [sic] , a WAAF officer who apparently had got herself and the job into one hell of a mess and had been moved out smartly before things could get any worse. My brief from the Senior Admin Officer was to get stuck in and sort things out as quickly and as quietly as possible so I took over everything completely blind. Office, staff, ledgers, account books, cash and inventories. It was difficult to know just where to start so I familiarised myself first with the orderly room procedures and the staff who handled the details of some 2000 airmen and airwomen and then came the process of sorting my own office. It did not take long to find out that things were far worse than they appeared on the surface.
I started checking the inventories as I had signed for them subject to check and although some small one's were fairly easy but when it came to the bedding store, oh dear, oh dear. My heart missed a beat. It showed up a flaw in the system that been exploited for a long time by people quite prepared to make a few bob out of surplus blankets, only they were not surplus! Even in the stock room half blankets suitably folded had been counted as complete blankets to deceive the checkers for a long time. I had to have a long think about that one. There seemed no point in enquiries and chucking charges about. I had a feeling that it would bounce right back into my court. Quickly and quietly the boss had said, so I did it my way and worked at it steadily over a period of several weeks whilst dealing with other day to day matters.
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I had the station scoured for blankets that were being misused as curtains, table covers etc. and a few billet inspections with the aid of the Station Warrant Officer produced a considerable number that were in excess of entitlement and more than a few exchanges were made at the main stores until I was satisfied that the deficiencies had been reduced to a modest number that I could subsequently declare for write-off. War time methods of writing off losses were no longer in force so I was aiming for the minimum possible before asking for an independent check to be made with me in attendance. Such matters absorb a great deal of time and at the same time I introduced a completely new system of accounting for the issue, receipt„ storage and stock control of bedding without adding extra staff although there was a change of staff. The Corporal in charge of the bedding store! who I am sure was very pleased to go without a fuss. I found a place for him in the sanitary squad! In the long run quicker and quieter than the more formal way of doing things. I followed it up with a multi page paper on the subject, with recommendations for the changes that I had already made and submitted it through channels to Air Ministry, as I was sure that there were considerable savings to be made if my scheme was implemented officially. I can only assume that someone, somewhere along the line put his own name to it and nearly two years later an Air Ministry Order appeared almost word for word so it must have had some merit. It was still in force 40 years later!
I did get something out of though!. Nearly six months later after I had moved on and after an enquiry into the deficiencies that had been disclosed, a Board of Enquiry found me responsible for the losses and invited me to pay £5 toward the value of the losses. One learns the hard way and so it seemed that everyone was covering their backs, and they had to have their pound of flesh. £5 was a lot of money in 1945. About 25% of a weeks pay for a Flying Officer!
Had that backhander arrived whilst I had still been at Lyneham I might well have decided that Air Force Admin. was not for me but by then I was engaged in numerous other problems and learning to cope with them without compromising myself. It did not always work but I was getting better at it. In the meanwhile Dorothy had left the Army and was back with her parents in Worthing awaiting the arrival of an addition to the family.
Among other things that were under my jurisdiction were the issue of clothing coupons, tobacco and confectionery and petrol coupons and it did not take long to find out that the system of accounting for those items were far from satisfactory. Of course, they were all issued, or were supposed to have been issued according to entitlement as laid down in the relevant orders but I found it impossible to reconcile the stocks and book balances. I burned the midnight oil balancing, (or to be truthful, cooking them) until I had resolved the petrol and clothing coupons sufficiently to satisfy a snap audit which was always a possibility although obviously no such audit had been done for a long time.
In hindsight it would probably have been to my advantage to have asked for an independent audit when taking over, if it had occurred to me, but I was new to the business and without formal training it could still have gone against me in the same way as the blankets episode. I doubt that it would have gone against the departed WAAF officer who no doubt had left the service very smartly which was the normal practice for someone in her condition. There did not seem any point in making waves so in my ignorance I just pressed on.
The tobacco and confectionery coupons were a bit of a headache although I had not placed any priority on them but the first time I attended a Station Commanders conference the subject came up as the local and area NAAFI managers had apparently been tearing their hair out for some time as their monthly stocks were all being taken up in the first few days of the month and supplementary stocks were having to be put up to supply the demand for the rest of the month. I came directly into the firing line although my predecessor had previously been
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instructed to do something about it and of course the inevitable occurred. The finger was pointed at me with an instruction to "fix it ....and quickly". It did not take long to find an answer.
The blank coupons were initially issued by the NAAFI to units for distribution and generally coupons issued by one unit were valid at another and therein lay the problem. At Lyneham everyone other than the Officers and Sgt's messes seemed have about four times as many coupons as they should have but the work involved was not easy and I burned a lot of midnight oil personally setting up a system to get it right first time. I made all old coupons invalid as new coupons became valid from a certain date. They were all serial numbered and distributed to internal units and departments against nominal rolls There was no leeway or overlap. Any cases that would have previously been arbitrated by the Naafi staff were referred to me and only coupons bearing the Lyneham stamp were valid. All new arrivals got a new issue on surrender of their old one's with a limitation of only two weeks back issue. I did get it right first time!. The rot was stopped dead in it's tracks within the first few days of it's introduction. The Naafi managers were happy and despite the success of the operation that was the only area from which any compliment came and I was presented with an enormous box of chocolates for my wife with their compliments. At least I had the satisfaction of knowing that I had some aptitude for the work that I had been thrown into and had so far I seemed to have done it a bit better than someone with formal training.
There were other matters that needed a nudge in the right direction from time to time to bring them into line but eventually all the serious problems had been attended to and I was able to relax slightly as the job ticked over as it should have done in the first place. I even managed a few more week-ends at home instead of working right through but at that time people were still revelling in the euphoria of the cessation of the war and there was a lot of partying going on, and that of course meant too much drinking as an outlet for pent up emotions. There was one rip-roaring party to which I invited my Petty Officer Naval brother, (with temporary promotion to Lieutenant. RN. For the occasion) and it was the great granddaddy of all binges. We were in a very sorry state the next morning when we went down to the flight office as I had arranged a trip in a York for him. He had never flown before, and it had been no trouble to lay it on although it was in a freighter on air test that we found ourselves in. No seats. Just a load of loose covers on the floor with a few straps to hang onto.
I suppose it's something you are trained for and you grow up with so it was second nature to me. My poor brother felt differently about it with the thunder of the engines, the unfamiliar smells and a skyline that would not stay in place, and neither would his stomach as he was obliged to make use of the paper bag supplied!
His final thoughts on the matter were that he would sooner take his chance in the bowels of a ship than fly or have to chuck himself out of an aeroplane if it got into trouble although I am sure that when he was later obliged to fly back to the UK on compassionate leave on the death of his daughter he had more things on his mind than his own personal discomfort.
Bit by bit I attacked all of the accumulated problems and new one's as they arose and life began to jogg [sic] along quite nicely. I was able to spend time studying the activities and the rules and regulations of the personnel department for which I was responsible, although it was run very efficiently by a Flight Sergeant Waaf. Even so, I began to take more notice of what I was invariably signing for. At that point in time I seemed to have been launched in a career in Admin so it seemed logical that I should learn all that I could about it.
It was too much to expect that I would be left to settle for long. In early Spring of 1946 I received the reward for my efforts when I was notified that I was posted to Holmsley South in the New Forest, Hampshire, for Admin duties, so a quick hand over followed a handshake from the C.O. and to my surprise a "well done" and I was ready to go. One of my
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first thoughts was that I would be a lot nearer Worthing and things seemed to be working in my favour especially as Holmsley was another Transport command station with a Stirling squadron. The prospects were good and I had no reason to make any preliminary enquiries so off I went and waved goodbye to Lyneham.
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[underlined] Chapter Two [/underlined]
I completed the arrival formalities by eventually arriving at the C.O's office and that's when I received a nasty shock to be told that he was very pleased to see me as a very special job had been reserved for me. I was to take charge of 50 German POW's who would be arriving by train [underlined] the following day [/underlined] and the Senior Admin Officer would tell me all about it!
He did. A dispersed Nissen hutted site had been allocated. Beds and bedding had been set aside at the stores and an inventory opened ready for my signature. Cooking facilities had also been arranged on site "so off you go and the best of luck and keep them out of my hair" was the brief.
[underlined] Dispersed [/underlined] was the operative word. Typical of war time airfields it was well spread out and I was to find that the site that I had been allocated was nearly two miles from the main camp area but I was thinking very hard about the prospects and wondering if my reputation had preceeded [sic] me as they must have decided at the last moment to appoint an officer in charge. I must confess too that I rather liked the idea of being a POW Camp Commandant which was the title that I gave myself. After my recent experiences as a POW in Germany it would be interesting to have the role's reversed.
Most of my first day was spent checking out the site and supplies. The electricity was on, the plumbing was working and coal had already been dumped on site but it was the `cooking facilities' that intrigued me. It was no more than an old soya boiler and a Spitfire packing case but I was not going to worry too much about that. One thing was for sure. At the very worst the conditions could never be described as rough by comparison with the way we had been treated as prisoners so after reading up the limited amount of information that been handed over to me and making a few arrangements for the reception of the POW's I settled in the Mess and turned in that night with a clear conscience. The next day could take care of itself!
I duly met the motley crowd at Brockenhurst railway station the following day without too much ceremony having mustered a couple of hefty, armed Service policemen to make an impression and there I was handed a package of `bumph' by one of the two RAF (aircrew) Warrant Officers who were going to be my total staff for the indefinite period that they were going to be with us. As soon as we got back to the main camp I was able to dispense with the policemen and the POW's did a lot of waiting about whilst I poured over the documents with the Senior Admin Officer (who really didn't want to know), but I was determined to keep him in the picture before being told once more "get on with it". By that time I had got the impression that as far as I was concerned I was on my own!.
The POW's were all ex Africa Corp and had been incarcerated in working camps in Canada. They had been well fed and documented and were in the pipeline for repatriation, and they knew it and the best part was that they were to be reminded regularly with the added threat that if any one of them absconded, or even attempted to, then the whole lot would be put back to the end of a very long list.
That solved a lot of my fears and it was with a much lighter heart that I paraded the lot, read the riot act through their senior NCO `interpreter' although most of them knew enough English to understand and then we were off to the site where I paraded them again and explained that it was to be their home until further notice. I also explained that any comforts that they might enjoy would be achieved mainly by their own efforts which soon put a stop to any complaints that they might have thought of voicing. There was the inevitable roll call and familiarisation of faces having formally introduced myself and then we got down to work setting things up.
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The next few days were hectic as I scrounged, scavenged and borrowed all the necessary equipment to make life tolerable and there was a lot of earth moving, hammering, sawing and considerable industry as the days went by. The kitchen and mess room layout was built from the Spitfire packing case and sited in a partitioned end of a hut adjacent to the ablutions block to make use of the plumbing, and the remainder of the hut was turned into sleeping quarters for the duty officer and the site office.
There were few restrictions. By the very nature of our staffing arrangements it was an open camp apart from morning and night roll calls with one of the Warrant Officers or myself on camp throughout each 24 hour period. The daily routine was soon established. I was allowed a small cash ration allowance to supplement the daily ration issue and the prisoners were allowed a small basic pay in script as they were not allowed real money. They spent their script in the small canteen that we set up and it's value was converted into real money under my control (more book-keeping), for purchases from the Naafi main distribution centre in Southampton.
I was also allowed to employ them on the station in a variety of trades that they were suitable for and give small pay increments accordingly, so it was not long before some of them were being employed as drivers, fitters, cooks and butchers, cleaners and baggage handlers with a pool of refuse collectors. My message to them was very simple. "Screw up a good job and you go straight to the garbage detail". (There was no extra pay for that job!)
A bout of very wet weather made life very difficult as the entrance to the site was uphill and impossible for motor transport so that supplies had to be man-handled in but in my travels I had spotted a considerable supply of used and new PSP, (Perforated Steel Planking) of the type that many war time hard standings and even temporary runways were built with which had been more or less abandoned by the Americans, who had used Holmsley for the invasion of Normandy so several tons were transported to the site in the next spell of good weather and we got cracking. There was a lot more earth moving as the surface was prepared and we worked it out as we went along. I got my shirt off too which raised a few eyebrows among the troops.
Like any other body of men there will always be those who will hang about on the fringe of activity trying to look as if they are busy. Germans are no different! But I felt that if I could demonstrate that I could work as well as any of them then I would be justified in putting my boot behind anyone who seemed reluctant to flex his muscles so we toiled like an army of ants the whole of one week-end when I was the duty officer. At the end of the day we straightened our backs with the satisfaction of having done a good job in record time with a firm driveway leading up to a level turning area at the top.
I had a few crates of beer brought in later on and had the additional satisfaction of being told by one of them that it was most unlikely that a German officer would have applied himself in the same way. By that time I had bathed and was back in uniform and once more and `The Commandant' was feeling rather pleased with himself, so the reply that came from me, almost without thinking was....."possibly, and you lost"! Touche!.
After that things began to tick along quite nicely which was just as well as I was beginning to be drawn more and more into the routine work of the station. Nevertheless, the POW's took up most of my time and I had to argue my way out of doing station duties like Orderly Officer on the grounds that I was spending every third night and every, third week-end in the POW compound. I was excused station duties...but not for long!
I had to take fairly swifty [sic] action on one occasion when I had a report from the civilian accountant officer who came to work on his scooter that he just passed one of our two tonner's being driven by one of my POW's on the Southampton road, and he did not appear to have a load! I was off like a shot on my recently aquired [sic] motor cycle and chased after him.
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I was flat out for several miles before I caught him up and flagged him down. The driver was the one that I thought he might be. He was reputed to have been a pre-war racing driver mechanic and it appeared that he had been doing some unauthorised tuning of the truck's V8 engine as well. His argument that he was road testing the vehicle cut no ice as he had no authorisation to do either that or his journey so it was about turn and back to camp with me tailing him. I think he knew what to expect when I had him on the mat. Like everyone else he knew that Southampton was not many miles down the road and my own view was that he was making a dash for freedom although there was no way I could prove it. For him it was the loss of his trade pay and on the back of the refuse lorry instead of driving it! They had been warned!.
My motor cycle was a great help to me and allowed me to get between camp and Worthing in less than two hours giving me much more time with my family especially as I would normally have caught an early Sunday evening train to get back. With the bike I was usually driving into the compound on the dot of eight o'clock on the Monday morning to be received by one of the Warrant Officers and the Feldweibel. The bike was then taken to be cleaned up as I changed and had breakfast before going through the reports and morning inspection. The bike was then taken to be cleaned as I changed and had breakfast, before going through the reports and my morning inspection. [sic]
I had learned enough about Germans to know that they understood and respected that sort of routine so there was some satisfaction in having the bike cleaned and polished, very often by the chap who I had suspended from driving after his misdemeanour but I was too trusting. I should have remembered that once you give a "creegie", (an abbreviation of the German word for POW); an inch, he would take a mile. We used to!
On one fine day I decided to take run to Bournemouth and on the spur of the moment took the head man with me on the pillion but we had barely done a couple of miles when the bike went into a violent, almost uncontrollable wriggle on a bend which resulted in us being thrown onto the verge, on the wrong side of the road, somewhat shaken, when the back wheel locked up!
When had got our breath back it did not take long to find the cause of the trouble. A loose back wheel which had caused the wheel to go out of alignment and the chain to jump the sprocket! That had also upset the brake control but it was soon put right and the outing was abandoned. There was some more sorting out to do. I was quite adament [sic] that wheel nuts do not loosen themselves and I had already decided that the bike would no longer be cleaned by a particular prisoner and the same person found that he never did get back driving, or for that matter on any other job that might have restored his trade pay. There were no direct accusations but I think everyone was aware just how close `Sir' had been to a very nasty prang. It was just one of the many problems to be sorted out where my charges were concerned and it was not unusual for the local village policeman to be hauling one of my `boys' back into the compound in the early hours of the morning having found him sneaking around the village. It was an open camp after all and my staff was not large enough for anything else. Neither would the administration consider giving me a guard patrol at night so all sorts of things were known to be going on after roll call and lights out and I was obliged to turn a blind eye to such goings on provided that nothing desperate occurred. It was impossible to stop the forces of nature and if some of the local lasses preferred the company of German prisoners then that was their affair.
Another problem concerning the motor-bike nearly deprived me of it when I received a letter from an H.P. company advising me that the machine was the subject of an H.P. agreement between them and a third party and as Dorothy had opened the letter at home it really caused a storm in a tea cup!. The bike was costing me about four months pay on an
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H.P. agreement with another company! In the end it was not difficult to sort out. I threatened to sue the dealer that I had got the bike from and told the first H.P. company that the bike theoretically belonged to another HP company and then let them sort it out so in the end the bike remained in my possession.
It very nearly got bent on another occasion when a group of about five of us who had motor-bikes, (including the medical officer), went out for an evening's tour of the local area which included a few stops for [underlined] light [/underlined] refreshment. Perhaps that was what caused a little excess speed as we swept into a bend, line astern, with the Doc. in the lead, but he couldn't quite make it round the bend. Off the road he went whilst the rest of us made our own arrangements to keep control and come to a stop as the Doc. disappeared up someone's garden path. When we had turned around and investigated there was the Doc. bike and all, extracting himself from a flower bed. There was no real damage done except for the loss of an area of skin from his knee and a hole in his best trousers.
The lady of the house had just come out to see what all the commotion was about and seeing a pranged person discharging a quantity of blood on her path asked if she should get a doctor and with great solemnity the Doc. said, “thank you madam, I am a Doctor but I would very much like a cup of tea", so we all got tea and patched him up althoughfor [sic] some reason we did not indulge in that sort of escapade again.
Our little camp matured and blossomed and I thought that it was enterprising of the inmates to have achieved some colour in the place when flower borders appeared. I put it down to the generosity of the locals until I had a telephone call from a retired Colonel living in a pleasant old Victorian house next to the compound. It didn't take long to find out from a visit and a couple of sherry's that as our our flower beds blossomed his had thinned out. Actually he was very reasonable about it for a man with a name like his. It was BASTARD, so I naturally pronounced it Bas-tard, to be put well and truly in my place when he insisted that it was BASTARD by name and BASTARD by nature; but his bark was worse than his bite.
It was all simply resolved by the return and replanting of most of his plants and by the allocation of a regular POW gardener to him for two half days a week. Couldn't be fairer than that! We benefited from the deal as there was no further need to raid his garden. We apparently just appropriated surplus plants from his greenhouse!
I had a few days leave after our first daughter was born only to find on return that there had been a near mutiny among the prisoners when someone had upset their comfortable routine.
I had made arrangements that whilst I was away the Duty Officer would include certain daily checks that would normally have been done only at week-ends when I was not there. It had all been resolved by the time I got back but it had resulted from the actions of one officer, himself an ex POW, deciding that they should have a taste of what he had been subjected to resulting in numerous restrictions, parades and roll calls. Nothing too drastic but quite unnecessary in the circumstances when they were safe in the knowledge that all they had to do was behave themselves and repatriation was certain. The net result was that they had refused to go to work until the status quo had been restored. Just to show them that they were not going to get it all their own way I imposed a fine of one week's pay for everyone although it really need not have happened. It subsequently turned out that the officer concerned had been in Stalag X111b and V11a with me and we continually bumped into each other at various units over the following years but that's another story.
One highlight was our camp concert. News had been filtering through of the closing down of the whole station so I thought we should do something special without thinking too much about what the implications were for me, like what, when, where? so after a tentative enquiry the repatriation authorities suggested that if it did happen then my lot might well be
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moved up the repatriation schedule rather than re-locate them. I thought it wise to leek [sic] this information to them to act as an incentive to good behaviour and it did not take long to get things going. I did very little except to beg, borrow and scrounge stuff for them, including instruments and did not even vet scripts or attend rehearsals. I left that to my two Warrant Officers. It would have been a useless exercise anyway.
When the show was finally presented, the CO. and other Senior officers who had been invited seemed to enjoy themselves anyway although I suspect that many of the jokes were at our expense. Nevertheless, they all laughed in the right places; as I did, even if we did not fully understand what was being said. It was an interesting experience and there were no repercussions although their [sic] was an air of excitement creeping into our daily lives as this particular element of the vanquished Africa Corp. considered the pending return to their homes, or what was left of them, and as for me. What next?
About that period I was in the Mess one lunch-time when a noisy visiting aircrew were attracting a great deal of attention in the foyer and my eyes lighted on one of them. None other than Macdonalds Flight Engineer of my Stirling days, 'Paddy' Martin, now in the rank of Fg.Off, but we only managed a few minutes chat before they were all boarding a crew coach with I suspect, a little more than just their lunch on board, going out to their aircraft which was a Mk.V. Stirling no less.
When we met up again umpteen years later he swore that we had never met on such an occasion; but then he also swore that he had never attended my wedding in 1944 until I produced a photograph to prove that he did. The last information that he could recall of me was that `Tommy' Gamble had got the "chop" early in 1945. Close--very close, but not quite.
One very interesting event took place just about that time. A Courts Martial came up. That of a case of alleged rape of a WAAF by an aircrew Warrant Officer, and I found myself sitting with the court as one of the officers under instruction. All part of the training scheme.
The WO had engaged the services of a K.C. barrister whilst the prosecution had produced a relatively inexperienced officer, not of the legal profession, who had just been detailed for the job and the case lasted two days during which time I studied the form very carefully as it customary for anyone to be detailed for such jobs; either for defence or prosecution and my only experience of court procedure was in my youth when I had appeared before the magistrates for some minor cycling offence and this was very different.
We were in fact treated to some of the finest court arguments that it has ever been my privilege to witness as the barrister ripped the evidence of the prosecution to shreds in the most expert fashion and the case was not proven. It made me feel very uncomfortable to think that one day I might be detailed for such a job and find myself in the same invidious position as that unfortunate prosecuting officer so at that point I made two resolutions. One, to keep my head down when they were looking for someone to make a fool of himself in a court room, and Two, to dissuade anyone from accepting my services should I be so detailed. Needless to say, after it was all wrapped up I think we were all rather pleased to put our medals back into storage.
I then became heavily involved in the arrangements for the Squadron's move to Lyneham and followed the normal procedure of working with the RTO (Military Rail Transport Office) to move the remainder of the personnel that were not flying or going by road but when I submitted my part of the planned move of the movement order to the Station Commander he was not impressed and instructed me to cancel them and arrange for a fleet of coaches so that the move could be accomplished, taking a third of the time and with the bonus that the Squadrons would be non-operational for only a very short period. It made sense and having cancelled the RTO arrangements they were no longer concerned so I duly hired the coaches through a Christchurch firm and all went well. Shortly after the aircraft departed the
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transport baggage train convoy followed and a silence descended as the airfield was closed to active flying.
In due course the bill arrived for several hundred pounds and I passed it through accounts for payment thinking no more about it until an irate Group Accountant Officer came on the phone demanding to know why we had not used the RTO for transport and who had arranged it all. My insides went into a turmoil of panic as I thought of the consequences and the effect that it would have on my already overstrained finances particularly after he said that it was all very irregular and that he would send the bill personally to me for payment. That's when I dug my heels in and pointed out in no uncertain terms that it was the Group Captain's (who was no longer in command); decision and I had only carried out his instructions then the line cooled a little when he said he ought to send it to him instead.
In hindsight I suspect that he felt that he had to make a fuss under the circumstances but I think I chewed my fingernails down to nothing whilst I waited for the outcome. Thankfully I never did hear any more.
Meanwhile there was the problem of the shrinking station. I had been absorbed into the station HQ for all manner of duties and then in a twinkling of an eye I was unit Adjutant with a Squadron Leader CO. With all that on my shoulders it was time to place the full responsibility for the POW's onto the WO's. The senior was placed in charge and as the camp medical centre had already been closed I re-opened it and transferred the prisoners to it from the dispersed site which was closed. As far as their conditions were concerned they were now positively luxurious with all that a complete medical centre had to offer including constant hot water and a superb kitchen. That got them off of my back whilst I tackled the deluge of responsibilities that came my way.
We soon compressed the unit administration into one HQ building as bit by bit activities closed down and brought their own problems and although certain posts were disestablished there were some that had to remain and most of them fell into my lap. Almost every day another crop of posting notices arrived and more people were on there way leaving behind various duties for which they had been responsible and the one quick way was to concentrate that responsibility into the hands of some-one who would discharge the final act to terminate the job. With only a few officers left and with myself being one of the nominated seven to stay I would go so far as to suggest that I got more than my share being the junior officer.
All non-public accounts were concentrated under one control; mine, and although the monies were at the bank by the time I had collected seven accounts to the value of several thousand pounds I was beginning to feel somewhat uneasy particularly as I was delving into the mysteries of double entry book-keeping. There was more burning the midnight oil to study to try and work it all out and I tried desperately to take it in my stride without admitting that I knew very little about it in the first place. Now what would a Secondary schoolboy trained as a carpenter and subsequently a Wireless Operator/Gunner know about such things? Fortunately there was only one active account and although they all had to be audited by the accountant officer monthly who certified the balances I must have done it correctly as there were never any problems.
It was inevitable that among the various hats I was wearing I became the M.T. officer but only as the nominal head of the section which was as usual ably run by an experienced senior NCO. But the Air Force had this thing that only a commissioned officer could take the can back for anything that went wrong and I barely had time to sign for everything that I had become responsible for as it was so most of it was done tounge [sic] in cheek and fingers crossed. I had already crossed that bridge when I was at Lyneham so it was nothing new.
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One of the jobs for early elimination was that of Entertainments Officer as it was not an on-going thing but then it occurred to me that one of the accounts that I was managing was the PSI fund which was particularly healthy. The PSI fund is the equivalent of a Regimental Fund which when all was finally wound up would have any balance transferred to Group accounts. But it could be used for financing other projects-provided that it was not drained and I could not think of anything better than the concentration of the best of our remaining local talents into a final farewell party. It didn't take long to find someone to mastermind the production side and I developed it into a two hour music hall programme with some very accomplished and enthusiastic people. The hall was laid out along the lines of a German beer cellar with barrels of free beer being dispensed by real German waiters (my POW's) in white aprons in the time honoured fashion with free food laid on as well.
Maybe I pushed my luck a little but as I was also in charge of the few remaining service policemen I issued instructions to keep it cool with further orders to the POW's to the effect that none of them were to fall down until they had completed their jobs as barmen, cleaners and general handymen. As far as I know none of them did but no doubt because I was so heavily involved I could not have seen to everything and towards the end I was not far from falling down myself. I do know that when I did my rounds in the morning everything was back in place and cleaned up. If there had been any bad behaviour or punch-ups there was no evidence of it and the cells were empty. All I had to do after that was pay the bills but that was one hell of a party'
As the unit continued to thin out even more business came my way including the dreaded inventories and by that time I had already received the outcome of the Lyneham enquiry so although I was a bit peeved about it I felt safe in the knowledge that having started up my POW inventory from scratch it was a model of correctness from the time I opened it up. Nevertheless I was more than peeved when I found that I was required to take over dozens of depleted inventories from departing people and transfer the stocks to one holding inventory.
A job like that can only be done with a mountain of vouchers and although I tried to get the hard pressed storemen to do it internally I found myself stuck with it but it involved a lot of work including stock taking before taking some of them over. I had learned my lesson!
Numerous problems arose of course. Like the occasion when a bicycle found in the village pond was brought in by the local policeman. Identified by it's [sic] serial number the books showed that it had already been written off so no more paperwork was required. It was consigned to the scrap dump which was yet another of my responsibilities.
Naturally there was a lot of useful scrap in the yard as well as the rubbish and it was my job to see that a contract was let to a local merchant whose outgoing loads had to be inspected and approved by me at the Guard room and the price agreed on a signed invoice which went to the accountant officer who subsequently collected the money. It was all done according to the regulations so it was with some surprise that on one of my tours of the airfield I investigated the contents of a large packing case in the area of the old bomb dump. I found that it contained a brand new, still sealed, Wright Cyclone aero engine with American markings that had obviously been left behind by the USAAF prior to `D' Day.
Perhaps it was too innocent but at that time it seemed that my biggest problem was how to get rid of it as it was definitely not on charge. It was a completely surplus item until enquiries through the supply people resolved it. You simply took such an item on charge by filling in the appropriate vouchers and once it's on the books that's it. You can then transfer it so Engine, Aero, Wright Cyclone, Mk. ?, serial no. ? Port, One, was dealt with and I thought that was the end of it. Within an hour of having it picked up and conveyed to stores the scrap contractor was knocking at my door. He claimed that he had `discovered' same, but had not said anything to me whilst he was looking for a home for it, which he had only just done.
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I have often wondered if [sic] would really have known-anything about it's departure as according to him he had found someone running a one man airline with a Dakota who could have done with a spare engine and £500 was the price he was going to put to me but it was too late. (and hard luck Freddie Laker!). I certainly could have made use of that sort of money at that time and I might have been tempted but as the RAF was still using Dakota's it no doubt found it's way into one of them at a later date. There was never such another lucrative opportunity but there was no time to cry over spilt milk either. I was up to my ears in stores vouchers and posting notices as I had become the Personnel Officer again as the unit got smaller by the day and we got nearer our dead-line date. Then the time came when the POW's were warned to be ready.
When the day finally came there was no ceremony. All the hand shaking had been done before they were paraded. There was just a quick salute and "goodbye and good luck". That was that. Some of them had been receiving mail via the Red Cross and they had had access to UK newspapers so they knew what to expect. Those who had lost touch with family for various reasons did not have a lot to celebrate knowing that they were going back to a land that had been ravaged by a war that had destroyed so much. I knew what it was like; I had seen it, so there was no cheering and I was glad to see the back of them. As they marched off there was one thought that struck me that the WO's had not mentioned; the radio that I had been permitted to purchase on their behalf had not been handed back and I had to account for it. It was "Halt, about turn" and it didn't take long to find it when I told them that it had to be returned, even if they missed their train. One of them had it under his greatcoat!!!
It didn't take long to clear up the paper work after they had left then it was nose to the grindstone again as the next major job had to be attended to. That was the disposal of all non-public assets, mainly PSI funded, that had already been collected and an inventory drawn up which I then had to dispose of by public auction for which I engaged a firm of auctioneers. In all the book value was just over a thousand pounds and shortly before the sale which had been advertised I had a visit from a retired Air Commodore representing the Bournmouth [sic] Branch of the Royal Air Force Association who was prepared to make a cash offer for the whole lot at half the book value. I managed to negotiate the addition of the auctioneers fee if it was acceptable. It seemed a good deal to me but when I put the idea to the Group Accountant he was horrified. Oh dear no! It was most irregular and the regulations stated quite plainly that it had to go to auction so despite considerable pleading and argument he had the final word. Whilst my sympathies were with the Air Commodore and the RAFA there was nothing I could do about except apologise to him and let the sale go ahead.
I did not attend the auction and was quite happy to leave it in the capable hands of the experts but subsequently when I got the proceeds, less commission and handling fees it did not amount to much more than £100 for the lot! I was hot foot down to their offices for explanation but it was all above board although the receipts showed that most items had been knocked down at quite ridiculously low prices but I did find out that a certain Air Commodore had been in attendance and he and his cronies had done most of the bidding. As far as I was concerned the RAFA had got the stuff much cheaper than they would have done by private sale although I had a sneaking feeling that a certain Group Accountant was not going to be very happy so I obtained a complete breakdown of the sale prices and the purchasers before I left their office. Just as well. When the Group Accountant did spot it it really did 'hit the fan'. The line was red hot as we discussed the pro's and cons and it was perhaps my suggestion that in hindsight we should have accepted the cash offer in the first place. That brought forth accusations of collusion and conspiracy. That did it. I was on a short fuse anyway flogging my guts out and with more than my fair share of responsibility and there he was, up in his ivory tower counting paper money so I let him have facts and figures, not forgetting to point out that I was after all a lowly GD(General Duties) Flying Officer doing my best in a job that
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I had received absolutely no training for. Then he simmered down, huffing and puffing, "it's still all very irregular". I began to get somewhat fed up with Admin duties that was for sure but had no option but to "press on".
Fortunately the unit accountant had been the Accountant Officer at Chedburgh when I was there in 1943 and only dealt with the day to day financial matters at Holmsley but knew enough of our experiences there at the time was very sympathetic and supportive and assured me that the Group A.O. was only making waves in case anything went seriously wrong and he got the blame for it so I learned a few more lessons about human nature. He was very helpful in many ways.
On one occasion he arrived at the office from Lyndhurst on his scooter and related the story of how he had just seen a pig clouted by a car down the road and how it had finished up head first in a ditch looking very dead. The driver had not stopped and obviously would not be reporting it as the bye-laws of the New Forest gave right of way to animals. But `headfirst' sounded good to me. I don't know if it was the 'creegie' still in me or just the thought of all that good meat going to waste but in no time at all I had a two ton truck and two kitchen hands with carving knives on board scorching down the road where we spotted the animal, still headfirst and no longer bleeding. Many people must have passed it and there no doubt in my mind that if it was left a great deal of fresh meat would go to waste even if the owner of the animal were to be found within the next few hours so we cruised pat [sic] the corpse and cruised back again keeping a good look-out in both directions. As we came up to it there was nothing in sight arid within a matter of seconds it was on board and we were off. It certainly supplemented our rations for a few days and I had no qualms about my action which were quite illegal and would have caused a few embarrassing headlines if the law had been tested.
Fortunately for me it never was.
The unit finally dwindled to three officers and a handful of airmen and we all finished up in a large house that had been the CO's official residence. I claimed an enormous room, en-suite, as I was the only one living in so I had a little luxury that compensated to a degree for the enormous amount of paperwork that was involved. Even moving has it's problems like decommissioning this that and the other, re-arranging the staff, and getting phones transferred as we no longer needed a switchboard. I was still doing about 16 hours a day to keep on top of the work so that I could have my week-ends free to get through to Worthing when a bombshell arrived in the form of a posting notice detaching me to Hereford, on an [underlined] Admin course!!!! [/underlined]
At the time I thought that perhaps my career was being advanced by that development so I didn't make a fuss although the duration of the course was three weeks. I [sic] would mean nearly a month without visiting home as it was too far on the bike and too expensive by train. My fellow officers thought it would do me good to take the course so I was off.
Perhaps I would have benefited from it if it had not been a course specifically designed for young aircrew officers to teach them the inner workings of the Air Force although at first I decided to go along with it. Within a few days I came to the conclusion that it was not for the likes of me who was actually doing such work. It seemed more of a disciplinary course to occupy idle hands and mine had been far from idle for a long time. I became more and more resentful as the days went by as I was shown how to use a rifle and a pistol and a Sten gun and engage in all manner of field craft including escape and evasion techniques which involved crawling around in long wet grass which at one point I strongly objected to only to be told that I might find the experience useful one day! What does one say to that? Matey, I've done it, and a fat lot of good it was when in the end I was surrounded and had a Schmeisser stuck up my nose. It didn't cut any ice. Then there was all the drill and parade procedures which were not entirely new to me either although I can understand the needs of some who for some reason didn't know one end of a rifle from the other and were
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somewhat unwilling to pull triggers and throw grenades. I wondered what they had been doing in their very limited careers!
The classroom work was mainly forms, forms and more forms and their use therof [sic] as well as stores procedures and of other things like how to write letters, command structure and a lot of other stuff that was old hat. By the end of the first week I was fuming I was not learning anything new and there was a lot of work piling up at Holmsley just waiting for me to deal with. Only the most essential would be dealt with by the others and I could visualise many hours of binding graft before I was likely to have broken the back of it.
I must confess that my attitude toward the course as we started the second week was not going unnoticed by the course commander who quite naturally took me aside to point out the error of my ways. That is when the real reason for the course was confirmed. Not only was it intended for surplus aircrew officers to find something for them to do but it definitely was a disciplinary course as well so I was being assessed accordingly--------and I was not doing very well! It seemed that we had gone back in time to "Yours is not to reason why etc" and I had had enough of that as an airman. For a start I wondered why I had been sent on such a course anyway so I promptly made a request to phone my parent Group HQ `P' Staff which brought forth howls of indignant protest. Despite the fact that I was normally in touch with the chap on an almost daily basis I was told in no uncertain terms that such lowly types as myself were not allowed to communicate direct with the higher echelons. It was only the prerogative of senior officers to the `top brass' and that is what I was on the course to learn about. As far as I was concerned it was utter nonsense and I had serious doubts regarding the background experience of this Flight Lieutenant of the A & SD (Admin & Special Duties) Branch who seemed unaware that the `top brass' were only people like ourselves holding staff appointments. Not only that, a lot of them were like myself of the GD (General Duties-Flying) Branch. Expected to do anything that was thrown at them------including flying!
Suitably chastised I was dismissed with threats of extra orderly officer duties and the inclusion of some appropriate remarks on my course and confidential report so I simmered down a bit as I waited for an opportunity to use his phone whilst he was out of his office a few days later. There all hell let loose when he suddenly burst in, very angry and rightfully indignant at the audacity etc, etc, at performing, in his eyes, an almost criminal act. Not that I was unduly worried as by that time I had already done what I set out to do and the threats went over my head.
Within four hours a signal arrived from Transport Command HQ. recalling me to my unit urgently and naturally I was called to his office immediately to have the signal waived under my nose. "Explain this!!!! So I did, in detail that he had not been prepared to listen to previously and I think he understood my action even if he could not approve of the manner in which I had dealt with it. As far as I was concerned I was off the damn silly course and I was on my way.
As soon as I returned to base I plunged into a mountain of paper work and after two days and nights of frenzied activity I came out on top ready for a long week-end at home.
During that burst of activity there was an unannounced staff visit from Group HQ and all the visitors could find was one junior officer slaving away, whilst the others were out hunting, shooting and fishing around the area and that put the cat among the pigeons. That and my absence for nearly two weeks seemed to solve the problem of the numerous delays that occurred in the closing down procedure. Hence a snap visit! And although I could only explain the absence of the others by saying they were on tours of inspection, when they did turn up there was a lot of muttering behind closed doors and I was only too happy to bury myself in paper again.
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A few more weeks went by until at last we were run right down to a C & M (Care & Maintenance) party. At last I had got my head above water and I could relax a little-----but not for long.
A telephone call from Group, followed by a posting notice gave me advance warning of my posting to Oakington in Cambridgeshire for --------Admin duties, to report in a few days time, but as far as I was concerned, not before I had another long week-end at home. After just thirty months I was a bit of a stranger at home, especially to the baby but I felt that something had to be sacrificed if there was any chance that I could make a career out of the Air Force. At least, I thought, Oakington is a well established station so I should slip into the same sort of job that I had done at Lyneham without any hassle. I had had enough challenges for a while-------but I had overlooked the fact that so had Lyneham been well established and what a mess that had been in. There was more to come.
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[underlined] CHAPTER THREE [/underlined]
The journey up to Oakington was nearly a disaster. After a few days at home I set off on the motor bike on a cold and frosty morning, Loaded to the hilt, wearing full flying kit over my uniform and greatcoat which included a bright yellow immersion suit and flying boots, helmet, goggles and gloves, looking like something from outer space but warm and well protected I had just cleared the London area when the front of a blizzard caught up with me and my speed was drastically reduced to a few miles an hour with my feet stuck out like out-riggers to prevent me sliding all over the place and in those conditions I pressed on until I got to Baldock.
By that time there was between three and four inches of virgin snow covering everything and every sensible traveller had got off of the road. There was very little other traffic so I ventured down the hill very slowly with my aching legs still propping up the bike and found myself gaining on the only other vehicle in sight which was a fairly high standing two ton truck, and I was desperately trying to slow down when suddenly the truck driver braked and slithered along fishtailing to a stop. I knew that my brakes were not going to stop me as I slid gently towards the back-end of the truck and when it quite obvious that the tailboard hinges were going to spread my face I took the only option open to me. I flipped the bike on it's side and went underneath. It was just as well the truck had a good ground clearance as I went right underneath the back axle and came out between the front and rear wheels with my tail in the gutter. The driver had obviously been completely unaware of the incident as within seconds of my coming to rest he started to move off, with my front wheel right underneath his rear wheel so I reached out and pushed on the truck wheel and the bike and I slid out just enough to avoid serious damage to the bike. The truck wheel just squashed over the front number plate and mudguard and then he was gone before I could get my breath back. There was not another vehicle in sight and the only other person around was an elderly lady, who might well have been the cause of the drivers urgent braking; who, observing the situation, was concerned enough to ask if I had had an accident!! What she thought I was doing there, laying in the gutter with a motor-bike I don't know but I think that I said something suitably facetious as she tottered off and I started to sort myself out.
I was very glad that I was wearing so much gear rather than having tried to pack it. I was not even bruised and apart from a slightly bent number plate and tip of the mudguard there was no other damage to the bike but it took a while before I recovered sufficiently to get going again getting more than a little concerned as it had started to snow quite heavily. However, with traffic clear roads I was able to make progress and eventually outran the weather front, coming out completely in the clear and completing the last ten miles completely free of snow. Oh, blessed relief…..until I ran out of petrol just in sight of the camp!! I had overlooked the fact that I had been using it up at a much higher rate than normal doing so many miles in low gears. Fortunately an Air Ministry Works Dept truck came along and with the aid of a length of rope I was gently towed the rest of the way. After an eight hour journey I had at made it to Oakington and I was only too glad to book into the Mess and leave the arrival formalities until the following day. A bath, a change of clothes and a meal and early to bed made all the difference.
I soon found that the job was to be the same as Lyneham and I was looking forward to free-wheeling for a while until I met the C.O. I could hardly believe my ears after the introduction. "Ah" he said, "you are the very man I have been waiting far. My Central Registry and internal communications are in a bit of a mess and I'm told that you the man to fix things. The last chap couldn't sort things out and I've got rid of him so off you go and get stuck in". Oh no........not again!
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The only consolation was that my previous efforts seem to have been recognised and that maybe, just maybe, I might be able to find a career in the Secretarial Branch ultimately as I always seemed to be sorting out jobs that Secretarial types had made a cock-up of; so off I went and "got stuck in". There was no-one to take over from so once again I started from scratch: At least there was not the panic to get things squared up and the routine work went smoothly enough whilst I conducted a searching enquiry into the main problem that I had been instructed to sort out.
At that time my own personal problems needed sorting out as well. Now that I was a family man the household at Worthing was getting a bit crowded particularly since Dorothy's brother-in-law had at last been de-mobbed after being abroad with the 8th Army for four years and there was family expected in that direction. I was frantically looking around for suitable accommodation and although official quarters for married personnel was beginning to come back on the scene the points system that determined one's entitlement suggested that it was going to be a long time before I qualified for one. I was just one of millions of people who were desperately trying to re-settle and in need of accommodation. The story was invariably the same when one enquired. "Sorry, no children" and it all added to the frustration.
Eventually I did find a place just to the North of Cambridge on the Huntingdon road and plans were made although I must confess that I did not tell Dorothy the exact arrangement of the accommodation. The kitchen was in the basement. The living room was on the ground floor. The bathroom was on the second floor and the bedroom on the third floor! I didn't dare, but I hired a car and drove down to Worthing in a clear gap in the weather pattern that the Met. Man assured me would last a couple of days.
Apart from the occasional sortie in the Flight pick-up van when I had been at Newmarket two years previously I had never taken a car on the public highway before but I don't think that I gave it a second thought. The family needed something picked up from near Leighton Buzzard `on the way' which created a fair sized `dog-leg' but did give me a few more miles to come to terms with my lack of experience, and it avoided London so somehow I made it to Worthing.
Travelling by car those days was generally a fairly slow business as there were few major roads that allowed high speed cruising and one just plodded on but there was no time to mess about as we loaded up the car the following morning and off we went, having arranged that the pram, fully loaded, was to follow by rail. There were tears on our departure and I think that perhaps the most ironic thing was the remark from my sister-in-law that there was no need to worry as "Alan was a good driver" and that we would be OK. I don't know what gave her that impression. Little did they know, but I had managed 200 miles without any problem......so what was another 140! The journey was not uneventful! That would have been too much to ask for.
The hire car had been a reluctant starter at the very outset but we had got as far as Kingston when in the dip under the railway by the station the engine packed up and so did the battery. Not the best place to fizzle out but eventually we were pulled clear and towed to a garage a little further up where I purchased a new battery and we were an our way again. The fact that the cost of the battery had to come off the hire fee did not please the hire firm when the car was returned but a compromise was eventually reached. The main thing was that we had taken up residence in a place of our own for the very first time and much to my surprise Dorothy accepted the arrangement of the flat although we soon made alternative plans to avoid going right to the top of the house to a cold bedroom as I had already installed a convertible settee in the living room. That was soon put to use.
The met. Man's forecast was absolutely spot on. The day after we arrived the weather that had been expected hit us with a vengeance when about a foot of snow fell. The basement back door was unusable with a drift of snow filling the door well right to the top and massive
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drifts along the road due to cross winds were up to six feet-high. Cars were already stuck. It was impossible to get the bike out from the bottom of the garden and a colleague who lived in the same building joined me in walking to camp across country. It was a long way and our situation was not improved when we came to the edge of the airfield and in making a direct approach to a gate he disappeared through the snow cover up to his neck in a ditch but we made it in the end. I'm glad it was him in the lead as he was nearly a foot taller than me. I would have completely disappeared!
We struggled back home in the late afternoon as life on the station virtually came to a standstill. There was no flying and with more snow forecast the whole airfield was blanketed although an energetic but useless snow clearing operation was initiated which at least kept us warm. There was a slight spell of thawing when some areas of the road went a bit slushy but then a `deep freeze' hit the whole area and everything was locked up solid. People got to and from work the best way they could. The main Cambridge to Huntingdon road was impassable due to buried frozen in vehicles. The C.O. issued an order of the day allowing any type of clothing to be worn to cope with the extreme weather and we just battled on from day to day. At home of course there was no central heating but fires just had to be kept going on the fuel supplies I had stocked up although it was difficult to get at and it was supplemented with anything else that was to hand but it thawed and froze alternatively for weeks before a general thaw finally set in and vehicles could be released from their icy cocoons, many totally ruined. The A604 (now the A14) was still difficult to negotiate through ridges and ruts of ice well into March.
Meanwhile I had had all the time I needed to complete my survey and draw up my plans accordingly. I placed a brief outline of my proposals before the C.O. and although he gave me cart-blanche to get on with an added word of warning such as "cock it up and you will follow the last chap" so I worked my way right through the plan once more to look for problems before drafting the final order. Meanwhile, I had collected two more responsibilities. The Post Office as Postmaster and that of Mess Secretary which meant that more of my precious time would be used up but the day came when the plan that I had circulated to all users was put into effect and on that day there was absolutely no problem with it's introduction. I had expected some hick-ups but it all worked like a charm.
I decentralised the Registry to cut down the appalling wasteful duplication of just about everything that was going in and out. That in itself was causing delays and was a self generated work load. New index cards and registers were brought into use and the system updated to ensure that files were booked back in as well as out! As daft as it may seem that had not been the case so files could wander around between people and departments and the Registry had no knowledge of the whereabouts of a file if it was not in it's cabinet. I have often wondered what 'mastermind' had set all that up in the first place as it certainly did not conform to the Manual of Office Administration. However, new index cards and registers were brought into use and when it got under way the staff had no difficulty in handling the new system so within days a few sub-registry's became redundant and number of active filing cabinets was reduced from twenty to four, all cross referenced to the old registry. The bumbling circulation of paper was at last reduced to manageable proportions. The C.O. spent less time than he had done previously handling his daily correspondence and when I found that too many people were now sitting around doing little more than making tea a quick establishment review reduced the number of Registry clerks from ten to four. It made my life a little easier too as long as I didn't collect too many other jobs on the strength of my success.
I was certain by this time that it could only do me good as far as my confidential report was concerned. I had already applied for and been granted two extentions [sic] of service that had taken me beyond my normal discharge date and that's, as far as I was concerned, was what it was all about if I was going to be noticed. Any ambitions that I had at that time were
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mainly concerned with holding on to a relatively well paid job as a lot of my school chums were not finding 'civvy street' all that easy. I had no other qualifications other that of cabinet maker/polisher, [underlined] lapsed, [/underlined] and wireless operator, almost lapsed, so I just hung on to what I had got.
Like a good many of my age group and background, politics were not my strong point but it was not long before there was an awareness. Some very odd things were happening. The first post-war elections had shaken a lot of people when our remarkable war-time leader's party had been rejected for a different administration with an overwhelming majority. It did not make sense to me but the daily routine had to go just the same although some very subtle changes were taking place. Naturally I was shielded from a lot of it by being in the Armed Forces but it was difficult not to notice what was going an as the main effort was being channelled into `Nationalisation'! That meant roads, rail, steel coal, electricity, road transport, health care and a lot more that was in the pipeline. It was one of the great bloodless revolutions of the age. It was of course jobs for the `boys', the party members, who were often elevated to manage their previous employers businesses for the benefit of the state. History will show whether it worked or not but a lot of new ideas were filtering into the Forces.
One of those was the formation of a Station Committee made up representatives of all ranks from all departments, elected by ballot and not by appointment, which was to sit weekly to air grievances, discuss working arrangements and conditions and in fact anything other than pay, appointments and promotion. The unit Commander chaired the committee but thank God he had the power of veto and most commanders voiced their indignation at having their time wasted with such nonsense. Like mine did when he was on his way to such a meeting at which I was to take the minutes. "Come on Gamble; lets get along to this bloody silly union meeting". What a funny way to run a military establishment. It was a complete turnaround from the normal well established command structure and had all the ingredients to undermine discipline. It did little more than waste time but I had the distinct feeling that the tail was beginning to wag the dog!
I ran into a union problem sooner than I expected when we had two steward posts in the Mess disestablished. The disestablishment notice came straight out of the blue and the Mess Manager and I agreed that we would could [sic] do without the two least useful members of the staff who were duly served notice. Immediately there was a great deal of protest about being contrary to trades union practice etc, and that their representatives would be taking up the policy of disestablishing jobs without union consultation as well as giving notice to people to terminate their employment without the same consultation.
I turned a blind eye to it all but within a few hours I had a trade union rep. From Cambridge breathing heavily in my ear and telling me that I couldn't do it. That was red rag to a bull so I dismissed him with a flea in his ear but it was not over. A few hours later a chap from an Air Ministry department for civil relations or something was on the phone telling me that I couldn't do it, and quoted chapter and verse from the newly drawn up trade union rule book so I had no choice but to bow to that although I insisted that I had it in writing. Meanwhile the two men were re-instated as we were forced to apply the last in first out rule. As far as I was concerned it still was not over. Two could play that game.
I got hold of a copy of the union rule book and studied it at great length with the Mess Manager before we took our next step. Within a few days two people got their cards by reason of incompetence. (They had had plenty of verbal warnings over a period of time, and a written one as soon as they had been re-employed)......and immediately afterwards the two men that we wanted to keep were re-instated. Of course, there were immediate screams of protest from the union officials so I invited them to a face to face confrontation with both the Mess Manager and myself where they used every argument they could accusing us of `collusion',
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`unfair treatment' and `victimisation', but what they couldn't say was that it was illegal. It was right out of their own rule book but I was never entirely comfortable about the incident but I was damned if I was going to be told who and who not I could employ in certain circumstances. I quickly briefed the C.O. in case of repercussions but nothing further came of it.
It was about that time another incredibly wasteful practice came to light more or less by accident.
We were continually being exhorted to use less stationary and in particular duplicating paper and I had already done quite a lot to reduce the consumption by the registry arrangements. I had followed it up by reducing the supply to sub units and at the same time allocating more to the central registry for printing on behalf of the sub units although every job had to be vetted by my chief clerk. That had helped but we were still going through our allocation rather quickly and as H.M. Stationary Office were not always prepared to meet supplementary demands WE had to do something about it. WE equals ME in those circumstances as it fell into my lap once more as unit commanders complained to the Senior Admin Officer that they were being starved of certain stationary items. It was just about that time that Bourne, on the Cambridge to St.Neots road, for-which we were the parent unit, was in the late stages of closing down so I went over to see if they had anything in the stationary line that would be of any use to us. What I found was an Alladins cave as the stationary store was opened for me!.
There was an assortment of exotic stuff like the pale blue embossed pre-war paper for the exclusive use of unit commanders. Beautifully bound ledgers, some indexed. Note books, log books and all kinds of stuff that must have accumulated over a long period. It was stuff that if you were to order any of it in the present conditions you would be very lucky to have got any of it without putting up a special case. I was bugg eyed and it did not take long to transfer that lot to a three tonner and convey it to Oakington. Our stationary cupboard had to be re-arranged with the assistance of most of my staff and re-stocked until it was virtually bulging at the seams... ...and I held the key and a newly drawn up stock book!!
I think that I know how it was all accumulated. The same half yearly demand must have gone in as regular as clockwork irrespective of stocks but times were changing and so were the figures that showed that the Air Force was using even more paper per flying hour than ever before but no-one could say Oakington was not doing it's bit although there were still some items that we were short of so I phoned H.M. Stationary Office and did a deal. I don't think such a thing had ever happened before. There was a lot of huffing and puffing and expressions of "highly irregular" but they went along with it. We sent them a large packing case of what I considered was surplus to our requirements in exchange for a supplementary issue of items we were in urgent need of and everyone was happy but I just wondered how often that sort of wastefulness had been repeated by the hundreds of other units up and down the country during the war when every commodity was so precious to us and had often cost lives to import the raw materials. It was mind boggling.
Bit by bit life became a little more regulated although it was never without it's share of excitement and on occasions I even managed to tour around various other parts of the station including the airfield and the aircraft; Dakota's no less! It was not long after the snow and ice cleared and things started to warm up that the unsettled conditions usually associated with the end of April brought some savage weather including the most violent thunderstorms that I have only ever seen on one other occasion since.
In the late morning the sky darkened by degrees until it became as black as night and the wind increased by the minute to the point where it started to howl with the most savage gusts.....and then the rain came! It slashed and swirled and in no time all the roads were like rivers as the drains overloaded and I stood in my office window at the front of the HQ
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building thinking how lucky I was that I was not out in it. Anyone with any sense had taken cover and as I contemplated the violence of the storm I was astonished to see the striped pole barrier in front of the Guard Room suddenly whip into the vertical, snap off like a matchstick and disappear over the building. It occurred to me that that would be a job I would have to see to when the storm abated when the little Austin Seven which was parked outside and had been rocking about as each gust hit it; suddenly flipped on it's side. Oh well, I thought that can wait too.......then the phone rang.
Above a great deal of noise on the line an almost hysterical WAAF in the Post Office blurted out "please come at once sir, the roof has blown off”. My first reaction was "S..." but I had no choice so out I went, splashing my way through about four inches of water and was soaked in a matter of seconds. The Post Office looked a sorry sight minus it's roof which lay, completely wrecked, not far away but the poor girls were more concerned with the fact that as they had just set up the counter for business the contents of their trays had been sucked up, following the roof, and had been deposited far and wide. I don't remember having any lunch that day.
The clerks gathered up all the rest of their Post Office stocks and set up a temporary post room in the WAAF quarters and then I locked the place up! That was a laugh. I felt that I had to do that as only a week before I had had new mortice locks fitted and the safe securely embedded in brickwork. All that and now the place was roofless!
Although the clerks had set up the post room just inside the WAAF quarters they initially used the laundry room for sorting out their stock. A few telephone calls got some search parties organised as well as a broadcast on the PA system and before long some very soggy money and postal orders started coming in. It was rinsed, dried and ironed much to the amusement of all concerned but the amazing thing was that when I called off the search there was only one ten shilling (50p) postal order missing. When the inspectors arrived from Cambridge GPO (General Post Office) towards the end of the day they were agreeably surprised that that was all they had to write off after seeing the state of the Post Office. We were all somewhat relieved at that. I made may report to the C.O. later and followed up with a load of repair work including the barrier pole in front of the Guard Room.
I thought that was enough for one day until I got home. Dorothy had had her share as well. The downpour had filled up a balcony outside a full length window of one of the other flats and she had spent a lot of time baling out the balcony to stop the flow into the room whilst the storm was raging. We were both very relieved when that day was over.
Eventually things settled down as the year wore on and we experienced a most beautiful summer. Life in Cambridge with it's wonderful buildings and activities made life very interesting. Even the baby indulged us by winning first prize in a baby competition but as far as the job was concerned with most of the problems ironed out it was almost boring, but a great opportunity to develope [sic] family life to the full. Again it was too good to last!
I was asked to report to Transport Command HQ at Teddington, Middlesex for a job I [sic] interview and I was sure that the business was opening up for me. Out of the four candidates for the job I was offered it and I accepted. It was in the "P" Staff (Personnel) dept of the HQ so before long I was wrapping up and making the necessary arrangements to move the family. Although Teddington was not too far away Dorothy felt that she did not want to be on her own and preferred to go back to Worthing with her parents; [underlined] particularly as we had just found out that there was another addition to the family on the way! [/underlined] In hindsight it was a pity that we gave up the flat. I'm sure that we could have coped but Teddington was also convenient for Worthing but we settled for that.
The C.O. gave me the opportunity of nominating a suitable relief so a friend who was the Operation Wing Adjutant was acceptable and so it was goodbye Oakington. Here we go again!
23
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One or more pages is missing, apparently pages 24 – 86
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EXTRACT FROM
[underlined] NIL DESPERANUM…… [/underlined] OR
IF YOU CAN’T TAKE A JOKE ………
[underlined] BY [/underlined]
[underlined] A. GAMBLE [/underlined]
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knock. Pay awards had for some time been based on a flat rate rather than a percentage increase and the differential between ranks had closed up considerably. I now found that a Warrant Officer aircrew was in fact was in fact better off than a Flight Lieutenant!, which did not make a lot of sense. My situation was not improved by the Wolsley's rather extravagant use of oil and petrol and it eventually ran a big-end on the A5 just North of Birmingham on the way home one week-end so I didn't make it. Fortunately I had relatives at West Bromwich so I was able to stay with them until I could pick the car up in sufficient time to get back Sunday evening. That made another nasty hole in the accounts!.
That little episode put paid to a few week-ends at home. There was no-one at that time living anywhere around or on route that I could share with so I was obliged to stay in the mess with others in a similar state, although we often filled up a car and toured into Wales for a day to fill in the time.
A friend kindly offered me the use of his motor bike to go home one week-end and although it was only a clapped out 250cc side valve BSA I thought it was worth a try. That was a laugh and a half.
I dressed up in a selection of flying gear that I had with me and I was off into the wide blue yonder. I mounted the thing and kicked it into life and the first thing that was obviously wrong was the throttle which had a mind of it's own. I was not the sort of chap who could tolerate sloppy machinery so a quick investigation soon found that the top of the carburettor needed screwing back on and with a few other adjustments I set off. Before I had got to the main gate I was obliged to totter down to the MT yard to have the tyres inflated by as much as 20lbs both front and rear and then I was under way. Even then I was not feeling too happy about the machine. There were unpleasant noises from the engine and the first few bends caused the most peculiar sensations so another pit stop to tighten the head and forks dampers was taken. They had been very very loose and being forks with dampers gives some indication of it's great age. I was still feeling my way with it when I had to put the brakes on rather briskly when the lights went against me in Wellington and the back wheel locked up throwing me into
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gutter. Another pit stop to adjust primary and main chains and brake linkage was necessary before I could head East again. I very nearly threw my hand in then but surprisingly I found myself jogging along quite comfortably at between 45 and 50 but with still an ear tuned to the knocking from the engine until a convenient garage came in sight and it seemed an appropriate time to stop as there were signs of overheating. This is a bit of an understatement as she was almost red hot 'pinging' with excess heat. Whilst it was cooling down I dipped the oil tank and couldn't find a level so it took nearly two pints to top it up, then it was cool enough to change the spark plug and reset the points before the final test. I had so far done about 60 miles in three hours and it was decision time as I gingerly started up and carefully took off once more.
After a few more miles all was well so I decided to go for broke and head for home at speeds between 50 and 60 and finally arrived at Marham some 7 hours after departure much to the surprise of the rest of the family.
The return journey on Sunday took less than 4 hours so at breakfast on Monday morning I was able to tell the owner of the bike that all was well and I hope he didn’t mind that I had found it necessary to make a few adjustments which he was quite happy about.
He did not seem quite so happy later on that evening when he came into the bar with plasters on his face and a bandage on his hand. Before I could [inserted] say [/inserted] anything he hurled at me "you and your bloody adjustments", but laughed as he said it before telling that me what it was all about. Apparently, being so used to the machine that he had allowed to get so sloppy and gutless he had attempted to drive off in his usual way but it reared up, tore across a rose bed and threw him in another one!. Nevertheless, he was very impressed with the way it performed when he had got used to it so when the word got around I finished up with a few more machines to tinker with to keep me occupied.
The fastest I ever did that journey one way was 30 minutes. In a Canberra!. I was being 'dined out' at Marham and the aircraft was laid on for me one Friday afternoon. The pilot was the co-pilot of my last 90 Squadron crew and he showed Shawbury a few thing…and me. It was the: first time I had
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ever done a 'rotation' take-off although I had seen one or two demonstrated....I think I left my stomach on the runway when shortly after the kick up the backside by the tremendous acceleration he pulled it up almost vertical like a rocket and kept going until we got to around 10,000ft before levelling out and setting course for Marham. I was very impressed with that for an old bomber man who was more used to 500ft a minute climb hanging on the props with everything shaking and thundering. The return journey was done on the Monday morning a little more gently in an Oxford.
By that time a second course was running and another friend who had been an instructor on the Marham training Squadron had joined the course on transfer. He lived at Feltwell and was prepared to divert through Marham for a share of the running costs so until the end of the course that eased the burden a bit but as the course was nearing it's end like everyone else I was concerned to know about my posting. There was nothing notified so I was still hoping for a return to Marham but when the course results were made known after the final exams I was not pleased. Never mind about Marham...what what about Egypt?.
There was no point in making a fuss, one just had to accept those things so most of my embarkation leave was taken up settling the family back in Worthing as there was no way that I would be getting quarters out there in the 61 days after my effective posting to the Middle East and they would be obliged to move after that anyway.
I sailed on the RAF troopship Empire Ken out of Southampton in the Summer of 1954 and there were times that I wished I had taken up one of the jobs that I had been offered in Shell distribution.
I was the only one that had got an overseas posting and apparently it was almost unheard of. Overseas units usually wanted controllers with a bit of experience behind them but there I was, posted to the main terminal for the Canal Zone; Fayed. The only consolation was that it would be more or less in the centre of things and not stuck half way up a Wadi.
I soon found my sea legs and how to cope with bar prices which in today's money was less than 5p a double but it was the heat that took a lot of handling. The ship had canvas ducting to
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direct air down to the lower troop decks but it was ghastly even then and the troops, including Waafs used to have to come up on deck in shifts for a breather but it was one of those situations that could only be enjoyed for that period of time. With temperatures well over 100deg. the minute you went down below you started oozing again and just had to wait for the next turn on deck. The ship had never been built for that sort of climate anyway otherwise it might have had a more sophisticated ventilation system. The Empire Ken was a German ship built in the Blomm and Voss yards at Hamburg which we had taken as part of the war reparations and was more suited to the Baltic or the North Sea. I had had enough of it by the time the journey was finished anyway. We stopped at Algiers and subsequently arrived at Port Said to exchange sweaty discomfort for smelly and sweaty discomfort. It took a bit of getting used to. After disembarkation and sorting out of paperwork I was on my way by bus down the canal road wondering if I would ever get used to it with persperation [sic] pouring off me from top to bottom and to experience the further delights of the dust, flies, heat and smells of the Land of the Pharoes [sic] . Two minutes of that and I was quite willing to let them have it back!. At last I understood why my father used to get so incenced [sic] about flies. He had done it all both in India and Egypt many years before. My main concern was that I was entering a new phase of my career with a difference; as a Branch Officer, ie, Air Traffic Control, and no longer General Duties(Aircrew) and a dogsbody for a multitude of other jobs. It had been my experience that it had always been very difficult to detail such Branch Officers for extra duties, especially when they were so often shift workers and there were many units that maintained a 24 hour Air Traffic Control service. Fayed was one of them!.
Some of the most serious of local troubles in the Canal Zone had simmered down a bit and it was a lot safer than it had been a year earlier with the political unrest, mainly caused by the fact that there were elements in Egypt that wanted us out and Egypt for the Egyptions [sic] . They were talking, we were talking with an eye on the security of our oil supplies and trade routes through the Suez Canal. It was obvious that we were not going to give that up without favourable agreements after what it
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had cost us during the war in terms of blood sweat and tears.
So there I was. Arrival one day and to work the next although it was three weeks before I went on a solo watch after 'on the job training'; testing and certification. It was relatively simple and so was the set up. It was all very crude and temporary and had not changed a lot since the war but surprisingly enough it all worked efficiently albeit with the need for considerable local knowledge which was to be expected.
Fayed was the terminal for the Canal Zone with fighter airfields and other units to the North and the South and operated 24 hours a day with four short range Transport Squadrons that went out on scheduled flights in all directions, calling at Khartoum, Aden, Habbanyia (Iraq), Cyprus, Malta etc, with staging posts in between. It was a busy place. Fayed even supplied the neccesary [sic] control for the Great Bitter Lake for any flying boat that happened to be coming through although those services were nominal. In addition it was a staging post for the long haul types on the routes to and from the Far East. Our facilities were limited to VHF (Very High Frequency) and HF (High Frequency) direction finders and radio beacons and the airfield lighting was all lashed up stuff that had been modified to signal an alarm if any part became disconnected which had become necessary to discourage the natives from stealing the wire for it's copper content. Another discouragement was an anti-aircraft searchlight and a Bren gun on the roof of the control tower!.
The domestic and technical sites were separated from the airfield by being totally ringed in barbed wire and the access tracks leading from the airfield had wheeled barbed wire fences drawn across from sunset to sunrise as aircraft went in and out. It needed a small army to man the wire as well as an armed, mobile lighting repair squad standing by.
Air Traffic Control staff manned our searchlight and the gun and the searchlight generator was run at all times during the hours of darkness and I recall the night we used them with a vengeance.
The look-out reported movement on the airfield but I could not see much more than moving shadows through the glasses so it was "searchlight on" and on it came with a sizzling crackle as the switch was thrown. I could still see only vague shapes
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about 300 yards out from the tower in the reflection of the intense reflecting blaze of light, the man on the gun had already cocked it so I gave the order to fire. He loosed off a complete clip [inserted] s [/inserted] after which things seemed to have changed a bit so everything was put back to stand-by as the mobile patrol was ready to go out through the wire.
They very soon reported that we now had a dead camel on the airfield although it was clear of the runway and the question was; what to do next?. The Air Traffic Control course had not covered situations like that!. A quick call to the duty Engineering Officer produced a bulldozer and a working party to bury the thing but the problem did not go away for a long time. Every night for the next week the wild dogs uncovered it, and every day we covered it up again until eventually nature took it's normal course and there was no longer a meal to be had for the scavengers.
Although Married Quarters were available I went on to a very long list so I just settled down to sweating it out. In more ways than one. The Control Tower did not have the luxury of air conditioning and at the height of the day it was stifling with a shade temperature well over 100deg. One of the great delights of the night shift was to be able to sit outside on the roof of the Met. Office at about 3 o'clock in the morning when the temperature was down to about 70deg!, but that only lasted for about an hour before the sun zoomed up over the horizon.
Just as I thought that I could concentrate on being an Air Traffic Controller I was appointed Station Fire Officer and no sooner than I had mastered that I got loaded with another job but it all helped to pass the time anyway. Somehow I found time to qualify as a Desert Rescue Land Rover driver and then I figured that was enough as I devoted any other spare time to photography and accumulated my own processing equipment and soon found that my services were in great demand as the local processing was ghastly.
The photo processing did not start until I moved out of tented accommodation which was three months of absolute misery. Trying to sleep in a tent during the heat of the day after a night shift was virtually impossible.
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The permanent accommodation was limited so it was into a tent first and then wait your turn but sand seemed to get into everything despite the cat-walks laid on the sand. The bed feet stood in the usual pools of paraffin in boot polish tins to stop the creepy crawlies from invading the bed and mosquito nets, were hung from the ridge. I don't think I ever slept more than three hours at a time in those conditions before waking up absolutely soaked in persperation [sic] . The only thing to do then was to get up and shower; not that that did much good.
The water tanks were on the roof of the ablution block so they heated up well during the course of the day and never really cooled down but the best time to get a cold shower was normally between 4 & 5 in the morning!.
At least it was a happy unit. The rest of the controllers and staff made the best of it. Some of the controllers I already knew as well as some of the aircrew who I had met previously either at Marham or other units. One delightful character was a Czech who had been war-time RAF and had returned to his homeland to reach the rank of Air Commodore in the Czech Air Force until the political climate of the country had forced him to leave it. As a result he had rejoined the RAF as an Air Traffic Controller and was back to Flying Officer!. Nevertheless we all got on well and I found that copying his routine provided some limited relief from the heat.
Having completed the first few hours of sleep it was off to the Officers Club on the edge of Lake Timsa by bus equipped among other things with a sheet. At least it was possible to emerse [sic] one's-self in water even if it was in the eighties, wrap up in a wet sheet in the shade of a rush 'basha' and achieve a few more hours sleep until the evaporation process was complete and the 'cooking' process started again. Then it was back to camp to get ready for the night shift again. That was just part of the routine. It was all that happened within the routine that made life interesting.
I had been there a few months when I had two aircraft inbound from the UK. One a Hastings, the other a Canberra and just before their arrival a violent dust storm blew up. These could happen at any time given certain conditions and rising sand can make flying very dodgy. I just managed to get the Canberra in before
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visibility dropped to near zero and then the VHF direction finder went on the blink so I had to pull out a few stops after suggesting an indefinite holding or a diversion to Cyprus. The pilot was not keen on either and finally opted for a non-standard let-down using the H/F direction finder co-operating with his Wireless Op. and pilot together. It worked and he got down just about the time that the pilot of the Canberra had worked his way though Ops. and came up to the control room to find out what had happened to his baggage aircraft!
There were very few people that could have fixed up that sort of thing and it was of course the one and only 'Black Mac-The China Bull', on his way to take over command of Habbanyia, (Iraq). When we came face to face in the control room he was his usual bad mannered self. His comment of "I might have bloody well known it" was no more than one would have expected from him. As if it was my fault that a sand storm had blown up!. Had it occurred to me from the details on the flight plan that it was him I would definitely diverted him to Cyprus!. As it happened he only refuelled and fed and was off again after I had gone off duty. I thought that would be the last I would see of him but I was wrong.
Then we had a very interesting fire. Some damn fool army signals bloke exploded a primus stove by using the wrong fuel when brewing up so off went the fire party supplimented [sic] by the Army fire service and between them threw enough water at the signals hut to put out the fire but a lot of it drained away down the conduits in which the whole of the zone's land lines were trunked and out went the lot.
I could not get to the scene as I was duty controller and as all our mains facilities had failed all the stops had to be pulled out again to keep things moving. Going on to standby battery operated equipment I handled Approach control as best I could with no D/F facilities and the Senior Controller handled local traffic from the cockpit of a Valetta aircraft sitting on the tarmac not far from the control tower. Fortunately the weather was fine and all worked well with co-operation of the pilots who were able to carry out visual procedures.
The outcome of the enquiry was typical. The Fire Service, and that meant me; got half of the blame for the failure of all
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the radio, teleprinter, telephone and land lines!.
I got all the blame as the result of another enquiry that had taken place at Marham after I had left and I was kindly sent a copy of the findings. Shortly after leaving they could not find a Secret file although I know of no reason why it had not been in the cabinet if it had not been booked out. After my experience with registries I had been punctilious with the Secret Registry that had been under my direct control as well as the handling of the Top Secret files that always went in and out of the Wingco's office under sealed cover, and as far I recall everything had been handed over according to the laid down procedures. Nevertheless they could not find the handing over certificate, (I wish I had kept a copy), and I had to take responsibilty [sic] for the loss. I was a bit peeved at that. I had not been asked to give evidence even though the certificate would have been in the files now under the control of the bloke I had handed over to it seemed that the only avenue left was to appeal. After some thought I decided just to acknowledge receipt of the findings but with a very strong protest. After all, they couldn't shoot me for it!.
By this time the political infiltration into service life had almost died out and most things had returned to near normal as far as there is any normality in the forces. One just pressed on but at times one's shoulders had to be very broad to carry the load and it helped to have a thick skin as well!. At least there was the satisfaction that it would not last for ever. A lot of control was being passed back to the Egyptians and customs officials were getting very busy at Port Said placing import and export duty on almost all personal goods plus insistance [sic] on area Air Traffic Control by their services with a suggestion of imposing the same controls at Fayed. So far they had not been given access to Fayed but when they were we were very likely to have been deprived of one of our most advantages 'perks'.
We had a weekly 'training flight' to Malta locally known as the Whisky run which picked up supplies from a bonded warehouse and Fayed then acted as distribution agent for other units. The net result of that was that, as an example, a bottle of Whisky was 8s. 6d. in old money in the Mess. 42 pencel and
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cheaper than the Naafi who were obliged to make some declaration and payment to the Egyptian Government.
As a result of my involvement with the fire service I requested a Fire Officers course in the UK which I thought would kill two birds with one stone. It did not work so I took my accumulated [underlined] local [/underlined] leave with an itinerary of a round robin tour of the Middle East and hopped on the Whisky run to Malta and thence BEA to the UK. returning by the same process. At least I had 10 days at home with the family and then the misery started all over again.
There was still little hope of Married quarters but I kept a very close eye on the comings and goings.
Among the names that appeared on the list was that of the chap who had been the Station Adjutant at Marham, just one position below me, stationed somewhere in the zone at a Maintenance Unit. We met up on one occasion at Ismalia as I did with a number of people who had been at Marham with me. At one time there seven of us at Fayed. I had even met up with a long lost cousin who was in the Army at another unit so in one way and another occupied myself as time went by. What it must have been for my army cousin before the war I dread to think. He was in the ranks then when a tour of overseas duty was five years without family or home leave. I don't think I could have even contemplated it, but then perhaps neither did he when he signed on. After pre-war service in the Middle East and also a survivor of the Dunkirk withdrawal he was certainly earning his pension the hard way.
Being a shift worker gave me the opportunity to get away from the place on numerous 'flying' visits. Trips to Khartoum and Cyprus were fairly easy to arrange and I planned to go further East sometime when the opportunity arose.
Another advantage of Fayed was that it was the centre of all entertainment schedules. All visiting shows started off in our open air theatre/cinema and they could be sure of a critical audience too. It was usually packed to capacity and I enjoyed some of the very best shows on the circuit and had the priviledge [sic] of meeting many of the stars of those days when they were entertained in the Mess. Many are still around today. There was Harry Secombe, Lena Horne, Arthur English, Tommy Trinder
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(who got himself lost out on Lake Timsa in a small sailing boat), Ted Ray, Terry Thomas, to name but a few and it was there that Tesse O'Shea got one of her biggest laughs ever. The stage really did collapse and Two Ton Tesse had to be dragged out from underneath, still laughing. On the other hand there were turns that were not received so well. If Fayed didn't like them they knew it but it would be unkind to mention names. They tried and some of them are no longer with us.
In due course the Egyptian Air Force took over some of the zone fighter bases having been trained by British instructors at other airfields near Cairo and I began to wonder what sort of fun and games those instructors must have had in the process if the sort of flying that they were doing was anything to go by.
They seemed to put a great deal of effort into their flying but there never seemed to be such practical value in it if the commotion that went on at their nearest airfield was anything to go by.
I was on duty on one occasion when it became obvious that they were expecting an aircraft when all the ground radio checks started and in due course we heard the pilot calling Almaza (near Cairo), for back bearings every two or three minutes until he was obviously about half way when he started calling his destination.
The result was dead silence as the pilot called again and again with mounting urgency in his voice. He seemed so desperate that I chipped in and offered assistance as my D/F operator had been passing me his bearings anyway. The offer was accepted although it took some time before he was able to identify who was calling him and the rest was simple. He was homed to overhead us, descended to a lower height with instructions to steer a given heading for a number of minutes and he would find his destination which he did and despite his frantic calls to his destination we never did hear their control. Not even when he asked for landing clearance or when he reported landed!.
What all the fuss was about I do not know. It was only a 70 mile flight and a few minutes in what we identified as a Meteor when he came overhead. The sky was 100% blue with the Suez canal right under his nose a few miles from his destination so I can
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only think that he was a bit worried at missing it and getting lost in the Sinai desert. Later on we had a liaison visit from some of their controllers who had in fact been trained by International Air Radio and they were not backward in boasting about all the sophisticated equipment that they had. It was met with a diplomatic h'm, no comment. It was a pity that they did not know how to use it!. A lot of their questions were directed to where our radar unit was, suggesting that we had hidden it prior to their visit. That was time for some discreet tapping on the side of the nose. Radar!, we should be so lucky. I found out later that before I had arrived there had been a small final approach radar for evaluation but it had moved on somewhere. Despite the fact that there was liaison it was only one way and we could not get a visit to their unit. They were very mysterious and conspirital [sic] . They said that their bases were secret and it was very difficult to keep a straight face at that. We had even built them!.
Eventually they worked up their fighter units to the North and South of us and one day they decided to do a mass formation flight of about 30 aircaft [sic] up and down the canal. I wish I had recorded that R/T pantomime somehow although I suppose they were ding [sic] their best with limited training and experience.
The two formations never did get together as one. There was total confusion about heights, and everyone tried to talk at the same time when at one time they found that the two sub formations were on a collision course at the same height and then it was "break, break, break", and every man for himself. It was absolute pandemonium. All that in bright blue skies without a cloud in sight and the line of the canal and the lakes to navigate by. It was something to think about!.
No doubt they improved later on with practice and experience but I have often wondered how the Russians got on with them when they decided to re-arm with Russian equipment and of course, Russian instructors as well. They could not have found it easy by any standards.
Another serious Air Traffic matter came to light purely by chance shortly after had [sic] been appointed as Deputy Senior Controller. A lot of our inbound flights from the UK were chartered company aircraft, although at Malta the company livery was painted out
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and the crew changed uniforms and aircraft call-signs to become RAF. All very clever!. So we had a selection of those, RAF Yorks, Beverly's, Viscounts etc, both inbound and outbound. They were normally cleared by Cairo Delta control from Alexandria, descending and transferred to us but I was a bit concerned when more than one pilot reckoned they should report a confliction after they had been transferred, and even more so when I asked what traffic information they had been given. The answer was always nil so for about a week I asked all pilots to complete a questionaire [sic] relative to the hand over procedure and when it was complete the results of my investigation went through the Senior Controller and Operations. It resulted in some discreet enquiries with the Egyptian Ministry of aviation and a liaison visit by the Senior Controller and some rapid changes in prcedure [sic] . Many a pilot complained subsequently about the extra Easterly drag from Alex. to Port Said under airways control before being cleared to descend on the final leg to us. Little did they know that previously they had been descending blindly across three air routes out of Cairo. Phew.!.
There was an interesting situation early one evening when dust storms blew up unexpectedly around Cairo. I was only aware of it by listening to the one-sided R/T conversation but it was obvious that Cairo's controllers were getting in a bit of a 'tizzy' and some BOAC pilots were getting angry. They did not seem to be able to get an accurate weather report or saisfactory [sic] holding instructions and there was mention of diverting to Nicosia until one ex RAF BOAC pilot remembered us and gave us a call. Having checked our weather he then requested diversion facilities which Operations approved he was on his way, followed by another and another until we had accepted six until Ops. said "enough" before we were swamped.
It was a lovely collection. Constellations. Super Connie's, DC4's and Argonauts of BOAC, Air India, Air Italia, and SAA came swooping in and discharged about 300 passengers into the passenger lounge. They were not too happy about being limited to the reception area with an obvious presence of Service Police but the pilots were pleased enough when they came up to the control later to file their flight plans when Cairo had cleared.
It was just as well that I had had time to look up the
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regulations for charging landing fees, a subject that had not received much attention on the ATC course. Nevertheless, we got it sorted out and charged the grand total of £300. I could not repeat what some of the pilots said about Cairo control but it seemed to be about the same standard as Niarobi [sic] was at that time from what I was told.
In similar circumstances about that time a BOAC pilot had stood off at Nairobi and had taken control from the air to let down five others and himself when the controllers had actually lost control of the situation. I thought our training had been a bit rough and ready but I suppose that the fact that most of our controllers were ex aircrew was in our favour. We had grown up with it whilst other emerging nations were just finding their feet.
I had been in Egypt about nine months before I was allocated Married Quarters. It was a hiring on the canal road close to the officers club, and then the process of calling forward the family started.
The day after it was allocated it was reallocated to the chap who was just below me on the list on the strength of two extra points he had claimed by virtue of detachments overseas from Marham. (Returning B.29's to America he claimed). No way; I knew those regulations inside out and it didn't count so the 'phone lines were red hot before that got sorted out. There was no way that I was going to lose the [underlined] last [/underlined] allocation in the zone by default, not to that chap. (He was the one that knocked me off the greasy pole at Marham). He was not amused.
Everything was eventually worked out for the transportation of my family except for the date and then there was a dock strike at home which put thing back for several more agonising weeks. Meanwhile the quarter was being officially sub-let to another officer who in fact spent the best part of three months in it before my family eventually arrived at Port Said on an Army troopship, the S.S. Lancashire from Liverpool. There was only one snag. When they were half way across the Med. I got posted!. I think someone was using his influence-and putting the boot in.
I was stunned as I was required go to Amman in Jordan as soon as possible. When I protested pointing out that my family were
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half way across the Med. the answer was that they could easily wait in transit in the zone until I was-settled or they could take the next troopship back to the UK!. I really was getting the treatment!. I did eventually get a few days deferment by virtue of going sick, to hold me over until they arrived.
That put paid to any idea I had of taking them all on a visit to Cairo and the Pyramids. I had waited a year for the opportunity and it had slipped through my fingers.
There was great excitement when I met my wife and two daughters at Port Said and after the arrival formalities were completed we boarded the bus for Fayid via Ismalia down the canal road to be dropped off at the bungalow which was complete with a native servant who understood practically no English but understood the requirement and had been recommended. He was a glossy black Sudanese resplendent in galabere and tarboosh and displayed a permanent broad smile. He was a treasure. The girls did not quite know what to make of him at first but he was efficient as was unobtrusive. He made it plain the kitchen was his domain and Madam was not allowed in it. That suited us alright as there was not a lot time to get used to paraffin cooker, lamps and even paraffin fridge.
Of course my wife did not know just how much time she had until we had all settled in and I asked her if she knew where Amman was. Of course she did; in Jordan, but it wiped the smile off of everyone's face, including Abdul when they were told that we were off there in less than a week. Abdul cheered up a bit when I gave him a full month's pay and a reference and he looked after us well whilst I was busy about arranging passage to Amman. Of couse [sic] , it was too much to ask that it would be straightforward.. First of all my wife said she didn't want to fly but since the only alternative was camel she did not have much choice. Then all the deep sea baggage had to be chased up with some urgency from Port Said and then Air Movements insisted that it all be repacked as the size of the boxes were in excess of Air Freight dimensions. It was a good thing that I knew a few people in the right places and a compromise was reached where it could stay as it was. We finally went on a mixed freighter passenger flight in a Valetta. The Gamble special only had one other airman passenger on board and had to go via
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Aquaba and in fact overflew Amman to another of our bases at Mafraq.
Prior to our departure signals had been going to and fro' asking when I would arrive and in answer to one inquiry one confirmed that suitable accommodation was available and eventually when all of our baggage and boxes were unloaded we were bussed to Amman, about 35 mls away to make another new home. On arrival and after refreshments I reported to the Adjutant.
I was optimistic about what had been provided for us but knowing my luck I was not really surprised either when contrary to my expectations I found there was absolutely nothing. True they knew I was coming, but not with a family. There were no quarters available or accomodation [sic] other than by private arrangement plus the fact that as it was Friday and it was a Bank Holiday week-end nothing could be done until Tuesday. I nearly went spare. What had all the rush been about, etc, so I went to see the Accountant Officer, changed some money, drew some more and decided that I would have the Bank Holiday off as well since I could claim three days in transit at the expense of the Air Force so off we went to a hotel in the city and we had a good weekend familiarising ourselves with the area and a new currency. All I had done on the day of arrival was sign in so on the first working day I reported in and started the arrival procedure. All went well until I reported to the Senior Controller who actually accused me of being absent without leave when he found out that I had arrived on Friday. He was under the impression that I should have reported to him in the first place as he could have put me to work. It is not the best way to start a new job with a flaming great row with the boss but a flaming great row there was.
Obviously they had coped despite the alledged [sic] shortage of staff because he had not even known when I was due to arrive and I could not have just slipped into the routine without some preliminary training and certification. No allowance was made for my domestic circumstances and then whilst I started to absorb the local set-up another bombshell arrived. Air Headquarters Middle East at Habbanyia having received confirmation of my arrival signalled to the effect that I should have reported to that HQ for posting as required as they wanted me down in
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the Persian Gulf, and I was instructed to proceed accordingly. Then I really did blow my top!.
I had already found alternative accomodation [sic] ; more or less in the native quarter on Jebel Hashiem as the hotel was straining the finances somewhat, but at least it-was convenient for the base and the girls were about to start school. In [sic] was still scouting around for something better. I was not in a very good mood by the time I had worked my way through the Adjutant, Senior Admin. Officer and Wing Cdr. Admin. to the Station Commander for a showdown. At least he was sympathetic enough to listen to my greivance [sic] which I followed up with threats of resigning my commission there and then. Pretty strong stuff but a lengthy signal to AHQ produced the desired answer and I was at last allowed to get down to work with a bit more security than I had had for a long time. I don't think I was ever forgiven though for stirring things up for a change instead of accepting what was thrown in my direction. I was beginning to wish that I had transferred to the Secretarial Branch after all if that was a fore-taste of what could be expected in the future. Little did I know.
I found Amman very interesting. It was a joint Military and Civil International Airport with control exercised by the RAF. That included a locally based RAF fighter Squadron with Venoms, communication aircraft and Search and Rescue helicopter. The Royal Jordanian Air Force with Vampires. RAF transit traffic, two resident civil airlines and scheduled BOAC Argonaughts from London to Barhrein [sic] via Beruit [sic] on Monday's returning later in the week. Somehow that seemed more civilised as the crew always brought UK Sunday newspapers in for us when they brought their flight plans in. We had three parking aprons. One civil, one Jordanian Air Force and one RAF. Our facilities were the basics that I had been used to at Fayed plus; the Radar!. The very one that had been at Fayed, had gone to Cyprus and thence to Amman. It was a non standard equipment for the RAF which had received little more than a mention on the ATC course and on which in due course all Amman controllers were to be locally trained. And before you could say 'Bingo' I was appointed the Station Fire Officer as well!.
Within a matter of weeks I had found a more desirable residence
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on Jebel Taj nearer the city and things started to settle down. We soon got used to the amplified sounds from the mezzine calling the faithful to prayer....at 6 am!. it was better than an alarm clock. One could not possibly have slept through it. Not even on a day off and as I was still shift working it was inconvenient at times. However, we were comfortable and happy in our new accomodation [sic] and there were English families living around us so we did not feel as cut off as we had been before.
The new landlord was a Palestinian originally from Haifa and he and his family were very kind. They all spoke very good English and helped us with learning enough Arabic to get by on the buses and in the shops. In fact it was too easy to get lazy in learning Arabic as most people could speak English. It was the second language in all the schools.
The camp swimming pool was one of our main attractions and it was situated near the control tower. In fact when on duty I could look down on it which made it a little frustrating on those steaming days when the temperature in the 'glasshouse' was well over 100deg. and the family had come in by bus to make the most of those cooling waters.
A lot of people had written home to the tourist departments of their town halls to get posters of their favourite sea-side resort so it was not long before Worthing was also advertised on the fence. A little bit of home and of course that usually designated one's favourite spot in the area around the pool.
It was quite a small pool so sessions had to be allocated to prevent overcrowding and it was not unusual for members of the Jordanian Royal family to be mixed up with the officers families. When King Hussein flew as he did often being a pilot in his own right he insisted on going through the motions like any other pilot. He climbed the steps and presented his own flight plan for approval. and he was of course very pro-British. His army was to a great extent British financed and controlled through General Glub. His air force was similarly controlled and they were very good too having had their basic training in the UK and then finished off locally on Harvards before jet training. His senior Air Force Officer was a seconded Wing Commander and in fact there were quite a lot of secondments
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both Army and Air Force. His stable of racing cars was looked after by an ex Flight Sergeant and several- of his ponies were stabled in our pony club and looked after by us. It all seemed an innocent and comfortable arrangement. It was not always quite so comfortable on occasions when certain factions in his own country and those of neighbouring states would rather that the strongly pro-British monarch was deposed. After all, Jordan was in a peculiar geographical position. The Hashimite [sic] Kingdom of Jordan had been carved out of what used to be Palestine and some of the old Palestine was now Isreal [sic] which had produced something like a million refugees who were virtually stateless persons. The mandate that the British had had for many years had been repealed by the United Nations due to pressure to create the new state of Isreal [sic] after the war. The Arab/Jew conflict had not neccesarily [sic] been made any less of a problem and it was all tied up with the American owned IPC (Iraqi Petroleum Company) oil pipeline between Haifa and the Persian Cuff that dominated military and political thinking. Not that the pipe-line had delivered oil for a long time, but we still had an interest in it.
The King had a very close shave on one occasion when he was returning from Damascus whilst I was on duty. The Wing Cdr. was with him in the Royal De Haviland Dove and they found that they had a couple of Syrian jets on their tail. They produced some very spectacular low flying by all accounts until they were able to make contact with us for back up from anything we had flying in Jordanian air space before they were safe. It was the sort of chance he had to take in those days, even when he only used to fly half-way down the pipe-line towards Bagdad to meet his cousin King Feisal of Iraq at an air-strip on the border. Neither used to file flight plans for that. Both of them used to keep in touch through their own private shortwave radio link.
It was obvious that the senior captain of one of the resident airlines was ex-Luftwaffe by the cut of his coat and the set of his cap. Only the insignia had changed and he was an honourary [sic] member of our Mess!. We swapped a few yarns which ultimately led to the production of our respective log books which confirmed that he was the bloke that had shot up our Stirling very badly
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in October 1943 when we were on our way into Bremen. Our conversation after that provided answers to questions that we both had. Yes, he was flying a jet. An early prototype Me262, and had been scrambled for evaluation, but why had we only received small calibre shots?. The answer to that was sobering. He had used up all his cannon shooting down two other Stirlings...and the records show that three Stirlings of the force had indeed been lost that night, two of them to his guns. I can only thank my lucky stars that he had not been using cannon on us that night!. It did explain the tails of fire we had seen from his back end too. He was somewhat surprised that we had not incurred casualties and that we had in fact returned to base after all the stuff that had flowed back from us after the engagement which had obviously been the leaflets I had thrown out in a great hurry, especially as he had claimed us so badly damaged that we must have finished up in the North Sea as there had been no other crash report.
I was still negotiating for other accommodation as official quarters were still a long way off but before either came up Dorothy had to be hospitalised. She could have gone to Habbanyia or Cyprus to either of the military hospitals but she opted for an operation to be done locally at the RAF's expense in the Italian Hospital in Amman so in she went.
It was all very different from one's normal concept of hospitalisation. It was a private hospital and she did have a private ward. The head surgeon was Italian and the staff were mainly Italian nuns with some Arab cleaning staff. Catering was not normally provided but on this occasion two meals a day were provided under the terms of the contract, mainly rice and eggs. There was only one nun who spoke very limited English and with her very limited Arabic it was a bit of a pantomime. Altogether it was hardly conducive to rapid recovery.
The occupant of another adjacent private ward, a Sheik, spent most of the daylight hours out on the flat roof outside her window with all the accompaniment of a scene from the Arabian Nights. I don't know what was wrong with him but he seemed to end a lot of time trying to cough his lungs up, not that it stopped him smoking his hooka [sic] pipe.
he was well looked after by several retainers who brought him
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various kinds of food, including great bunches of grapes with which he was fed and when this circus was added to by his personal musician with his one string fiddle it was enough to drive anyone mad. That and visiting times in the afternoon for those in the dormitory wards where the sounds and smells of on the spot cooking on primus stoves wafted up were enough to have her out of there as soon as the M.O. would allow, to continue her convalescence at home.
When she was fit enough we moved house again and the process of the final negotiations for the tenancy was yet another pantomime; never to be forgotten.
Some of the locals, particularly the Sheiks, had made a packet out of the British a few years earlier when room was needed for the expansion of the airfield and other areas that were needed for the building of the Married Quarters. I suppose it was just another way of putting money into the country really but it seemed. that the criteria for receiving payment of £1000 for any sort of building on the land purchased was that it should have a door. As a result there had been a brisk trade with carpenters fitting a door to just about anything, and those that could not afford it naturally borrowed the money from the Sheiks at a premium or were forced to sell their property to the Sheiks. One way or another they were the blokes that finished up getting most of the 'ackers' which they had reinvested in properties that they let to the military. It was the process of bargaining and negotiating with these chaps that created another scene out of Arabian Nights. One must understand that bargaining is a way of life out in those parts and that to do business it was common courtesy to respect the fact that when in Rome you do as the Romans do.
One did not do business through agents as such. The only agents were the multitude of small boys who were always wandering about looking for opportunities of exercising their light fingered efforts to pick up something for nothing. A word in the ear of one of those suggesting that you were interested and an appointment would be very quickly fixed up and he would get his reward of a few fils for his trouble from both parties.
It was not the first time that I had gone through the procedure but that particular occasion sticks in my mind. At the appointed
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time we presented ourselves at the flats and were escorted to a plain unfurnished room with just cushions and a low table and then the 'person' arrived resplendent in robes of gold on black over white, with jewelled belt and sash and jewelled knife scabbard plus the butt of a pistol showing from an equally elaborate holster, and greetings were exchanged. With that over he clapped his hands and the glasses of tea appeared and the performance was on. I had been asked to bring my wife with me by one of the boys who turned out to be one of the Sheiks sons who was also acting as interpreter but it was obvious that the request had come from the Sheik. I had already been warned about him. Now the scene was set and his number one wife squatted in the dirt on the other side of the road from the flat. Women did [inserted] not [/inserted] pay [sic] a particularly important part in the routine except to keep an eye on things. No.1 wife's responsibility was managing the household and the other junior wives. So she had taken up her position.
I don't know that Dorothy was particularly happy with the situation as she sat opposite that imposing figure with the classical hooked nose and piercing eyes of the Bedouin. Pleasantries were exchanged with the first glass of tea; revolting stuff to our standards, then the second glass came up and by this time Dorothy was squirming a bit as the Sheik was not slow in examining what he seemed to be part of the deal. He played a bit of footy footy and proceeded to pinch the fleshy parts of her arm that were exposed under her shawl which she was obliged to wear in such circumstances. Their own women were covered in black from head to toe as well as wearing a yashmak. Nevertheless he examined her as if she was a chicken in the market and she winced a bit but stuck it out until the third glass of tea arrived. That was the one you did not finish and it was time to talk business. It was the way things were done and we were obliged to go along with it for about half an hour until we gave him our promise of a decision before the sun had set. We had made the decision before we made our escape from him with the eagle eye. Dorothy did not care to become part of a Hareem as part of the deal or having him inspecting his property too often with an eye to another 'wife' so the message was passed. "No thank you" and we looked elsewhere.
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We eventually rented a flat not far from the camp main gate and I suppose it could be said that it good views. It looked down on the Hadj railway station on the famous line from Damascus through Amman to a point where it fizzled out way down South towards Aquaba. A line that Lawrence of Arabia had played havoc with many years before when the Turks had control of the area. It also looked down on the main Damascus/Amman road and the prison but at least it was convenient. The landlord was the local butcher an [sic] he eventually brought along a young married chap who we were only to willing to take on as 'bearer'. He had never worked anywhere by virtue of being caught up in the net of the homeless refugees in the North but he was willing and learned fast and took no liberties. He found local accomodation [sic] and moved his family for the first ever now that he had a job which allowed him to face the world with a little more dignity instead of being dependent upon United Nations hand-outs.
He was an Abdul and replaced another Abdul who was reputed to have worked for the British Army but we were glad to see the back of him and his dirty habits plus the fact that I had found him drying out his tobacco in the gas oven on one occasion with only one side burner lit to save gas!. His English was also punctuated by a great deal of barrack room language and his final efforts in the kitchen seemed to be designed to feed his family on our left overs made sure that there was plenty for all!. Now the catering was firmly back in Dorothy's hands and Abdul looked after the rest. He needed a bit of training but it was well worth it.
My cousin that had been in Egypt was now down in Aquaba and an arrangement with the Jordanian Air Force brought him up to to [sic] spend a Christmas with us and some time later we flew down to Aquaba in the Kings personal aircraft for a couple of weeks holiday and that was a very interesting period.
Our accommodation was a holiday bungalow on the sea shore that had belonged to General Peake who had given it to the RAF for recreational purposes. It gave me an opportunity of spending more time with my cousin who I had not seen all that often in the past and to visit our limited Air Traffic Control staff and the firemen who manned the landing strip on rotational basis
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from Amman resources. The landing area was just a rolled strip in the wadi that led down almost to the waters edge and even the control cabin was only the cockpit of a Dakota that had crashed there many years before. It was no more than just another link in the chain of landing grounds that served the Army garrison tasked with keeping the peace in the area which they had been trying to do for years.
The geography was historical and had become even-more important since the creation of the State of Isreal[sic] . The Gulf of Aquaba was only three miles wide at the head and the town of Eilat in Isreal [sic] sat on one corner and the border with Egypt only a little further down. Three miles down the other side was the border with Saudi Arabia so it was quite a crossroads.
I suppose it was just my misfortune that a couple of my firemen went on a sight seeing tour whilst I was there and were absent two days as a result of straying into Isreal [sic] . No big diplomatic incident really but the Army did have to exert a little diplomacy to get them back and they were both charged for contravening standing orders. Still, one could laugh off seven days C.C. (confined to camp) in that place; there were few places to go. Anyway, the army dealt with it and I got on with my holiday. I wanted no part of. The weather was supurb [sic] , the bunglalow [sic] was on the waters edge and there was no tide to speak of. Unfortunately the glass bottomed boat that usually provided interesting views of the coral reefs had been damaged and was awaiting repair so we were not able to enjoy that experience.
Some people relate to being on holiday with being able to sleep in late but it was very rare that we were able to do that with the fishermen out in the early morning. Their fishing was accompanied by a succession of bangs resounding across the water. Lazy fishing that; with sticks of dynamite!. Then they netted the stunned fish afterwards. The girls were warned to keep well out of the way when they were close to the shore as obviously they were not all that clever. The dynamite thrower in one boat only had one arm and the girls had learned earlier on in Amman that when told to do things like that it was for a very good reason and they had to react without question. On that previous occasion in Amman we had gone into town on a little shopping expedition and had just reached the main shopping area where
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there seemed to be a lot of people and suddenly the whole crowd erupted as shots rang out, followed by a lot of panic stricken people running in our direction. When I grabbed them and said "run" they did. Hot foot down the road, into the Hotel Continental where we stayed until things had gone quiet before taking a taxi back home. I understood later that day that an order had been issued on camp putting the city out of bounds but then I had not been into camp and knew nothing about the possibility of trouble.
We managed to enjoy ourselves though, just lazing about, swimming, playing board games, reading, listening to London on the short wave overseas service but generally resting up wondering what was going to happen next. Something always did!. One morning we were having coffee out in front of the bungalow when we noticed that a Royal Navy destroyer had dropped anchor about half a mile out and it was not long before a boat with four ratings and a Petty Officer was rowed ashore. They tied up just few yards from us and were loaded with some metal trunking that they started to chip paint from so I figured that they were defaulters given a dirty job to do. Hard luck on the Petty Officer!.
I would have left them to it but there was a geat [sic] deal of lower deck language that was enough to blister the paint off without the use of elbow grease so two little girls had to be hauled out of earshot whilst I ambled across and asked them if they would like some refreshment. They nearly fell over with shock but the P.O. jumped at the opportunity. Beer for him please, anything but beer for the others and what the blue blazes were we doing in such a God forsaken hole and where the hell was he anyway?. He was quite happy to sit in the shade and chat for some time whilst the others chipped away until a winking light from the ship signalled that it was time to return. It had made his day and in the time we had spent chatting I had found out that he knew my brother from his days at HMS Vernon, the torpedo establishment at Portsmouth. It's a small world.
Later on as darkness fell the ship was dressed overall with lights and was an imposing sight out in the Gulf as small craft pIied to and fro' with the garrison Commander and his party to a social function on board. I think they may have stayed
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most of the night if what happened to us is anything to go by.
We had been invited by some Arab neighbours to coffee, cakes and social chat and there had been no mention of conditions outside when darkness fell. We found out as soon as we got outside. Everything was blacked out by rising sand. Not the sort of sand storm with horizontal wind but the sort in which sand is just lifted straight up and deposited somewhere else. We could hardly see our hand in front of our face. If it had not been for our hosts being more familiar with the area I doubt if we could have negotiated the fifty yards between the houses.
We put the shutters up as soon as we got back but it was too late and it took ages to clear the heavy layer of sand that had been deposited over and inside everything which included the beds and the pantry. Just something else to put down to experience. We were well rested by the time we flew back to Amman in an RAF Valetta and as I knew the pilot from Fayed days he kindly circled the ancient and amazing city of Petra virtually hidden in the desert which we would otherwise never have seen, and then it was back to the old routine. Not a dull one by any means. Among my activities I had a taste of some limited radar control on which I was locally trained. I found the process fairly easy to pick up as this was a 'one man band' and the initial pick up was assisted by a built in direction finder system. To an ex aircrew wireless op. it was no problem. It did not take long to become proficient and as the only other qualified controller was leaving I finished up being in charge of the thing and training others, not without some dissapointments [sic] . The Senior Controller, an ex navigator, couldn't cope with it and neither could another, an ex pilot, but enough did become proficient to ensure that there were sufficient people to rotate. It was not all that comfortable stuck out in a metal box at the end of the runway.
That particular radar unit was the one that had done the rounds. At one time it had been at Nicosia before it had been transferred to Fayed and then Amman and the original operator had travelled with it but it could only provide a very limited service and as far as the RAF was concerned it was a 'one-off'. It gave me some useful experience anyway that I made use of later on.
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By that time we had given up the idea of getting back to Egypt for a holiday. Fayed was just about handed over to the Egyptians so we could not get a passage that way and since holidays had to be planned well ahead it didn't seem worth the effort to go the long way around via Cyprus so that was ruled out. Haifa or some similar place was considered before we found that it was again impossible to go direct particularly as we would need a second passport to visit Arab countries and Israel. The tension was very real out there at the time. Even the Naafi could not import any goods that may have been a product of Israel and postings to a place like Amman ruled out anyone of Jewish name or origin.
It was the only place that I had come across where a parade commander was to say "Roman Catholics may fall out" before prayers. That order was usually "Roman Catholics and Jews....". In the end we figured that we would do better just to make the most of our immediate surroundings but we never got to Beruit [sic] or Damascus. Every time we made plans for a long break between shifts or a week-end those places were declared out of bounds.
It did seem as if we were hemmed in although we were in regular contact with neighbouring countries. Even our daily radio checks gave us two way communication with Nicosia and strangely enough Lod in Israel. We thought nothing of it, or of giving bearings to any Israeli aircraft that called us but the Jordanian Air Ministry were very sensitive and suspicious about it so we had to discontinue any contact with Israel.
We had a very interesting experience one afternoon when we were having tea in the flat when there was a shivering shaking sensation. The tea in my cup rippled an [sic] I immediately recalled something that my father had mentioned about his time in India. If in doubt look at the ceiling light, and there it was swinging gently to and fro' and then I knew that what I had felt was an earthquake tremor Dorothy looked at me and asked "why did you kick my chair?" and then nearly fell out of hers when I told her to look at the swinging lamp and the significance of it. It was a very light tremour [sic] really and we understood later that the centre had been around Damascus but there had been no damage.
One real highlight of Amman was my flight in a Venom jet trainer.
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Since my first jet experience in a Canberra I had been itching to have another go. It was not difficult to arrange and away we went into the wide blue yonder. It was the most exhilarating experience. The sky was bright blue well laced with towering cumulus cloud and at 25,000ft I was in my element when control was handed to me in the side by side trainer as I went cloud hopping. I was in my element and I always knew that I had an aptitude for it. I performed all the standard manoeuvres successfully which rather surprised the pilot. Wireless Ops. don't do things like that!, but he changed his mind when I attempted a roll. Then my old problem of disorientation reared it's head again and he had to take control to prevent us hurtling earthwards out of control. He reckoned that with formal training I would have had no real difficulty in becoming a pilot but it was too late for me to change direction at that time.
Our flat overlooked the prison just beyond the main road and an incident there created a lasting impression on Dorothy. I could understand that if conditions in the prison were as crude as those in the hospital then a lot of people went hungry most of the time if family and friends did not bring in food regularly or the inmates had not got the money to pay for it but that's the way it worked. Prison out there was real punishment and the ultimate was to be publicly hung in the city's amptheatre [sic] which were other occasions when the city was out of bounds.
The incident really upset her when some noisy activity started as protests were voiced and then the whole thing escalated rapidly.
There were hundreds of prisoners milling around the courtyard and the guards manning the walls were reinforced by the army. What sparked it off I could not say but there was a sudden crackle of rifle fire and prisoners went down like nine-pins for several minutes. When it stopped the army entered the courtyard and hearded [sic] the frantic mob to one side as dozens of bodies were dragged away and she could no longer watch the scene of such callus [sic] slaughter. She had some very bad dreams for a long while after that.
At last a married quarter became available after some ten months of waiting and moving around and we moved into a very large
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converted hut which many years before had been the Education Section. The original lettering on the doors was still visable [sic] under fresh paintwork. A friend of mind remembers the building from when he was out there in 1937!. However, it was spacious, convenient and comfortable. Just a stone's throw from the Mess and almost overlooking the flat that we had just left. In addition to our own servant who successfully passed his medical we were allocated an official one, shared with another family, so life took on a whole new style.
Typical of course was the fact that very British fire places had been installed but the cooker was still the parafin [sic] job so took our rented gas one with us. The water heater was the most diabolical hazard that I had ever come across. It was oil fired; with a difference!. We had got used to parafin [sic] fridges and cookers so one took such things in one's stride. To fire up the boiler you turned on the fuel to drip onto a metal plate, then set light to it. By turning the fuel tap on and off the plate eventually got hot enough to explode the drips as they fell on the plate and then it could be adjusted to give a series of continuous explosions and presto!, hot water!. A damn dangerous device though and as fire officer I made sure that everyone was reminded regularly of it's dangers. At least it was more civilised than what we had been recently used to. In our first place on Jebel Hasheem we had a bath that had to be filled with buckets of water that had to be heated by other means and the drain hole was positioned above nothing more than a hole in the floor. It was alright until the bath slipped off of the supporting bricks and flooded the floor. Perhaps it was better that way as it slowed down the activities of the toads, whacking great spiders and scorpians [sic] that tended to investigate the invasion of what they considered to be their territory. In the last flat, although new, we had always had trouble with the drains. The worst part being that when there was a blockage in the system. When we flushed everything came up in the next door neighbours bath!. Small problem….well, to us anyway. When the sanitory [sic] people were called in they pin-pointed the problem of blockages right away. Apparently toilet paper should not be flushed into 2" drains!. The alternative was most unhygenic [sic] to European standards.
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Now it seemed that we were home and dry. There was a bit of a garden which was overgrown so after I set my photo dark-room up I got to work terracing the garden so that we were able to grow tomatoes and sweet corn within a matter of months. The trouble was that it disturbed the habitat of several dangerous species of snakes and other creepy crawlies of which there were plenty. One had to be forever on the alert for them, checking footwear and clothing, and particularly bedding.
One of the strangest creatures was the sand beetle. This chap was about 1/2 ins. long and lived in the sand with the entrance to it's complex protected by a trap door. It had the most incredible technique of building a hinged trap door which was a perfect watertight fit. To see this thing nip down it's hole and pull the trap door down after him was quite amazing.
Another insect that surprised us one evening when we were having drinks on the veranda were the fireflies. For a moment I thought that I had made the drinks a little too strong when little bright lights started jumping around the table but then a little more light was produced they turned out to be little flying insects with little light bulbs in their tails.
Lizards of between four and five inches were common and quite harmless. We had one or two resident one's that had been given names and at one time we had a Chameleon that I had found in the garden but it died on us. Probably due to the rapid changes of colour that was expected of it when we put it on a multi coloured carpet. The poor thing probably got into a state of utter confusion and died of a heart attack.
Tortoises were common and I have never seen so many in a natural habitat as there were around the old Roman city of Jarash, and Jarash it'self [sic] was another incredible place that was right out of biblical times. It had been uncovered in the preceeding [sic] 20 years and I swear that if you just stood there and listened you could hear the ghosts of the past all around and the sounds of chariot wheels on the old Roman roads that still bore the marks of those wheels.
We paid a visit to the Dead Sea and it was well worth the frightening drive. The native taxy driver seemed quite oblivious to his surroundings as we swept along high mountain unmade roads that twisted and turned with sometimes as much as a sheer 1500ft
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drop on one side into a moonscape like valley. Mix that up with the dust, the heat and five fractous [sic] kids as we were sharing the journey with another family, the driver with only one hand on the wheel and the radio blasting native music at 99 decibals [sic] and you have all the ingredients for a very exciting time. It was. Our route took us through Jericoh [sic] and close to the old courthouse, where according to the scriptures Christ was tried and sentenced, until we eventually got to the banks of the Dead Sea, over 500ft [underlined] below [/underlined] sea level and where I subsequently was flown down to in a Jordanian Air Force aircraft. A most interesting experience.
After the journey the sight of so much water was a great temptation and in we all went but within minutes we were in trouble. The adults knew that it was impossible to sink in that sea due to it's high salt content but no-one had told us that it was just like acid if you got it in the eyes. The kids thrashed around screaming in pain and it was just as well that we had a plentiful supply of water in bottles that we were able to pour over their faces until all was well again. After the initial discomfort we were all very careful as we experimented in the very dense water. It was quite incredible. Even just walking into it, before one was waist deep it was impossible to keep your feet on the bottom. You couldn't swim in it either. There was just not enough of the body in water to be able to go through the normal motions. Arms and legs just thrashed around in the air and it really was possible just to float in the sitting position with head and shoulders out of the water.
That was alright until we came out and there was no-where we could rinse off as most of our precious bottles of water had been used up. Within minutes we dried off and were covered in a layer of salt crystals and that was the way we set off back via a different route.
On the way we came across a place by the name of Salt. Just a nameplace where the road crossed a small tumbling stream so we made a stop there to wash off the salt and freshen up. There was an old rusted cannon and a lot of other ironmongery in the stream left from battles of long ago but we did not have a lot time to investigate further. A Jordanian soldier appeared and warned us off by the process of pointing his rifle at us
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so one does not argue in a situation like that. We did a bit more splashing about after I had put my camera way [sic] whilst the driver and the soldier communicated. Some folding money changed hands and we were on our way. The driver told us that the small wooden bridge was guarded because of it's strategic importance and I suspect that it had been guarded ever since General Allenby had passed that way during the first World War. Rather like the Allenby bridge across the River Jordan that we also visited on another occasion. That was still guarded so we did not think it worth while trying to obtain a bottle of water that we had planned to do. I suppose that if we had approached the soldiers with a fistful of notes we could have done it as that is what seemed to smooth the way generally if you wanted to get things done as a friend of mine found out when he imported a car from the UK!.
God knows how long the preliminaries had taken to even order it but in due course it arrived at Beruit [sic] after months of waiting.
Then came the business of getting it into Jordan. First of all he could not do it himself and pay the fees. That was much too easy. It had to be imported by a recognised import/export firm and then negotiations were started with the appropriate Government department although he was entitled to it's import without tax, under current diplomatic arrangements. So it laid at Beruit [sic] for many months as palms were greased until it duly arrived in Amman. Having accumulated more fees by that time there were even more to pay. Several more months of negotiations had followed as the documentation kept getting held up until fistfull [sic] of Dinars smothed [sic] the way and it was finally HIS car. Not that he was able to tax and insure it and drive it away. Despite the fact that it was new it had to go through all the mechanical checks that all vehicles were required to go through before being given a registration. It was a sort of MOT test but set annually, and annually got a different registration number which also meant a new set of plates. More Dinars changed hands at each of the four stages of testing, shuffling and mis-laying of papers, passing the papers to the department that made the plates, (right next door to the registration office), more mis-laid papers, and at last, when
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the plates were ready, the production of the insurance documents before those plates could be fixed and sealed by the department. Plus of course the final bakshees before he could actually take the car on the road. In all it took just over a year. He never took it for a second test. Things happened that forced him to subsequently drive it across the desert nearly 500 miles to Habbanyia where it was eventually taken to Basra under service arrangements and it came back to the UK on the Ark Royal minus wing mirrors, screen wipers, wheel trims, slightly dented and rusted. Fortunately there was enough documentation with it to ensure that it was not subject to import duty....provided that he kept it for a year!. At that point in time he would rather have got rid of it when he eventually got back to the UK himself but despite all the hassle he made full use of it. That was a car with a history.
I eventually got my opportunity to go further East. Just far enough. I was detailed to go to Habbanyia in Iraq for Courts Martial duties as a member of the Court. Anything except defence or prosecution, but it was not quite the 'perk' that I thought it was going to be.
After flying in I reported to the Adjutant who I knew and had a been the Signals Leader of 138 Squadron at Wyton and subsequently 90 Squadron at Marham, (at the same time as the chap who had fun with the car had been there); only to find that the President of the Court was none other than 'Black Mac' himself.
Being the junior member I was the 'scribe' and Mac was his same old self. His Adjutant was having as rough a time with him as I had had at Coningsby. Anyway, the case was over in a day and sentance [sic] was pronounced so I immediately set about putting some distance between Black Mac and myself.
It took three days with the flight priority that I had and more than one argument with the Senior Air Traffic Controller at Habbanyia who wanted to put me to work there. No way!. I wasn't there for that and it was a good thing that I knew a few people, not the least the Adjutant, who kept me on a four hour stand-by for a seat on an aircraft back to Amman. Apart from anything else I wanted to see Habbanyia, the RAF's jewel in the desert.
There was plenty of it with the old plateau airfield and the new one that had been laid out on the plain; the former being
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used for the training of the Iraqi Air Force. The relatively new base on the plain was surrounded by masses of buildings, three swimming pools, a profusion of lawns and gardens that turned the place into a glittering oasis. I walked miles and miles around that place and marvelled at the engineering that had made full use of the waters of the Euphrates and numerous artisan wells. There was even a large lodgement compound for the hundreds of native workers and their families who seemed to enjoy quite reasonable amenities, and eventually a seat became available and I was on my way back to Amman. I was to go back there again in due course.
Meanwhile it was back to work. I was duty controller and the airfield had been shut for a couple of hours one evening as no traffic had been notified when one of the ATC assistants phoned from the duty but to tell me that there was an aircraft overhead flashing it's lights. There was a rapid call out for duty crews and I was off to the control tower. The aircraft was still circling when I went on the air and asked the pilot to identify himself. It turned out to be an Eagle Airlines York freighter on his way to India which had been routed to us but the signals office still had nothing so he had to circle until we lit the place up, inspected the runway and alerted all the other services before we let him in. Then there were a few more surprises as the pilot and the navigator turned out to be ex 207 Squadron, Marham, who I had known there.
It did not take long to find out why they had arrived before the notification. They had actually been routed via Cyprus and Beruit [sic] but had done a short cut across the Med. and smack across Isreal [sic] . It might have seemed logical at the time but with no diplomatic clearance such an unauthorised route could have had unpleasant results from a trigger happy Ack-Ack gunner.
There was never a dull moment although some of the things that happened were quite serious.
Our helicopter with the Station Commander and Station Warrant Officer on board went down the line of the old Hadj railway of Lawrence of Arabia fame; to a point where it petered out about half way to Aquaba. For some reason or other the SWO, contrary to standing orders relative to the safe areas around a helicopter made the mistake of backing into the tail rotor,
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and a military funeral was the order of the day and a few months afterwards the helicopter pilot's wife who had shared our taxi to Gerash died of natural causes and there was more sadness in our tightly knit community.
There was a snippet of information from Habbanyia that did me the world of good when I heard of it and had a little 'chortle' at Black Mac's expense. He had given orders for an enormous banquet to be laid on. Typical, it had to be big!, but to lay that on for around a thousand people was no mean task. I definitely would not have cared to be in his Adjutants shoes about that time. As usual he had a hand in everything, including the menu and I can imagine the raised eyebrows when he decided that among the many courses served to two Kings, Ambassadors and dignatories [sic] from all over the Middle East was; maise!,(corn on the cob). That's what they feed the chickens on out there! but that was not the end of his indiscretions.
There was King Feisal of Iraq and his cousin King Husein [sic] of Jordan so it didn't help matters when he proposed a toast to King Feisal of Jordan!. I could just imagine the diplomatic huffing and puffing that went on. I had been on the mat in front of him often enough. I would like to have been a fly on the wall when he was on the mat in front of the C in C later.
In the political turmoil of the area we still managed to carry on with a small degree of normallity [sic] .
We managed a sports day with inter service competition between the RAF, the Army and the Jordanian services finishing up with a flying display from both Air Forces and on more than one occasion we closed the airfield to suit the Kings convenience by turning it into a motor racing circuit. That was a bit of fun on one occasion when he wanted to try out his latest Mercedes sports car. I can't remember the model but I do remember that it had gull wing doors. I even had the privilege of belting it around in company with the rest of his fleet.
It was a dreadful shock when we heard later that there had been a political uprising in Iraq, something that seemed to be spreading right through the Middle East, and as a result of that particular incident King Feisal of Iraq and most of the Royal family has been massacred, and a republic had been declared.
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There was definitely a rot setting in and there was no doubt that there was a lot of outside influence behind it all. You didn't have to be a genious [sic] to work out the fact that oil and a power politics was still the key to the whole business in Egypt, the Suez Canal, Jordan, Iraq and as it was to turn out later, Aden, the Persian Gulf and Iran and all points East. It seemed that that area of the British Empire's influence was crumbling around us.
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Nevertheless, Air Traffic Control was the job and there were few occasions when a shift did not produce something out of the ordinary.
It was all quiet one sultry afternoon when I heard a very faint 'May-Day' call on the common frequency and immediately responded but found it difficult to achieve satisfactory contact. The direction finder bearing showed the aircraft to be to the North of us and although it was possible to pick out a call-sign the rest of the message seemed to be in German. After giving courses to steer to reach us the aircraft's transmissions were getting louder and the pilot was calming down although it was obvious that his English was very limited, as was our German and then one of the assistants came to the rescue. I was not aware that he was a Channel Islander but he asked me to find out if the pilot 'parlies vous francious [sic] '?. That brought forth a stream of French so I put the assistant on the radio and it did not take long to find out what it was all about. At least he was steering the headings he had been given and was getting louder which was the most important thing but he turned out be a Swiss. in a light aircraft en. route from Cyprus to Bagdad but had encountered head winds, was lost and getting low on fuel. Certainly he had done the right thing by declaring an emergency over that inhospitable terrain that looked like the surface of the moon and getting into a bit of a panic that caused him to lapse into non-standard procedure. The rest was easy. He followed our instructions until he found us after which he was directed to the civilian reception area for the rest of the
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formalities. By the time he came over later to file a flight plan he had calmed down and able to communicate in good English and certainly happy enough that he had finished up with the RAF in Jordan instead of being lost in the mountains. Another satisfied customer even if we did extract a small landing fee from him.
I had to respond very rapidly to another emergency situation one evening shortly before our normal shut-down time. One of the Venoms was still airborne and the C.O. was on his way back from Aquaba in a Pembroke. The helicoptor [sic] pilot had just put his chopper away in the hangar almost opposite the control tower and had given me a wave as he started to walk off when the Venom pilot came on the air reporting his position and the fact that he had just flamed out and would be ejecting in five seconds ...4..3...2...1 and he was gone. There was a quick shout to the chopper pilot and hand signals to wind it up, another quick call on the radio to the C.O. who was on a different frequency almost overhead, to tell him that we had 'one down about 25 mls to the North East of us, please investigate...chopper on the way' and everything swung into action from there. Suffice to say that the downed pilot was back on the airfield within 30 minutes of his first call. Not bad going. The same 'downed' pilot was the one that subsequently took the first Harrier on a non-stop transatlantic flight to New York.
There was another occurance [sic] one late afternoon when a Valetta had a burst tyre and ran off of the runway to get well and truly bogged down but things like that were only slight hic-ups in a day's routine and I must admit that I was getting a lot more out of life than if I had continued to push paper around in the Secretarial Branch. Not that there wasn't any paperwork but it was different.
I had not been in Quarters on camp for very long and I had an off-duty morning closeted in my dark room when I heard the fire alarm faintly in the distance but with all the stuff I had in the trays I decided to ignore it. There was a highly qualified
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Flight/Sergeant RAF Regiment fireman on duty and quite capable of handling any situation without me. I found out what it had all been about when I went on duty for the afternoon shift and in hind-sight figured that it might have been better if I had turned out.
The fire had been in a ventilation canopy over the airmens mess kitchen right next to the school, so the firemen and police had cleared the school and were tackling the fire quite successfully until the Wg/Cdr. Admin turned up and instructed then to lay foam on the roof. They did as they were told and the resultant mess took days to clear up as the foam slid off into the school. My daughters were delighted at the fun and a few days off but the kitchens and the mess and the school were in a hell of a state. Ox blood based foam is very sticky stuff but I found a bit of a problem in writing up the fire report. First of all I was in trouble for not being there and then because foam had been used. I think it took three drafts of the report before the Wg/Cdr found it acceptable to pass on without laying the blame for the mess at anyone's door.
Following the report were his own recommendation that I, as fire officer should be on the phone so a phone was installed,(not that it would be any good if I was in the control tower or off camp as anyone else was entitled to be when off duty, but that caused another storm in a tea cup.
Some time later I got the bill for the telephone installation and was hot foot down to see the Wg/Cdr. As far as he was concerned I had the facility and I should pay for it but there was one quick way out of that. I insisted that as it was a strictly a service requirement on his own recommendation it should be restricted for incoming calls only and the Air Force could pay for it...and that was that. As far as I was concerned it was a matter of principle but I was beginning to wonder if other people had the same sort of hassle over almost everything. I certainly seemed to be getting more than my share anyway.
We had another unfortunate incident one night when an aircraft of the local air line inbound from Jedda lost an engine on final approach and piled in about three miles out. There were no other aircraft scheduled so with all the alarms going we were straight
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into the crash procedure and I jumped aboard one of the back up water tenders to get to the scene. It was a very rough ride but all we had to do was to head straight for the fire and by the time we got there the aircraft was well alight. The first rescue crews on the scene had put water spray on the exits where the passengers had been scrambling out virtually being pushed along by the crew and the last of them had just got out a few minutes before I got there and the fire finally beat the water and the foam and was rapidly consuming the aircraft.
Nevertheless, the crew were uninjured and there were no serious injuries among the passengers no doubt due to the fact that the the [sic] pilot had whipped the undercarriage up smartly and had done a successful belly flop in the lights of his landing lights. I found the rather shaken Captain who told me that at least everyone was out until there was some hysterical screaming from one of the native passengers who had been assembled in a group to one side and ultimately some-one conveyed the message that she had left her baby an the luggage rack…..too late!. The aircraft was melting down and there was nothing that could be done until things cooled off. Meanwhile we started loading the passengers into an RAF bus and ambulance as well as some of the back-up fire vehicles that were no longer needed and they set off back to the medical centre. My problem was that due to the terrain our radio to the tower was virtually useless and produced little more than buzzes and crackles so no-one on the airfield knew what was going on. I did something that was a bit hit and miss but it worked. I got the Rescue Landrover up to the highest point I could looking down on the airfield and broadcast the information and in addition I used the headlights to morse a message to the tower. They got both and the medical centre was ready to receive them and attend to the injured. Typical of the way they did things out there was one of the final acts. The pilot was promptly placed under arrest by the civil authority even though he was still in a state of shock. Out there you were often guilty until you could prove your innocence. It was the way things were done and one got used to things that would have been outrageous at home. It was very similar to the manner in which I saw the public treat a taxi driver in Amman city after he had knocked over
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a small boy in the main street. The taxi had come to a screeching stop after the lad had nipped in front of him and got clipped. A howling mob descended upon the taxi driver and hauled him out of the vehicle and pulled, punched and kicked him in the direction of the nearest police post whilst in the meantime the small boy, who had only been bumped and had rolled into the gutter, got up, dusted himself off and scurried down a side ally. No doubt the taxi driver got thumped for his part in the incident and it seemed that no-ne [sic] was particularly interested in a slightly grazed little boy!.
The unit library was a place that most people used and contributed to quite regularly but most books had become dog-eared and certain types, mainly 'whodunits' very often had their story line ruined by the attentions of a certain elderly lady.
The lady was an ex school mistress who had taught in the local missionary schools since the days of Queen Victoria if her appearance was anything to go by. She wore Victorian type clothing that elderly ladies of that era would have worn. Voluminous skirt and blouse with tweed jacket, the whole ensemble, half moon steel rimmed glasses and all, topped off by a white brolly. She lived locally although retired, and had stayed on, greatly respected by the local population and permitted the privilege of an honourary [sic]membership of our mess. That was how she came to use the library but the margins of nearly every book contained some comment, like an Agatha Christie Miss Marples, in her unmistakable shaky scrawl such as, 'now I know who it is', or 'so and so did it', or 'it cannot be……' or 'I knew it was' etc, etc. but she was a great character and after a spot of bother on one occasion with some of the locals when she needed rescuing from an excitable crowd she was heard giving them some suitable comment in arabic about their behaviour whilst still retaining her dignity.
At one point in the late summer we got the first rains of the season and a most wonderful sight met our eyes when we looked p down the hill from the bungalow. The whole hillside was covered in a solid carpet of crocus in all shades of mauve. They had
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just popped up, and by the end of the day they had all gone again. Surprising what a bit of moisture will do in that part of the world where it did not usually rain between March and September.
As the weather became cooler we decided to have a fire lit in the lounge one evening. Coal was available in the outside storage bin supplied on payment through the stores and very expensive. As it was a most unlikely commodity in that part of the world I asked the storeman how the devil we got it to find that apparently it was supplied under a local contract and came from South Africa by boat to Aquaba and then was brought up by camel train. Very precious stuff that!. However, Abdul was instructed to light a fire. I suppose I should have shown him how to do it the first time but it never occurred to me that he would never have seen coal before so when he queried the method he was told, paper and wood with the coal on top and the black rock will burn. So he did as he was told but he had experimented somewhat. He mixed the lot up with about a pint of parafin [sic] , set light to it outside and then brought it all in in a bucket. There was certainly some pandemonium when he came staggering in with a bucket of fire on the end of a pole!. The Station Fire Officer had visions of his quarters going up in smoke but we did eventually manage to transfer it to the fireplace where he sat watching it for a long time before being convinced that the black rock really did burn.
Their usual method of producing heat was by some parafin [sic] appliance or charcoal or even scrub wood which further diminished what timber there was on the sparse hillsides.
There was always plenty of social activity with dances, parties, horse riding, tennis, swimming gala's, motor racing etc, etc but I will always remember one particular function that we attended. A reception at the British Embassy was about the dullest affair that I have ever been to. The drinks were so watered that even if you asked for a straight Whisky you still couldn't taste it, or the Gin or the Brandy for that matter. One thing was for sure, no-one was likely to have more than was good for him and let the side down. What other foreign
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nationals from other Embassies thought about I wouldn't know but I imagine that giving a Russian a Vodka similarly diluted would have raised an eyebrow, and precious little else!. However, as is so often said, it was all part of life's rich tapestry.
As a part time untrained fire officer I was certainly getting my share of 'on the job training' from the experiences of attending some quite spectacular fires.
Shortly after having the phone put in I had a call-out and had no option but to turn out since the call came direct from the C.O. The first one was in the Souk (market), in the city, and I mustered the maximum that was available, leaving the bare minimum for the airfield so we set off with four vehicles and when we arrived the area was an inferno. The source of the fire was right in the centre where there was a great deal of timber used by a small factory producing boxes for fruit and vegetable packing and although the native population were very agitated not a lot seemed to be happening. The municipal fire services were no-where to be seen and as my F/Sgt was on leave the two corporals soon assessed the situation and started to deploy the vehicles whilst I went in search of a person of some authority and to find a source of water replenishment. I was unfortunate in both respects and when I returned to the scene it was obvious that we were in trouble. A hord [sic] of uncontrollable natives were helping out in their own way by manhandling one hose and had pulled the pump off of the jacks and the suction hose out of the water bowser to such an extent that there was water everywhere except where we wanted it. It was a fine old mess until I managed to find a policeman with stripes on his arm and asked him to muster sufficient troops to protect the operation whilst my firemen were instructed to recover everything, stop pumping and to stand-by until we had control. Not easy as some people were absolutely frantic as it appeared that at least four people had been caught in the blaze. As I saw it they would have been well and truly roasted by that time and my main concern was to stop the fire from spreading and we started to pump water again as far as our tankerage would allow although we had found a supply source of our own at an ice factory back along the road and started
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a shuttle and that kept things going.
In due course the municipal fire brigade arrived and positioned themselves on the downwind side of the fire…..and the best of luck, then the Jordanian Air Force arrived with their pump but no water tender but very soon packed up as their hoses were perished and leaking but it didn't matter much as they then ran out of petrol!. At least we were putting on water..until the King arrived!.
The police lost control of the crowd again, everyone was bowing and scraping. We lost control of the pump for a while and stopped pumping which upset the King a little when he came to watch progress but was satisfied that we had a water problem and as the fire was almost under control we might as well allow the centre to burn out unless the city fire services still required us. That being established we wrapped it up and set off home in convoy with a salute to the King and clapping from the locals....but we were minus one brass hose nozzle; which had been stolen!.
The next fire I attended some time later was to a cinema up on Jebel Ammman overlooking the city. That time we took the big fire tender with back-up pump and tanker. I went with the big Mk.V. and half a dozen firemen and air traffic control assistants but we did not have the best of drivers for a job like that. There were some very steep hills to negotiate and that particular model as fas [sic] I was concerned had some built in design faults. Not the least of which was it's hill climbing capability with a full load of water and foam compound plus a few people. In the excitement the driver did not react properly to the possibility of an extended hill climb when he should have selected auxiliary low gear at the bottom of the hill, but instead he stuffed it at the hill until he ran out of steam and then muffed a gear change. That was a recipe for disaster.
We started to roll back. Neither footbrake or handbrake would hold it and with the prospect of a nasty situation arising I hollered to all the men on the back to bale out, crashed the gear lever into a forward gear and wrenched the wheel out of the drivers grasp so that our downhill run was stopped by our back end ramming a low wall. I got some stick for it of course but I am convinced that it saved the day. It saved the troops
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but it bent the tender and the wall but at least we did take off again and got to the scene of the fire. Unfortunately the pump outlets had been damaged and we could only use it as a back-up water tender to our trailer pump that got to work immediately on arrival. The cinema was nearly gutted anyway and the shell of the building itself had prevented any spread of fire to surrounding buildings so there was little that we could do. The city fire services were spraying water on the side wall, aiming for one small window quite high up, with very little success until one local fireman climbed an extending ladder with his 1 1/2 inch hose to put water directly into the window. I didn't think it was good idea as it was all very close to overhead power lines and the like so I went inside through the foyer with the city fire chief to asses the possibility of taking our hoses in through that way and promptly retreated. The fire had got a good hold so I immediately withdrew all of our appliances out of the roadway from below the wall of the building to the space under the inside balcony. The main wall was as hot as the side of a brick kiln and all that cooling water in my estimation was likely to cause a blow-out and collapse the wall. Despite putting this suggestion to the fire chief that his man up the ladder was in considerable danger he left him up there whilst we concentrated on the fire at the base of the inside wall.
Of course, in retrospect there is always another way of dealing with a situation although my report emphasised the need to keep my firemen out of the danger of a collapsing wall so as usual I got 'stick' for it. That is what officers in charge were for!!.
That's what the recently appointed C.O. thought anyway as for some reason he did not have a lot of time for Air Traffic Controllers, even though we were all ex aircrew. To him we were 'rock-apes', a term of endearment usually reserved for the RAF Regiment. There was very little that any of us could do right according to him, so there was the usual enquiry and a lot more caustic comment thrown around. I was used to it by that time so it was all water off of a ducks back.
I was paying a number of liaison visits to the civil airport
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by that time as parts of the civil terminal building were being up-dated with an Air Traffic Control facility although it was very basic. Almost every time I went there the man in charge was comfortably dressed in pyjamas and rather like the Egyptians had very limited knowledge and even less experience but most of their questions were answered. We never saw them in our Air Traffic Control tower though. They always declined the invitation as apparently they monitored all of our radio channels anyway!.
I have very good reason to remember the occasion that the terminal was officially opened by King Hussien [sic] . I had an official invitation to attend with a place on the viewing balcony so of course I had my camera at the ready when the King advanced along the red carpet towards the entrance just below and a perfect shot was presented....then my lens hood fell off and landed at the feet of P.M. with a gentle tinkle. There was instant reaction. H.M. stepped back smartly, surrounded by his escort whilst about ten weapons were aimed straight at me. Phew!. Fortunately I was immediately recognised by the King as the chap he saw quite regularly in the control tower when he presented his flight plan and with a wave the procession carried on. One thing I did not expect was a soldier clattering up the steps to hand me back my lens hood with the compliments of the King. Alright to laugh at later but a bit tense at the time.
The political situation in Jordan seemed to changing in a way that was very similar to that which had caused Britain to give up their protective role in Egypt under the mandate given to us by the United Nations. We had been obliged to get out of Egypt and our troops had been withdrawn from the Canal Zone. Now the power struggle had centred on Jordan and King Hussien [sic] being pro. British was having a spot of bother keeping control of the situation and on one occasion when I paid a liaison visit to the civil 'Air Traffic Control Centre' I had an extraordinary proposal put to me. Although one had to be very careful not to discuss sensitive political matters a mention was made of Colonel Nasser who was the current 'fly in the ointment' in Egypt. It was suggested that if I could arrange for the British Government to put up £1,000,000 in gold Nasser could easily
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be put out of business!.
Having done my best to confirm that it was not a joke I lost no time in passing the message along a discreet channel which dealt with such things and naturally heard no more about it.
It was not long after that incident that I was on duty in the control tower and soon after we had opened up in the morning a great deal of activity was observed over at the civil terminal building as well as in the Jordanian Air Force dispersals. Through the binoculars I was able to determine the figure of General Glub, C in C of the Jordanian Forces, (and controller of the purse strings for the British money that kept that force going), in amongst a large crowd of military people.
It all looked very excitable and not the usual situation that one expected to see the General in so I immediately opened the line to our intelligence officer to give him a running commentary on the activities as far as I could see. One of the Jordanian Air Force's De Haviland Dove's was run up and then started taxying as the pilot called for take-off clearance whilst on the move. He would not give his destination although he advised that his flight was diplomatically cleared and he duly took off heading North. So was the General and his Lady as we found out later!. There had been a coup. Out went the General and the Jordanians controlled their own purse military purse strings. The results of that were soon very obvious as the supply of British money was cut off.
The British seconded personnel were OK for their pay as they were seconded from their respective forces but pay for Jordanian Forces soon became unreliable. So did the supply and re-supply of military stores. Their uniforms became tatty. Their boots were wearing out and we were to find out later that the troops were selling their equipment to make both ends meet although the shortage of one commodity did not come to light for some time.
It was after attending another fire that we were able to put two and two together. The fire was in one of the typical concrete blockhouse native dwellings out in the scrub and there was a hell of a bang one night when it erupted in smoke and flame. When we got there it was obvious that there was little need
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for our services. For myself I had long given up trying to put out fires. The priority was to save lives, stop the spread of fire and last of all saving of property. What we were faced with was a blackened ruptured mess that had been a home but with very little combustable [sic] material left but the worst part of, it was that there were half a dozen pink, bloated, naked bodies spread around it, plus one on what was left of the roof. We dowsed the place well and truly with water and the locals recovered the body but it was even more terrible to find that most of the casualties were women. They all had to be very carefully handled so we left the clearing up job to the Jordanians.
The subsequent Investigations showed that the explosion was caused by the careless handling of some high grade cordite, from some .303ins. cartridge cases complete with percussion caps, all in the same area. A recipe for disaster.
Apparently cartridges were being emptied and the bullets replaced making a nice little earner for someone. But it did mean that most soldiers probably had only one in five usable rounds for his rifle!. It was just part of the corruption that was beginning to undermine the once proud and efficient Jordan Arab Army. It was going into decline rapidly after it's finance had been cut off.
From that point on we found ourselves facing more and more restrictions in our daily life. NAAFI supplies became limited as certain items which were produced by firms having any connection with Isreal [sic] were banned imports. That included of course Jaffa orange juice that had gone all the way to the UK and back again to their next door neighbours but we coped. The NAAFI bottling plant stepped up production of orange and lemon drinks from essence that came from Cyprus. Well, so the management said!.
Nothing that happened surprised me any more. We had some very unusual flight plans signalled in one day which immediately aroused suspicion so Intelligence was advised. I decided to go out to the radar truck situated at the edge of the runway to get the closest possible view of these four 'Egyptian Air
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Lines DC.3's when they came in. They came charging into the circuit totally ignoring all Air Traffic instructions, did a low level circuit in a 'gaggle' and then crunched onto the runway. I was watching carefully from a small ventilator in the van as they slowed down at my end of the runway and they were quite a sight. In the first place they were not DC.3's. They were Russian Ilushan [sic] 14's and not in very good condition either. They were very tatty with lop-sided undercarriage suspensions and their general appearance was not improved by the rough flaking paintwork only partially covered Egyptian Air Force markings by crudely painted civilian registration letters.
I kept in touch with the control tower and all of our observations were passed to Intelligence and of course as they were ostensibly civil aircraft they went to the civilian terminal.
There was a great deal of activity on their arrival and there was a fleet of lorries awaiting them but the unloading process was difficult to follow even from the control tower, although I have no doubt there were many pairs of eyes on these from various vantage points as there must have been from the moment they touched down.
As soon as the unloading was complete they were requesting taxy clearance, destination not notified and no flight plans filed. All very suspicious.
All the information that we had been passing back had filtered through to the right people, possibly through the Embassy to the King but someone was very quick off the mark. Jordanian military police forces intercepted the convoy of trucks on the main road out of the airfield and the cargoes were found to be arms and ammunition looted from the huge depots in Egypt that we had left in the care of the Egyptians. It was obvious that something really dodgy was going on and subsequently some very rough justice was meted out. There were more public hangings in the city which was becoming quite a regular event.
The daily routine still went on but there was an air of apprehension creeping in. It was not unfounded. The next thing that happened was that families were warned to get ready for
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repatriation to the UK, and not very much time was given. There were lots of tears and frenzied packing until eventually the airlift by Hastings aircraft out of Cyprus began. Every day there were more goodbye's. Some people had to go by 'casevac' aircraft as the medical centre was emptied. Mothers and one day old babies were included until eventually it was the turn of the Gamble family. Abdul cried and beat his chest in anguish and when they had gone and the married quarter had to be prepared for handing back as I took up residence in single quarters. What an end that was to what had been initially descibed [sic] as an accompanied posting!. [inserted] I [/inserted] was not amused, but work had to go on just the same.
Living out privileges were withdrawn and everyone moved into camp as our activities became more and more restricted by local events. We were confined to camp for days at a time and mess life became a very hectic round with little else to do. Even the cinema only opened two or three nights a week with the difficulty of getting new films in. I managed to get Abdul taken on by the mess as a steward and he was only too glad to have a reasonably well paid job having moved his family into the area to work for me he had considerable overheads.
On one of the numerous occasions that the city had erupted once again in political termoil [sic] the C.O. sent for me to do a nice little job for him. I was to be a courier to take a message to the British Embassy, which was virtually under siege, and our communications were no longer as discreet as they might have been. I was to go in civilian clothes by taxi. My answer to that was "thanks a lot, do I have any options" to which the answer was "no". Thanks again, although I did wring one concession from him, I was allowed to draw a pistol, with a full chamber, which I kept in my hand, in my brief case, all the way there and back. There was no way I was going to be at the mercy of a howling frenzied mob without being able to do a bit of damage first. Right or wrong, that's the way I felt about the situation at the time. After all the tight spots I had been in in my life I reckoned I was owed a chance but it went off without any fuss and I breathed easy again.
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One evening about six weeks after the families had gone there was a strange atmosphere permeating the normal activities. The cinema was closed. The Sgt's mess bar, and ours, as well as the Naafi canteen were ordered to close early and everyone was warned to be ready for an early start the following day.
Few of us thought that it would be as early as it was though At 5am the sirens started wailing. The PA system was busy giving orders for everyone to report to their normal places of work by 6am, phones were ringing madly and the whole station got into gear very quickly. At 6am roll-calls were made and instructions were passed for everyone to get back to quarters, pack personal belongings and back to the messes for breakfast. Breakfast was tea coffee, toast and boiled eggs...taken on the run as it would finish at 7pm precicely [sic] after which we were to report back to our sections. At 7pm the PA system was announcing the almost unbelievable news that we were evacuating the station. Today!...just like that!. We were going to Mafraq which was a few miles to the North and we had 12 hours to do it in, and the PA system was going almost non-stop. There was no written distributed plan to work to. It was all done on the PA from Ops. and on the telephone. Motor transport was allocated to all sections who provided their own drivers. Those sections that had no drivers had them allocated with the vehicles and every qualified driver was pressed into service. Workshops were emptied. Vehicles were put together, and those that could not be put on the road were loaded on the backs of others or prepared for towing.
The direction finder vehicle that had been up on the hill without wheels for years was fitted with wheels and brought down. Fuel tankers were filled from the storage tanks and vehicles were filled to the brim. Aircraft tanks were topped up to maximum. A Meteor that had been under repair in the hangar was hastily prepared and in fact took off later with almost flat tyres and was wheels down all the way with the locks in just to be safe.
The messes, offices, stores, the Naafi, the library and armoury were emptied. The armoury in particular was cleared by the simple expedient of issueing [sic] arms to everyone to save transport space so we all finished up with a selection of rifles, pistols, Sten guns, Bren guns, you name it, and as much ammunition as we could
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carry. Work pressed on at an incredible rate. The only refreshment was what one managed to cobble up in the departments and sections…..lunch was not even mentioned, although we were told that meals would be available at Mafraq where a skeleton crew had always provided minimum facilities there as a relief landing ground; even before a new runway had been built on a new site.
Everything that was not bolted down was packed…and some things were unbolted, and as each section was ready to move it was off to the Guard Room where convoys of a minimum of ten vehicles were put together and dispatched by the Service Police. The Squadron Venoms were being flown out followed by the chopper as soon as the Squadron was gone. The fighter control unit that had always operated from a remote site was wrapped up and that was on it's way independantly [sic] as were the British Military personnel on secondment to the Jordanian Government. The RAF Regiment airfield defence units just packed up and went, Bofors guns and all, everyone armed to the teeth and in many cases parties left a certain amount of damage and disruption behind them. Handsfull [sic] of salt and sand did guns and engines considerable damage. The Jordanian Air Force Vampires had all their guns de-harmonised so that they were likely to spray lead all over the place instead of in a concentrated pattern and the Kings personal Tiger Moth was tipped up on it's nose busting it's prop.
The Station thinned out fast. Air Traffic Control, the fire services and the signals cabin were the last to wrap up but the dead-line was met although aircraft were still going in and out with very limited services which pilots were advised of and as we approached the dead-line we lost control of the airfield.
The last civilian aircraft was the BOAC Argonaught from U.K. to Bahrain and although the captain accepted the limitation he had to be sent around again as half a dozen vehicles of the Jordan Arab Army appeared on the airfield weaving about all over the runway and he was obliged to circle whilst we tried to keep them off. The pilot landed eventually under his own responsibility, disembarked and embarked his passengers in double quick time and was off again without a flight plan.
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Our last action was to signal the airfield's closure and change of operating authority before the signals cabin was dismantled and the Pembroke flew out with as many as could be piled in leaving the remaining Air Traffic staff (including me) and the fire services to go by road as soon as the keys were deposited in the Guard Room, so off we set with RAF Police Landrover in the rear. Amman was no longer an RAF base!!!.
Our new home was the new Mafraq airfield being built as part of the NATO plan. It was on the North side of the old oil pipeline on the main route from Damascus to Bagdad opposite the old Mafraq (Dawsons Field), but it was in no way complete.
At least it had a long new runway, some new buildings which had in fact been built as married quarters although there were no barracks as such. Needless to say, they were allocated as barracks even though they lacked lighting, running water or toilet facilities. In fact, water was a very scarce commodity as there was no bore hole, and no water tower so water had to be brought in by a dubious civilian source which could not even be used for cooking until a filtration system was devised. But all these problems were only part of the getting sorted out plan. Later on we found that as we were not far from the foothills of the mountains of southern Syria a water diviner was expected from the UK to pin-point a source. That was put on hold although it should not have been difficult considering that 20 miles to the East there was a large area of marshland and vegetation which was fed by the flood waters from the mountains and some of that found it's way through the middle of the airfield. They had built a large conduit under the runway to take it away in the rainy season!.
However, limited water there was and that was a start. At least once a day we could draw a ration for washing and shaving. Drainage was a different matter. There were no drains so we resorted to the desert encampment method of doing things and the shovels had been at work allready [sic] . Everyone got 'stuck in' and were working like beavers.
The Officers Mess had been set up in an area of bungalows. The Sgts Mess was similarly set up in a clutch of houses and the airmen spread around the incomplete estate. A large wooden building with a kitchen, which had originally been provided
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for the contractors workers was turned into the main mess hall.
As with our departure from Amman there were very few questions asked. Then we had been told to pack up and go. At Mafraq we were just allocated space and it was up to us to set it up. It says a lot for the character of the British serviceman in the way it was done. There was no lack of initiative.
Air Traffic Control had already been set up in a suitable place about half way down the runway in a desert mobile office and our old runway control van. Emergency short range radios took very little time to fit and aerials were promtly [sic] rigged by the signals section as was the direction finder and radar truck although it was only as a radio back-up and even the homing beacon was tied to the side of it on with a lash-up of a mast. As the ATC services were outside the main camp area and main power supply we had our own mobile generator.
The Royal Signals Corp who were [deleted] a [/deleted] our telephone people out there were frantically running lines between departments in the main compound, linking everything through a small PBX in the hub of the whole system, the Ops. room but had saved a lot of cable by actually using the runway lighting cables as phone lines to the ATC centre. There were no lighting units installed anyway just the cables. It would be back to the old parafin [sic] goose-neck flares for a flare-path.
The RAF Regiment were whacking in stakes and spreading coils of barbed wire by the ton to surround the main area of activity which did not include ATC. It was an isolated outpost, but armed to the teeth as was everyone else. Representations had already been made to the CO to turn us in a defensive compound surrounded by wire as we were going to have to maintain a 24 hour watch but we had been given a low priority on that.
Within the stores area was another fleet of vehicles including workshops which had [deleted] previously [/deleted] been part of the Egyptian stores depot that I had previously known nothing about and that played it's part later. Then there was a complete [inserted] mobile [/inserted] fighter control unit but it was not sited or deployed so there were a lot of people without jobs that ops deployed as manpower to wherever it was needed.
Work had been going on at a furious pace and a lot had been done before we arrived in the late evening. To uproot about
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1400 people with all their goods and chatels [sic] , equipment of all kinds, transport, arms andammunition [sic] , fuel, food and cooking facilities plus communications equipment, and set it all up again was quite an achievement and must have given the CO and his senior officers more than a few headaches in planning it in secret the night before.
Work that first day did not stop at five o'clock. It just continued until most things were in place and reported operational before the troops staggered back to the mess hall for soup and sandwiches before drawing bedding and making up beds to finally flop into them; exhausted. What a day it had been although it should be pointed out that it did not all happen on the first day. It was an on going thing and a matter of priorities.
There were two items of private transport parked in the officers mess area. One, the car that had caused a colleague so much trouble to get into the country, and the other, a neat little bright red MG.B. belonging to the Station Commander, or to be precise, his wife. Some months previously King Hussein had made a present of it to the CO. but no sooner that the Embassy heard of it they invoked Queens Rules and Regulations about the acceptance of gifts by serving officers and it was 'no can do'. I do not know who squared it all up, but the King took it back and then presented it to Mrs.C.O. There was no argument with that!.
After a few hours sleep the second day was a memorable one as far as some of us were concerned. There was no need to push anyone and after a quick breakfast the hustle and bustle started again. I had not even had time to go to the airfield for the day shift although we were down to six controllers by that time with postings out and no replacements and having left ATC problems to another controller I had hardly had time to check out the fire services deployment when a message direct from the CO was delivered. It required two controllers, six firemen, two radio mechanics and two other technical trades to muster with tool kits as appropriate, small kit, (essential personal belongings), plus one major fire tender, to return immediately to Amman to put the services back on the air again. It had not taken long for everything to fizzle out and the King had made
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a personal appeal to the Group Captain for assistance. I had no problem in nominating my No.2. A New Zealander, an ex POW like myself who would know how to take care of himself. I went with the fire tender and the others went by air arriving more or less at the same time. I had been delayed a few minutes before setting off as I transferred a couple of cases of Brandy from the Mess stocks to the fire tender…..just in case of emergencies!!!!.
My colleague had already taken stock of the situation and was waiting at the foot of Air Traffic Control when we arrived and we quickly sorted out a plan. A young Jordanian pilot was 'in control' in the tower and was doing his best with a verey pistol and a stock of cartridges which was about to run out as there had been a total breakdown of communications despite, as I had understood, that the civilian terminal facilities were all in place if needed. A bit of 'know how' would have helped, but civil aircraft were still scheduled and something had to be done so everyone went about their business. Within two hours everything was ticking over again. The main generators were started up. Power was back on, batteries were being charged, verey cartridge stocks were replaced by scavenging among the Jordanian Air Force aircraft, tuning had been carried out and crash and rescue services were operational, with limitations, although the Jordanian Air Force appliances would not join ours on the hard-standing but 'control' remained in the hands of the Jordanians. We flatly refused to have anything to do with it....it was their airfield and that was that.
By late afternoon our activities slowed down as intercomms [sic] and radio communications were all back on line so we waited around for something to happen.
Eventually we were rounded up and taken to a mess hail in the Jordanian Air force compound where we were fed. We certainly needed it. We had had nothing for ten hours other than perhaps a small share of a bar of chocolate that someone had thoughtfully put in his kit.
After that we were taken to our accommodation. I could hardly believe it was happening. The keys of two married quarters had been produced from the Guard Room. One was my old quarter and the other the Station Commander's.
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My colleague and I took rooms in my old quarter and we put the men in the CO's residence as it was the larger building but after a good look around we decided that there was plenty of room for all of us in the big house and that we would move in the following day. There was room for us at one end and for the men the other with the lounge designated as a common room. Our stock of drink was added to what we found in the main house. The CO had lived in it right up to the moment we had moved out and hence his wine stocks were still there in his store and side-board. It was an Alladins [sic] cave!. Exactly as he had left it. Nice of him. We promptly appointed one of the Corporals as barman with the responsibilty [sic] of keeping it all secure and out of bounds during the working day. That way we could make it last so after a couple of rounds on the CO we retired for the night.
I must confess that it did seem strange sleeping .in my old quarter again especially as there remained a memento of the previous occupants. A jig-saw puzzle that one of my girls had left was still on the top of a wardrobe!.
We had been warned to be ready for a pick-up at 7:30 the following morning for an 8 o'clock breakfast so we were all formed up in a mini parade when the transport arrived on the dot and were duly conveyed to the same mess hall, where we had had supper the night before.
Most of us were hanging on to the little bit of kit that we had taken with us and had added a few eating and drinking utensils along the way. The quarters were still as they had been left by the last occupant, as per inventory; down to the last pepper pot... but who cared!. There were two ex POW's who had been obliged to eat with the fingers before, and were not taking any more chances.
We had a good breakfast and at 8:30 we were asked to wait for instructions as there was a great deal of activity ouside [sic] and we did not have to wait long before we found out what we were going to do next.
The mess hall was totally encircled by armed troops standing shoulder to shoulder and an officer told us that we were to stay put until things were sorted out. We were under house arrest!.
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By mid-morning the sorting out had been done as we just sat around twiddling our thumbs until we were asked to assemble outside as we were going to the airfield...but not before being asked for the keys to the fire tender!. There was no point in arguing so I reluctantly handed them over and then we were escorted to the airfield where we waited a little longer before our Pembroke came in so we all piled in. The pilot, who happened to be the Group Captain did not bother to shut down the engines. It was certainly not built to carry that many so it was a bit of a squeeze and it was even more of a squeeze to get it off the runway too. We used every bit of it and every bit of power that was available. We used all of the runway and just lifted off with everything straining all the way to land at Mafraq a few minutes later with some very hot engines. So much for that little expedition!!.
The CO did not say a lot apart from suggesting that there would have to be an enquiry into the loss of my fire engine and I think [deleted] g [/deleted] my answer was something to the effect that it might as well be done by the same board that would do the enquiry into the loss of his airfield!, but it was only a formality really in order to get it struck off and replaced.
In the meantime things had really been going on apace at our new base. The barbed wire had been strengthened. Trenches and gun pits had been dug. Sand bags were piled up all over the place including the fuel dump, the aircraft dispersals and other vulnerable places....including Air Traffic Control. That was at least no longer stuck out on a limb but a whole new pattern of life had emerged.
The station was on Red Alert permanently which was a rare situation for peace-time. Everyone was still armed to the teeth and the Amman party had reclaimed their weapons from the armoury. On reflection it was as well that we had not been armed when we had gone back otherwise I am sure that it would have meant another enquiry into the loss of our weapons.
The old Mafraq desert airfield had been completely deserted and everyone was confined to the new camp area. Aircraft had been shuttling to and from Cyprus and Habbanyia. Essential supplies were coming in and non-essential personnel were being flown out as a lot of adjustment was taking place.
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Air Traffic Control was still being maintained on a 24 hour shift system so the few that had been doing the job were only too pleased to spread the job out a bit. We all had secondary duties to perform as well so we were kept busy.
The Army had opened the Post Office again and some mail was already beginning to filter through from the UK but we had been advised that outgoing mail was being censored at Nicosia so there would be delays in that direction.
I was desperate for news of my wife who had not been well prior to leaving Amman and had had a dreadful time going through Cyprus, Stansted and subsequently through Hendon before being able to catch the first train out of Victoria in the cold early dawn of an English winter. She had caught a chill. Her nerves were shot to pieces and it was just as well that she had opted to go back to her parents home in Worthing where she could be looked after much better than if she had gone to a transit camp at Blackpool which had been one of the options.
From her most recent letters it was obvious that she was still unwell and was not being helped by the disruption of the mail from our part of the world either.
All our goods and chatels [sic] which had been flown out of Amman was somewhere en-route so a lot of new clothing had to be purchased and it was not easy but somehow she was coping. For the girls it had all been quite an experience although even they were glad to settle down in the local school once more.
Our daily routine developed into something like normality once more. There was plenty of ammunition and we could spend as much time as we wanted on the range which had been quickly set up but in a very short space of time we set up our own on the airfield with aid of a borrowed bulldozer. I had qualified as a range safety officer at Mareham [sic] so we soon got clearance to do our own thing. The targets were of the tin and bottle kind and there is nothing like practice to improve marksmanship!.
One also learns considerable respect in the handling of firearms provided that the basic rules are observed, and they were. No fooling about. A gun should always be handled as if it was loaded so loading and unloading and cleaning, going on and off duty never produced one incident of mis-handling...fortunately!.
Aircraft continued to go in and out, and in most instances we
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had notification as soon as our communication with the outside world had been re-established. It was all radio and radio teleprinters of course so with all the coding and de-coding that was required the signals cabin was going flat out.
We were very surprised one morning we we [sic] went off-duty after a busy night with Hasting's coming and going to find that we had several heavy artillery peices [sic] already dug in, sandbagged and manned by the R. A. ready for use. The question was, against who?.
We were not left in doubt for very long. Within 24 hours of their arrival the news hit us that combined French and British forces had invaded Egypt and the Suez Canal Zone and then we were immediately on a war readyness [sic] state.
News was limited to the personal radios that many still had but the fresh restrictions under which we were then placed gave us more to worry about.
Diplomatic relations with other Arab countries were broken off and we could no longer use the air route across Syria to Cyprus and all traffic had to be routed via Habbanyia(Iraq) and Turkey. Isreal [sic] was at war with Egypt and Jordan. Iraq was making protests in respect of our presence and Cyprus was suffering some internal unrest from a regigious [sic] rebel. And we were sitting in the middle!.
That particular episode is but another chapter of history, so it might as well be left to the historians to write it down. All I was aware of at the time was that it was another fine mess I was in.
The daily routine went on but perhaps the biggest headache of all was the acute shortage of water. Tanks, water carriers and bowsers of every sort were pressed into service for storage. There were no laundry facilities and it soon became neccesary [sic] to institute bathing parades for about twenty people at a time to strip wash at a water bowser and then dunk clothes at the same time. It was not very well received by some of the more sensitive youngsters, many of them national servicemen but thank goodness the weather was still fairly warm with the odd shower from time to time. At least when it did rain Air Traffic Control had a plentiful supply with the benefit of the stream that ran under the runway. More than enough on one occasion after a really
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heavy downpour when a great deal of rubbish was carried along in the flood which blocked the grating and then diverted the stream over the runway!. A useful job for the fire services.
The rain did bring some other problem though as the airfield had been built right across an age old camel route from the North right down into Saudi Arabia. Camel trains naturally followed the water supply and took years to go each way with many young being born en-route.
The older animals knew the route instinctively and invariably travelled in the cool of the night with the herders fast asleep in the saddle but it played merry hell when they blundered into barbed wire and other things like an airfield across their path. There was a great deal of growling, bellowing and other noises that camels make as some of them got tangled up.
Some wire had been strung out earlier to divert them from their route but it was a waste of time. You only had to look at a camel to realise that going around it was very far from their minds. The easiest way was to remove it and thoroughly inspect the runway at night before it was. I think it save a lot in compensation too!.
I had one piece of good news anyway. The two cases of Brandy that I had diverted from the bar stocks were written off and did not get charged to my mess bill, the paperwork for which had all been brought from Amman. It would not have cost much anyway. At approximately 50p a bottle it would not have been more than £12 in total in those days!.
Since we had moved to Mafraq our rations had been fairly basic although with the air supply we had been topped up and were adequate for several weeks if we had been completely bottled up. Nevertheless. the NAAFI manager, who was a member of our mess and in fact shared a room with me, decided that he would do something really special for one week-end and set to work with some 'surplus' stocks to make an enormous pie. In a bath tub!.
In went four chickens, obtained locally, followed by several pounds of bacon. The contents of several tins of pork and sausage meat. Corned beef, spices, all suitably spiced and sloshed into the tub with several dozen halves of boiled eggs. The pastry took umpteen pounds of flour and fat to make the lining and
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the lid and when finally decorated was a near masterpiece as the 60lb. pie was hoisted into the oven.
After hours of cooking and cooling it was finally brought ceremoniously into the dining room with all the solemnity usually reserved for a royal haggis. It really did look good with it's pastry leaves and rosettes all glistening with the overall glazing. It cut beautifully and tasted gorgoeus [sic] . Certainly it seemed worth all the effort that had been put into it….until the following day!.
Some people said it was due to a richness that we had not been used to, others reckoned it was over indulgence but the medical officer decided that as the medical centre was inundated with officers going sick that perhaps the ingredients were not as fresh as they might have been. The local chickens were suspect even though they had been bought live. (You did not normally buy anything of that sort out there unless it was on the hoof or still clucking). So the MO had the last word and condemned it to be consigned to the fire. I thought it was a great shame. I had had a double portion and I was OK, and so was the NAAFI manager who took out a large chunk before disposal. And we still did not come to any harm. Need one say more!.
There was one weekly event that many people turned out to see. It was the 'train' that went through from Damascus to Bagdad a few miles from us, usually on the far side of the old Dawsons Field, only it was not on rails. It was a huge Mercedes locomotive/coach with a trailer coach like a gigantic silver caterpillar. It's wheels were between 7 and 8 feet in height with great balloon tyres that looked as if they had come off of a Stirling. With a crew of drivers, engineers, radio operators navigators and stewards it just bored majestically along like the proverbial ship of the desert in a plume of exhaust smoke and a cloud of sand. It really was an impressive sight as it went through. Unfortunately I was never in a position to photograph it as zoom and telephoto lenses were not so readily available as they are today.
After [sic] while the rigid restrictions were eased a little although we were required to wear uniform all the time. Everything to the West of us and that included the town of Zerqua was still out of bounds but we could go in small parties Eastwards to
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the marshes where there was some wildfowl and some remnants of an ancient civilisation.
Among them were the ruins of an old Bysantine [sic] town which still bore the marks of the progress of the Crusaders that had passed that way hundreds of years before. The most amazing thing was the size of the building blocks. Something like 4ft square and there was still a lot of it standing. Mostly it was being used as a shelter for camels which were being looked after by a motley collection of very ragged boys who surprised us by having a smattering of broken English. In fact they even looked a little European and I will say no more about that other than to note that the British had been in those parts for a long time!.
The method of construction was to remain a mystery as we could find no books on the subject in our limited library but generally it must have followed the same ancient techniques used by the Romans and the Pharoes [sic] , who seemed to be able to move huge quantities of stone with only crude equipment…..and a lot of expendable manpower. In one wall there was a door of solid stone 18ins. thick, some 4ft by 5ft hung by 3ins. pegs, hewn out of the solid, which was perfect fit and capable of being swung to and fro' in balance by a finger touch. Quite remarkable, and a welcome outing in a place like that provided some relief from our normal routine.
I took the opportunity to fly down to Aquaba on one accasion [sic] . The firemen down there were on detachment originally from Amman on a rotational basis and some of them had been there overlong. I had been badgering the CO. for a long time and eventually got clearance to go down and swap three of them over, as well as taking what mail there was. Mail had been very spasmodic as the lines of communication kept changing.
When we were in Egypt the run out of Fayid to Amman used to parachute the mail into Aquaba and aircraft landed infrequently. When Egypt packed up some went by sea and some went via Amman and then it all got held up until it went via Cyprus and Amman and then the routing was changed to Cyprus/Habbanyia/Mafraq with the inevitable delays. With only limited communications between Mafraq and Aquaba three firemen had a nice surprise when they found that they were being relieved. I tried to find my cousin but learned that he had already returned to the UK.
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At his age he was due to end his long service with the army and at last get the sand out of his shoes. I could understand how he felt after all the years he had spent in Mesopotamia [sic] before the war and he was no doubt relieved to get out of another of many tight spots including the evacuation from Dunkirk.
We had a very nice surprise one day when a couple of young English nurses in an old banger presented themselves at the main gate asking for shelter for the night.
They were en-route from the UK to India the hard way. Right across the continent, a hop from Turkey to Cyprus. Another to Beruit [sic] and Damascus, then following the route of the old Hadj railway to Zerkqa before setting off across the desert for Bagdad they found an out-post of the British Empire on their route so it changed their plans a little.
Room and board was found for them. They were fed and rested and their old banger, which was actually in better condition than it looked, was serviced by the MT. section who were only too pleased to have something different to do. After spending a couple of nights with us they were given a resounding send off and good luck to them. There was still some spirit of adventure left that was for sure. They were not the only women to undertake such a daunting journey.
When the families were being evacuated from Amman there was one lady who decided to drive the family car back to the UK. If they had had as much trouble in getting the car into the country as my colleague then there some logic in it, but she took two youngsters as well.
We heard that she had made it after many weeks on the road and her route had taken her out of Jordan into Syria. Then further on into Turkey, Bulgaria, Yugoslavia, Austria, Germany and Belgium before it became neccesary [sic] to cross the last ditch...the Channel!. Some journey. Nearly 3000 miles. Who said that women were the weaker sex.
We were still losing controllers without replacement. The next one to go was the same chap who had imported the car and the NAAFI manager was being posted back home as well so they went together. They filled up the car with their kit, fuel and supplies and they set off for the 500 mile plus journey to Habbanyia following the pipe-line towards Bagdad and Basra.
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The pipe-line was the best possible navigational feature for crossing the desert as there was no road then. Just the pipe-line and a string of desert air-strips that were generally American oil company manned with their own system of communication. All that for a pipe-line that had not pumped oil for years!.
My wife was continuing to have a rough time of it and for some reason was not getting all of my letters. Her nerves were still bad and she was having a lot of treatment whilst I was still stuck in that place. True, we had the facilities of mess life and the Squadron pilots who were not doing much flying had set themselves the task of starting up a cinema in a marquee. The RAF Film Service had fallen down on the job and nothing was coming in other than privately arranged 16mm films from Habbanyia and using the 16mm projectors that were supplied for training films we managed some form of entertainment. Our original 35mm equipment in our cinema had been left behind in Amman but we coped even though we had to stop the programme to change reels and it very often went out of synchronization...accompanied by hoots of laughter.
A games night in the mess on one occasion provided a little distraction but it was a night that I fear I became a little unpopular with the organisers, The Squadron pilots of course. It was a games night with a difference as it was turned into a gambling den despite the fact that normal mess rules forbad the playing of games for money. Anyway, our conditions were far from normal and I recall that the bank was holding it's own at most tables but the roulette wheel favoured me to the extent that I broke the bank. The first time was not so bad and after they had raised more funds I broke it again!. They said it was only for fun so I gave all my winning back and retired but I am sure that I would not have got my shirt back if I had lost it....but it was still a lot of fun despite the fact that the CO made some very disapproving remarks. He and I were not on very good terms by that time.
Our relationship had not been improved by another incident when I was Duty officer one night and one of the patrols called in to report that there were suspicious noises on one section of the perimeter according to the Guard Sgt, like tank track noises. I was just a link in the chain and passed the report on to OPs.
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centre. The CO decided to go out with the Guard Commander and found that it was only echoes from a generator exhaust and I got the stick for it. Still, I would have got a lot more if it had been a tank probing our defences and I had not reported it. As usual it was a 'no-win' situation for me.
We still did not know quite what to expect or from where. The Suez invasion was all but over. We had driven a wedge between the Egyptians and the Isrealies [sic] and they had agreed to pull back. Our troops were withdrawing and it was a very tricky situation not improved by the recriminations and world opinion on our role in the whole affair, and all was not quite what it seemed on the surface.
We had been warned that the odd Canberra might be making a dash for us from Cyprus but we had a bit of a shock to learn that on one occasion an RAF Canberra out on a high photographic recce' over Syria had something on his tail that he had not quite expected. A Syrian, (Russian made.), SAM 7 heat seeking missile!, and unfortunately it found him. As far as I recall one member of the crew was killed, the other was captured and was returned some time later when the situation had eased a bit. Not a lot was said about it.
Christmas 1956 came and a great time was had by all. The Officers and NCO's served the men in time honoured fashion. There was too much to drink and rationing was forgotten for that day. Unknown talents emerged with a station concert and a station song with many bawdy verses was produced along with one or two daft acts on stage. I am not sure what time lunch finished that afternoon but I reckoned we owed ourselves that.
My tour of duty, 2 1/2 years, was coming to an end and like most people I cherished the date which was bodly [sic] marked on my calender [sic] . In the old days it would have been "roll on that bloody boat" as the song goes although in the circumstances it was roll on any form of transport when I reported to the Adjutant for confirmation that the repatriation procedure would soon be be [sic] put in motion. I was devestated [sic] when I was told that I was being deferred as they could no longer afford to lose people without replacement. It did not take long to arrange for an appointment to see the CO only to be told that there was no appeal, the decision had been made although after we had been
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closeted for a while with some man to man talking and the production of some letters from my wife and her Doctors he accepted the fact that I might have a good case so he would see what he could do. He owed me that at least after one incident that ocurred [sic] between us that needs no airing so I was left sweating it out for a while.
Fortunately it did not take too long and I was soon involved in the paperwork to clear the unit, obtain an air priority and wait for another week before, I at last found myself on an aircraft for Habbanyia.
As soon as I got into the transit mess there was my colleague who had driven there in his car still trying to get it down to Basra but otherwise enjoying himself.
I found it very difficult to enjoy myself even when every day was virtually a holiday whilst I waited for a seat on an aircraft when I was so desperate to get home. My priority rating was still the basic, the bottom of the list!, so all I had to do was wait.
Fortunately I knew a lot of people at Habbanyia and was invited out quite a lot. I also saw a lot more of Habbanyia and on one occasion a party of us got together for a day trip to Bagdad.
That was a forty mile taxi journey each way across the desert as there did not appear to be a road and the return journey was of course done at night. I can only think that those drivers navigated by the various clumps of rocks that loomed up from time to time as there was nothing else to indicate which way to go except the stars.
In Bagdad we broused [sic] around, up the street of the goldsmiths, down the street of the silversmiths and up the street of the ivory carvers and in an about sampling the sights.
It was not possible to photograph all that I would have liked to as it seemed that the Iraqi army was guarding almost every street corner. Photographs had to be taken very discreetly after the first occasion that a threatening rifle was pointed in our direction, but it was a good day just the same.
I was still kicking my heels after a week without having been called forward so I buttonholed a Valetta captain that I had known at Fayid who was flying a freighter to Cyprus the following day and he agreed to take me as supernumarary [sic] crew. Air Movements
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staff agreed and I was out on the airfield, baggage, hangover and all by 7am, after very little sleep. I wish I had had the good sense to have abstained but it had all developed into another fairwell [sic] party and I don't think I have ever felt so bad before. I almost signed the pledge [underlined] again!. [/underlined]
The thunder of the take-off just about scrambled every nerve in the brain-box but that was only half of it. We were of course taking the roundabout route going North-West to cross the Turkish border then West over the mountains and the Valetta thundered it's way up to 16,000ft with the crew on oxygen, all except the supernumary [sic] crew member who did not have an oxygen mask so I cupped a spare outlet hose in my hands with it on full flow I gulped and and [sic] gulped until the hammering in my head became a little more bearable. I was very glad when we turned South and started letting down clear of the mountains on the last leg to Cyprus. What a blessed relief it was to touch down at Nicosia and sample that first cup of coffee in the transit lounge.
With thanks to the pilot for the completion of one more leg of the journey behind me I reported for documentation and when that was done found myself signing for a Smith & Wesson .38 with six rounds and a printed set of instructions before being transported to a hotel in a quiet area of Nicosia. Basically the istructions [sic] were to the effect that if I was out in public I had to be prepared to defend myself although the natives seemed friendly enough on the surface there was still an undercurrent of dissent. Most of the troops that had invaded Egypt who had used Cyprus as a jumping off point had been withdrawn and I certainly had no intention of going very far on my first day in Cyprus. I was in need of a lot of sleep.
The following day, fully refreshed, I was off to re-visit Nicosia city centre and I was dammed if I wanted to take a pistol stuck in my belt like some bandit as all my webbing had been packed away in my 'deep-sea' kit so I left it in my room.
I was wandering along quite happily taking in the sights down a main street when a car pulled up alonside [sic] with a screech of brakes and my immediate thought was...'whoops-here is trouble' and I turned quickly to asses [sic] the situation only to see a chap that I had known in Amman who said with some urgency "Tom Gamble,
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get in you bloody fool", so I did.
It turned out that I had been strolling down 'murder mile' where more than one bloke had bitten the dust in recent months. He was more concerned afterwards that I was not armed but who knows, perhaps it was because I was not that I did not become a target. He lived in a bungalow not far from the Hotel so that's where we finished up for tea, dinner and drinks on more than one occasion.
He was a useful chap to know being one of the Air Movements and despite the fact that I had been told that I would be called forward when a flight became available I didn't think a daily visit to Air Movements would do me any harm, if only to be sure that I-was not overlooked. Not that he could expedite my passage. That was determined by my priority and a long waiting list but we chatted about this that and the other and he told me there was a compound in the freight area with all the Amman baggage in it so we went to have a look. Under a large tarpaulin was a huge pile of boxes and on investigation we found all the Gamble's unmistakable boxes on the edge of the pile. I couldn't mistake those boxes. One of them had been my father-in-law's tool chest and another had belonged to an Uncle who I had never known, who had been killed in France during WW1. He had had it made in India so it was certainly well travelled. Anyway, they had already been there three months and whether he exercised his perogotive [sic] or not they were back in the UK two weeks later.
I had many a pleasant time with his family for odd meals and parties as well as a couple of runs out into the country and to the coastal resorts of Limosol [sic] and Lanarca as the days went by.
Despite the fact that I checked daily with Air Movements the answer was getting monotonous, "sorry, not today" was not what I wanted to hear and seriously thought of using the knowledge of my wife's condition to 'up' the priority although I had already sent a cable to her to let her know I was in Cyprus and still waiting when, at last, after a week I was told that I was allocated for the following day so all the paperwork was done. I sent another cable to say I would be on my way and duly reported with baggage, ready to go. I actually got as far as the steps to the aircraft when a Service Policeman came rushing
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up with an Air Movements Cpl and a harassed looking airman with a suitcase. Papers were waived and I was taken off of the manifest to go back into transit. The airman had compassionate grounds for getting home in a hurry and that's the way it worked. He had a higher priority than I did and unless you were very senior it was usually an officer who had to give way. It cost me another cable to say I was further delayed.
Air Movements confirmed that I would be away the following day and I think I went to bed that night with everything crossed but it all went according to plan. There was another emergency boarding but that time it did not effect me as my priority had gone up one as a result of the previous day's cancellation, so I was off at last in a chartered Eagle Air Lines Viking stopping; at Nice for refuelling and thence to Stansted and finally to Hendon for disposal. After that I was on my way to Worthing, home and family.
That was the end of my Middle East tour. All that packed into two years and seven months!. By that time it was the beginning of February 1957 and I was not thinking too much about my next appointment. I would know all about that when I reported to the Air Ministry within the customary 48 hours of my arrival in the UK. Family business was of the highest priority as it was obvious that Dorothy was far from well with a nervous disorder so before I reported to Air Ministry I got a letter from her doctor and was prepared for any problems that might arise.
I need not have worried. The Personnel Staff could not have been more sympathetic and sorted out a posting for one that was beyond any wildest dreams. Tangmere, just 18 miles from Worthing so off I went with two weeks dis-embarkation leave to sort things out.
It did not take long to get a small car and we visited Tangmere to take a look at what was to be our new home and to complete an application for Married Quarters which we were told, would be available soon and another visit to the Senior Controller soon put me in the picture. There was one small problem. It was another 24 hour shift working Air Traffic Control situation. Another of the many geographically placed units that provided an emergency service although that would not present much of
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a problem once I was in quarters. I was used to sleeping away from home....although that did not mean that I liked it.
The two weeks went very quickly but at least we made the most of it. We got out and about visiting family as part of the process of rehabilitating my wife until it was time to report for duty and once again after the arrival formalities I was up in the control tower ready to start local training to bring me up to the very high standard required on such a busy unit.
There were two resident Squadrons. One of Meteor night fighters and the other of Hunter day fighters and their activities ensured that Tangmere was not going to be dull. A controllers handling capability had to be brought up to being able to cope with up to eight aircraft at a time....and that was pushing it!. What took a little time to get used to was the fact that every time I was up in the tower I was looking down on an area of tarmac where only 12 years previously I had been de-loused on repatriation from a German POW camp, but it was the general atmosphere of the place that I found so fascinating. To me it was like being on hallowed ground and all rather pleasant after my recent experiences and somewhat comforting to find that I had served previously with three of the controllers.
Within a matter of weeks I was put to the final test required by the Senior Controller and was certificated for solo watchkeeping and bit by bit I was also creeping up the married quarters waiting list until one day I was allocated a quarter.
Unfortunately it all went sour the following day when I was told that it had been re-allocated to the Medical Officer!. It was not very well received at home although I was told that another would be allocated in a few days so I was reluctant to have made the protest that I could have done. My knowledge of the regulations told me that as a National Serviceman the M.O. did not qualify for quarters!, but it was politic to let it ride.
Within a matter of days I was allocated a quarter for the second time and there was considerable excitement in the family when they were told that we would be moving soon.
It was either the next day or the following one when I went on duty that I was told, yet again, that it was being re-allocated. I could not believe it. If I had done that sort
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of thing when I had been looking after quarters at Coningsby I think I would have been lynched but that time I did not take it laying down. It did not take long to find out that it had been allocated to the new O.C Flying Wing, (my boss, two steps up) on ex officio grounds, meaning that the quarter goes with the post irrespective of the waiting list. That was the regulation and as such it was acceptable, apart from the fact that the out going Wing Commander was still occupying a Quarter!. As far as I was concerned that was not on and if I was go home and tell Dorothy once more that we were further delayed the next thing that I would be doing was resigning my commission. I had just about had enough too but after more consideration than I would have given most problems I asked to see the Station Commander, Group Captain Hughie Edwards.VC, among many other decorations, and with tounge [sic] in cheek put my case as succinctly as I could. A change from my usual bull at a gate tactic. Out came the relevant order, in came the OC Admin, and the S/Ldr Admin and the Station Adjutant, the order was taken apart with a decision in my favour and apologies for the cock-up. After that it was my turn to apologise for having the temerity to make such a protest and it all ended up without anyone being upset and within a week we were in quarters. I can think of one or two CO's who would not have reached a similar decision whatever the regulations but enough said about that.
Before we moved our boxes had at last been delivered to Worthing and we didn't know whether to laugh or cry when they were opened up. Customs had already been through some of them and they had been badly repacked. Crockery, glass and ornaments had been broken. Clothes had gone mouldy and had to be thrown away. Linen that we thought was white when we packed it was a nice shade of brown as a result of a couple of pounds of Jordanian and Cypriot sand in each box a lot of which had filtered into the sewing machine box requiring a complete overhaul of that to avoid further damage. Nevertheless, most of it was usable. Just one of the snags of living out of a suitcase and boxes for years but we settled into our new home and a comfortable routine was soon established. The girls were soon back to school and there was continual family movement to and from Worthing as we picked up the threads of a more settled life and Dorothy's
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health began to improve. It really was turning out to be a very a happy unit too, and I had become the Station Fire Officer again!. It was suggested that I should go on the Fire Officers short course at one time but I cast that one aside. "No thanks, Iv'e[sic] had enough on the job experience" and left it at that. I didn't protest when the phone was put in though. Being out of my bed every fourth night I could cope with but I was trying to avoid being away from home any longer than that for a while.
It was shortly after we had settled into the routine that I heard the sequel to the Mafraq situation. Not a lot was mentioned by the media and I got most of the information from my correspondence with friends but apparently within a few weeks of my departure we abandoned the place. It was quite an operation. Again, everything was made mobile. Vehicles got armour plating and Bren gun mountings. Some 400 vehicles that had been in the Maintenance Unit were made ready and loaded with all the other stores, preparations for which were going on before I left as that many vehicles require a lot of batteries but the distilation [sic] plant did not have the capacity to produce the required amount of distilled water. Even at that point a decision had been made to use any sort of water and throw the batteries away after a short life. All had been put together in a very large convoy of 600 vehicles were fuelled and provisioned for the 500 mile journey, armed to the teeth still, the aircraft were flown out so off they set off with air cover and air supply all the way to Habbanyia.
Quite an experience for a 'peace-time' operation. There was no real problem and eventually it all finished up at Basra for shipment.
I eventually heard from the chap who had had all the problem with his car. It did eventually get to Basra and subsequently back to the UK, as deck cargo on the Ark Royal, very scratched and bent with a lot of bits missing. There was a car with a history!,.
One of the biggest surprises that I got one day was a bill from the accounts department; for1s & 7d, (7 1/2 pence in today's money) for 'barrack damages' on the occasion of leaving my quarter in Amman. It was for the deficiency of one wash basin plug!. Absolutlely [sic] incredible after all the millions of pounds that
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the evacuations had cost the Government. And I get a bill for 7 1/2 pence!. When I approached the Accountant Officer with a suggestion that it ought to have been written off he was adament [sic] . It had to be cleared from the books and although it cost me more than 7 1/2 p in stamp duty I paid it by cheque just to make a point. How bloody silly!.
Secondary duties were always coming the way of Air Traffic Controllers and one that fell in my lap was an audit of the bedding store inventory. I had a full briefing for that one and the appropriate Air Ministry Order thrust under my nose to reinforce the importance of checking thoroughly. It was the first time that I seen the order and it was almost word for word of the paper that I had put forward years previously so obviously it was an successful system. I wonder who got a pat on the back for that?. Certainly not me.
On one fine day up in the top tower doing airfield control with a few Hunters flashing around the circuit I knew by the clatter of footsteps on the stairs behind me that the party of .Air Cadets that I had was expecting were about to descent upon me and on turning to meet them was astonished to find that Peter Hobbs who had been the Navigator in the same crew as myself on Stirlings in 1943 was the officer in charge. I don't know who was the most surprised and for a while I was far too busy for any conversation although later on when it was quieter we really did get down to business. I picked him up later in the day to come home for tea and later for a drink in the Mess and we had a lot to chat about but the extraordinary thing was that when we met umpteen years later he had no recollections of the meeting at all, although at least he could remember coming to my wedding. That is more than Paddy Martin the Flight Engineer could!.
As we got into the Summer I had a feeling that all was going too well to last. In July I was dispatched to Shawbury for an eight week Radar course. Just as the kids school holidays were coming up. Nevertheless, I took some local accommodation at Wem and managed to live out for nearly a month. That gave everyone a change and a chance to tour new areas and a great deal of Wales as well. It actually made a very nice break for us all and although it was my second visit try Shawbury it was not to be my last.
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I passed out of that course with possibly the best mark that I had ever achieved despite it's intensity and in due course reported back to Tangmere for duty.
There was of course the usual period under instruction but I was certificated after ten days and back on watchkeeping duties with the ability to be rotated anywhere in the control system.
Ground Controlled Approach as the radar system was called was most satisfying and there were many occasions when I was required to pull out all the stops. It was very demanding but rewarding nevertheless. Some of the highlights of my experiences in GCA are firmly imprinted on my mind.
One occasion that I remember well, and I think my younger brother will as well, was when I was on stand-by on the end of the telephone at home and he was staying with us as he was also recovering from a nervous disorder following a matrimonial problem. I took him with me when I was called out.
The alerting system had already brought the equipment up from the stand-by mode to full power as we raced for the operations truck and I made contact with the tower as I slid into my seat. I put him on a spare headset and was pointing out the significant blobs on the radar screen and after that concentrated on the job in had [sic] , showing him the progress of the blob from time to time. The customer was a diverted Hastings from abroad and although our weather was bad elsewhere was even worse so with 600 yards visibility and a 200ft cloud base I got stuck into my very first operational talk-down. I had been on the other end often enough and knew that it was not easy to handle an aeroplane completely on instruments, boring into the murk, descending at around 130mph. That was probably why I always projected myself into the cockpit when doing talk-downs and felt as if I was virtually holding hands with the pilot and everything went smoothly. The pilot had a full instrument rating and the rest was up to me. When we came to the critical bit, just in the bottom of the cloud at half a mile from the runway threshold he was as steady as a rock, still doing around 120mph, in contact with the approach lights through the murk to the point of touch-down when I flicked the transmitter switch off to hear the pilot report "on the runway" as I turned to where my brother should have been to as I said "I'll open the door
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and you will see him go by"....he was not there. The strain had been too much. He was flat out on the floor and although he did not take long to recover he vowed that would never place himself in that siuation [sic] again and was very glad to get back to the house where a drop of the hard stuff restored him. I don't know if it was the shock treatment but he made good progress after that and got his feet firmly on the ground again.
Another visitor to the tower one day sent a few people into a panic as the sight of a policeman' uniform will often do. Even if you have done nothing wrong. Nothing you can remember anyway!. It was my wife's cousin, a local police patrol Sgt who was making a courtesy call, and in the course of our conversation he conveyed his Inspectors compliments. It had come out during a chat that he was none other than the chap who had been in the same hut as me in Stalag 11d, Nuremburg POW camp. It certainly was a small world!.
Our Senior Controller had a unique talent. He was in great demand to perform party tricks with cards and the like but his best performance was as a Hynotist [sic] .
Like most-people I was sceptical even when I saw people doing quite remarkable things, under the 'influence' I was still not convinced. Not until I was included in a group session. When the preliminary process of selection and conditioning had been done and I was told that my right arm was heavy and I could not lift it I said to myself "rubbish', I will show him. But I couln't [sic] , or my leg when we got round to that any more than I could stop the daft answers to questions coming out of any mouth when I tried not to say them. After that I was convinced and knew that people who were. getting drunk on a glass of, water, acting like chickens and other animals were not just part of the act. I submitted myself to several sessions and it was to be the same every time. He really did have control and was very good but the CO. put a stop to group sessions particularly if any of the pilots were involved. He reckoned that pilots were too vulnerable and did not want any talked into the ground!. Although it was most unlikely as one has to submit oneself to hypnosis it was perhaps a wise move.
We were getting into the Autumn of that year when I collected another secondary duty, that of taking charge of the Corporals
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Club, and on the face of it it seemed easy enough. Like a lot of other things that had come my way!. I soon found out that picking up the takings every morning, and checking the books and cash in hand and stock-taking once a week was a job that I could do without. The takings were very small. There seemed to be no more than half-a-dozen people making use of the place on any night and as far as I was concerned it hardly justified the services of two part time volunteer barmen and yours truly putting in two hours every week when over a hundred Corporals never even bothered to stick their noses in the place. That's the bit that peeved me most and I was 'piggy in the middle' again. For all that if anything that went wrong I was the fall guy.
A survey showed that for the year that it had been operating the takings had never reached what I would call reasonable proportions, albeit it was a non-profit making set-up, and the NAAFI manager confirmed that when the Cpl's bar had been run by them it had not needed any extra staff. That was enough for me and called a general meeting of the club with only two items on the agenda. One, "do you regularly make use of the club facilities;" and two, "would it make any difference to you if it was to revert to NAAFI management", The vote was a unanimous NO to each item and armed with the results of my survey and the minutes of the meeting I presented my case to the CO. When he realised that an officer was spending more time on Cpl's club business than most of the Cpls made of the facilities he agreed immediately to it's disbandment. He did make the observation though that as I had not appeared to be keen on taking the job anyway was my action the easy way out. A straight "yes" surficed [sic] !.
We were still making the most of Tangmere and the area, there was always something going on. On one occasion the Mess laid on a Battle of Britain garden party with invitations to all and sundry including of course many of the 'Few' who had fought from Tangmere. The invitation list was very impressive and I was awed by the prospect of being in such illustrious company. It was a schoolboy's dream come true.
Douglas Bader was there doing his usual stomping around and chatting with his old chums and gold braid seemed to be dripping
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everywhere. I spotted one of the 'Few', a Group Captain who had been my boss when I had been at Transport Command HQ. If ever I am asked about my most embarressing [sic] incident what happened next is certainly one of many.
I tried several times to catch his eye if only to make my presence known so when he eventually looked in my direction and approached I thought it would be an opportunity to make small talk for a while. He never seemed to notice although I had my hand stuck out to grasp his he went right by and gabbed the hand of an elderly steward who was behind me. As I looked in amazement at him pumping the arm of the steward he looked around at me and said "sorry Gamble, I couldn't let this bloke go, d 'you know, he was my batman in 1940". Then I understood and I knew that he had got his priorities right so I retired to the refreshment tent.
With the winter approaching the GCA became more and more important to our activities. On one occasion we had a flight of three Hunters of the Royal Netherlands Air Force notified but our weather deteriorated very quickly as they were on there way and when they did arrive they only had a very limited fit of frequencies which were already cluttered up by other traffic using Ford and Hayling Island. They were also quite low on fuel and on that day I think I created a precedence in Air Traffic Control by declaring an emergency 'Mayday' on the frequency requesting all other users to clear the channel. Needless to say it worked and with the GCA operator monitoring their progress they poured down from the overhead and landed without a hitch in what were still very poor conditions but a quite oblivious to the fact that the situation could have been much more serious. Another less successful incident was the talk-down of a diverted Valetta from overseas. His destination was below his limits and ours were marginal but three times I talked him down to the half mile decision point but he would not go that little bit further and overshot each time. After the third time he asked for a further diversion and was sent to Manston. I felt very sad about the end result of that. I know he was in the right place to make a touch-down but either he was sticking to the rules or he was lacking confidence in me. We will never know. The runway at Manston was icy, he braked and slid after
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landing, dipped a wing and pranged in a ball of fire and all of the crew were killed.
On another occasion I was on duty on a dirty Saturday morning in what was our published availability time for the Radar. We had not been warned of any traffic, the equipment was in the stand-by mode and I was in the crew van with my feet up sipping a cup of coffee when the tower controller came on the intercom. He only said two words, "urgent...in" and I was off to the operations vehicle with the mechanic at the double.
The mechanic started building up to full power as fast as was permissable [sic] as I contacted the tower to be told that we were taking on a Sea Vixen from Ford as there [sic] radar had just packed up as they were recovering aircraft from the Victorious in the Channel. The tower controller was positioning the aircraft into the pattern on time and bearings as my picture was filling in and I had already been told that he was short of fuel. Why the Fleet Air Arm had to fly to such tight limits I do not know but as soon as I had him in contact and he had changed to my frequency I asked him to confirm his fuel state and he quite calmly said "I can't overshoot if that's what you mean", so it was going to have to be a first timer.
I suppose my voice was calm enough, my directions accurate enough and his flying precise enough for him to ignore any limitations to make a perfect touch-down and then he promptly ran out of fuel on the runway as he was saying his 'thank you's'. I wonder though, if he was anything like me absolutely saturated in persperation [sic] !. All part of a day's work.
y
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Part of ‘Nil Desperandum’
Wyton 1962. Dot had become paralized [sic] from the waist down.
we were managing; just!.
After Dorothy had been in Addenbrooks for three weeks her condition had deteriorated further with almost no control over the lower part of her body as they carried out test after test whilst we continued our prayers in our own way. There was no time to spare to attend church for formal services. We were much too busy. Then the ultimate test came up on a new machine that Addenbrooks had just installed. Dorothy was the first person to have ever been strapped into it. Normal X-Rays had failed to show anything but that machine was the very latest. The patient was strapped to the bench which was set in double gymbals [sic] which rotated the body in every possible angle to a number of X-Ray cameras. The contraption looped, rolled and twisted and turned until she was dizzy but when they interpreted the results they did at least find the problem, which was all that they told me at the time apart from the fact that are operation was necessary and everything had been arranged for it to be done at The London Hospital in Whitechapel which specialised in neurosurgery so I managed some more time off to go with her in the ambulance to see her settled in. That is all I could do....and pray some more!.
The operation was scheduled for a week later and the surgeon wanted to see me first so I knew the time had come. I had to find out sometime but when I was told I was just about bowled over. When you are told that an operation has a fifty fifty chance of success you draw your own conclusions as I did but although Dorothy had been told the same I was given some more priviledged [sic] information. The 50/50 chance was that, one she would die, or two, she would be a cripple for the rest of her life.
I have made a few decisions in any life but to give approval for an operation that could have such consequences was perhaps the most difficult I have ever had to make. That was my Dorothy they were talking about. The little schoolgirl that I had known since I was seven and who had never subsequently questioned my career decisions and had always supported everything I had done. I hoped and prayed that I would not let her down.
As far as I was concerned at that time that the end of my service career. There was no way that I would be able to carry on, my
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work was suffering too much already; and I signed on the dotted line. Dorothy never knew about that 50/50 chance for years and neither did the family. I left everyone to draw their own conclusions and not everyone realised the seriousness of the situation, and never have. As for me I was back to work, looking after the kids and trusting in the Lord.
Eventually the operation took place, all eleven hours of it in the hands of a most celebrated surgeon and as it was a teaching hospital it was all recorded by colour cine' camera's under the eyes of dozens of students in the galleries. I found it very difficult to concentrate on work but eventually I phoned to find that she was out of surgery, confortable [sic] , stable and all the normal things that the nursing staff are trained to say but it was a couple of days before I could get down to see her.
To aovoid [sic] upsetting the system too much I could only visit between shifts without landing myself in more trouble by asking for more time off. She looked pale, she had had three blood transfusions during the operation which had been to the area of the inside and around the back of the spinal column between the shoulders to remove a tumor [sic] . A very delicate job, and touch and go.
It would be three weeks before we would know whether it had been successful and in the meantime she was told not to move a muscle or even think about it. Every movement she wanted to make had to be assisted. About the only thing she could more without assistance were her eyes and mouth. Not easy.
Whilst she was in that state she developed some side effects like a sort of bronchitis that had everone [sic] baffled although it eventually got sorted. That was one time that we were able to do something for the hospital, they had done so much for us and she was not the only one suffering from the same congestion in the bronchial tubes. They had tried everything and Dorothy suggested that one of Grandma's cures might help so they went along with it. Off they went to the fruit and veg. market on the opposite side of the road to the hospital to buy lemons and then produced Grandma's mixture. Hot pure lemon juice and honey!. Two doses and a cough and up came the offending obstruction with a great deal of relief. It went down to the
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path. lab immediately and funds were promptly allocated to buy more lemons and honey from the market and everone [sic] received the 'cure'. That made some considerable improvement in Dorothy's condition and she began to get stronger. Family visits were allowed, all except the baby and after two weeks, although she was not supposed to move, came the moment we had both been praying for. She reckoned she had been static long enough and had experimented a little. It may not seem a lot, but when I made my next visit she said to watch the foot end of the bed. The bed clothes rippled. She could wriggle the toes of both feet so that was a good sign but we could do no more than hold hands in our excitement. We coudn't [sic] even embrace due to all the dressing and padding around her but that was the beginning of her recovery.
Within a couple of days she had experimented a little more to find that she could move her legs and there was feeling in them, a fact that she was able to tell the surgeon on his rounds. He and his staff were excited too and she had the all-clear to try, very gently, other movements, in a closely controlled situation, and what she was able to do caused even more excitement. Of course, she was prodded, pricked and scraped to test all the reflexes that had previously packed up and all the right signs were there.
At the end of the third week she was allowed off of the bed into the vertical position and most people will know what that is like, even if they have only taken to their bed for a few days. After fighting the nausea and using a walking frame for a few days she decided to go solo. No walking frame crutches or sticks and she did the length of the ward from bed to bed with a lot of encouragement from everyone in the ward.
Day by day she improved, doing a little more each time and getting her sea legs. Her wound had healed well and she could do most things by herself including turning over in bed. Even her vericose [sic] veins had improved due to the bed rest and the end of another week she was transferred back to Addenbrooks Hospital on a stretcher by train with private compartment!.
After a further week the hospital authorities were making arrangements for her to be transferred to Huntingdon hospital which would make it easier to visit when, out of the blue they
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changed their mind. She could come home for convalescence!. The relief was indescribable. It was an emotional time for all of us, and I can barely recall what went on apart from the fact that I was totally overcame when the strain of the last few months manifested itself and I had to go and lie down in a darkened room for a while to wait for my brain to simmer down. Eventually I was able to get myself together and bit by bit we were able to tackle the daily routine once more and re-establish the family unit that had been so disrupted.
Every day brought improvement and by the time she had been home a month Dorothy had not only managed to walk comfortably with the pram and to a certain extent unaided, after another few weeks she even managed to ride a bicycle again. That was quite an achievement and when she went back to Whitechapel to see the surgeon he and his colleagues could hardly believe that it was possible and were justifiably highly delighted. Dorothy turned down an invitation to appear in person to back up the film for a presentation at a later date. It would have been very good for the moral of the team but we had more important things to attend to by then.
Fortunately the tumor [sic] had been non-malignant and was in a place of honour in a pickle jar and we were only too happy to say our 'thank you’s' to all the ward staff and doctors who had made it possible, including a letter to Peterborough hospital staff who had started it off. But who had really made it all possible!?.
By what stroke of fate was it that she went to Peterborough hospital on that day when a particular nurse was there. What caused the surgeon to express such surprise at the supple state of Dorothy's spine if it had not been the dedicated work of the Chiropractor, and what guided his hand in a most hazardous operation which they considered to be a near miracle?. Who knows. When we wrote to the faith healing organisation telling them of the outcome we received a most beautiful letter and so we went on from there.
Not everything was as it had been before. The bits that they had taken out of Dorothy's spinal column to get at the tumor [sic] had left her a little shorter than she had been. She had to walk fairly fast to maintain her balance and her ankles were
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turned over slightly inwards. Small things really and as time went on they became less and less of a problem.
For me it was back to the routine again to try and make up lost ground. No more time off, full shiftworking again including night shift although we had lost the emergency service requirement we manned for 24 hours to cover USAF traffic. All throughout those months of anquish [sic] there had been a lot going on that I had still been involved in. We had got rid of our museum piece of radar and taken the new equipment into service and were beginning to shake it down as we were developing new, safer and more sophisticated systems of traffic handling. In such an environment everything was ongoing as problems were confronted and solved almost daily. It all directly involved me one way or another as at the same time I was working my way through the system to refresh my proficiency certificates until it all finally settled down and was running efficiently. At least, during that period I had not collected any secondary duties like Fire Officer!. The only certification I lacked was that of supervisor and no doubt if I stayed there a little longer I would have made but before you could say "Christmas 1962" my next posting was notified. To Laarbruch, Germany, effective from the following February!. I was a bit peeved as I had regularly requested to be trained for area radar which would have widened my scope but at the same time limit the units at which I could serve but it didn't work out that way. I found it somewhat frustrating at times that whilst I was bouncing around like the proverbial yo-yo every 2 1/2 years (or less), there were people around me in different professions who had been in the area for ten years and more. They had done the rounds of Wyton, Upwood and Brampton, bought houses and raised families all in the one area. I should be so lucky!!!.
At least we had plenty of time to organise ourselves. I knew a few people out there so I set the wheels in motion for renting a some private accomodation [sic] to hold us for a while until quarters came up and finished with a place in the town of Goch, about eight miles from the airfield and where the RAF had some married quarters. The two eldest girls were going to have to go to boarding school at Hamm in the Ruhr which was not entirely to our liking but local military schools only went up to junior
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grades, after which it was off to boarding school, either in the UK or Germany. to. A very limited choice so Hamm it was.
After some careful planning we made the move as painlessly as possible. I went privately two weeks in advance with the car loaded up to the hilt almost 16 years to the day that I had baled out of a crippled Lancaster over that country.
The car really was loaded. I only had a little cockpit left that was not stuffed with something and it wallowed somewhat, but I was not rushing anywhere. A gentle jog would get me there if the suspension held out and I got perhaps the best advice that I could have had from A NAAFI manager who was returning to Gutersloh, on what to look out for when driving with UK number plates out there.
We were on the Harwich to Hook route so I had the advantage of following him for a while as I settled in to driving on the opposite side of the road. In the first large town that we came across the very thing happened that he warned me about.
The rule of the road is such that you give way to traffic on the right, therefore if you are on the left of any conflict between two vehicles you are in the wrong and penalised accordingly. Cut and dried in Dutch and German law. So if you are a Dutchman driving a beat up banger that needs a new engine, and replacement panels what do you do?. You bounce an English registered car that you know has got to have good insurance cover and that's what very nearly happened!.
A couple of youths in an old Merc. made a bee-line for me from my right hand side and I had to work very smartly on two occasions to brake and weave away from his obvious intentions. Then he must have got angry and tried it a third time but I got out it by jinking around the wrong side of a tram which he promptly collided with so I had no further problem with him. Trams in Holland have absolute right of way so he was the one to finish up having to do a lot of explaining and no doubt a hefty repair bill.
I was even more wary after that but there was no further trouble after waiving [sic] goodbye to my 'pathfinder' friend and in due course crossed into Germany at Nijmegen. The loaded car caused considerable amusement among the German customs officers. I don't think that they had seen a vehicle quite so well packed,
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roof rack and all. The only room for any cigarettes was on top of the blankets that covered everything up to the sill line, but they got the message when they realised that it was all mainly household goods and I was away again without any hassle.
I was relieved when I finally arrived at my destination and although I had planned the route very carefully I made sure that I stayed on track by calling at numerous bars on the way. That had resulted in an intake of several beers which caused the interval between stops to become shorter and shorter. At the last port of call, in a bar just off of the market square in Goch I tried out my well rehearsed little bit of German on the lady behind the bar "Bitte, vo ist drei unt vierzig Weeze Strasse"?. It must have sounded alright as I had already asked for an "eine kleiner beer, bitte", but she came out with a torrent of German and then was amazed to be told "langsam, ich sprechen kliene Deutsch" and that was almost the limit of my German. It didn't matter a lot. After a good laugh, another beer and a lot of arm waving I only had a few hundred yards to go and there was 53 Weeze Street, a tall terrace house that looked a little battered with other houses each side still shored up or boarded up with panels of wood and galvanised sheeting. It was no palace but it was going to have to do.
The landlady was a charming elderly lady, almost Victorian, who managed only a few words of English but magically produced a cup of tea and over that I found that her husband had been a merchant sea captain and had been lost at sea but all was quite friendly when I told her that I had been more fortunate after being shot down not so far from where we were sitting. After that I started to unload the car with the tool box being one of the first things and then places were found for everything with shelves, brackets, hooks and the like with her permission. I wanted it to be as homely as possible, and it certainly needed the personal touch. There was basically only two rooms and nothing that could be called a kitchen, only a long passage off of the living room. It had a wash basin and a cold tap and at the far end was the toilet....unscreened and frozen up anyway!.
I could have done a lot with emulsion paint but I did not have time for that. I worked on it with what I had in terms of covers,
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screens, tacks and nails, pictures and plaques and it soon looked considerably brighter which rather surprised Frau Van Cooke who had kept me supplied with tea and cakes throughout the unloading and conversion process. The last last [sic] thing to install were various electric and gas cooking appliances and it was all done. It would not be too much of a shock to the family on first sight at least and then I was off to Laarbruch to stay the night with friends who had been at Tangmere with us before going down to Wildenwrath for the homeward journey.
I had arranged to leave the car at Wildenwrath in the care of friends who had fixed me up with a flight to Northolt in a Pembroke and it all clicked into place. Later that day I trained to Huntingdon and home. So far so good and a couple of days later we gave up the quarter and travelled as a family to Manston via a night stop in London where several of the family had congregated from Worthing, and then by air direct to Wildenwrath. The air movements staff were somewhat surprised when; as a family we by-passed all the normal transportation facilities, but all I had to do was pick up the car and set off for our new home. It was not much but we were together and we made the best of it. Frau van Cooke was a little concerned as she had obviously mis-understood that we were five in family until the eldest girls were off to boarding school but after some adjustment to the rent she made another small room available and we were fairly comfortable. Fortunately the weather had turned a little warmer and the toilet had thawed but the thing that seemed to bother Frau van Cooke most was that as the rating system in Germany was based on a poll tax the appropriate authorities had to be informed of changes as they occurred. We overcame it as we did most things. The day after arrival I was reporting for duty. The girls were enrolled at the camp school temporarily before their places at Hamm had been confirmed and we were very soon into a routine. It was different though. It was a long time since we had lived in anything but an Air Force community and in it's way it was very interesting. We soon integrated into the local environment and we had no problems in adapting. Frau van Cooke and our neighbours were kind and helpful [sic] . The local garage housed the car overnight for a modest fee when I was not on duty rather than park it in the main road and we
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soon got used to the the [sic] German way of doing things. First and foremost, the cleanliness of the area in front of a building was the reponsibility [sic] of the occupant so it seemed that there was competition to be the smartest although they were very reluctant to allow grass to grow on the verges. They were all raked and scratched into patterns. Bicycles were ridden on the footpath but always according to the direction of the road traffic and the bicycle bell was mandatory. Cars could be parked in the roads but only in the direction of the traffic but not both sides of the road at the same time. It was a very practical arrangement. Parking was relative to the date and the house numbering. Odd dates on odd numbers and visa versa. Cars were not washed in the street on Sundays and neither was washing hung on the line. Sundays was a day for visiting the family in Sunday best clothes and for church. How much that routine has changed over the years I would not know but at that time it seemed to be a comfortable arrangement. Another practical method of designating where speed restrictions started and stopped was by applying the standard 50k limit at the signpost at the town limits on the way in and at the signpost on the way outwhich [sic] gave the name of the next town or village on route. Very simple, economical and effective.
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The town of Goch was a market town very close to the Dutch border and more or less on the line of what had been at one time the old Seigfried line. It had suffered badly from savage fighting when the big push was launched on the 8th February 1945, the day after I failed to return, when the Allies attempted to reach the Rhine all along the front. The Canadians had forced a passage by the most bloody hand to hand fighting along the very road in which we were living after they had taken Weeze and most of the houses still bore the marks of the battles as did many places in the town centre. The houses adjacent to us were not the only one's that were boarded up skeletons and the Town Hall was still pock-marked with scars from shell and morter [sic] splinters as well as anti-tank and canon fire but despite it all life went on as near normal as one would have expected at home.
The attic rooms above us were not part of our let but we investigated at one time and I immediately regretted it as it upset the girls. The flimsy doors at the bottom and the top of the narrow winding stairs were both splintered with bullet holes and the walls were well and truly peppered with holes and some very nasty stains which obviously would not wash off. The attic itself was no better and there were still remnents [sic] of uniform scattered about and it would appear that nothing had been done other than to clear the casualties of the battle. It was not difficult to imagine the desperate and bloody fighting that had gone on in that place and we only ever went up there that one time.
Despite it all, the Germans had built a memorial to a British officer who had been appointed as Town Major to manage the civilian administration which was standard procedure after the battle had passed through. It was neccessary [sic] to get public facilities running properly as soon as possible and tie up the minimum number of fighting personnel. His job was to help to get things going again as smoothly as possible and to that end he applied himself in such a way that he became highly respected by the locals for his ability to be hard working, fair and just. Unfortunately, it had to be a memorial plaque as, once the town was capable of running itself again he had rejoined his unit up at the front and had been killed in action. It was something to think about that their appreciation was so recorded which
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was more than could be said for some of the German military whose presence in the area still showed…but in a different way. In the town of Kevelaer, which was renowned for it's manufacture of religious artifacts, there was a tall wall alongside a church absolutely riddled with bullet holes where a large number of the population had been lined up and shot..by the SS!, as apparently the battle raged to and fro they had been evacuated several times for their own safety until finally they refused to be moved. They were prepared to stay and take their chance and after seeing that terrible sight I could understand that the population of some German towns were prepared to show their appreciation for their deliverance from the yoke of Nazizm [sic] .
Eventually the time came for the two eldest girls to start at Hamm when the new term started and they set off by train with others who they had met between terms. It seemed better that way and probably allowed them to settle a bit quicker...but they did not like it that was for sure. Boarding school discipline was not to their liking and the school buildings were a bit grim. They were converted SS barracks and most of the pupils were quite certain that the matron had been left behind by the SS when they evacuated all those years ago!, but they coped.
We went to Hamm whenever the opportunity arose. Week-ends when they were allowed out and half-term so we took them about as much as we could to places of interest but there was invariably tears when we were obliged to leave.
Fortunately the journey through to Hamm was only just over two hours but it was an interesting route whether by autobahn or the 'scenic' route. The autobahn route was right through the 'Happy Valley' Ruhr industrial complex that had received such a pounding from Bomber Command and still showed it and the scenic route to the North was through some very badly damaged towns, including Wanne Eikle when we diverted to have a look at the place. Nevertheless, it was surprising how quickly the economy was recovering. When we first arrived a great deal of our transport and services were provided from local resources under the reperations [sic] agreement but as industry recovered that was was coming to an end and British products were taking over.
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We had plenty of friends in and around Laarbruch and at other RAF units in the area. There were plenty of places to visit and Arnhem and Nigmegen [sic] were near enough for shopping expeditions
as well as paying our respects at the military cemetary's [sic] both at Arnhem and the Reichwald. Despite the fact that the camp had very comprehensive facilities we got out and about as much as we could. If we were going to be stationed in Germany we were going to see it, particularly when the eldest girls were home from Hamm or we visited then there. I remember once asking the technical F/Sgt in charge of the radar how he liked the place and was surprised to find that he did not think much of it but after a little more discussion found that he had not been outside the main gate since he had arrived!. Even by the end of his tour he had only been 'outside' twice and his wife not at all. It seemed a bit 'head in the sand' to me as most people we knew got about as much as possible.
There was one place we found, a little different from when I first encountered it, and that was the spot where I had landed safely in 1945 and nearly got shot by the side of the road. The house where I was first interrogated was as it was imprinted on my mind. Only 22 miles from Laarbruch. I even entertained the thought when I scouted around the area that I might recover two soggy one pound notes and my old I.D. card. Some hope!. The area of small nursery pines had grown to some 50 to 60 feet high and although I looked around the area I could find no sign of the whacking great hole that 'D' Dog would have made if that was where she came down. I never have found the crash site. It was years later that I made a serious attempt to find it but MOD Historical Records could not help other than to say that they had information that they could not disclose. Possibly a cover up for the fact that they knew nothing although they were interested to know where we baled out and why. 'D' Dog was the only aircraft Bomber Command lost that day and the crash site is still listed………………..
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as 'unknown'. That local tour was one of many that we made to places that were engraved on my memory and noted in my diary. At Krefeld I couldn't even find the airfield!. At Dusseldorf the old airfield had been swallowed up or otherwise expanded although the ghosts of the past were swirling around when I surveyed the area on more than one occasion from the terminal buildings.
At Frankfurt although I followed the road out towards Ober-Orsal I could find no sign of what had once been the infamous interrogation centre of Dulag-Luft. Throughout the next two and a half years there were not many areas that we did not visit as we ranged far and wide with the benefit duty free pre-paid petrol coupons that were more than enough for our requirements. Shortly after starting the daily routine of setting off for the airfield one morning I picked up a Warrant Officer who was heading the same way. He too had only just arrived and lived not far from us. He was the Technical Wing Adjutant and his son was destined for Hamm school the same as our girls. That was the start of a long and deep seated friendship of the sort that one rarely made in the service as most friendships were like the ripples made by a stone in a puddle. They tended to dissipate when one or the other moved on but we are still in touch after 35 years.
I was soon certificated and operational. The work at Laarbruch was slightly different although it was not a continuous 24 hour shift system that I had become used to but we kept a skeleton crew on standby outside normal working hours to fulfill [sic] the requirements of 2nd Tactical Air Force. The aircraft were Canberra bombers and the more modern delta wing Javelin night fighter. A touch of both Bomber Command and Fighter Command which made for some very interesting procedures. Other than that the rest of the set-up was fairly standard. The GCA radar was the same type that I had used at Tangmere and I was promptly placed in charge of it for it's operation proficiency which included checking out other controllers and to train to a high standard of re-positioning and setting up of the equipment when the runway in use was changed. The requirement was to do it within an hour which was a tall order considering that there was the operations trailer, the power supply trailer and rest
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caravan weighing in all about 40 tons to be moved with great care considering that it contained some quite delicate equipment and cost around £250,000!. Bend that little lot and someone's head would roll........mine!.
The route to Hamm took us down to the new bridge at Vesel, slightly up river from the remnants of the ends of the-old bridge that had been destroyed during the war in that hottest of all hotspots. It was from that very area that massive armies had gathered to force a crossing of the river and where Churchill had fired one of the first shots of the assault by pulling the lanyard of a very big gun and where the biggest Airborne landing of 22,000 men had been landed by glider and parachute on the East side of the town. A very historical place militarily and a slightly battered one having been given a terrible pounding by Bomber Command prior to the attack by ground forces. Nevertheless, a lot had been rebuilt and the new system had taken advantage of a lot of open space and vast quantities of rubble. We usually swept through and in a few miles had linked up with the autobahn.
I got my first taste of motorway driving out there when they were were [sic] still building the M1 in the UK although the southern end was usable I had not used it but it was like a battlefield. 90% of the autobahn traffic seemed to be VW Beetles and the like with a top speed of a little over 70mph, about the same as mine, but it was the way they were driven that put the wind up me.
There was no speed limit and drivers just hurled themselves along at maximum possible speed with foot flat on the floor all the time, come what may. Nose to tail, bit between the teeth, no leeway whatsoever and no margin for error, just going like the clappers all the time. I really felt as if I was back in the Battle of the Ruhr and found it decidedly uncomfortable. I don't think that there was ever one journey that we did that we didn't see the results of what appeared to be suicidal driving so I started to try and prove that the MT instructors at the base were not going to include me when they quoted the statistics of 90% of drivers [underlined] will [/underlined] have an accident whilst in Germany. [underlined] They were right though [/underlined] !. I came unstuck eventually. In the meantime I just battled on. On one occasion we had just cleared the Ruhr
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area on the autobahn heading for Hamm with particularly heavy traffic developing into two solid streams doing around 60 to 70mph and I felt concerned enough to do as I still do today under such circumstances....get into the 'slow' lane where there was at least room to duck onto the hard shoulder if there was trouble. I was suddenly aware that way ahead stop lights were coming on like strobing airfield approach lights and was immediately on the alert. I suppose other drivers concentrating on the vehicles directly in front were not aware that the stop lights were coming on were getting closer and closer and then as it was obvious to me what was going to happen I jinked out onto the hard shoulder. I must have done it with split second to spare as some 200 vehicles shunted each other with the screeching of brakes, bangs, thumps and the sound of tearing metal and breaking glass. It was followed immediately by the cries of the injured when all other noises had stopped.
No-one in our immediate area was badly hurt although there were numerous head injuries and the odd broken limb with a fair bit of blood splashed around so it was out with the first aid kit and to the rescue. Fortunately, in addition to the mandatory first aid kit I had for years kept a large package of war-time wound packs in the car and they came in very useful although I what some people thought when they found that they were British Military packs dated 1943 I couldn't say. They did the job despite the fact that in most cases the safety pin was rusted!. Small matter. I had found them in an abandoned store in a pill box at Oakington in 1947…..I was not the sort of a bloke to waste things!. They lasted many years. In that instance we were luckier than the majority and it took an hour and a half before the autobahn ahead was cleared sufficienty [sic] for us to proceed past piles of smashed up vehicles, and then we came to the root cause of the pile-up. Unbelievable!. There were [underlined] two [/underlined] white police cars mangled together more or less standing on end up against a bridge support. We subsequently learned that they had been heading the long snake of cars to keep the speed down but had been playing 'tag' and had obviously not-been very clever.
I felt at the time that 'someone' was definitely out to get me having so far escaped all other intentions of the Germans to eliminate me and it did not improve Dorothy's attitude to
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sitting in what was often classified as the suicide seat, ie, the passenger seat of a right hand drive vehicle being driven on the right hand side of the road. There was even more apprehension by the time that particular week-end was over. We had just got into Hamm and rounding a corner had to duck to miss the car ahead that had lurched around the corner, bounced off of one of the large concrete cylinder things that were liberaly [sic] sprinkled around their street corners and then finished up with the front wheels over a small garden wall. It was a British Forces registered vehicle also heading for Hamm school but no-one was hurt and the driver declared that he needed no assistance so we pressed on. Nevertheless it was a great weekend with the girls who enjoyed their visit to Munster zoo we thought no more about driving and it's associated problems until we were on the return journey.
I was gaining slightly on a VW Beetle but held back for a while as it was lurching about over both lanes in very light traffic. It was some time before I ventured alongside and was somewhat shocked to find that all of the windows were closed and steamed up and all four occupants were asleep, including the driver, hunched over the wheel. I gave the horn as much as I could for as long as I could to rouse everyone, making signs to wind down the windows until it was safe to pass and felt after that that I had done my good deed for the day as that bloke was very close to running off of the road. He would not have known much about it though as he was doing what most beetle drivers did. Foot still flat on the floor regardless.
As always there was continual movement of personnel, most people having settled into a 2 1/2 year tour. We had with us people that we had known at many units including Amman and Egypt as well as Mareham [sic] and Wyton so of course the usual thing was happening with the married quarter waiting list as we went up and down like a yo-yo. There was one movement that had occurred just before we arrived although would not have made any difference to our quarters list, that of the Station Commander whose Adjutant I had been at Marham but he had gone on with more promotion. After that apparently almost every move he made was with further promotion until he eventually retired as an Air Marshall with a Knighthood and a handsome string of awards and
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decorations including; GCB, KCB, CB, CBE, OBE, DSO, DFC, AFC, and I must confess that I am proud to have received a great deal of instruction from him in the three years that I was his Adjutant.
The eventual allocation of married quarters at Laabruch could not have come at a better time. 53 Weeze Strasse was not the most suitable of places but it had enabled us to recover our finances to the satisfaction of both the bank manager and our-selves, and I hope, Frau van Cooke, so we moved into our comfortable centrally heated house shortly before the winter set in and had a damn good house warming party to celebrate.
Everything sailed along quite happily despite the girls dislike of boarding school and our youngest was soon into her third year but we were outgrowing the little Ford Popular and it's three speed gear box was a bit tedious at times. It was time for a change and we considered all the options. In the end I ordered the new Ford Classic (tax free) from a firm in Chichester in Sussex with a part exchange deal and it was all done when we went back to the UK for a holiday covering the school term break.
That was going to be the car that would see me through for the maximum number of miles before another change became neccessary [sic] . I ran it in carefully and the engine was treated with all the right things to achieve longevity and when our leave was up it was fully prepared to do anything asked of it, nevertheless, no sooner than we were back into Holland on the way back one of the first things we came across was a car upside down in a ditch at the side of the road with arms and legs hanging out of broken windows. I only stopped for a quick look and decided that there was little I could do that would not involve and upset the family so I pressed on for about half a mile until I saw a house with the sign outside denoting that they had a phone, nipped in and asked them to telephone ambulance and police to get to the scene, and then continued my journey. I've sometimes thought that I might have been able to do more at the scene but the inside of the car was like a butchers shop with not a lot of hope for the occupants.
The Classic was soon re-registered with British Forces plates and as it was a new model it always attracted a great deal of interest wherever we went. There was usually a crowd around
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it wherever it was parked.
There was one place just over the border in Holland that we visited regularly. The village of Well was an interesting little place and one of it's most comfortable establishments was a little restaurant and bar on the side of the River Maas. 'Auntie' Nellie was mine host and she was a remarkable person. She was well known for her resistance work and had been responsible for numerous evaders to pass along another link in the chain back to the safety of their own lines. It had obviously needed someone like that who was handy to assist in the river crossing. The Maas was quite wide and fast flowing at that point and the nearby bridge was a war-time Bailey built especially to carry military traffic from Eindhoven; still carrying heavy traffic. Our free week-ends were often spent there for shopping and for refreshments in the restaurant, watching the barges chugging by with all manner of goods piled on them and the bargees washing, bicyles [sic] , dogs, or watching a UK football match on the tele. but there was a bit of a problem with that. The football commentary was usually in Dutch so a radio was set up alongside and we had a commentary in English for the same match that suited the Dutch, English and German patrons who all gravitated to that place. Great fun greatly assisted by good strong Dutch beer, or possibly something hotter and stronger on cold days.
We visited the area many years later and it had not changed much and one of the girls plus her own family visited many years after that and it was still pretty much the same. We had a lot of time for the Dutch people and found no difficulty in integrating. In fact, we could quite happily have taken up residence there.
Crossing the Dutch/German border just North of Goch a few months after getting the new car the windscreen disintegrated in my lap and of course being a new model not yet on sale on the continent it took a week before a Dutch Ford agent could fit another but that was nothing to what happened later. With a new car I thought that I had overcome the love/hate relationship that I had always had with motor vehicles, but I was always
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to be in trouble with them one way or another.
Something else cropped out that I was not overjoyed about. The 'cold war' that was the very reason that we were out there demanded emergency establishment manning in the event of going to 'Red Alert' and on that deployment I would have been immediately on my way to my war establishment post. To Gatow, Berlin!!!, right in the middle of the contested Russian Zone. Just my luck. I would much rather have been going in the opposite direction!, away from any conflict but due to it's security classification I had to keep that possibility under wraps.
Life was anything but dull. The job of Station Fire Officer landed in my lap again almost as soon as I moved into quarters although it was the usual arrangement. A senior fireman did the work and 'Sir' was the dogsbody who took the flak if anything went wrong but it still helped to know as much as possible about the job. I had learned the hard way but the crash/rescue element was always under the operational control of Air Traffic Control and I thought that having got that job it would be enough---wrong again!.
There was plenty to occupy my mind and my hands. There were liaison visits of all sorts on a two way basis. The local German and Dutch fire services were entertained and visa versa (but not both at the same time). At one time I had two Luftwaffe NCO's for several weeks to polish off their GCA training although their initial training had been with the Americans and we all used the same procedures. Even our GCA was of standard American design. All very interesting!. A very daft situation arose with them on one occasion as naturally they were billeted with us and it seemed natural for them to use their camera's. It is true that we did have one very secure area in the vicinity of the Canberra dispersals on the far side of the airfield but the Service Police were I think a little over security concious [sic] when they pounced on them in the domestic area and ripped the film out of the camera's. Typical. I did have a word with the senior policeman but it was a waste of time. He reckoned that he was not having Germans photographing our installations. Bloody daft!. They had built the station for us in the first place!
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My interest in photography had developed further to the extent that I joined the unit photographic club, a move that I was to regret later and although the facilities were a bit run down I was able to widen the scope of my activities in that field as I had sold all my processing gear back at Wyton when finances were taking a bit of a hammering. What happened next was just waiting to happen. The current Officer I/C (in-charge) was posted and they did not look very far for his replacement. There were no terms of reference so I was instructed to write my own for approval and then my brief was simple. "It's a mess, put it back on it's feet". I knew it was a mess, the trouble was that I had told too many people. In the main it was used by people for standard processing at a profit, and who were not very interested in cleaning up. It did not take long to find out that there was about twice the number of people booking out the keys as there was on the register so it was a matter of going back to 'square one' to lock the place up and out of bounds to all but a selected few who were formed into a committee until a new system was set up I had the place refurbished with all the enlargers overhauled by a local German photographic supplier, new black-outs and racking resulting in four good booths. Eventually we agreed the maximum number of people that we could have on the register, all old membership cards were invalidated and new cards issued against the subscription register which was to be renewed annually and 'bingo'. With new rules, a studio and lecture room we opened up and it flourished. One feature I introduced was processing on certain nights only and a weekly 'beginners night' series of talks for the benefit of those, schoolchildren, wives and all, who wanted to know the basics. I well remember my own first efforts when every other word the 'experts' said was 'double dutch' to me so I was determined that each of the four talks was pitched as low as possible and repeated every month. It worked well and it was popular.
As we went into the first Winter we were glad of the design of the married quarters. Airmen's and Officers were all built along the same lines albeit to a different standard. The typical concrete box built on top a cellar and around the plumbing. There was no piping showing inside or outside. The cellar was
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the utility area, with concrete wash tubs, floor drainage and other mod. cons. and a store room. It all looked rather like the inside of a submarine with huge pipes and turn cocks along the passage…..but there was no boiler!. Hot water was provided by a huge boiler system to the whole station along deep insulated piping on a communal basis, the only base in Germany to have such a system and it made everything very comfortable and convenient. Especially when an Officers wife went 'down below' to see how the plumber was getting on with a job only to find that he was sitting in one of the wash tubs, in the buff, happily blowing bubbles in oodles of hot water. Now that's what I call initiative and it caused a bit of a giggle when the story got around.
Later on our store room became the 'Den' where the girls and their friends congrgated [sic] to get away from the 'oldies' but at least they had their own space. Goodness knows how many there were down there at times after we got fed up answering the door and fixed up a string and a bell system through the outside grating.
Being a house of concrete the attic had a concrete floor as well and all the roof beams had built in hooks for what I assumed to be hammocks if ever they were needed as barracks providing a very useful sleeping area particularly if anyone was overwhelmed with visiting friends and relations from the UK.
As it happened we never were and although my father-in-law expressed an interest to visit us and take the opportunity do the tour of the WW1 battlefields he found it more than he could bring himself to do and could not set foot on German soil; and he never did. The memories of his brother being blasted into eternity at his side, and his own wounds were too strong for him ever to forget that episode in his life.
Before the winter was out we skated and tobogganed. Everyone enjoyed themselves in the light fluffy snow of the kind that one did not normally see back home until at last Spring broke through and work and play took over the scene again. The Winter was a bit hard although nowhere near as bad as the one to follow but a lot happened in between.
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One tour we put together for the early Summer holidays came unstuck. It was planned as a round robin right down through Central and Southern Germany, into Bavaria, Austria and Switzerland, France and back home over at-out ten days. It did not quite work out like that although we were making the most of it until it went wrong.
We went to Nuremburg and found the site of Stalag X111b but there were no huts left, only a police Guard Post and we were allowed to browse around. Then on to Stalag V11a Mooseburg and back to Munich for a night stop. The memory plays funny tricks though. Despite my notes I found it very difficult to locate some places and even when I did positively identify places from the notes they were sometimes unrecognisable. We had already found the same problem around the UK!. However, our navigation went a bit haywire down in Austria when we took a wrong road up in the mountains and instead of going into Switzerland we found ourselves back in Germany again. Not that it mattered much. All of the scenery was absolutely splendid and eventually we were into and out of France crossing the border into Germany again near Strasburg. We were ahead of our schedule so we decided that we would head for home rather than go for another night stop and were about ten miles South of Heidleburg when some idiot driver pulled a stunt that upset a few people; us included and so we finished up with a night stop anyway.
I was the tail ender of seven or eight vehicles in convoy doing near enough 70mph in the 'fast' lane with no traffic in the other lane when a light truck going like a bat out of hell came up behind making angry signals with his lights for us to get out of the way, which I did and then I resumed the tail end position. I did not stay behind him long as obviously no-one else was going to move over for him so he pulled out and went through on the wrong side. No doubt he had worked himself into a frenzy of agressive [sic] behaviour, (what is called road rage today is nothing new) and as soon as he got to the head of the column he did something quite unexpected. I could see the whole thing happening as if in slow motion as he literally hurled his vehicle across the bows of the leaders and them stood on the brakes. What happened next was anything but slow motion but long before
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anything happened directly I was on the brakes and everyone on board slid up against something solid before each and everyone of the cars shunted one another with a series of thuds until despite my heavy breaking we slammed into the one in front with such a wallop that it shot forward again into the one in front and our roof rack landed in the road between us. It was very fortunate that I was 'tall end charlie' as I am quite sure that we would have had one in the back of us as well.
After a quick check to see if we had any injuries, to be very relieved to find that only the eldest had had a scratch from a broken Coke bottle I dispatched her immediately to about fifty yards back along the centre section to start waving her white cardigan like mad, and got everyone else out onto the central reservation in case some damn fool back-ended us. It was not difficult to get out of as the impact had given us a 'droop snoot' and the doors had sprung with an overlap of some four inches. One could see at a glance that that we were not going anywhere in that car for a long time.
Checking on the vehicle in front and recovering the roof rack disclosed that the middle aged couple in the BMW that I had hit were badly shaken but otherwise unhurt although their car was quite badly damaged. The front end was bent, the back end was scrunched, the boot lid had sprung, and the exhaust had fallen off. They were both in tears though as the car was absolutely brand new, direct from the factory on delivery with only 22km on the clock but that was the least of my worries.
Between listening to their tales of woe, refixing the roof rack and repacking some of our spilled goods with a very watchfull [sic] eye on the traffic that was still hurtling by I still had time to take a few photographs before the police arrived and my daughter could retire from her rather exposed position to the relative safety of the central reservation where all the damaged cars had been pushed once the police were satisfied with explanations and that the exchanges of insurance details had been attended to. That's the way German traffic law worked; 'he who does the bumping does the paying', so you dealt with the one in front and the law is satisfied.
Breakdown vehicles appeared as if by magic but we had to wait a lot longer than most to get cleared as I, being a member of
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the military, had to be dealt with by the appropriate military authority, in that area, the U.S. Army, who could not have been more sympathetic and helpfull [sic] . The car was eventually winched onto a civilian break-down vehicle, (which I subsequently had to pay for) and off it went with us following up in a staff car to see it settled in a field full of other wrecks. Our surplus goods were left in the care of the driver of the breakdown-truck before we were finally deposited at the steps of a very nice Hotel in Heidelburg.
In normal circumstances we would have enjoyed that visit to the beautiful city of Heidelburg but not that time. We were just about broke. I had a Hotel bill to consider as well as the train fare back to base. I did not have a German bank account and there were limits that one could do then with a UK chequebook. Nevertheless, we dredged up every mark and phenig [sic] that we could, including the kid's pocket money but it didn't allow for a meal so we just had to picnic on the bits and pieces that we had recovered from the car and ultimately went to bed very tired if not a little hungry. It still took a long time before sleep came to me. Here I was again, virtually stranded in Germany wondering what was going to happen next. Every piece of the day’s action kept floating in frost of my eyes. Of all the damn silly things. All those occasions of war-time flying over enemy territory escaping injury by the skin of my teeth, to finish up in Germany with a pranged car and very nearly a damaged family as well.
I made myself a promise before I want to sleep, to never, ever again put myself or my family in such a situation again. There had to be a way to adjust one’s driving technique to reduce the risks, so I was going to have to swallow my pride. Meanwhile I had become one of 2nd TAF's motoring statistics having been told that nine out of ten drivers would have an accident I had scoffed at the idea...but they were not wrong.
The following day after paying our bill and buying tickets there was not much left in the kitty so it was rolls, butter, sausage and fizzy drinks bought locally for breakfast and for the journey, then we were off.
That part of the journey was a tour to remember for it's sheer
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beauty but I think that I was the only one to remember it in detail. The weather was perfect. The scenery along the Rhine was picture postcard stuff of vinyards [sic] and castles perched high up on hillsides especially the area around Koblenz was too good to miss particularly as I had run out of film and could not even afford to buy another. I kept waking the family up to look at, it but at that stage of the game they were not too impressed although I was out to make the most of it. To hell with the car, insurance would take care of that and the most important thing was that we were all together and all in one piece. That's all that mattered. We eventually arrived back at Goch, a colleague picked us up and that was the end of that holiday and touring for a while. There were letters to write and reports to make as we eventually settled down to life without a car. I tried to negotiate for the car to be transferred to Holland for repair as it was a new model not yet available in Germany although it was filtering onto the Dutch market but the agents for the UK insurers who were based in Hamburg would not entertain the idea and weeks went by as they deliberated. In the meantime my neighbour who had just bought a new car agreed to run it in by driving me down to Heidelburg to pick up all the stuff that we had been obliged to leave behind. It had all been prepared and packed and even lunch was provided for us. He and his Frau earned our gratitude and their remuneration for their thoughtfulness. It helped me overcome my dismay when I went to see the car sitting forlornly among the wrecks. It had already been vandalised, possibly on the assumtion [sic] that it would be a write-off. All the wheel trims and the front wheels had gone as well as the wing mirrors. The battery had gone and the petrol had been drained off all ten gallons of it as we had only just fuelled up for the home run. I had been relying on some of that to help us to do the 300 mile round trip but someone had beaten me to it. Of course no-one knew anything about it. The yard did not belong to the recovery chap and there were notices around in German disclaiming responsibility for any losses etc. It was to be expected!.
The months went by and were particularly frustrating. Having looked the car over carefully on that visit I figured that it ought to be classified as a write-off but the insurance company
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disagreed. I tried to get it taken to Cologne, the German manufacturing centre for Fords but eventually it was transferred to Mannheim for repair. I found out later that the front was completely cut off and replaced, something that would not be acceptable today but that was it and they had the last say. I was without it for six months and a lot of annoyance which did little for my blood pressure.
I busied myself in work of one sort and another. We did not go out of camp much and the girls had settled themselves into local employment so it was the photographic club that received most of my attention which was soon flourishing financially and with a lot of enthusiastic new members. So much so that Laarbruch was selected as the venue for the Command Photographic Competition. It all went well with the cooperation of the Education Flight and the fact that I won two awards had nothing to do with the fact that one of the judges had been my neighbour at Wyton. All entries were coded which was standard practice.
Air Traffic Control was more or less routine. By that time I was convinced that I had covered just about every aspect and I was still making it known annually, that I wanted area radar training for the future. Nevertheless, I had one experience which I thought might have influenced a decision but it didn't.
I was doing stand-by shift in the radar track after I had been informed of a large formation practice of aircraft from 2nd TAP units to the South-East of us and I had been monitoring their progress when I was asked to take control of an aircraft being flown by the C in C who wanted see how the formation was shaping up.
It was really difficult after taking him on. I found out from the formation Ieader the detail's of the altimeter setting and then working him on a different frequency did a perfect fighter interception placing him just above and 100yds behind the formation. He even asked if I was a Fighter Controller and was somewhat surprised to find that he was being controlled by an airfield radar. He did say "as good as any fighter control interception" but he didn't bother to find out who I was!.
Our GCA was not without it's troubles though. There was one
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expensive internal item absolutely vital to it's operation that was costing dollars to replace and contracts had-been let to produce them in the UK under licence but they didn't always last for the expected running time but at least we had replacements. Our headphones were a different matter. Some of then were the original issue with the radar unit and were always in need of repair which was common in almost every similar equipment in the RAF. I found that intolerable. Aircrew helmets and associated communications equipment cost hundreds of pounds to ensure absolute reliability and safety and I was sometimes sweating a bit when we were obliged to operate in marginal conditions with our own equipment that could fail at any time. I indented for new head-sets to be told that they were too expensive and were to be repaired locally. I made a fuss and some were taken away by Command signals workshops for repair but very few people knew that I had got something else up my sleeve.
My contacts with my opposite number in the Dutch Air Force at Vokel was very helpful in finding out that their Bell helicoptors [sic] used the same sort of headset and were replaceable under a NATO agreement. A liaison visit exchanged three of them but I kept that quiet. The only time they came out was when we were operating in marginal conditions; and I kept up the pressure for total replacement much to the annoyance of the technical staff particularly when the refurbished sets proved to be unreliable. Eventually, wondering how long it would take to get something done before the next winter set in I really put the cat among the pigeons. I did a 'Douglas Bader' and signalled 2nd TAF HQ that the radar was declared 'non operational-training in visual conditions only due to technical problems'. Phew!, that really did get things moving. I knew through the 'grapevine' that new UK produced headsets were becoming available and that the C in C of Coastal Command had authorised the local purchase of replacements for his radars...that was good enough for me and was part of my argument and I flatly refused to change the status of our radar until something similar was done. As with Douglas Bader the result was dramatic. Within a week all the stops had been pulled out and I received replacements direct from the manufacturers completely by passing the normal stores
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procedure. All I had to do was to pass the invoices back through stores to confirm that I had got them and turn in the old one's for write off. We were operational immediately but I got a hell of a lot of 'stick' for it. Bader might have got away with it but I didn't. I had upset too many people along the line by taking a short cut and there were no thanks for my achievment [sic] .
In the late summer I did another liaison visit that was most interesting; to our Fighter Control Centre at Udem....in the war-time bunker that the Luftwaffe had used to track our bomber streams and direct their fighters although of course it had been modified to our sytem [sic] . It was similar to our UK fighter Control Centres that I had been in although it just felt different but what was interesting was the fact that there were a lot of Luftwaffe personnel around as a new generation was being trained by us. It led to to [sic] another liaison visit later when a few of us went to a radar controlled Luftwaffe ack-ack unit somewhere towards Wesel. Now that was interesting; less than ten miles from where a similar unit had shot us down in 1945 and very enlightening.
The winter was nearly upon us when I eventually received notice that the car was ready for collection so off I went to Mannheim only to find that as far as I was concerned it was not. It was lacking all sorts of bits and some parts were still unpainted so I returned without it. There was an angry exchange of letters between myself and Hamburg and claims for costs until I was eventually told it was positively ready so off I went again. Then the s……hit the fan. Hardly anything more had been done and although I phoned the Hamburg office and got the OK to take it subject to a settlement the repairers would not release it until it was paid for. Oh boy oh boy!, what fun and games. More phoning, Hamburg making arrangements to transfer money via banks, a night stop for me and eventually it was released so off set for the 230 mile return journey, and not before time. It was a good job that I had fuelled to the brim as the weather did not look at all promising. I soon connected with the Autobahn and had not gone more than 30 miles when I ran into a snowstorm that turned into a blizzard, just what I wanted!, although it
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slowed things down considerably and the traffic thinned out as snow came down in about the heaviest fall I had ever encountered. It was very soon some two or three inches deep and going was getting difficult although mostly I was in virgin snow and still getting a grip. I pressed on nevertheless having in mind that it looked as if I was going to have to make another night stop somewhere but then found that in the confusion of the poor visibility in the ten lane junction near Frankfurt I had picked up the wrong lane and was on my way North-East, towards Wuppertal!. There was only one thing to do and that was backtrack. Although the snow had stopped leaving a depth of about 4ins. it would have been quite impossible to go across country so it was back 20 miles and then find my way through the network of the ten lane junction again until I was on track for Cologne once more. By that time it had got dark and I was somewhat relieved to be heading in the right direction at last and was working out my ETA (Estimated Time of Arrival) when there was a hold up. It took some time for the traffic to creep forward and over the brow of a hill before I could see what had caused it all. There was a large articulated lorry on it's side blocking most of the carriageway and the police were only allowing one vehicle at a time down the hill past it as by now the snow had become impacted and it was a bit like an ice rink. When my turn came to make the descent I was amazed to find that the firemen and the 'wreckers' were actually cutting the lorry to pieces with blow torches to remove it in sections and was very relieved when I was finally in the clear again and heading for home. It took a total of twelve hours to do the journey. I had left in daylight and arrived with the dawn feeling hungry and very very tired. It was just "Hello, don't ask qestions [sic] and Goodnight”.
I finally came too, refreshed, reported that I was back and started the negotiations with Hamburg to restore the car to it's new state which I estimated would cost another £300 and they paid up in full. That was not the end of it though....
Winter soon descended with a vengance [sic] . It got cold and then colder. The bottom fell out of the thermometer and one morning, in common with many others I found the car locks frozen. Possibly
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like others I poured almost boiling water on in an attempt to unlock it but it froze as it hit the car and it was several days before the temperature went up a little to allow everything to release. then a great deal of the new paintwork came away with the defrosting!. I was very cross to say the least but I had it all renewed within the allowance that had been made by the insurance company. That still was not the end of it………but then the winter really set in.
Even the underground pipes froze in places and the works department produced a device that had not been used for years. It was a mobile motor driven generator producing a low voltage high amperage current that was attached to the fire hydrants and when the power was switched on it virtually heated the pipes up and they thawed. I had never seen anything like it before but at least the Fire service was kept in business. Even in the readiness areas the immersion heaters in the fire vehicles were needed to avoid freezing up. I put the fire dept to work to flood and freeze a fairly large depression of grassed area which produced an ice rink for several weeks. The centre of it was nearly two feet of solid ice and it was so cold that even the moat around Well castle in Holland was frozen to a depth of over two feet. Nevertheless we were still in business until it snowed again. We had been waiting for it and all the snow clearing machinery had been brought out and made ready but when it did start it made what I had been through when I brought the car back look like a little flurry. It snowed and snowed continually until there was a good ten to twelve inches over the whole airfield; and not the sort that would go away!.
With no flying possible we started to tackle it with everything we could muster to get the airfield clear. One machine had flame heaters for melting an icy surface, a hopper with finely graded sand with a worm feed which distributed the sand on the melted surface before it froze again. Result; a sandpaper type surface that was ideal for braking on at the upwind end of the runway. That's the way I figured it but everyone had different ideas particularly among those who had taken charge of the operation. It was attempted on snow, it was overworked and eventually it had a major breakdown. The various teams pushed and shoved snow all over the place with the snow ploughs and one crew even
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managed to put a twelve foot bank right in the runway threshold!. The equipment was the best with four wheel drive MAM diesel trucks with chains, and the blades could be swung either way for a left or a right cut, two splendid 'Snow-go’s' with flail intakes and plume blowers but the whole lot was being used piecemeal. Some ploughs had been used as bulldozers and a lot of snow was just being shifted from one place to another without opening up areas. After 24 hours of quite useless effort I stuck my neck out and produced a sketch plan of my own and there was very little argument. Obviously I couldn't make a bigger cock-up than had already been made and it was accepted. I assembled six ploughs in echelon with a half blade overlap followed by the two Snow-go’s and working on a plan to shift the snow [underlined] away [/underlined] from the taxyways [sic] we were off. It worked like a charm and mountains of snow was being cleared without blocking up other access points. At the end of the first cut I took the whole lot into a dispersal to swing the blades for the next run in the opposite direction when the CO turned up and 'suggested' that I would be better employed clearing snow instead of messing about changing the angle of the blades. He was not amused when I 'suggested' that "I was doing it my way" but really, there was no basis for any argument. I had already cleared half of a mile long taxyway [sic] in one sweep which was more than anyone else had done in the last 24 hours so with his permission I would like to carry on and prove a point, and perhaps he should judge my efforts by the result, particularly as others had not achieved much. How to get on and influence people!!!!, but I was cold and tired and past caring.
However, it did work as I expected and we were the first 2nd TAF airfield to be declared 'open' despite the fact that after I had left a colleague in charge whilst I went for a meal on my return found that he had managed to put 200 tons of snow back where I had just cleared it from. At least I had justified my plan and we were invariably the first 2nd TAF airfield to be declared clear after subsequent falls of snow. There was only one way to do it and I spent hours out on the airfield in -15 to-20 degrees. I followed it up with a written 'Snow Clearing Plan' with sketches and techniques to show how the basic plan could be adapted for any airfield and it turned up
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in print later. There were no thanks, just hard work and chilblains although there was a certain amount of satisfaction in having done something practical and useful. It was a relief when the deep freeze gave way to the first signs of Spring though and thoughts turned to planning the last holiday we were likely to get in that area. Before that happened an urgent problem put Dorothy into the Military Hospital at Vegberg near Rhiendalen for about ten days and we very nearly did not get the holiday but the planning was well advanced so we decided to go for it.
We had been fortunate in purchasing a slightly used but almost complete camping outfit so the destination was the Costa Brava in Spain. There were several dummy run exercises in the garden for putting up the tent until everyone knew what they had to do and the day came when all was assembled, loaded on the car and off we went.
Up to that point in time we had done no long distance travelling since the car had been repaired although there had been no problems. They started when we reached the area around Frankfurt when we were on long hill climbs when there were signs of overheating in the clutch and the most terrible noises from the gear box. With a little experimentation I found that the heat and the noise could be reduced by holding the highest gear for as long as possible which was not easy as the car was so heavily loaded. Eventually the decision was made after our first night stop at Frieburg that we would press on to the half way point at Geneva and that if it did not improve we would turn about. Strangely enough it was only lower gear hill climbs that produced the problem and in fact when we tried the odd run unloaded it was OK. We pressed on although I still had no idea what was causing it. I just wanted to be on holiday.
Actually we nearly abandoned it for other reasons. Dorothy did not like camping!. Not after our first night stop anyway. It was the way we had pitched the tent on a very slight slope in the semi-darkness and the natural movement in our sleep that found us up against the sides of the tent. That and the noises of the frogs at the lakeside did not exactly induce sleep.
Somehow we managed to retain some sense of humour even when in the early hours of the morning Dorothy had twisted herself up in her sleeping bag and I was awoken by gurgling noises and
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"get this b……zip out of my mouth"!!!!. That and the fact that it had started to rain heavily did not improve matters. It did not stop us moving out though. With a wet tent on top that then weighed twice as much as when we started!.
The next stop was Geneva where we were aiming for a camp site on the banks of Lake Lemon and it rained nearly all the way. What fun!. We had to put up a wet tent and I very nearly turned about at that point. Nevertheless, there was a pleasant little restaurant not far from the site and we indulged ourselves to the point of feeling a lot more comfortable by the time we turned in.
It had at least stopped raining but everywhere was clinging cold mist and these were the conditions when we packed up and moved out again, heading for Orange in the south of France where we were planning to stay with friends. We just ploughed on and on and on in those conditions through the Swiss mountains not seeing much more than the road is front of us until we got into France and the weather cleared up at last. We had a comfortable night stop in real beds and managed to get the tent up to dry out. We had arrived just in time for the May Day celebrations and had a great time dancing and drinking in the square on the fringe of the ampthitheatre [sic] . I think somehow that managed to bring us back to some sort of normallity [sic] .
Rested, well fed and with a dry tent packed off we went the following day heading for Spain and for a long time the weather was fine until shortly after we stopped for a break in Perpignan. Then it started to rain again. That was just what I wanted through the Pyrenees! and there was still a long way to go.
By the time we got to the border we were enjoying a full blown thunderstorm with lightning, thunder and lashing rain but the French customs just waived us on and we only made a short stop at the Spanish customs. Just long enough for the customs officer to determine that we were a British family on a camping holiday. That brought forth peals of laughter and he brought all his mates out to join in the fun. What's the Spanish for "blood silly British"??!!!!. We just laughed with them and pressed on but I was getting very very tired by that time and we had another good laugh before we finally stopped for the night.
Some time after we had left the border post we were being........
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followed by a German registered mini-bus and the damn fool driver made several dangerous attempts to overtake. Why he could not have been satisfied in following someone who was doing the 'pathfinding' for him I do not know so when we came to the edge of a town I thought that I would give him the opportunity to pass as I groped my way through a left and a right turn and several inches of water which almost obscured the line of the road. The mini-bus driver thought his chance had come as he surged past on what he thought was the road straight ahead and finished up along a shopping boulevard and came to a grinding halt mixed up with cafe’ tables and chairs!. He certainly paid for his impatience but enough was enough. If we got to Tossa-de-Mar that night we would still have put the tent up so with about 60 mls to go we decided that a comfortable night stop in a Hotel in Gerona would be a good idea. It was!. A meal, a drink and I crashed out.
The weather had cleared up by the morning and it was only about 30 mls to our destination through the winding roads of the area lined with carbuncled cork oaks. We were on site, tent up, and prepared to stay for at least ten days.
I think it was worth the effort. With a family of five I don't think we could have done it any other way even though there had been a few problems on our 1062 mile journey. We were not the only people ever to have had problems. One of our neighbours in the previous year had undertaken a motoring holiday to the North through Hamburg and on to Denmark and Sweden but had lost most of their baggage when their roof rack had seperated [sic] from the car and was very nearly pulped. There is no guarantee that all will go according to plan even with the more modern form of air transport to exciting places; not when several days may be lost sitting around an airport lounge or the hotel has been double booked. We had ten supurb [sic] days bathing, taking in the sights, and cruising around. The strange thing was that the car behaved itself so it didn't seem worth doing anything about. Perhaps one of the most interesting roads that we took was the coastal mountainous route from Tossa de Mar to San Feli'u. Only about twelve miles as the crow fly's but with most spectacular scenery and [underlined] 365 [/underlined] hairpin bends which actually doubled the road miles but it was interesting to say the least. We cruised the
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Costa Brava taking in the sights, eating and relaxing where it took our fancy, had a day in Barcelona and the scenic route through the Sierra de Montseny area to return stopping at numerous unspoiled villages where we were welcomed with open arms. Today there is always the tendency to want to dash from place to place along the new coastal motorway system and miss a great deal of the real Spain but we lapped it up. We even got used to the Spanish style of driving!. especially in the wrigly [sic] mountain areas. The locals had a tendency to maintain the maximum speed come what may, with the result that they approached blind corners at high speed, on the wrong side of the road, blasting away on the horn. The theory was that if there was no answering blast from anyone approaching from the opposite direction then it was safe to continue fast; and on the wrong side!!!. A bit dodgy nevertheless.
We have many recollections of that holiday, like the first time one of the girls took to the water in her new bikini only to find that as soon as it got wet it went transparent. A bit embarrassing for a sixteen year old, and we found that there were quite a few British on holiday there including one RAF couple who actually lived in Gogh. We made the most of it anyway and the day finally came when we had to be homeward bound.
The weather had generally improved and after getting back into France we took a different and very scenic route through the foothills of the Cevennes to Lyon and on to Bescancon and Belfort to finally pick up the motorway system northbound and home only making two stops en route. I was glad to get home. Being the only driver on a journey like that does impose a certain amount of strain but I was soon back to work and an opportunity to find out what had caused the heat and the noise but everything seemed OK until I checked the gear box oil level. Absolutely empty!!. I cross checked the detailed worksheet that the workshop had provided (in German of course) which showed that they had for some reason stripped both the engine and the gearbox and meticulously recorded every nut and bolt removed and/or replaced.....except the replacement of the gearbox oil. I think that possibly the only reason the gear box survived some 6000 miles without lubricant was because I had treated all the original lubricant with a propriety molybdenum after it's running
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in but to say I was annoyed is an understatement. It resulted in an absolutely stinking letter to the insurance company, who typically, would not accept the complaint without comment from the workshop.....and the workshop made every excuse in the book to avoid the issue. I gave it up in the end as I had just been notified of my next posting with nearly six months notice. Unheard of for me. I was going to Valley in North Wales so there was not much more time to finish our touring. We did the area towards Berlin to visit friends at Gutersloh who had visited us previously. That was the chap that had also been a POW with me, and at Wyton, and Marham, who had visited the Reichwald War Cemetery with me and whilst walking around was telling me how he was the only survivor of his crew when they had been shot down a year earlier than myself in a Halifax, near Krefeld. Naturally he wondered where his crew had been buried as we viewed some of the 5000 aircrew graves when he stopped with a gasp. There they were, all six of them in one row!!. Talk about "There but for the Grace of God go I"!. I retired to a respectful distance to allow him to compose himself. Whilst we were that way we visited the Mohne Dam and the Sorp and back at Laarbruch we visited Amsterdam and did the tourist thing by canal bus. We visited the amazing scenic park of De Efteling and another place in Holland which was an inland sort of water park. Probably the for-runner of Centre Parks, Bad Boekelo. Inland but just like the sea-side with fine sand and lots and lots of safe water fun. The first time we had come across the wave making machine but it will always stick in my mind for one incident. Everyone was lolling about and Dorothy was returning with some ice-cream with her sandles [sic] producing spurts of sand as she walked. Just as she approached a young Dutchmen in a reclining position who was inspecting the inside of a sandwitch [sic] , one of the spurts of sand left the toe of her sandles [sic] and joined the mustard, splat!!!. He looked up in amazement and then burst into laughter as we all did. So much the easier way of dealing with it and he shared our sandwiches!. We finally found the area of the windmills. There is only one area where they are plentiful and that is in the canal area east of Rotterdam. Kinderdyke. One of the few areas where national dress is often worn and very photogenic. About the last interesting event that I recall
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in Air Traffic Control matters was at the commencement of a flying excerise [sic] when our Javelins were sitting on the Operational Readiness platforms at the end of the runway hooked up to the Fighter Control network as we were so that we were able to listen out on the net but I was not prepared for what came out of the box…….. “Achtung……. Achtung……. XXXXXX(callsigns) shcramble [sic] ……shcramble [sic] ."…followed by the interception instructions. It was the first time the Luftwaffe controllers had been placed in the 'hot seat' and I must confess that it raised a few eyebrows among among [sic] a few of Bomber Harris's 'old lags" who formed about 50% of our controllers. As ironic as it was we had no option but to move with the times.
We were coming to the end of our visits to our favourite cafe at Nijmegen. A delightful family run establishment where no order was too much trouble for the somewhat rotund proprietor. We invariably topped off our shopping expeditions there and it was one place where I saw muscles [sic] served up as a meal on their own....in a large enamelled washing up bowl!. I like muscles [sic] but enough to fill a kit-bag in one go would be bit too much for me but one of the national dishes I believe. I wouldn't like to cope with that if any of then was a bit 'off'.
With plenty of time to sort things out and having been told that quarters would not be immediately available I managed to arrange a rental at Amlwych [sic] on the North side of Anglesey and our friends who were also posted to Valley more or less at the same tine arranged a rental in Holyhead. Of course there was packing to arrange. Goods in store in St.Ives to be transported to Amlwych [sic] , travel arrangements to be made etc, etc. The process was no longer a daunting prospect, we had done it often enough!, and eventually we cleared the station and we were on our way.
Dorothy and the girls went under service arrangements and flew from Wildenwrath on their way to Worthing and I set off with the car loaded to the hilt via the Hook and Harwich. It was an absolutely dreadful crossing in a Force 9 gale. People were being sick all over the place, and it was virtually impossible to sleep. All the berths had been booked and a good good [sic] many others and myself were making the best of deck chairs lashed to the decks. The usual seats and benches offered very little comfort as people were being thrown off of them all over the
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place and the bar and kitchens shut early as it was so difficult to cope with the pitching and the tossing. There were some very unhappy looking passengers around when we docked in the morning and I must confess that at times during the night it would not have worried me if we had foundered....I think I just wanted to die!. Nevertheless we started to dissembark [sic] and I was not in a hurry but one Army Officer who had obviously been well ahead of me had allowed his discomfort and his haste to get the better of him. It does not pay to get 'stroppy' with Custom Officials!.
He was standing by his car, tearing his hair out as they were removing absolutely everything from it which had been as loaded as mine. And I mean everything!. They had removed the seats, emptied every compartment and opened every package. It was strewn all around the car. I felt bad enough as it was so I declared every cigarette, gram of tobacco, and drop of booze and when they had deducted my allowance only asked for a nominal payment on the excess!: There was a little fuss over the car which I had already re-registered and re-placed the UK plates. They reckoned that I had jumped the gun but the documentation was all in order although there was some other documentation that was not quite right that at least we had a laugh about. I was bringing back our Budgie and [inserted] I [/inserted] had pinned it's import licence to the cage. Trouble was there was only half a licence, the other half was in the Budgie!. There was enough of to get by with and I was off to Worthing.
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Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Water under the bridge
Description
An account of the resource
Part 1. "By the Seat of his Pants". Covers from Alan Gamble's years as a schoolboy in Worthing in the late 1930's, up to joining the RAF in 1943, where he trained as a wireless operator in Blackpool. He joined 620 Squadron, which was equipped mainly with Stirlings and based initially at Leicester East, then Chedburgh, before it moved to Fairford in 1944. He flew 29 bombing and mine laying sorties over Germany and elsewhere. At Fairford '620' also supported SOE and participated in the Horsa glider operation at Arnhem.
Part 2, "No Problem Sport".Covers Alan Gamble's short flying history over France in 1945 before being shot down, and his experiences as a POW in southern Germany and subsequent liberation. The manuscript of Part 2 appears to be complete except for one or more pages missing about two thirds of the way through. This is at the beginning or the end of a fragment bound by metal clips, and could easily have become detached as the outside pages of some fragments' in Part 3 were also lost. It is therefore possible that only one page is missing.
Part 3. "Nil Desperandum".Covers Alan Gamble's post war experiences up to about 1963. This has not been read.
The manuscript of Part 3 is missing pages 24-86, 120 and 170, the latter two being the outside pages of bound fragments. (Page numbering here has assisted in reconstruction).
Additional information about this item was kindly provided by the donor.
Creator
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A T Gamble
Format
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Multipage printed document
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
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BGambleATGambleATv1
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Wehrmacht
Wehrmacht. Luftwaffe
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Bedfordshire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Skegness
England--Suffolk
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
England--Wiltshire
England--Norfolk
Wales--Gwynedd
Wales--Porthmadog
England--Cumbria
England--Barrow-in-Furness
England--Oxfordshire
Germany
Germany--Krefeld
Atlantic Ocean--Bay of Biscay
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Cologne
Germany--North Friesland Region
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
Germany--Hamburg
England--Cambridgeshire
Germany--Nuremberg
Italy
Italy--Turin
Germany--Peenemünde
Germany--Berlin
France
France--Modane
Germany--Kassel
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Jordan
Jordan--Amman
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943-06-13
1943-06-17
1943-06-22
1943-07-03
1943-07-24
1943-08-10
1943-08-12
1943-08-17
1943-08-27
1943-08-31
1943-10-03
1943-11-03
1945-01
1945-02-03
1945-02-07
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Peter Bradbury
115 Squadron
149 Squadron
15 Squadron
214 Squadron
3 Group
620 Squadron
622 Squadron
9 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
Anson
B-17
B-24
bale out
bombing
bombing of Hamburg (24-31 July 1943)
bombing of Nuremberg (30 / 31 March 1944)
Botha
C-47
coping mechanism
crewing up
debriefing
Defiant
Do 217
Dominie
Dulag Luft
evading
fuelling
Fw 190
Gee
gremlin
ground personnel
Halifax
lack of moral fibre
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Me 109
Me 110
meteorological officer
military discipline
military living conditions
military service conditions
mine laying
Morse-keyed wireless telegraphy
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operational Training Unit
P-51
Pathfinders
petrol bowser
prisoner of war
Proctor
promotion
RAF Barrow in Furness
RAF Cardington
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Feltwell
RAF Marham
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Stradishall
RAF Turweston
RAF Waterbeach
RAF Yatesbury
recruitment
Red Cross
searchlight
service vehicle
Stirling
strafing
tractor
training
Wellington
Window
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/480/8363/ABrooksR151029.2.mp3
d0d059fc3e408586027f57552f30d5d2
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Brooks, Edward
Edward Brooks
E Brooks
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Brooks, E
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Rita Brooks. Widow of Flight Lieutentant Edward Brooks DFC, DFM who flew operations with 12 and 460 Squadrons.
The collection has been licenced to the IBCC Digital Archive by Rita Brooks and catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
AS Right we’re in business. We’re ready to start. Ok, thank you.
RB Right. My late husband was Flight Lieutenant Edward Brooks DFC, DFM. Now Ted hadn’t meant to join the RAF. He’d already started work as an office boy in London and had joined the Home Guard, but he wanted to join the Army. So he went to the army recruiting office and all was going well, until with the innocence of youth, he stated that he wish to join the Oxford and Bucks, the regiment in which his uncle Company Sergeant Major Edward Brooks had been awarded the Victoria Cross in 1917. The recruiting sergeant looked up and said : ‘You can’t pick and choose sonny.” To which Ted replied : ‘Right, I’ll go and join the RAF.’ This he promptly did. His date of enlistment February 1941. But he was dismayed to learn that they were unable to take him immediately, but they gave him a lapel badge to indicate that he’d enlisted and that they would let him know. The months passed and although he must have been very busy, working during the day and Home Guard duties at night, he just wanted to be in the service, so after several months had elapsed he wrote to the Air Ministry [Shuffle of paper]. Two months later, two weeks later he was at Uxbridge. There followed the initial three months training course at Blackpool. There they were billeted in a former seaside boarding house. They had to surrender their ration books to the landlady and they were always hungry. Their meals were served in the dining room, but they soon realised that the Corporal in charge of the bul- billet had all his meals in the kitchen with the landlady, and was enjoying much better fare. On the day they all left, to register their dissatisfaction [turning of page] they nailed a kipper to the underside of the dining room table. Another memory of Blackpool was, before leaving they were lined up, sleeves rolled up and given multiple vaccinations. Then they were allowed to go home on leave before their next posting. Ted collapsed on arriving home and taken by ambulance to RAF Henley hospital, they lived nearby, where Vaccine Fever was diagnosed, and where he spent most of his leave. The chapter Ted contributed to “Lancaster At War Two” as wireless operator follows his training up to OTU where he said he met the RAAF. At some time during those previous months his mother, always concerned for her sons comfort, was worried that his regulations shirts were too rough. So she bought him officer’s shirts which she sent to him and which he wore on a night out to the local town. He was, however, picked up by the MPs and put on a charge for this offence. This was quickly followed by an individual posting to Northern Ireland to serve on a small anti-aircraft observation unit miles from anywhere. The isolation of this unit and the ever-present threat of the IRA made him sleep with his rifle alongside. They were a small group of young lads unused to cooking for themselves, so each one took their turn to be cook for the day buying meat and vegetables from the local farmers. Stew was the main meal of the day but Ted was horrified to see how it was being cooked. Meat and vegetables were thrown into a large saucepan, potatoes, carrots etc just as they had been lifted from the ground complete with the soil. Ted said that he’d do the cooking. Then to OTU at Litchfield where they crewed up. Five of the crew were Australian with the pilot being Murray Brown. I had the privilege of knowing Murray Brown and John Clarke, his 460 Squadron pilot in post war years when they visited the UK. The crew were posted to 12 Squadron at Wickenby, a satellite station of Binbrook. The Commanding Officer was Group Captain Huey Edwards, who was the CO of Binbrook [alarm sounding in background]. Many post war years later, Ted saw an article by Group Captain Basil Crummy[?] who said he was Wickenby’s first CO. Ted said he’s confirm the facts by writing to Sir Huey Edwards VC who kindly wrote at some length explaining that for a short while he was in charge of Binbrook, Wickenby and one other station, Basil Crummy taking over from him soon after. I realised a little while ago that these letters from Sir Huey should be in an appropriate archive, and I donated them to the RAAF Museum, Melbourne. And so Ted’s first com- tour commenced on 13th May 1943. The target being Bochum. The operation had to be abandoned after crossing the enemy coast due to an outer engine catching fire , and they had decided that would have to ditch but Murray went into a steep dive and mercifully the fire went out. When looking through their list of t- targets it illustrated Bomber Commands Battle of the Ruhr, known to the crews as Happy Valley. Also Peenemunde, Berlin, Cologne, Turin, Genoa and Hamburg. [Turning of paper]. Many years later in the 1950s we sailed along the River Elbe to Hamburg. As we reached our moorings Ted looked at the other bank where there was a large sign Blohm and Voss. Ted said that the shipyard had been their aiming point. Their tour finished with Stuttgart on 8th October 1943. After returning from Mannheim they were on their crew bus on their way from dispersal to the interrogation room when it collided with a petrol tanker which had broken down on the perimeter track. They were all pitched forward off their seats and were dazed for some seconds, Ted had been smoking at the time but when he came to he realised that it was still in his mouth but broken in half. They hadn’t realised, however, that a member of the crew had been pitched out they continued. Some considerable time later when he[stuttered] he they continued but some con - considerable time later [stutters] he appeared in the briefing room and amongst other things was asked for his escape rations. He said : ‘He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t as he’d had to eat them on the long trek back.’ On their leave on the 22nd of October 43, the crew made a BBC broadcast entitled : “Lancaster crew describes an operation.” I found in Ted’s papers a receipt from the BBC for three pound. Ted was then posted to Lindholme instructing. He said that one night in the mess Squadron Leader John Clarke came up to him and said that he was forming a crew to do a second tour, would Ted like to join him? ‘Yes,’ he said and so to his posting to Binbrook and 460 Squadron. The first operation there was the 22nd/23rd May on Dortmund and the last 16th September, Rhine which was the night of on [incomplete]. [Turning of page] The pattern of this tour was essentially supporting the invasion. On D-Day 5th/6th June 44, their target was the Normandy coastal bat- batteries in which over a thousand aircraft were involved. Their target being the battery St Martin de Varreville. The following night the important six way junction near, road junction near Bayeux and the Forest de Cereza. There followed oil plants, flying bomb sites culminating in their final operation 16th/17th September Arnhem. Bomber Commands main operations that night were in support of the following days landings. Several surrounding airfields were to be bombed 46- 460’s target was Rhine. However John Clarke’s crew was selected to remain behind after bombing Rhine [cough]. They were secretly briefed to carry out a low level reconnaissance over Arnhem, and told because of the importance [sneeze] of this assignment the radio equipment would be modified to take quartz crystals, so that the tuning would be spot on to transmit their observations. Just as Ted was about to enter the aircraft the Signals Officer drew up thrusting two small objects into his hands. ‘I don’t know how to use them,’ said Ted. ‘Neither do I,’ said he, ‘but you’ve plenty of time to find out.’ So ended his operational career. During this time, I’m not sure whether it was 12 or 460 Ted had been feeling very unwell during the day but they were told that would be taking two high ranking army officers on their night’s operations as they wished to observe the German anti-aircraft defences. During the flight Ted felt very sick but there was no suitable receptacle. He looked down and by his position he saw two upturned army caps, these he suitably filled and then despatched them down the flare shute. On landing the two chaps searched for their caps but they were told by the crew that very strange things happen at night. He always suffered from severe migraines in post war years, this he attributed to the fact that on one trip shrapnel had penetrated the fuselage and severed his oxygen tube. He didn’t tell his pilot at the time as he knew it’d been very dangerous to reduce height and did not do so until it was safe. However he said the pain in his head was just unimaginable. After Binbrook, I believe it was back to Lindholme, there they would take ground crews to see the destruction in Germany. On one separate occasion the flu had to [laugh] the crew had to fly to the Luftwaffe base on the Island of Sylt, purpose unknown. They dined in the mess with the German officers and I understand it was rather a tense situation. After time he flew to Brussels but burnt a tyre, burst a tyre on landing. They were there one month before a replacement tyre was obtained. He said that he had volunteered for Tiger Force and that he had crewed up. I believe that this was the plan for the RAF and USAF bombing campaign of Ger- of Japan. And I found confirmation of this in his 460 records. Finally, in summer 1946 he was demobbed at Swinderby. You will note that in the 12 Squadron crew list I didn’t named the mid-upper gummer gunner. This is because on July 28th/29th they were briefed for Cologne and during the outward flight he had collapsed very distressed and had to be physically restrained by other crew members. The operation had to be abandoned and they returned to base after dropping their bombs in the sea. [Sharp turn of page]. After that they had several replacement MUGs. He finally left the service in August 1945 from RAF Swinderby.
AS Thank you very much.
Dublin Core
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Title
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Interview with Rita Brooks
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Adam Sadler
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2015-10-29
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00:14:54 audio recording
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Sound
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ABrooksR151029
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Language
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eng
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Second generation
Description
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Rita’s late husband was Flight Lieutenant Edward Brooks DFC, DFM. He was in the Home Guard before he enlisted with the Royal Air Force in February 1941, and sometime later went to RAF Uxbridge. Following his training at Blackpool the recruits were billeted in a former seaside boarding house. Whilst at Blackpool they had their vaccinations before going home on leave. On reaching home Ted collapsed and was diagnosed with vaccine fever and he spent most of his leave in RAF Kenley hospital.
Ted was trained as a wireless operator and was posted to Northern Ireland to serve on a small antiaircraft observation unit. Next he went to Operational Training Units at RAF Litchfield where they crewed up. His crew was posted to 12 Squadron at RAF Wickenby. Ted’s first tour commenced on 13 May 1943. The operation had to be cancelled due to an engine catching fire. The pilot managed to extinguish the fire by going into a steep dive. Targets included the Ruhr, Berlin, Peenemünde, Cologne, Turin, Genoa and Hamburg. On the 8 October 1943 the tour ended with an operation to Stuttgart. On their leave on 22 October 1943 the crew made a BBC broadcast entitled 'Lancaster crew describes an operation'. Ted was then posted to RAF Lindholme as an instructor but then joined a second crew and was posted to RAF Binbrook with 460 Squadron. On D-Day they supported the landings by bombing batteries. In August 1945 Ted finally left the service from RAF Swinderby.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
Northern Ireland
France
Germany
England--Lincolnshire
England--London
England--Staffordshire
England--Yorkshire
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Stuttgart
Italy--Genoa
Italy--Turin
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
Germany--Peenemünde
Italy
Great Britain
Great Britain
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
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1943-05-13
1943-10-22
1943-10-08
1945-08
1941-02
Conforms To
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Pending revision of OH transcription
12 Squadron
460 Squadron
aircrew
bombing
Bombing of Peenemünde (17/18 August 1943)
Cook’s tour
crewing up
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Flying Medal
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
RAF Binbrook
RAF Kenley
RAF Lichfield
RAF Lindholme
RAF Uxbridge
RAF Wickenby
Tiger force
training
wireless operator
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/598/8867/PLimerF1501.1.jpg
8e9bbb05a79b231711fb1dfa8843b53a
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/598/8867/ALimerFW151210.2.mp3
7a453c946d3036ebfd5c0a7f7301c24c
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Limer, Frederick
Frederick W Limer
F W Limer
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Limer, F
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Flight Lieutenant Frederick Limer (Royal Air Force). He flew operations a as a bomb aimer with 149 Squadron.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-12-10
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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AS: Okay that’s fine I think it’s working now. So this is Andrew Sadler interviewing Freddie Limer for the Bomber Command Archive on Thursday, 9th December, 2015, at his home in Epping. Thank you for speaking to us Freddie. Can I ask you to start off with how it was that you came to join the Royal Air Force?
FL: At the beginning of the war I was a management trainee, after a short while the company decided to discharge the, all the trainees when the war broke out, and I was er, on reporting to the Labour Exchange I was sent to work in a factory, and during my experience in the factory I learned how to weld, both arc and acetylene welding. And that company was a long way from my home so I decided to ask the Ministry of Labour if I could transfer, so I transferred to another company, an engineering company which was close to my home. There I was taught, eventually I was taught how to inspect taps and dies, it was on that job that I eventually decided that having learnt that the whole of the company, but more particularly inspectors of taps and dies [laughs], were reserved and couldn’t volunteer other than for special services. I enquired of the local recruiting station what these special services were, they listed, submarines in the Royal Navy, Tanks in the Royal Tank Regiment, as my brother was already a lieutenant in there I said, ‘To hell with that I didn’t want him as my commanding officer.’ Or aircrew in the Royal Air Force. I decided that I’d volunteer for aircrew in the Royal Air Force, as I had been left school by then quite a bit my maths was a bit weak so when I was eventually assigned a job in the Royal Air Force if was a, a wireless operator/gunner, and I reported eventually to Blackpool. I did a course at Blackpool and as during the period of my acceptance in the Air Force and my call up, I decided that I should try and swot up on my maths which I knew were weak at the time of my original enlistment. So at Blackpool once I’d got half the way through the wireless course I enquired and was allowed to apply for a reassignment. They gave me then a, a list of questions and mostly mathematical that I had to fill in which fortunately I was successful. They then posted me from Blackpool to Lord’s Cricket Ground in London, where the assembly there was the, er, full of pilot aircrew. After a, a few days there, fortunately it was close to my home, so I used to nip home from time to time, but after a few days there I was then posted to No. 12 ITW at St. Andrews. Did the course on the at St. Andrews and towards the end of the course the government had introduced a new system where each of the cadets coming through ITW’s had to take a twelve hour flying test with Tiger Moths. We were assigned to go to Scone in Scotland, only a comparatively short distance from St. Andrews. It was a grass runway, my two colleagues, the three of us used to go together. My two colleagues passed with flying colours, one of them soloed in four hours and the other soloed in seven, and they were obviously destined to be pilots in the Royal Air Force. Unfortunately I, on my solo, I had a slight mishap, I might point out that the aerodrome was a grass runway, they used to have these things cutting the grass with dirty great poles sticking up in the air with flags on, well one of them actually didn’t have a flag on when I finished my solo. So needless to say I, that terminated my possibility of becoming a pilot. I then was sent to a small unit which [telephone ringing].
AS: Okay there we go were on, sorry do carry on.
FL: I was then transferred back to Reception Centre in Heaton Park, Manchester. I was there for a few weeks before I was transported to Liverpool where we boarded the Queen Mary and were destined for New York, destined for Moncton the Reception Centre in Canada for all RAF aircrew, I was apparently going to be an observer. On our way over in the Queen Mary we’d learned that there were a few ships that we thought most unusual but we thought the Queen Mary would be used to travel over fast on its own, but there was in fact a cruiser some distance away, and further away there was a small ship that we thought might have been, er, a destroyer or something like that. Sure enough when we got to America one of the colleagues observed coming out of the one of the rear windows, rear doors rather, Winston Churchill, it apparently there was also the rest of the War Cabinet and this was of course when they were having a meeting with the President of the United States. From our point of view we learned that there was an epidemic at Moncton in Canada where we were supposed to go, therefore we were transported to Taunton, in Massachusetts in America onto an American Army Air Force Base. And we were told that we might be there for a few days, a few weeks, we didn’t know. However, it was a bit of a godsend going there because it was the first time most of us had ever tasted a T-bone steak, and in UK at that time the T-bone steak size was the equivalent of family’s month’s ration, it was enormous, most of us made ourselves very ill eating these. However, we didn’t do very much there other than give drill demonstrations to the Americans, then the epidemic was cleared in Canada and we went to Moncton. At Moncton as usual of course in the Air Force there’s a dirty great pile of people there and we were there for a number of weeks. One of the interesting features about Moncton was that having been there a long time they had then developed a, a, number of the blokes had developed a little variety show and they used to give this show approximately once a week. To our surprise when we first went to our first show the compere and comedian of this show was Jimmy Edwards, he was obviously destined for Canada for his pilot training. However, after that we were all posted off to our various stations. I was posted to a 31 Navigational School, er, and that was on, on, on Lake Erie, and completing the 31 Navigational School course which was basically navigation and other ancillary qualifications we were then posted to another station, Fingal, which was a bombing and gunnery station. At Fingal we, although I was only an intermediary as far as examination results from the navigation and the other qualifications, when we did the course at Fingal I was top of the class, or top of the course on bombing. The bombing was in fact a single target that you approached at different heights, and dropped single bombs and then the assessment was the pattern that you had created. For becoming the best bomb aimer on the course I was awarded a little, tiny little medal which is referred to as a pickle barrel which showed a bomb dropping into a barrel, I still have the, the little medal today. From there we were posted back to Moncton, from Moncton we were then transported to a port on the coast, Canadian coast and boarded a ship called the “Louis Pasteur”. The journey back on the “Louis Pasteur” was in fact a nightmare by comparison with our first class journey on the “Queen Mary”. I think everybody on that ship was sick, and we came back in hammocks from there, contrary to the lovely quarters we had had on the “Queen Mary”.
AS: So there we go.
FL: From the “Louis Pasteur” we were transferred once more to a holding unit, and I and others went on to Staverton to start our courses, but we were informed that our observer badge did not qualify, had being phased out, and that we had to select from our qualifications as an observer one of the requirements of a seven crew aircraft, i.e. Stirlings, Lancasters, and Halifaxes. And as I had qualified pretty high up in bombing I decided to become a bomb aimer. From there I, from Staverton doing courses on map reading and various other activities connected with bomb aiming. Unfortunately on one of the exercises we were obliged to descend rather rapidly because the pilot had received instructions that was enemy aircraft in the area. His descent caused my right to ear to split and I was therefore, when we landed I was in considerable pain, and I went into hospital and was there for ten days before they allowed me to come out, and then they indicated that there would be a short gap before I’d be allowed to fly again. The short gap elapsed and I then was transferred to a unit where all the aircrew of various categories were assembled, it was in RAF language a dirty big hangar which there were pilots, navigators, bomb aimers, gunners, the only missing person was the engineer, he arrived at a later stage in our training. From there we went, we, we assembled, and we were all NCO’s at the time, I was a little senior because I had been in the Air Force a little bit longer than most of them, and hearing the pilot also was senior, so within a short period of time we were made up to flight sergeants. During our crewing up and our training we did the usual courses in together, this exercise was in fact having to go onto twin engines as he had only been, most of his training had been on single engines. He, we did this together and part of this twin engine training was in fact part of an OTU, but on Wellington 10’s, we did that and we did, strangely enough we did two operations where they were supposed to be diversions, and we dropped window, after we’d done that we then, Ian then had, had to take various courses in converting to four engines. We went to a station, we were all together, went to a station where he was converted onto Stirlings, and from Stirlings we then proceeded, all of us at the same time were doing our various training and exercises so forth in the crew, and by then of course we had added to our crew an engineer. Engineers at that time were very junior they course was round about six to eight months, and within six to eight months were, they were crewed up and some of them were on the squadron, other crew members were of course much longer periods of time dependent on who they were. From there we proceeded to be assigned a squadron and we were assigned 149 Squadron which was in fact a satellite, of Mildenhall which was called Methwold. Ian was then converted onto Lancasters from the Stirlings, the pilot was converted on Lancasters to Stirlings, and the rest of us were of course at the same time doing various exercises of our own particular trades. After we’d completed the initial work on the Lancaster we were then assigned to operations and we started on our operations. The first one being over to a place in France and unfortunately the weather closed in on our return to Methwold and we were diverted to St. Eval in Cornwall, this was quite a harrowing experience for the pilot and the navigator, but the pilot came through with flying colours and eventually we landed at St. Eval and we had roughly about fifteen minutes fuel in our tanks. We stayed there overnight then returned to our base at Methwold. Have a break.
AS: So while we’ve been paused Freddie has shown me his log book and his first operation that he’s just described was on 11th January, 1945, and the operation was to bomb Krefeld [spells it out], and the second operation on 13th January, was to Saarbrucken [spells it out], and it was diverted to St Eval [spells it out]. Okay thank you very much. Shall we restart?
FL: Er, from, where were we, we’d just done our first operation.
AS: Yes to Krefeld, yes that’s how we, yes.
FL: Okay. All the other ops are in there.
AS: Oh yes. Good.
FL: Okay? Restart?
AS: Yep, yes we’re ready to go. So do you want to tell me about any other of your operations?
FL: One of the operations that was in fact somewhat hairy was the operation up for Dresden, later on in our number of ops, and there our navigational aids went wrong and we were virtually lost, we were however buzzed by a German aircraft which we learned later was a 262 one of Germany’s new jet fighters. It, we however got free of that, but then Ian the pilot who observed certain water marks, water areas that he considered were way, way off our track, and he suggested the navigator that we should now turn course north and go back to base, at the same time Ian and I, the pilot, discussed what we were going to do about the bomb load. We had observed the pair of us that we were over quite a large area of what we considered to be forest land or open fields, so it was decided that we jettison our bombs but that I should make them safe, we did so, and the bombs were released safe. We then proceeded on our course north as Ian had suggested and low and behold within about thirty minutes I observed that there was a city in front of us, or approximately in front of us, eventually the navigational aids having restarted Joe the navigator indicated that the possibility was that it was Paris, and sure enough it was Paris. From there the navigational aids appeared to come back to normal, we then set course and arrived back at base in due time, needless to say the interrogation of our crew particularly the navigator, and myself, and Ian the pilot, was pretty considerable in view of the fact that we had to, (a) not reach our target, and (b) jettison our bomb load. This was however accepted and nothing further was heard on this particular incident.
AS: And from your log here that would have been on 13th February, 1945, you’ve noted here to Dresden, and the pilot Ian, was Flight Sergeant Sturgess?
FL: Flight Sergeant Sturgess yes.
AS: So really you were, you really started with your first mission in January 1945, this was quite close to the end of the war?
FL: Oh yes, oh yes indeed, oh yes indeed. That’s my because I volunteered in 1941 the er, and my training had taken some time, the crewing up etcetera it was December ’44 because, before we arrived on the squadron, and our first operations were in January of that year, lots of the familiarity of the change of aircraft onto a Lancaster, and consequently our tour was conducted pretty late in the war.
AS: Yes, your in your log book here it’s Christmas Eve 1944, 24th December, with pilot, Flight Officer McKey, and your remarks are, ‘you were checking the circuit’.
FL: Well he was in fact instructing Ian broadly speaking on the use of the Lancaster aircraft from the Stirlings that we were that Ian had been trained on up to that stage.
AS: Yes, and you’ve got here that the flight was fifteen minutes, and then, and then there’s another flight the same day with Flight Sergeant Sturgess as the pilot, circuits and landings, twenty minutes.
FL: Yes, yes, well that’s familiarity with the Lancaster you see. Which from then on of course we, also in my operations you will observe in my log book that we did two food drops over some open ground outside The Hague.
AS: Oh right.
FL: And that was a particularly interesting feature because I was responsible for checking out the food drop, and for the food in the bomb bays as all bomb aimers were, and on the second trip I decided to obtain a little plastic bag and filled this with this stuff that I got from the NAAFI, as well as I’d put my flying rations in there, when I dropped the food on the second trip I dropped this little plastic bag with it with my little parachute that I’d put on with one of my handkerchiefs. It’s interesting on that particular point that after the war my mother received a letter from a lady thanking her for the little gift dropped. [laughs] Excuse me I’m going to cry. Little gift that she had hand dropped during the war and although the food was rather spoilt, most of it was spoilt there were some elements of the food that were edible.
AS: Oh how nice. [laughs]
FL: That letter incidentally I took back from my mother, I gave it and talked about it to one of my sisters, who had a Dutch friend after the war, and she accepted the letter, and that letter I’m given to understand is in the war time section of the Dutch Museum in —
AS: So when, I see here you’ve got one of the operations marked here as “Cooks Tour” would that have been the dropping of the food?
FL: No, no, no. At, when operations were in fact, bombing operations were ceased by the RAF, some squadrons, ours happened to be what is known as a GH Squadron.
AS: Yes.
FL: Which was an extended version of G which could in fact navigate with greater accuracy, we then were assigned to do what were known as line overlaps, photographs of certain areas of Germany. Oh yes, this at the time was in fact classified as being secret.
AS: And looking at your log here in April ’45 it would appear that you only did two operations, one was Kiel, and you put the “Admiral Scheer” sunk so presumably that would have been against a ship?
FL: On that particular operation that you refer to, Kiel, I [phone ringing]
AS: You were just about to tell me about the operation to Kiel.
FL: One of my operations I flew with a crew other than my own, it was an Australian pilot, the rest of the crew were British, but the destination was Kiel Harbour, and we were given the target of the “Admiral Scheer” which was docked there with other battleships, and we carried only one bomb, it was a twelve thousand pounder, and we were given to understand it was for the armour piercing. Several of us in squadron had this, this particular bomb, and several of us claimed that we had dropped our bomb on the “Admiral Scheer” and sunk it because we learned later that the “Admiral Sheer” was sunk, and as there were about thirty odd aircraft there and they were all bombing the same targets it was doubtful whether any one of us could claim individually that we were the person who sunk the “Admiral Scheer”, but we all did. [laughs]
AS: Yes, so, and I’ve just found in your log here that on 3rd and 8th May 1945 were the dates where you’ve put here special operation to The Hague, food, two hours twenty-five, and two hours fifteen minutes each flight.
FL: They, they were conducted, the bombing height was two hundred feet, which was pretty low in a Lanc, and we weren’t sure whether of course the Germans were going to shoot us or not at that time, fortunately none of us on our squadron had any mishap at all on that particular operation.
AS: And then you’ve got —
FL: Other operations that we did what were known as line overlaps, these were photographs taken in sequence over what was known as a square search, where the aircraft proceeded over one course and reversed over the next adjacent course and photographs were taken of those and they were referred to as line overlaps, the cameras were operated by myself on the instructions of the navigator as and when to start. I did a few of those operations, but they I think were confined to a couple of squadrons in 3 Group. At the end of the war of course the ground crews were all very interested in what was happening or what had happened so we did an operation or two what we referred to as “Cooks Tours”, taking ground staff piled into the aircraft to observe what had happened to some of the near targets on the Ruhr. One or two of them were females, and they were, it’s a little bit uncomfortable of course in a Lancaster for people trying to observe, and there were some very near misses where people trod on the wrong thing but they went off successfully. Another interesting feature on one of the operations that we did, when we proceeded from the perimeter track round the main track to get to the runway the gunners used to have to, on each operation, test the traverse of their turrets and their guns, the rear turret in particular and the mid-upper, but on one occasion the rear gunner had what is known as a runaway, the strange thing about that was he had the runaway when we were passing the guard room and he was reprimanded for this for carelessness but no further action was taken. Another incident when we first arrived at the aerodrome on proceeding to the guard room to sign in, we observed that behind the main counter of the guard room there were a long line of coffins, and when our little mid-upper gunner, Titch Holmes, saw these, he screamed out, ‘Bloody hell.’ And we thought that that was quite appropriate considering that we’d just arrived on the squadron. [laughs] That’s one or two of the incidents on the squadron which. After the war I was appointed by the squadron commander as the designated rather as the bomb aimer to go to Royal Air Force Bomb Ballistics Unit at Martlesham Heath. I was in fact on selection appointed to this and I then served from May 1946 until August 1948, during that time the operation, the operations at that time were secret but I should imagine now the secrecy of that itself not particularly important, but our role there, I was the only bomb aimer on that unit. There were several pilots and we, our role was to fly from Martlesham Heath to Woodbridge at Woodbridge, as most bomber command people will know was the emergency aerodrome for bomber command and had a runway which was exceptionally long, and it was said that light aircraft could take off on the width of the runway. Most of our loads then were the single bombs as a general rule and they were loaded at Woodbridge, we took off from there and flew through Orford Ness, over Orford Ness we were then guided by radar, they informed us what height they wanted us to travel, what speed, and therefore we had to release the bombs on their instigation, they then tracked the bombs which then landed on the marshes at Orford Ness and we then proceeded back to base to reload or merely rest. The aircraft we used for that operation were Lancasters for the heavier bombs and altitudes up to about fourteen, fifteen, sixteen thousand feet, and then we had the Mosquito which we used for high altitude up to thirty-two thousand feed, this was the first time that I had been involved in a Mosquito, and as you know the Mosquito only has a two man crew and therefore I was obliged to bring in the fact that I had been trained as a navigator as well as a bomb aimer. We did several trips like in the Mosquito, as well as the Lancaster, and eventually we had finished or what appeared to have been finished our operations with that unit. It took approximately eighteen to twenty months to do this and after that we then rested from that type of activity. The station at Martlesham Heath was in fact a peace time aerodrome, mainly dealt with experimental, but in war time the Americans used it, and we released it from the Americans when we took over the Bomb Ballistics Unit. We spent most of our time, I think the airmen spent most of their time clearing the gum from underneath all the tables and chairs in the various messes. The mess at Martlesham Heath, the officer’s mess was a delightful place, there were of course only about eighteen serving RAF officers there but we had quite a number of boffins, scientists who were in fact members of the mess, and I had the unfortunate duty of being assigned the catering officer of the mess and I took that like a duck to water, and also I had a colleague there called Reg Kindred, who was the adjutant of BLEU [?], he was minus his left leg, he was a pilot and had been shot down over France in a Manchester a twin engine aircraft that was doomed to failure. He was repatriated to the UK by the Germans on the grounds that he would not be able to fly again, and this was truly the case because he then became an adjutant and he and I were buddies on RAF station.
AS: Good.
FL: I had one or two interesting duties when I was at Martlesham, as I previously said I was made assigned catering officer of the officer’s mess, when my colleague Reg Kindred left he er, he was the bar officer I had to take on that role as well, which I did with relish. I was responsible for getting beer and what have you from the various breweries, we used to get beer from Cobbolds in Epping in Ipswich and we always used to get other beers, but Cobbold’s beer at the time you used to get as much as you liked, all we had to do was order it and they used to send little trucks along with it, ‘cos it was generally known in the mess as “Cobbold’s piss”, ‘cos it was so weak, in those days some of the beer was very weak, but we used to get beer from Fremlins, which is a delightful beer but that was very rationed, and there was a great deal of hard work done as to who had more Fremlins than had more Cobbold’s. [laughs]
AS: So when you were dropping bombs on Orford Ness what was the point of that?
FL: The point of that was Orford Ness was in fact a peace time experimental station and they were in fact tracking the bombs to test various faculties about them.
AS: Right.
FL: Their speed of acceleration, accuracy of other elements of it, but broadly speaking that was, with all the bombs they were testing the accuracy of the bombs in their release from an aircraft at a given speed to given height as to how accurate their trajectory was in hitting the target that they had assigned.
AS: Oh right, so all your entries in your log in 1947 were obviously just really you’ve got lots of entries saying bombing and then the number of feet.
FL: Yeah, well at the time you see we were restricted because it was comparatively secret then, we were restricted as to stating too much fact in there, and also we were restricted in stating the bombs that we were using, but on one occasion when we were dropping a twelve thousand pounder we’d picked it up from Woodbridge it dropped off as we were taking off, and the aircraft rose like a god almighty rocket and we were obliged not to put that into our log book, ‘cos it was felt that it was put in there it had to be recorded and the airmen who were responsible for fitting that would be court martialled, and we were kindly advised not to put it in our log book. But you might find in my log book that I have slipped in one of them when we dropped a twelve thousand pounder, twelve thousand pounds in there.
AS: Oh right.
FL: But as a rule we didn’t state the bombs that we were dropping, that was the general rule not to do so, but we dropped practically every type of bomb, other of course than the “Cookie”, the four thousand pounder which I think nobody arrived what it’s trajectory was it arrived on the target sometimes I think or somewhere near the target, but each bomb load that the RAF carried or bomber command carried invariably carried a “Cookie” which was in full of course high explosive.
AS: And you’ve got entrances in here for June ’46, photography and radar runs, and training programmes, air tests, and then you’ve got ferrying ex-prisoners of war in May ‘45?
FL: Yes, it was, it was after the war between my leaving the squadron, or rather not leaving the squadron, the end of my time in the squadron, the crews then were being split up. The senior pilots like mine was in fact transported away somewhere else or released, and the junior pilots then took over and we were assigned to a, a, collect POW’s from, POW’s that had been in the bag for a long time from France, from [unclear], and also we collected about eighteen, seventeen or eighteen of those at a time, we didn’t carry the gunners at all, we had an engineer and I was the marshall of the, the bomb aimer as I was, was the marshall ensuring that the men were properly placed inside the aircraft so that they didn’t in fact cause too much possibility of damage or, or accident. There was one accident I understand but one squadron to that, er, aircraft crashed and there were some fatalities in that, but we didn’t have any of that possibility. Later on as well as collecting POW’s from Europe we also went out to Fermignano[?] in Italy to collect POW’s from there, but we only did the one trip because we found it was far too uncomfortable for soldiers in the main to be housed in an aircraft like the Lancaster for such a long journey, and I think that was discontinued as it was felt it was far better for them to be transported by boat, although it took longer, it was far more safe and comfortable to do that, we only did the one trip from Fermignano [?] which is Naples of course. But when we were there of course we were there for three or four days because the weather had closed in and some of us had the opportunity of being escorted up Vesuvius, and that was quite an experience rather hot underfoot, but, but it was quite enlightening.
AS: How long were you in the RAF after the war finished?
FL: From the end of the war up to 19 November 1948.
AS: Oh gosh.
FL: Which was quite a while, I haven’t worked it out precisely, but that was the period of time. Because I was at Martlesham from June ’46 until August ’48.
AS: How many operational sorties did you do altogether then there?
FL: Actual operations over Germany, only twenty-two.
AS: Twenty-two that’s still quite a lot.
FL: Well the tour was thirty you see.
AS: Yes.
FL: But the, my tour was made up of the operations that our squadron did, line overlaps the photographic thing because there was still the possibility then of possible accident, or possible enemy fire, but although the war was over. Even when we dropped this food over Holland and we were warned then that there were still some Germany people who were a little bit trigger happy, I think one or two aircraft did in fact experience single bullet hitting their aircraft, we didn’t at all we had very comfortable two trips.
AS: When you finally demobbed from the RAF how did you fit back into civilian life?
FL: Very slowly and I immediately decided that I should get back into earning my income because my gratuity from the RAF we all felt was rather paltry, I think I received two hundred and eighty-seven pounds, and if you want to find that two hundred and eighty-seven pounds you’ll find it at the Valentine Pub in Ilford [laughs] with the other chaps that were being demobbed at the time, mainly RAF some Naval, there were about eight of us used to go to the Valentine and we had regular visits to the Valentine Pub and eventually we were running out of cash we then all were obliged to start thinking about earning a respectable income because we were then placed on the dole as it was called in those days. But I decided to take a refresher course with a company in Holborn on sales and marketing and that was around about six weeks, after that I decided on information that I had received to visit the Officers Re-employment Unit just outside Victoria Station, and I was fortunate enough to be able to get in touch with a company called Bakelite, where once more fortunately the sales manager there was an ex major in the Army and I found that the, the eight salesmen eventually they took on were all ex-service, either warrant officers, officers, warrant officers and sergeants, no other ranks were part of the his crew of trainee representatives, some of them had already been there before me and were in fact quite senior. But I, the course I then had to take was to, I was placed in the Wearite [?] division of Bakelite which is the plastic with the decorative plastic division, and then I was assigned to go to Victoria report there, and from there I was sent to Ware in Hertfordshire where I did a six week course in what laminated plastics were all about and what Wearite [?] was all about, and I enjoyed that very much because it was in the factory learning lots of skills that I’ve never ever thought that I would experience. I eventually we, from there I was then transferred back to the London office and there I was given an area that I was to cover as a, as they termed us technical representative, because we weren’t salesmen we were trying to get people to become distributors of the product, we didn’t sell direct to anybody, and also to train people in precisely how to use the laminated plastics at the time.
AS: After you left the RAF did you keep in touch with your comrades in your crew?
FL: I didn’t keep in touch with any of the comrades in the crew because we dispersed, it wasn’t until about a year later when I was, nearly two years later when I was married and living in my present house that somebody had phoned my parents’ home in Barkingside and asked whether Fred Limer was there and they indicated that he had died. The people who lived in that house got in touch with me and let me know what had happened, and I said, ‘Well the person who died of course was my father and whoever you informed you have informed him that I was dead.’ However, they fortunately they had taken the individuals telephone number and name, they passed it on to me and it happened to be my pilot, Ian Sturgess, so I got the telephone number and decided I’d phone him up. [laughs] I phoned Ian and when he came on the phone I said, ‘Ian Sturgess, this is Freddie Limer raised from the dead.’ I heard him go, I heard him go. He was then managing a farm, he was a farmer, managing a farm, anyway we had a long conversation and then eventually I went down to see him in where he was managing this farm and then we continued our association together, and as I had then become a member of the Bomber Command Association, I used to go to their functions a number of times a year, and Ian was not a member of any of this, I invited Ian twice a year to come to the AV, the AGM and also the Autumn meeting and they were luncheons and things and I used to meet Ian on those occasions, when I first met him on those occasions he indicated that he thought that I had not changed a bit, and I felt exactly the same thing about him, we were both lying of course [laughs] we’d got very much older. And I saw Ian for a long time after that and eventually I was informed by Elizabeth his wife that he had fallen and had fractured his hip and he was very unwell and he had in fact died and that arrangements were made for his funeral etcetera but it was strictly private family affair, but they were holding a wake and a reception and that I would, if I would like to come, and my wife the, and daughter would be delighted to see us. Later on when I gave an article to the local paper and gave them a photograph of our crew, I was, the reporter whom I knew, reported about the food dropping exercise and the picture was noted by a young person living in Lowton [?] a nearby town, and she said that one of the crew as her father, which happened to be Joe Siddell [?] the navigator.
AS: Oh gosh.
FL: So she told her father about it and Joe came along and saw me, so we had a long chat. I’ve seen him since he now can’t drive apparently he had a prang with his motorcar but he lives not too far away from Elizabeth, Ian Sturgess the pilot’s widow, not too far away from there. And from time to time I get in touch with him on the phone. So they’re the only two members of the crew, I did learn that Dagwood, or rather Wilfred Oxford, the engineer, had in fact died, but I haven’t heard anything about the gunners. I beg your pardon, I had heard about Bill Buckle, the wireless operator, he was a villain on the squadron, he was a woman chaser, but he eventually, according to Joe Siddell, the navigator, he moved out to Australia, because he’d gone out with some people that he’d learned on the squadron, known on the squadron, and was now living in Australia with his family and was quite prosperous. But other than that the other crew members, oh I beg your pardon once again, I heard from Titch Holmes, the gunners, the mid-upper gunner’s son phoned me one time, he phoned me because he’d seen in the press about my MBE and he wondered whether his father could come and see me, but I learned from Ian that Titch had been to see him but he was, um, Ian didn’t like, like him too much because he was trying to sponge money out of him, and I thought when the son phoned up and asked if he could see me, I said, ‘Well it would be inconvenient for him, for me to see him.’ So I never did see Titch. I wasn’t very keen on Titch he was a little miner about the size of two happeth of pennies, but he was as strong as an ox, and he frequently got into scraps in the, in the pubs when we used to go and have drinks together, and one time he took a swipe, took a swipe at me, fortunately I got out of the way of it, but as boxing was in fact my main hobby. But no apart from that, members of the crew, it’s only because I’ve been thinking about it and reflecting on it that I remember these incidences of remembering these, these people. But as I say after the war I did this course, sales and marketing, joined Bakelite, rose to be the manager of the, after about ten years rose to be the manager of the Midlands area, decided because I couldn’t have the financial arrangements with them without moving house etcetera, I decided to leave Bakelite because I’d been offered a directorship in one of my customers’ companies and they’d offered me a quarter of the shares of the company, but they were wanting me to manage the company for them, and manage the sales and marketing in general, which I did for about ten years. Eventually the, we were paid, paid the same salary each and also the same bonuses each but eventually they the other three decided that they wanted to retire, and they retired we agreed to sell the company, but I had to agree with them because they would have outvoted me to a young couple, well one of them wasn’t all that young but he was a qualified accountant. But the other three left but they asked me if I would be prepared to stay with the company for about twelve months and would pay the same salary that I receiving now and bonuses but they would also put a respectable amount of money into my pension fund which it sounded attractive so I stayed with them for that period of time. In fact it went further than a year, and eventually I left when they decided that they were moving to a much larger factory and became a much larger company, the company is called Decraplastics, it’s pretty large now, much larger than it would have been with my three colleagues and I. I left them and I came, decided that I would get involved locally with activities in my town of Epping. I was in a pub once talking to a friend, and I said, and I talked to him about the fact that I thought that having lived in Epping for a quite while it’s about time I got interested in doing some activities or others. He said, ‘Well interesting, I’ll, er.’ Next day I received a phone call from a friend of his saying ‘I understand —‘ From then on I did in fact decide to become a councillor, and in 1965 I was elected as a councillor on the Epping Urban Council, and found on the council that the activities the council did were activities which I, I, I, I found I had a lot of interest in. Some of them [?] and I was made chairman of the housing committee, I took like that, to that like a duck to water, thoroughly enthralled by it, and I was chairman for a few years and decided that having revamped the whole idea of the council house both the waiting lists etcetera, we decided that we would commit people with the financial resources to do so to buy their council houses, and in mid 1960’s we decided to do this. At the same time people also wanted to, I decided that people who were under occupying their council houses, like on investigation we found that there were couples who were in three bedroom houses, there were elderly in accommodation most unsuitable for them, there were some single persons in three bedroom accommodation which was very wasteful considering we had a quite sizeable housing waiting list. So we then set about planning to build and did build housing suitable for the elderly, apartments in the main, that were managed by a manager or a warden or whatever you want to call it, and that they would be transferred there, we found that some of them didn’t have the resources to [coughs] to finance their removal so we assisted in that direction. There were several buildings that we eventually built to house these people and a lot of the houses one they were then vacated for and we cleared off our housing list, at that time was somewhere in the region of about four hundred, we cleared the whole lot off and a lot of people started buying their council houses. Which then of course a reorganisation took place in 1973, and I was then the having been the chairman of the council twice, I was the senior councillor who led the team in the reorganisation set up which four other three other local authorities were involved and we, we it was decided the way we would set up what was then became a new district council. The new district council then had a population of one hundred and twenty thousand, from the fact that we had started off with our council having about fifteen thousand was somewhere in the region of an enlargement.
AS: When you were selling off the properties what was the rationale behind that?
FL: Mainly because a lot of the people that were living in there had indicated that they didn’t want to move because they had jolly nice neighbours, they’d spent quite a lot of their own money building up there houses and they felt they would like to stay there. We inspected a lot of houses to try and verify this, added to which I was fortunate enough to have a councillor that had been retired who also was a past schoolmaster who kindly agreed to get a team of people, half a dozen people [coughs], ex councillors etcetera to do an investigation of the houses for me to get a clearer picture of who lived in the houses, what their attitudes were broadly speaking etcetera, and this was the picture that we got was the considerable under occupation, a fair amount of people who had lived in their homes and felt they didn’t want to move because they’d spent a lot of money improving them etcetera, they would like to buy them if they could. It was on these grounds that, I would say persuade the council that we should sell the houses to the tenants. Wasn’t all that many, I mean it was a fair number, but the urban council only had council houses of about twelve hundred or more, and then beg your pardon, twelve thousand or more, and the task wasn’t a great task being a salesman by trade or by occupation broadly I found this exercise to be rather fulfilling and of course my colleagues realised that [coughs] I knew what I was talking about. Anyway that went through fairly successfully and I say right up to reorganisation.
AS: And this was something that you decided at the council rather than part of the Conservative policy.
FL: Oh no, no, no, no. I wasn’t interested in Conservative. Although I’m by political indic, indication a Conservative I’m just about a Conservative, just about a Conservative. On many of the, I was totally opposed to nationalisation that what swung me in favour of being a Conservative because the Labour Party at the time of course were very, very much in favour of nationalisation. But it’s with that I strong, I didn’t have strong political attitude because I wasn’t really a politician when I first became a councillor.
AS: Were you standing on behalf of a Party or?
FL: I was standing on behalf of the Conservative Party, that’s broadly speaking why we got in, because at that time the swing was towards Conservatism in the district and we swept at that, within two years we swept all of the Labour and Liberal, as they were in those days Liberal not Liberal Democrats, Liberals off the council so the twelve of us at that time were all Conservative, when I was then became the senior councillor. But as I say when reorganisation took place in 1973 urban councils then were abolished, town councils were created, which my group myself created Epping Town Council, but we also became part of creating, six of us became part of creating the Epping Forest District Council which had fifty-seven, fifty-seven councillors, but unfortunately of course we only had six, therefore we were for the first couple of years not even considered until they found out that some of us knew what we talking about and from my point of view they knew what I was talking about when I talked about housing so I was persuaded, I persuaded them to let me become chairman of the housing committee. After I’d been chairman of the housing committee and started my usual process of right to buy continuation we started drawing in, buying in houses that were in our area that belonged to other councils, Walthamstow, Waltham Abbey, there were some there, they were GLC council houses in here, we bought all of those out and brought them back into our own fold in the Epping Forest District. I initiated broadly speaking the policy in relation to that and then of course after having done that as I say I was invited by the World of Property Housing Association to join them if I would care to. I did join them and then became a member of that particular organisation which after about twelve months decided to, to extend their activities and alter their name to Sanctuary Housing Association which is well known today. They made me, or persuaded me to become chairman of Essex Committee, then they persuaded me to become chairman of the Hertfordshire Committee, then they joined those committees together and asked me to be chairman of both the committees, the joint committees. Later they invited me to become member of central council which I, all of this is voluntary in my particular case.
AS: Yes.
FL: And costing me.
AS: Yes.
FL: Apart from the fact I got travelling expenses and when I was away for a long time I had lunch and all the other things catered for, but that’s all, I wasn’t paid. I was opposed to payment at that time [coughs]. Anyway the procedure with Sanctuary was more or less similar to my procedure in the council, I became vice-chairman of the council of the association, appointed also manager of a group that were responsible for the development of Shadwell Basin [?] because there was a large piece of ground on there owned by the housing association and they wanted to develop it, and we developed that into a large block of flats, beside on one side of the basin they were about eight detached houses. The detached houses were sold, the flats initially were let but a lot of people once more wanted to buy them and there was no objection if they wanted to pay the right price which Sanctuary agreed to do. Then on the other side of Sanctuary there was another piece of ground there that we developed that and there we confined it to rental, but we confined the rental to nurses, firemen, policemen, and one or two of the other, doctors as well, who wished to be locally located, a lot of those were rented together and there were roundabout I think about two hundred, say two hundred, two hundred, I think it was two hundred and ten, and they were all let, but eventually of course a lot of those people wanted to buy them and eventually they started buying them as well.
AS: I think that one of the problems in London is that properties have become so valuable that they cease to becomes, they’re very much investment opportunities.
FL: Yes. Oh with Sanctuary I then as I say I became vice-chairman of the central council and by then I’d been with Sanctuary about ten years, eight, ten years and they wanted to persuade me to take on the duties of the chairman which I refused, but I did accept the duties of the chairman of the special projects committee, and that was the most gratifying committee that I found. And today Sanctuary is the largest Housing Association in the country and also I’m pleased to say that they are doing a lot of care facilities for people and in a nice good way, and also a lot of, um, they started letting people buy some of their houses but I don’t think they were enthusiastic about it, which I didn’t push, but ultimately of course I was getting on a bit and decided when I was seventy-nine that I’d had enough and I discussed with the chief executive and the treasurer, two very good friends of mine by then, that I was going to retire. They regretted it but understood, and I graciously after persuasion by some of the members of the committee I understand gave me a crate of my favourite red wine when I retired, which I so enjoyed, and I did leave Sanctuary regrettably but I think it was inevitable, and I’m pleased to say that as time as gone by, I’m still in touch because I’m still a member and still life president although that role is a non-entity really, but unfortunately most of the council members are now paid. The chief executive and treasurer have got salaries that I think are higher that the Prime Minister’s but that is I’m afraid life now that people are paid these monies in order to, the organisation to attract the most skilled people they’ve got lawyers, managers, what have you on their committees, so that they are in fact as I say the most financially balanced housing association in the country but, and the chief executive I understand recently awarded a CBE,. which in the past being slightly socialistic he wasn’t inclined to want, but I think the grade of CBE I think attracted him a little bit more than an M or an O and I think that, that I believe changed his mind. I’m still in touch with David and treasurer, not very much, I occasionally get acquainted with their activities but I’m gradually receding into the background, I’m still filling in an annual little return about what activities that are going on and what I think of them and the people that are on the central council which I’ve got no jurisdiction over at all so it’s just a question of fill the paper in and sign it I do that annually. They used to send me a catalogue, a diary at one time, but they don’t anymore which I regret very much because it was a damn good one. [laughs] But there you are it’s closing down at the age now of ninety-four given up most of my activities when I was eighty, I regret to say that when I retired from the Epping Forest District Council, having been disgustingly fit most of my life I then bumped up against one or two health problems which am fortunate enough to have skilled doctors, and skilled practitioners, specialists in our local hospital whom I became very friendly with and they were very, very accommodating, and I have been cured of most of those activities the only thing that I do now is take quite a number of pills and I never walk fast these days in case I rattle. [laughs]
AS: Thank you very much Freddie I’m very grateful for the opportunity to hear your story.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Frederick Limer
Creator
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Andrew Sadler
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-12-10
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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ALimerFW151210
Conforms To
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Pending revision of OH transcription
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Format
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01:36:40 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Lancashire
England--Gloucestershire
England--Norfolk
England--Suffolk
England--Blackpool
Scotland--Fife
Scotland--St. Andrews
Canada
New Brunswick
New Brunswick--Moncton
France
France--Juvincourt-et-Damary
Germany
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Germany--Dresden
Germany--Kiel
Germany--Krefeld
Italy
Italy--Pomigliano d'Arco
Netherlands
Netherlands--Hague
Germany--Saarbrücken
Description
An account of the resource
Freddie Frederick volunteered for the Royal Air Force and did a course in Blackpool. He was posted to No. 12 Initial Training Wing at St Andrew, although was unsuccessful in his flying test. Freddie was then trained at RCAF Moncton in Canada and posted to 31 Navigational School on Lake Erie. He came top in a bombing course at RCAF Fingal.
From Canada, Freddie went to RAF Staverton where he became a bomb aimer. He transferred to a unit where he crewed up and was made a flight sergeant. Further courses were taken on twin engine and four engine aircraft. In December 1944, Freddie was assigned to 149 Squadron at RAF Methwold, a satellite of RAF Mildenhall, where they converted onto Lancasters.
Freddie describes operations to Krefeld, Saarbrücken, Dresden and Kiel. He also was involved in two food drops to The Hague. They became known as Gee-H Squadron for their greater navigation accuracy. They did classified work doing line overlaps: photographs in sequence of certain areas in Germany. Freddie also refers to Cook’s Tours at the end of the war. He was involved in flying back prisoners of war from Juvincourt in France and Pomigliano in Italy.
After the war, Freddie was appointed bomb aimer at the RAF Bomb Ballistics Unit at RAF Martlesham Heath whose operations were secret. They flew in Lancasters and Mosquitos through Orford Ness, a peacetime experimental station, which tested the accuracy of a wide number of bombs.
After Freddie’s career in the plastics industry, he became a local councillor and chairman of the council. His housing work continued with various governance roles for a housing association.
Contributor
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Sally Coulter
149 Squadron
aircrew
bomb aimer
bombing
bombing of Dresden (13 - 15 February 1945)
Cook’s tour
crewing up
Gee
guard room
Initial Training Wing
Lancaster
mess
Mosquito
Operation Dodge (1945)
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
RAF Martlesham Heath
RAF Methwold
RAF Staverton
RCAF Fingal
Stirling
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/719/10114/ABorthwickS180306.2.mp3
2ff5ec8d7ba556eaacdc93f61495839b
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Borthwick, Sidney
S Borthwick
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Sidney Borthwick (b. 1925). He flew operations as an air gunner with 101 Squadon.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-03-06
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Borthwick, S
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
AS: Ok. So, there we are. So, this is Andrew Sadler interviewing Sidney Borthwick at his home in Staines on Tuesday the 5th of March 2018. Sidney, can you, you were telling me about how you signed up in to the Air Force. Can you tell me about that?
[pause]
SB: It’s a bit indistinct now but there were recruitment areas in every town weren’t they? Staines. No. Where was it?
Other: West Hartlepool?
SB: But I’ve always had something wrong with my left arm. A tumour on the bone shaft of my left arm or something. The kind of thing that when you were in the playground at school. They’d just maybe let you out of lessons and you were all mad and you were chasing each other and they used to grab me and it was right where this tumour was on my, on my left arm. And it was like something on the bone that when they did things like that it wobbled about. I’ve still got it [laughs] It’ll only be, it’s long forgotten now you know but I was in the playground. I had to be very careful in the rough and tumble of [pause] what was that famous thing we used to play? Tig or something like that.
Other: Tag.
SB: Tag, and —
Other: And did this affect you for going in to the —
SB: Well, they used to grab my left, my arm you see and under there somewhere there was like a nodule or something. A tumour on the bone shaft of my left arm.
Other: But did that affect you joining the Air Force?
SB: Well, yeah. Oh, yeah. You had to keep your mouth closed about that, you know. So I think I probably went somewhere in this area to volunteer and they thought [pause] So I thought, well I’ll go to another place. There was another place. I forget the name of it now. I’ll go up there. I went in. Wanted to volunteer, you know. Here I am. ‘Yeah. Yeah. Fine. You’re in.’ [laughs] So a lesson in life that sometimes you’ve got to [unclear] [laughs] Yeah. So, yeah.
AS: And how old were you then? Was this before the war or after it had started?
SB: Doesn’t say anything in here, does it?
Other: You’ve always said that you lied about you age.
SB: I haven’t seen this in ages.
Other: You always said, dad that you lied about your age. If you had to be eighteen you were only seventeen but you put your age forward to the point that I always remember mum always said she never really knew what you were at a birthday because you kept it up.
[pause]
SB: Sergeant Brooking. I wonder how he is nowadays.
[pause]
AS: Can you tell me anything about the training that you did? How did you come to become a gunner?
SB: How come?
AS: How did you come to become a gunner?
SB: Well —
[door chimes interrupt recording]
SB: If you volunteered. A lot of people said, you know. ‘I want to be up there.’ You see. But I wasn’t like that. I knew I had limitations so I thought well there’s plenty of appendages on there, you know. You can be a bomb aimer, a mid-upper gunner and all the rest of it. So I didn’t cast my line and I always lived with the thought that one day they were going to walk up to me and say, ‘Are you Sid Borthwick?’ And I’d say, ‘Yes.’ And he’d say, ‘Yeah. Well, we know all about you. Bugger off.’[laughs] So, yeah I think I went [pause] [unclear] place. What’s it called? I forget now.
[pause]
SB: So, I learned pretty quickly when to keep my mouth shut and things like that. You, you lived in fear when your turn would come. They had a thing that spun around. I forget what it was but it was part, part of your volunteering. You passed these things and I thought I don’t think I’ll ever get through that but yeah. Be like mum. Or be like dad, keep mum. So, the less you say that can [pause] they could put up against you afterwards the better.
AS: Can you tell me about the training you had?
SB: Training?
AS: Yes.
SB: Well, yes. It’s all written down in the book.
[pause]
SB: Units at which served. ACRC. Aircrew Recruitment. St Johns Wood. In brackets I’ve put Lord’s. So, is there a big err St Johns Wood? What is the name of that?
AS: The Cricket Ground. Lord’s Cricket Ground.
SB: 4th of January 1944. And then I went to Bridlington, Bridgnorth. Stormy Down. And then Ludford Magna. Christ almighty. Catterick. Christ, I was up in Blackpool. I remember that. I had a good time up there.
AS: Can you tell me where you were posted?
[pause]
SB: I was at ACRC. At obviously, Air Crew Recruitment, St Johns Wood and I’ve got here Lord’s. 4th of January ’44. So there must have been a place up there where you went. [unclear] Upper Heyford. Scampton. Bottesford. Ludford Magna. Catterick. Kirkham. Blackpool. West Kirby. Demob. Off.
AS: Can you remember how you came to be a gunner?
SB: Capabilities. You know in your own mind. You know what you could take on without [pause] Although I always remember at school I was always in the back row. Of course, it gives you good pretensions that, you know. I don’t know what your school was like. Your headmaster sat down there and in the front row you had all the dummies as we used to call them, you know. People as thick as two planks. They were, you can imagine him standing there thinking how am I going to drum anything in to this lot? And I knew from that, the seating in the classroom how I was doing, you know. If you got yourself in the back row away from, the master used to sit in the front with the big cane didn’t he to see if you were awake. And I knew from that what I was capable of or what I thought I was capable of. So I might have diminished myself in certain respects but it gave me a line that I wanted to be above possibly. And without any, what did you call it educationally? You got secondary education, was it? The first. Secondary.
[pause]
SB: Yeah. I wasn’t going to set the world on fire.
AS: Can you tell me anything about the training you did to become a gunner?
[pause]
SB: It’s not very clear to me actually.
AS: Can you remember where you were? Where you were stationed? You said, you said something. You read from your logbook you were in Scampton. Can you tell us something about that?
[pause]
SB: Yes. This this is the book they give you when you join. You join up. Certificates of qualification etcetera. [pause] And then it goes all the way with you through. Red ink for night flying. Blue ink for daytime. Stormy Down. Yeah. Old Anson. I remember that.
AS: Could you tell us about that?
[pause]
SB: I couldn’t get on quick enough. It was, it was like taking a lad from the streets and I’m talking now a long time ago.
[telephone ringing]
[pause]
AS: Did you go on many missions? Can you tell us about some of those?
[pause]
SB: What? In the real war you mean?
[pause]
SB: Do you remember Concorde?
AS: Yes.
SB: Concorde BOAE. Passenger proving flight. Two hours up the Bay of Biscay. That was Concorde. A brand new aeroplane. [pause] ACRC. That was the old Bridlington. Then to Bridgnorth. Then to Stormy Down. Upper Heyford. Scampton. Bottesford. Ludford Magna. Catterick. Kirkham. Blackpool. Training. I was shoved off to India when they’d finished with me.
AS: Can you tell me about that?
[pause]
AS: What did you do after the war? Did you manage to settle back in to civilian life?
SB: Yeah.
AS: Was it difficult or easy?
SB: I’ve got in here Blackpool. Retraining [pause] as an equipment assistant. So it sounds like my flying days are over. Remustering training because when, when the war ended they wanted, well the lads who had been up where ever fighting the war. Serving. They all wanted to come back to England. Be in Blighty again. So lots of people like me, probably midway let him go on. So, the next thing I know I’m up in Ceylon. I’m posted overseas. Mind you it was wonderful. You’d never see [laughs] Never see them in your lifetime. Sitting here kind of thing. It’s the place to be. You see the ladies picking [pause] oh what the hell do they call them? Actually, you know the things are actually growing up there. You go from the, one day dropping bloody bombs all over the place. A couple of weeks later you’re in a foreign country. Why? Well, those lads had been up there so they’re due to come home and we need to replace them, don’t we? Yes. Off you go then. Next. [unclear] you’re sitting ladies in the, where was it? Ceylon? [pause] And they’re picking, yeah what the hell was it? What is tea like? The plant. A shrub isn’t it? [pause] Mind you, for a single bloke it was a good life.
AS: What were you doing in Ceylon? Why did you go to Ceylon?
SB: Because the government sent me there, I suppose. I didn’t volunteer for it. I just, as I say it was the time of life like that. The next thing I know I’m sitting on a bloody great liner with my feet over the edge. ‘What rank are you?’ ‘Flight sergeant.’ ‘Right. Well, you see all these squaddies sitting on this liner with you? Right. Tell them to get their feet back in. Inboard. They must not sit on the edge with their feet dangling over.’ [laughs] I thought, well I’ll tell you it was the way of it was a weird old thing, yeah. A couple of days later you land somewhere and the ladies are picking tea and things like that.
AS: Can you tell me anything about the Lancaster because you were on Lancasters, weren’t you?
SB: I was on Lancasters. Yes. A rear gunner on a Lancaster.
[pause]
Other: Can I do you another coffee?
AS: No. I’m fine thank you very much.
Other: Yeah? Can I switch this off, dad? It’s quite warm. Can I take your tea?
AS: Can you tell me anything about your squadron reunions that you, can you tell me anything about your squadron reunions?
[pause]
SB: I don’t think there are squadron reunions.
[pause]
AS: Can you remember being at Scampton, because I think you were at Scampton, weren’t you? In Lincolnshire.
SB: What?
AS: Scampton. Were you in Scampton?
[pause]
SB: It’s funny when you look at these things. Things you, because the Dutch refused to cooperate with the Germans. They were starved.
AS: And you went and dropped some food for them, didn’t you?
SB: Yeah.
AS: Can you tell me about that?
SB: Well, as I remember it we just went on to the runway, opened the bomb doors, right and rammed in as much stuff as you could. Not giving a lot of thought to what it is and we just kept doing that and then said to the skipper, ‘Pile on a bit more. Not a lot but a little bit more.’ And these because the bomb doors came down like that kept closing them down. Closing them down. Closing them down. Closing and they kept ramming stuff in to give to these people who were starving because the Germans, the Germans wouldn’t give them any food, would they? Because, because the Dutch refused to cooperate with the Germans they were starved themselves. Yeah.
[pause]
SB: I often wonder because we never kept, I mean if you flew all this time with all these people when you were demobbed that was it. Well, really —
[pause]
AS: Good.
[pause]
AS: You’ve got a good number of videos about the war, I think.
SB: “Imperial War Museum. The Official Collection. Royal Air Force at War.” Mind you, you’ve got to have plenty to, I used to have these. Yeah. There’s the lads bombing up. The front turret of a Lancaster. Crew positions of a Lancaster. [pause] I’m not quite sure if that’s my position there. Rear turret in a Lancaster. Yeah. [pause] “The story of the Lancaster bomber.”
AS: Ok.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Sidney Borthwick
Creator
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Andrew Sadler
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2018-03-06
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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ABorthwickS180306
Format
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00:40:45 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Yorkshire
Sri Lanka
England--London
England--Blackpool
England--Lancashire
England--Cheshire
Netherlands
Description
An account of the resource
Sidney enlisted on 4th January 1944 at the Air Crew Reception Centre, Lord’s cricket ground. He was accepted despite a tumour on his left arm. Sidney was a rear gunner on Lancasters. After trained at Blackpool, he served at RAF Bottesford, RAF Bridgnorth, RAF Bridlington, RAF Catterick, RAF Kirkham, RAF Ludford Magna, RAF Scampton, RAF Stormy Down and RAF West Kirby. He recalls operation Manna. When the war ended, Sidney had an overseas posting to Ceylon.
Temporal Coverage
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1944
1945
1946
1944-01-04
Contributor
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Julie Williams
Sally Coulter
Conforms To
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Pending revision of OH transcription
101 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
RAF Bottesford
RAF Bridgnorth
RAF Catterick
RAF Kirkham
RAF Ludford Magna
RAF Scampton
RAF Stormy Down
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1359/45953/SSmithRW425992v10003-0002 copy.1.pdf
2b2498c35c56b9b3f87fd35ee89aa604
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Smith, Bob
Robert Wylie Smith
R W Smith
Description
An account of the resource
125 items. An oral history interview with Bob Smith (b. 1924, 425992 Royal Australian Air Force) photographs, documents and navigation logs and charts. He flew operations as a navigator with 15 Squadron at RAF Mildenhall.
The collection was loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Bob Smith and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2019-03-25
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Smith, RW
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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A Tour of Operations with RAF Bomber Command No XV/15 Squadron Mildenhall
Description
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The third book of memoirs by Bob Smith.
Covers his operational tour and bombing operations.
Creator
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Bob Smith
Temporal Coverage
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1944
Spatial Coverage
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Germany
Germany--Heinsberg (Heinsberg)
France
France--Beauvoir-sur-Mer
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
United States
Michigan--Detroit
Germany--Homberg (Kassel)
France--Châlons-en-Champagne
France--Caen
Germany--Kiel
Germany--Flensburg
Germany--Helgoland
Germany--Sylt
France--Somme
France--Aire-sur-la-Lys
France--Amiens
France--Gironde Estuary
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
France--Bordeaux (Nouvelle-Aquitaine)
France--Brest
France--Saint-Nazaire
Germany--Braunschweig
France--Falaise Region
France--Royan
Poland--Szczecin
Great Britain
Scotland--Glasgow
Russia (Federation)--Kaliningrad (Kaliningradskai︠a︡ oblastʹ)
Sweden
Denmark
Sweden--Malmö
Netherlands
Netherlands--Eindhoven
France--Le Havre
Germany--Neuss
Germany--Düsseldorf
France--Calais
France--Pas-de-Calais
France--Boulogne-sur-Mer
Europe--Kattegat Region
Norway
Norway--Oslo
Denmark--Frederikshavn
France--Strasbourg
Germany--Kleve (North Rhine-Westphalia)
Germany--Emmerich
Netherlands--Nijmegen
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Cologne
Belgium
Belgium--Antwerp
Germany--Essen
Netherlands--Vlissingen
Belgium--Charleroi
Germany--Leverkusen
Netherlands--Veere
Germany--Castrop-Rauxel
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Aachen Region
Germany--Düren (Cologne)
Germany--Jülich
Germany--Fulda
Germany--Bottrop
Germany--Osterfeld
Germany--Oberhausen (Düsseldorf)
Australia
Victoria--Melbourne
New South Wales--Sydney
Queensland--Brisbane
Scotland--Inverness
England--Blackpool
England--Colchester
Germany--Merseburg Region
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal New Zealand Air Force
Royal Australian Air Force
Royal Canadian Air Force
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Text. Personal research
Format
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98 printed pages
Conforms To
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Pending text-based transcription
Identifier
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SSmithRW425992v10003-0002 copy
1 Group
115 Squadron
149 Squadron
15 Squadron
186 Squadron
195 Squadron
218 Squadron
3 Group
5 Group
514 Squadron
6 Group
617 Squadron
622 Squadron
75 Squadron
8 Group
90 Squadron
aerial photograph
air gunner
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
B-17
B-24
Battle
Blenheim
bomb aimer
bombing
Churchill, Winston (1874-1965)
Cook’s tour
crewing up
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Flying Medal
Distinguished Service Order
escaping
flight engineer
Gee
George VI, King of Great Britain (1895-1952)
ground crew
ground personnel
H2S
Harris, Arthur Travers (1892-1984)
Ju 88
killed in action
lack of moral fibre
Lancaster
Lancaster Mk 3
Master Bomber
Me 109
mess
mine laying
Mosquito
navigator
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Oboe
Operational Training Unit
Pathfinders
pilot
prisoner of war
propaganda
radar
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Feltwell
RAF Honeybourne
RAF Husbands Bosworth
RAF Lakenheath
RAF Lindholme
RAF Mepal
RAF Methwold
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Sealand
RAF Stradishall
RAF Tuddenham
RAF Uxbridge
RAF Waterbeach
RAF Weston Zoyland
RAF Witchford
RAF Wratting Common
RAF Wyton
Spitfire
Stirling
tactical support for Normandy troops
target indicator
target photograph
V-1
V-2
V-weapon
Wellington
Window
wireless operator
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/604/8873/PMarlowR1601.1.jpg
de4cfb427a0d5ccc2eefc2c8776a90c3
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/604/8873/AMarlowR160422.1.mp3
7b39c99798f2fb3bc68968136aaa9aff
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Marlow, Ronald
R Marlow
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Marlow, R
Description
An account of the resource
Two items. An oral history interview with Ron Marlow (1924 - 2019, 1592700 Royal Air Force) and a photograph. He trained as a wireless operator / air gunner and flew operations as rear gunner with 50 Squadron and as a mid-upper gunner with 466 Squadron.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-04-22
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy.
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
BW: This is Brian Wright interviewing Warrant Officer Ronald Marlow at quarter to two on Friday 22nd of April 2016 at his residence in Lytham, Lancashire. With me as well this afternoon are his daughter Pat Darby, her husband Frank Darby, Ron’s son in law, and great grandson James Foster. So, Ron, if you’d like to start us off please just if you would like to confirm your service number and your date of birth for the record please.
RM: Yes. Well my service number is 1592700. My date of birth was 10 11 24 and I was born at Middleton, Leeds and brought up there at the time of meeting my future wife Pat.
BW: And how large was your family? How many brothers and sisters did you have?
RM: I hadn’t any. Well I had one brother which he was born and then died before I arrived so there was nobody I knew. So there was just my mother, father and my father who was an invalid. He’d, for some reason, I never knew how or why but he’d lost the use of his arms and used to just sit there like that day in day out which I didn’t know any background to.
BW: So you didn’t know whether he was in the army or anything during the First World War.
RM: No.
BW: Industrial accident.
RM: There was nothing ever mentioned at all about him and future forces or anything that could have possibly caused it. Yeah.
BW: So you were pretty much raised as an only child then weren’t you?
RM: I was. Yes. Yeah. As I say my father as long as I can remember from my school days and he was just sat in a chair. Used to just sit there day in day out. My mother obviously had to do everything for him which of course things like that I didn’t fully understand. I was a bit too young for that kind of thing but she had to do everything for him and his actual date of losing him. That I don’t know. Or my mother. But that was just the way it went. That was my life. As I say I was the only one and brought up, schooling and I started work.
BW: How, how did you find school? What was it like?
RM: Well it was Middleton Council School which of course we only ever played rugby. We didn’t play football or any other sport. We just played Rugby League so of course if you was in the team you were top of the tops. And I mean I played rugby with the school and they played cricket in the summer time and that was it. But it was, as a school it was just an average sort of a school. It was a council school which of course indicated that there wasn’t many people went from there to higher education and there was not many people could afford higher education because we were all working class people. So that was school as it was. Yeah.
BW: And did you leave at fourteen like everybody?
RM: I left at fourteen and started work at, was it Forgrove Engineering in Dewsbury Road. Forgrove. F O R G R O V E. Forgrove Engineering and I fully think some, some names. Mr Thompson was the boss. And all I was doing was we had machines that packed buttons on to strips of wire for the tailoring trade which of course Leeds was a big tailoring department and we used to just stand there and watch the buttons going down onto these, take them off, put new ones on. I mean not very exciting but that was it. I mean I suppose in a way at Middleton where I was born there was no industry. Just, you know a few shops. So I was lucky to get a job at Dewsbury Road there and I was there for quite a while until what, well yes until more or less my working days. Pardon me. Separated lifetime days because it was then that I eventually met Pat who, her parents, well they had a grocery and off licence business so I’d obviously got an eye in the right department. You know, I thought, well if they serve, that one day I met even get behind the bar which of course I did. You know, I used to eventually gave up and went and worked behind the bar when Pat lost her father and Mrs Finon was running the business which of course with being grocery and off licence it was open at 7 o’clock in the morning because a lot of the men used to get their Woodbines on their way to the pit and of course the bar closed at 10 o’clock at night. So, you know, I mean it was a full day and she was on herself with one of her neighbours helping and I eventually decided to, that with Pat in mind I would doing better for myself going into the business. I didn’t know whether it would one day become part of my life but at least it was a start.
BW: And so you met your future wife at a pretty young age then haven’t you?
RM: Oh yeah. Yeah. I mean Pat and I, we both, I mean she of course with her parents being in business she went to Cockburn High School which of course you paid for which of course my parents couldn’t afford and she used to go to Cockburn High school. I used to go to Middleton Council School which it sounded very class. Middleton Council. But anyway it served its purpose. It got me that I could read and write. [laughs]
BW: And where you were working it wasn’t an apprenticeship by the sound of it. It was a regular full time job was it?
RM: It was a little engineering company and they just, I was lucky really to get in because they had this division where Mr Thompson ran these machines which just put the buttons on the threads ready to go to tailoring so I mean while there were tailors wanted buttons on these threads we were in business.
BW: Right.
RM: And of course I stayed there until such time as I eventually started giving Mrs Finon as she was, a hand in the shop and then eventually worked around towards going in the shop.
BW: And so where were, where were you when war broke out? What do you recall of war starting?
RM: I was at the shop. Yes. I was at the shop and I lived at home. Pat lived with her mother ‘cause I mean Pat used to go to, you know Torquay and places like that for her holidays. I used to go to Scarborough with my suitcase. [laughs] I think things were, they were all within your means you know. You couldn’t afford any more so you didn’t look to do any more. You lived and enjoyed what you’d got.
BW: And did you have workmates or school friends who joined up?
RM: Well funny thing was when I eventually joined up a good, I was more or less like on my own going into the RAF. None of the workmates or people I knew went and of course I was just like one off, one on my own and off I went into the RAF and that started my training.
BW: And when did you decide to join?
RM: Oh crikey. Now then. This is –
BW: Was it something that you felt you wanted to do straight away?
RM: Well no. I think the thing it was, it was inevitable I was going to be called up for the forces so I thought well the thing was you either get in first with what you want or you wait ‘til you’re called up and put where they want you and I thought well, you know, the idea of flying was, by crikey it was way way way. I mean in those days. So I just volunteered for the RAF, for the cadets and I was in the aircrew cadets for, for a while before I actually got into the RAF but I learned quite a bit there.
BW: So when you say the aircrew cadets was this the Air Training Corps?
RM: Yeah.
BW: So this would be around about 1941/42 because the air cadets were formed in ’41 weren’t they?
RM: Yeah. Well it was a bit later than that.
BW: Yeah.
RM: Yeah.
BW: Yeah. And what was it that motivated you to join the RAF? What, what did you like about it? Did you want to fly? Did you want to be a pilot?
RM: Well I think the first and foremost I knew that my education would limit me on what position I could undertake in aircrew and I thought well pilots, navigators. Then you come down a bit engineers and bomb aimers you know. They’re, they’re all just a little bit, and I thought well there’s one thing about it. As an air gunner you only learn to fire a 303 and once you can fire it that’s it and I mean the four guns were all linked up together. You pulled a trigger and they all went off and just a case of making sure you aimed in the right direction [laughs]. Oh dear.
BW: So, you, you’ve joined up and they’ve sent you for training. Did you fly on Ansons and Whitleys at first or do you recall?
RM: Wimpies.
BW: Wimpies.
RM: Yeah. Wellingtons. Yeah.
BW: The Wellingtons. Yeah.
RM: Yes ‘cause we went to London first of all. We were called up to London and the first flying we did was in Wellingtons. Well of course that was an advancement. I mean Wellingtons. Twin engine bombers. I mean ‘cause they were in service at the time. And it was just the fact that they had, you know, a rear turret, which they hadn’t a mid-upper, they’d a rear turret which of course suited what we were learning to, well wanted to be. So the two went together.
BW: And at this stage you, did you volunteer for rear turret? Or –
RM: I volunteered, I volunteered for aircrew and of course there was only really when you got down to the lower limits of aircrew you started with air gunners and worked your way up. Well of course I mean a lot of the training in air crew was much longer than air gunners because I mean air gunners if you could, as I say, if you could fire from a turret you was in. But of course I mean navigators, bomb aimers they all had an extended training period so I thought well if I’m going to be in it I might as well be in it as soon as possible as later.
BW: Were you specifically attracted to flying as a gunner in the rear turret?
RM: Well no it wasn’t really that. I think what it was it was just a case of, well I wanted to be in aircrew and then you know when things got whittled down as to what were available in air crew you realised well if I want to fly I can only fly with the capabilities I’ve got and that’s start at the back end and work forward [laughs]. Which of course they were all at the nose and you were stuck at the back end [laughs].
BW: Can you recall what it, what it was like the first time you fired your guns from a turret. Even in training?
RM: Well yes I mean it wasn’t a case I don’t think as I can recall that I was aiming at anything. I think it was a case of I thought I’d seen something and of course I mean you always thought you saw something because you were looking for them and it was bound to be out there somewhere and I think it was just a case of, ‘Was that?’ Let it go just to be, I thought well if it is I shall shift him and leave us.
BW: So, you, you passed out your training and were made sergeant which was standard for gunners.
RM: Yeah. St Johns Wood was where we, we were trained up and brought up and got into our basics of gunnery school and then of course we went on to flying duties, learning flying duties and then getting crewed up and I think, you know at the beginning you thought well I hope they pick me, I don’t have to pick them and I think they did. They more or less just got a crew together and you got to know each other and you worked together and developed. Yeah.
BW: Where was it that you met the crew? Was it at a conversion unit?
RM: At St Johns wood because St Johns Wood was the recruiting centre for aircrew so we went to St Johns Wood and there was you know the different schools and you learned your basics there and then you were more or less drafted through schooling into meeting up with other crew members. Higher educated, well, educated yeah and you know you eventually got to the point where the skipper selected his crew. Well, I mean, you thought you’d been selected. I’m in. I mean it wasn’t a case of you was just the same as anybody else but, and then we got crewed up. More or less met up, introduced to each other. This is who I am. This is who you are. This is what you will be. And we formed a crew and then started you know I mean we started first of all without flight engineers because you didn’t really need them on the early training but once you got established as a crew then you got together and got a crew membership of the seven people and all developed together. Yeah.
BW: And then from there you were posted to 50 squadron at Skellingthorpe.
RM: Skellingthorpe. Yes. Yeah.
BW: And did you pick up your flight engineer there when you got there? Or did you meet him before?
RM: Yeah. The flight engineer was the last one that we picked up because I mean they were, you know, trained separately but we did some flying together just prior to going to the squadron so we did know everybody in the crew. Yeah.
BW: And presumably this is at a Heavy Conversion Unit for Lancasters ‘cause that’s where you were first on wasn’t it?
RM: Yes. Yes. Yeah. Oh yes. I mean once you, once you were going to be up there on the squadrons it was Lancasters and that was it until you either got the chop or you got through. Yeah.
BW: And how was it when you were told you were going on Lancasters? Were you made up about that? Were, were you quite happy with that?
RM: Well I think it was a bit of a false reaction. You thought this is it. I’ve made it and I thought, flipping heck. Where are we going? You know and you made your first trip and it probably a quiet night, a silent night. Nothing ever happened. Nobody attacked you. I mean a lot depended on the target. If it was a place that was heavily defended you could expect anything. Ack ack or even attacked by aircraft. If it was a small place which a lot of them were small I mean to us there wasn’t, you know it was a target and that’s what you were going for and that’s what we went for and of course it wasn’t heavily defended so there was no real defences. Just sat there and you know, ‘How long are we going to be before we go back?’ It went very well any rate. I mean, it was, it was a little bit novel to start with. You thought well if this is it it’s not bad. We’ll get through. Then of course bigger targets came and more defensive and offensive and you learned your ways. Yeah.
BW: So I guess at this stage it’s now 1943 maybe in to 1944. Is that right?
RM: Yeah.
BW: When you start on ops.
RM: Yeah.
BW: And do you recall where your first op was? Where?
RM: Well it’s all in the book there ‘cause I’ve got that it starts the full tour.
BW: Right.
RM: But then it also starts where I did the five trips, five trips on Halifaxes with a wing commander.
BW: So you start in mid-May 1944.
RM: Yeah.
BW: And it looks like you’ve really, with a couple of exceptions where you’ve changed aircraft you’ve stuck with the same one.
RM: Yeah.
BW: Which was B. Did you have a nickname for it?
RM: Baker.
BW: Baker
RM: Well yeah B for Baker. B for Bravo. I mean it was just a bit versatile. Of course one of the trips I remember was the fact Pat’s mum was in hospital, your mum was in hospital and they didn’t know just how she was going to come out of it and they scrubbed me off that trip and gave me a twenty four hour pass to go and see her which was very kind of them. Can you manage there?
BW: Yes, thank you.
RM: So you can see by that we didn’t waste a lot time by doing a trip and then having nights and nights and nights doing nothing.
BW: Yeah. And your early sorties are mostly in France aren’t they?
RM: Yeah. Oh yes. Yeah.
BW: ‘Cause this was working up to D-Day.
RM: ‘Cause when you’re thinking from Lincolnshire, straight down to the coast, across the channel it didn’t take long to get in to France, to some of the French targets. Places we’d never even heard of. So obviously from information there was something there. Something that was earmarked to the bomb aimers and pilots. The target is such, you know. That, that’s what you’ll go for and we used to go, get rid of them and let’s get out of here kind of thing. Yeah.
BW: And as gunner did you attend those briefings with the other crew members as well? Were you all briefed together? Or –
RM: Yeah. We were all briefed to go and then of course when we, when the trip was over we came back. There was a briefing but then if there was anything more in material that needed to be recorded for future trips then of course the crew just went to the briefing. That was it.
BW: And so when it was revealed what your targets were going to be what was the reaction generally? Were you –
RM: Well you see with a lot of them I mean some names you thought, oh my God. Flipping hell I don’t fancy going there. You know there were names that hit you straight away. There was obviously something there to be going for so we’d better look out. Some of the places which, if you look in there, some of the French targets we could have been in somebody’s back yard for what it was you know. There was I mean it didn’t mean anything to us at all. I mean the briefing was that there was probably some ammunition dump or some light ack ack there or some barracks or something. There was always something that they told us we were going for but never a lot of detail as to what it was. So it was just a case of well saturate bombing and hope you got rid of them.
BW: And what happened during the preparations for the mission itself? Can you talk us through what you might do having had the briefing what would you then do to get to and then get on board the aircraft and sort your guns out?
RM: Oh the thing was once you knew where you were going and what you were going for then that was pretty secret and that was a case of they told us and we didn’t tell anybody because somebody could have been listening that shouldn’t have been. So it was not a case of tell you and then you know you’d go for your tea about three or four hours later. Just a case of well you’d go for your meal, come back, briefing and more or less straight to the aircraft or within a reasonable time to the aircraft. So you couldn’t really, if you wanted to, you couldn’t really discuss it with people. It was pretty quiet.
BW: And would you get changed? Would you get in to your flying suit before you go out?
RM: Well you see the thing was your normal uniform. Then you ‘d to go to your crew room where you’re flying suit was which of course with us was flying suit and the mask and your mask and your harness and so forth which of course we took longer because I mean the crew at the front end they were, apart from a Mae West and that they had virtually nothing on where we of course had to put on a flying suit on, flying boots on, fasten it all up and harness round here and you know I mean when you walked you could hear it clunk clunk. [laughs].
BW: And did you, did you have a seat pack parachute or a carry carry on parachute?
RM: Well the parachute. At the rear turret when you opened the outer doors you used to swing into the turret but you left your parachute there. Got in to the turret.
BW: Inside.
RM: And shut the turret doors. So if you did have to bail out you’d got to be quick enough to open the doors to get your parachute, bring it in and turn the turret and go out backwards.
BW: Obviously never happened to you, that.
RM: It never happened. No. Thank goodness. No. We were never got to that situation. Thank goodness. In reality, I mean we did a full tour and there was never any real time when we, ‘Be prepared we may have to bail out.’ We could if anything. We were very lucky. We were very very lucky in the fact that we completed a tour and we never had any calamitous happening where, ‘Get ready to bail out,’ you know. We were very lucky. We were.
BW: And when you had got all your flying kit on and your suit and things did you take any mascots with you or have any good luck charms or anything? Had Pat given you anything to –?
RM: Oh some of them did you know. I mean some of them had little bits and pieces. Oh I must, I must remember to take this, and I must take. At, I think we had, I think we.
JF: Picture of grandma.
[pause]
BW: Oh right. That’s oh right this is a picture of Pat with an aircrew hat on and did you take that, did you take that with you?
RM: Yeah.
BW: Did you take the picture on board?
RM: No.
PD: Oh he did.
JF: You did.
RM: No. We didn’t carry anything with us in the turret because it was always a thought that if you did you’d want to get out as quick as possible and where have I put this, and have I got that? So we just left these in the billet.
BW: Oh.
RM: And got out as quickly as possible if we had to [laughs]. Tell you. So all in all I was one of the lucky ones.
BW: Do you recall what you had to do when you, when you had got yourself in to your turret did you have certain checks to do on the guns or anything like that? What can you tell us about that?
RM: Well the thing is you know your elevation and traverse, you know.
BW: Yeah.
RM: That they could go up and down and traverse and the turret was working. Obviously you couldn’t do anything with the guns but the fact was the turret was working. You could rotate the turrets, up and down the guns, everything was as it should be. It was just a case of would it be right at the time if necessary? So, you know you thought oh well everything’s working. Just sit there and keep looking around.
BW: And did you have 303s on this particular turret?
RM: Yeah. Browning 303s. Yeah. Four 303s. Yeah. [laughs]. And of course the, the change the bullets went down in front of you down underneath the turret into the fuselage. They don’t, they wouldn’t have lasted long if you’d have got four guns going but anyway we never had that requirement, thank goodness.
BW: And I understand some gunners took out the Perspex panels because it made it easier to see. Did you ever do that on your turret at all?
RM: No. I always left it in because I don’t know it was just one of those things that some did, some didn’t. And you believed that it was there for a purpose and you left it in. Yeah. I mean the thing was you could find that if there was bad weather and there was any rain or anything about it could, you know, look a bit obscure looking through it. Whereas you used to think, well I used to think well best left alone. Yeah.
BW: You mentioned before the crew that you’d met and teamed up with and aside from yourself your pilot was Pilot Officer Pethick.
RM: Yeah.
BW: Do you recall the names and roles of the other crew members?
RM: Now that I don’t. Pethick.
BW: Was there a Philips?
RM: Oh I must be honest I –
BW: Flying Officer Philips.
RM: I’m completely struggled when it comes to crew members. ‘Cause you see those that were officers you met them in the aircraft or any training but apart from that you didn’t see much of them because they were officers. You were NCOs. But in respect of other crew members [pause] I just can’t think.
BW: Ok.
RM: I’m sorry.
BW: That’s alright. Did you, do you recall being a fairly tight crew? I mean you mentioned about socialising with other, I suppose ranks or whatever. Did you, did you stick together as a crew?
RM: Oh you did if you were out and so forth but when you were on the station when it was practical I mean obviously it was a bit difficult, officers meeting up with NCOs, even though you were crew members. That was possible at times but generally speaking it was a case of them and us but I mean you’ve got to keep rank you know. I mean no matter what they were officers, you were NCOs and you could meet up when it was necessary as crew members training etcetera etcetera but you didn’t meet up socially completely. Yeah.
BW: And when you were in the aircraft were you on first name terms?
RM: Oh yeah.
BW: With each other.
RM: Yes. But I mean the thing was there wasn’t a lot of communication in the aircraft because the skipper would check on everybody. If you were in, in your position, in your situation, ‘Everything alright? Any problems let us know before we take off rather than later,’ and once everything had been checked throughout the aircraft with the skipper then you were on first name terms. Yeah.
BW: And so when you, when you took off were you pretty much in silence unless you had to talk?
RM: Oh you was. Yes, because there was no need to be talking. I mean you got to the end of the runway and you got the light and you turned on to the runway. The skipper said, ‘We’re going to take off,’ and that was the last words that were spoken when you went down the runway and climbed up, took off and you’d hear the skipper say, ‘Wheels up,’ and the engineer would get the wheels up and you would then be airborne and you were as a crew flying together. Yeah.
BW: And naturally as a rear gunner you were first in the air technically weren’t you?
RM: Oh yeah.
BW: ‘Cause the tail would come up first.
RM: When that tail lifted I was airborne. I mean I got more flying hours in than the others. Not that it was recorded as such. And I mean there was the occasion of course sometimes you know when you were glad to be back and he put the aircraft down and the tail wheel went down a bit heavy. You got a bit of a shudder. I’d think never mind we’re down. [laughs]. Oh dear.
BW: And it’s on your list of ops that you flew on D-Day itself as well.
RM: Yeah.
BW: Regarding that were you aware during your briefings and operations prior to that that the invasion was forthcoming. Was it suspected or were you told.
RM: It was indicated to us that this was a distinct possibility. That, you know, D-Day was very very imminent and that we would of course be more than likely to be called upon in or on D-Day so of course the last minute, if you will, last minute, ‘Well this looks like it lads. This is where we go.’ And nobody was, said this is D-Day but it was given to you well and truly to you that we were on the move. You, you know, you make your own decisions from here.
BW: And yours was actually a night-time flight wasn’t it on D-Day?
RM: Yeah. Was it? Yeah.
BW: It wasn’t early in the morning. It was.
RM: No.
BW: Late at night.
RM: Yeah. Oh dear.
BW: I don’t suppose you got to see any of the forces going over to France on that day did you?
RM: No, because as I say you see I was always looking back. I was looking at what had happened earlier. If there was anything left still going over that’s what I would see. The main force of course was ahead of me [laughs]. Still, never mind.
BW: And on the, on these operations how would you describe your view out of the turret? Could you see any of the other bombers in the main force at all?
RM: You could. Yes. I mean the thing is from a turret, either mid upper or the rear, you had a good out vision all the way around. I mean the thing is when you think of it while you were there you needed it. There was no good saying I could see you but I couldn’t see there or there could be somebody behind that. You’d got to be able to see all the way around through the, you know, the Perspex so really you’d a good view all the way around and you made sure that there was no little patches where you couldn’t see clearly. You know you got around. You got around. Yeah.
BW: And was it pretty cold in the back?
RM: Oh it could be. Yes. It could be. ‘Cause I mean the thing is there was no real heating on. I mean you’d your oxygen mask and your flying suit and all the rest of it. You were all connected up but I mean when you think the heat from the front end never really got to the back end to the extent that, ‘Oh it’s better now.’ You know it, I mean it was cold. I mean naturally you had to think it was cold because of where you were. You were at the tail end of the aircraft. There was not much coming through from there but anyway I mean you got used to these things after two or three times in the turret you just accepted what it was for what it was. You were there and hopefully with the grace of God you’d get through and finish a tour and hope that you didn’t get shot down before.
BW: And were your gloves adequate? It was pretty cold obviously, as you say, in the turret.
RM: Oh yes your gloves were electrically heated.
BW: Nice.
RM: Yeah. Clipped together and you know kept your hands because I mean well you can imagine back there I mean with your hands on triggers all the time because it was like a bicycle handlebars if you will. Small. But for operating both sets so you had to have your fingers free to be able to move them. Yeah.
BW: How did you elevate and move the turret? Elevate the guns and move the turret?
RM: You just –
BW: Sort of twist your wrists.
RM: That’s right. You twist the wrists to up, twist the wrists to down and then if you wanted to turn it you just tilted the handlebars and it moved the turret around.
BW: I see,
RM: Yeah.
BW: So as you say it’s I guess like a motorbike handlebars.
RM: You needed all your activities in your fingers. Your hands. Yeah.
BW: And I believe that you got to warrant officer at one stage but then something happened. They decided you weren’t –
RM: Yes.
BW: Going to stay at warrant officer. What happened?
RM: I’m trying to think. There was something that –
JF: You got drunk. You went through the officer’s gate when you were drunk.
RM: Pardon?
JF: You went through the officer’s gate when you were drunk.
RM: I can’t hear you.
JF: You went through the officer’s gate when you were drunk
RM: Oh that was it wasn’t it. Yeah. Went through the officer’s gate.
BW: Went through the officer’s gate.
RM: Which was not, was a case of non-entry to, to us.
BW: So as an NCO you ended up –
RM: I thought I was more than what I was. [laughs].
BW: But the reason was you’d had, you’d had a few drinks had you?
RM: Well I suppose that could have been the main reason [laughs] Dear oh dear. Yes, you, I mean the thing was in those days it wasn’t so much that you could consume. It was just a case of a couple of pints and oh I mean you couldn’t afford more but by Jove you enjoyed it.
BW: And so how were, how were you found out about this? Did somebody see? See you and –
RM: Well you were walking through the gate
BW: Report you?
RM: And somebody said, ‘Where are you going airman?’ I said, ‘Airman?’ I said, ‘What?’ He said, ‘This is not for you. This is the officer’s gate.’ So it was about turn and what number, rank and name. Yeah. I think there was about two or three of us got hobbled on that sin.
BW: And did you have to go before the CO?
RM: Well no it was just a case of you shouldn’t have been coming through that gate. It’s a non-entry to any other crew –
JF: Gramps. You did. You went in front of the CO which was your pilot.
RM: Did I?
JF: Yeah. And he gave you a rollicking.
RM: Oh my God, make it worse wouldn’t it? I tell you a lot of things are, you’ve brought a lot back to me but oh through my own skipper. Coming in through our gate.
JF: It was at Driffield.
RM: Pardon?
JF: It was at Driffield. It was Hollings.
RM: Yeah.
JF: And he was the base commander and your pilot and he was the one that gave you the rollicking.
RM: That’s it now. Wing Commander Hollings because as I remember now, thank you. I’m thinking about the other one first. He said, ‘You do realise that I’d put,’ ‘cause they were all officers apart from me, he said, ‘You do realise,’ he said, ‘I’d put you forward for your commission,’ he said, ‘but you’ve had that now.’ That was the end of that.
BW: So this is when, this is when you’d finished with your first squadron and had transferred to 466 at Driffield.
RM: This is when I’d gone on to Yorkshire.
BW: Yeah.
RM: Yeah. Yeah. I just I can’t think of any reason why I would want to go back on a second tour when I’d done a tour but I suppose I was stupid.
BW: Well you, you’d done a good number of ops.
RM: Yeah.
BW: Already and you’d completed your first, first tour.
RM: First tour completely. Yes. I was, I was on instructing.
BW: And looking at your list of ops you mentioned when we were talking earlier your longest one being over eight hours this one is is there is one of nine but most of them are on average probably about four or five.
RM: Four or five hours. Yeah.
BW: ‘Cause they were French targets.
RM: Yeah.
BW: But there’s one or two here that are long trips and I suppose most of these would be in, be in Germany. There’s [Wiesbaden?] and Stuttgart.
RM: Yes. Yes
BW: What was Stuttgart like? Was it that a notoriously difficult target?
RM: Well, some of them, it was surprising in a way. You could be over the target or approaching the target area and there was very little air defensive but there was a lot of, you know, ground attack like ack ack and so forth but fortunately I suppose from our point of view there was very little of like, you know we put up Bomber Command and they’d put up Bomber Command and we used to put Fighter Command up in opposition. There was very little from them so I suppose in a way we were very lucky. Yeah.
BW: And you saw the flak and the –
RM: Oh you could see the flak.
BW: The ack ack coming up.
RM: Yeah but I mean the thing was, you know they at the front could see it before obviously we did and they used to say, ‘Oh there’s flak ahead,’ and you’d think oh flipping heck here we go. [laughs]
BW: It was notoriously accurate as well. Did, did you find that to be the case?
RM: Oh yeah. I mean it was, you could many a time come back with little holes, you know, in the aircraft where small, nothing big, heavy but small anti-aircraft had exploded and done a bit of damage. I mean it could have in the right area but if it just damaged the wing or the fuselage it didn’t make a lot of difference thank goodness. [laughs]
BW: And could you hear it when it hit the aircraft?
RM: Oh yeah, you could hear a bang on the fuselage and you’d think, oh my God what had, what’s gone? And then you’d hear a bang, a bump and then it would be quiet. And it was gone. You’d missed it.
BW: But they never caused significant damage on your aircraft. You didn’t lose –
RM: No we were -
BW: Engines and things like that.
RM: Fortunately we were never damaged to the extent where we had to consider whether we would need to bale out or not. We’d, you know, I mean damage could have been just a couple of small little shell holes that they used to just stick a bit of paper over and go again. So we were lucky. We were very lucky. I mean you could see aircraft go down. You know, there would be some ack ack and there would just be a flash and that would have been one aircraft been hit, probably in the bomb bay when the bomb bays were open. Could have been hit there and that was it he was gone. But we were lucky as I say. Lucky.
BW: And presumably over a target where there’s searchlights and things going you could, if you weren’t able to see the other bombers in the formation you could see them then.
RM: Yeah. Yeah well I mean that was one of the big dangers. They used to say don’t look at the searchlights because obviously you know the searchlights, the brightness could affect your eyes and for a while afterwards you couldn’t see anything clear. So if there were searchlights about you were to keep away from them. It was all –
BW: Did you ever get caught in a searchlight?
RM: Fortunately no. We were very very lucky. I mean a little bit of slight damage but nothing of a serious nature that would have caused or could have caused, you know, serious thinking by the skipper. Do we need to get out? I mean the engines were still turning and bomb doors were opening and closing. Let’s get out of here kind of thing.
BW: What was it like when you could feel the bombs had gone? You could hear the bomb aimer’s voice.
RM: You could feel the aircraft lift. You know. You’d be going along and you’d say to the bomb aimer, you know, ‘When you’re ready,’ and he’d say, ‘Right. Right. Steady. Left. left a bit. Steady. Steady. Bombs gone.’ And you could feel the aircraft lift. Yeah. You used to think to ourselves thank goodness they’ve gone. Be glad of them out of the way. Oh dear.
BW: And the Germans used blue searchlights as well. Did you ever see any of those? They used radar –
RM: No.
BW: Guided.
RM: Not that I can think. No. I mean they used the, you know, the normal searchlights but I can’t think of any blue ones. What was the purpose of that?
BW: I was just curious because they used the blue, the blue ones were radar guided and so they could lock on to a bomber.
RM: Yeah. Lock on. Yeah.
BW: And the other yellow or white ones.
RM: The others were manually operated. Yeah. No. Not that I can think. No. Mind you I wouldn’t be looking for searchlights. I’d be looking the other way.
BW: And you didn’t happen to see any night fighters around at all either?
RM: No.
BW: You’d be looking for those.
RM: No, I, again I say we were very very lucky. Now whether there wasn’t sufficient up or whether they were going for other aircraft and not us but never at any time can I recall seeing a German night fighter which was a blessing. It was.
BW: So I suppose it might be fair to say you didn’t actually fire your guns in anger.
RM: No. No. I mean my guns were cocked. They had to be obviously but never at any time did I have to fire at anything on a trip so –
BW: So I presume the only times you would fire them would be when you tested them over the channel on the way in.
RM: Oh yes. Just give your guns, the skipper used to say, ‘Right. Give your guns a burst. See if they’re alright.’ And that was it. Yeah.
BW: One of your targets here is Caen and that was in mid-July and that was at a time when they were really trying to push the D-Day forces on from the beach head.
RM: Well probably. I mean getting rid of some of the defensive situations on the beaches would be a good idea wouldn’t it?
BW: And of course at that, at that time at night you wouldn’t see anything of the city or anything like that so.
RM: No. I mean the thing is –
BW: No indication.
RM: From where we were you could not look straight down. You could look out at the sides and the skipper used to say, ‘Don’t look down. That’s the bomb aimer’s job.’ But of course the bomb aimer used to be laid in the nose and telling the skipper, ‘Left a bit. Right a bit. Steady. Steady. Steady. Bombs gone.’ And as I say when you felt it lift you’d think thank goodness they’re out of the way.
BW: And there was, there was one sortie where you were recalled. That was in June but it was presumably one where you were going to go to a target in France but you were recalled. Do you recall?
RM: Yeah.
BW: What, what that was. Was it a case of the target couldn’t be seen or something or –
RM: Well I don’t know because they just used to say that the target has been cancelled. Return to base. Don’t take off or anything but there was no reason given. Whether it was, you know incorrectly or whether it was something had happened at the other side or what but it was just cancelled and that was it.
BW: And so you’ve come through three months really. Almost three months to the day since you started on the 11th of May through to the 9th of August 1944.
RM: Yeah.
BW: You’ve had pretty consistent flying and presumably about thirty ops. I’ve not counted all these but there’d be about thirty ops. One, two, three –
JF: Thirty two.
BW: Thirty two.
JF: From memory I think, thirty two.
BW: And then you went on to gunnery instruction.
RM: Yeah.
BW: Was that something that your CO decided for you or did you volunteer for it or –?
RM: Well you see the thing is they had to find somewhere for you. I mean you’d finished your tour so what was you going to do? Just be kicking around at some station waiting till you were called again or what? So you volunteered to go to a gunnery school and get linked up with, you know gunners that were coming through. It helped. Well it was something for you to do if that’s a way of putting it but it was something for you to do and rather than just being kicking around at a gunnery school doing nothing. Yeah.
BW: And do you recall where that was? Do you know where you were posted to?
JF: Market Harborough I think it was called.
RM: Was it? It could have been. Thank you.
JF: I think that’s right.
BW: Market Harborough.
RM: Market Harborough [laughs].
JF: It was 14 OTU I think. Number 14. Yeah. Market Harborough.
BW: So do you recall anything from from that time of being an instructor? Can you recall what sort of things you would tell the other students to do?
PD: You crashed.
BW: Did you have a crash in a Wellington bomber at one point?
PD: When you’d been training [do you mean]
RM: Sorry but can you speak up a bit ‘cause I mean –
JF: You crashed.
RM: I’ve got a hearing aid in one ear which doesn’t work.
JF: Wellington.
PD: Landed in a Wellington in the woods and it split open didn’t it?
RM: Oh yeah.
PD: When you were training.
RM: Yeah. Sorry. Can you just give that out? Yeah. A Wimpy that we came down in. Didn’t do us a lot of good but fortunately we were not injured or incapacitated in any way. It just came, I don’t know what it was.
JF: You were, you remember, you told that skipper that you heard somebody on the radio saying that they were in trouble and they were going to go down?
RM: Thank you.
JF: And the skipper said, ‘Yes it’s us.’
RM: [laughs] Oh well. That’s being at the back end you see. You couldn’t hear things properly [laughs]. Oh dear. You’ll have to forgive me as I say. It’s a long time ago. I’ve done very well considering.
BW: That’s absolutely fine. So you were on a, you were on a training mission.
RM: Yeah.
BW: In a Wellington and some problem or other developed.
RM: Something. Obviously. Yeah.
BW: And the pilot told you that you were going to have to crash land.
RM: I mean the thing is when you look at it realistically I’m at the back end looking that way. They’re up there looking the other way to where the aircraft is going. What could I have possibly seen that was going to decide –
BW: Yeah.
RM: What the aircraft was going to do?
BW: Yeah. So all, so all you knew was it was going down and -
RM: Exactly, you know, am I going with it?
BW: The pilot says, ‘It’s us.’ And so do recall this crash in the woods? Do you?
RM: Well obviously it was nothing of the serious nature that anybody got seriously injured but the aircraft was obviously damaged wasn’t it? Yeah. Split open. Yeah. Split open. No.
BW: So –
RM: I mean when you think for what time I was in that wasn’t bad was it?
BW: Yeah. To go through all of that over enemy territory and then to –
RM: Yeah. Yeah.
BW: Have to crash in your own country.
RM: I mean the thing is you know I mean when you think of all those trips I did. What a hundred and twenty nine. To never be seriously damaged from enemy action that was very lucky. Yeah. You know, to be damaged by ack ack or enemy fighters which as I say to think if I ever saw one or two was the most. Yeah. ‘Cause you see I mean if there was ack ack fire going up they wouldn’t want the night fighters up ‘cause they could have been caught with that.
BW: And you never found out what caused the Wellington to go down?
RM: No. No. No it was probably some stupid idea that we’d got that something was going wrong. Probably an engine spluttered or could have been something and I mean we never went back to ask. You know. Crikey. Could happen again. Don’t find out. Never mind.
BW: Were you near the base at all? Were you near your home airfield or was it some distance away?
RM: It can’t have been that far away because I mean when you were ever doing any training flights in Wimpies you never did big long distance ones. You know they usually were within an area around the base so must have been pretty close.
BW: And then from there you went to 466 squadron at Driffield.
RM: Yes.
BW: An Australian squadron.
RM: Yeah.
BW: Did you, did you meet a lot of Aussies? I mean this particular unit wasn’t fully –
RM: Oh yeah.
BW: Occupied with Aussies until later in the war but –.
RM: Yes. Yeah. A lot of Aussies yeah. I mean as an Australian squadron it was basically Australian crew. Yeah. But as they, as they reminded me I slipped up with the going through the long gate, wrong gate. Thank you.
BW: And your pilot was actually the wing commander.
RM: He was the station CO. Yeah.
BW: Station CO as well.
RM: Yeah. Wing Commander Hollings. Station CO.
BW: This is Wing Commander Albert Hollings.
RM: Yeah.
BW: Who had, who had a DFC but he was an Aussie.
RM: Yes. Yeah.
BW: What was he like to fly with?
RM: Well I mean you couldn’t deny the fact that he was a wing commander which was way way way above me so I mean we only met when we had to do a crew training or crew instructions or anything like that. I mean other than that I mean when I’d, on the charge I was just marched in to the room. He was behind the desk, said what he had to say and said what he had to do and that was it. Me finished. Oh well.
BW: And when he did that were you demoted from warrant officer?
RM: Well I was. I was as I was. I stayed as I was.
BW: Right.
RM: I didn’t alter. I was going to go up but –
BW: And this was where he said you were going to be put forward for your commission but because –
RM: Yeah. He said, ‘I was putting you forward for your commission,’ he said, ‘But you’ve had that now.’
BW: Simply because you walked through the wrong gate.
RM: I walked through the wrong gate. Yeah.
BW: That’s harsh.
RM: I mean the thing is apart from anything I was a foreigner. I wasn’t Australian. Oh dear.
BW: And the aircraft you were flying this time were the Halifax Mark 3s.
RM: Halifaxes. Yeah.
BW: And you’d transferred from being a rear turret gunner.
RM: Yeah.
BW: To being a mid-upper.
RM: Yeah.
BW: Was that on the CO’s direction or was that just because there was a slot going? You wanted it?
RM: No just to make up, as they wanted the crew as we got the position ‘cause as I say used to sit on the top there. I thought flipping heck. You’re completely exposed. You know, you’ve no protection around you up here. Anyway, that was all by the by.
BW: Do you recall what your armament was? Were they, were they the half inch machine guns?
RM: Two 303s, two 303 Brownings. Yeah.
BW: On that version as well.
RM: Yeah.
BW: And did you meet or get to know the rest of the crew at all on this on this particular time.
RM: Well with the Aussies of course I mean they more or less kept together and the Aussie officers, the Aussie officers stayed together and you just didn’t mix unless it was anything that required you all to be together. Anything like that you were but other than that it was a case of you go that way and I’ll go this way. Anyway.
BW: So even, even though you’d been on a crew before where you might have mixed with a couple of the guys because you were the same rank. On this occasion there was even more segregation because –
RM: Oh yeah.
BW: The Aussies didn’t mix with you.
RM: Well you see being the station CO and the squadron commander I mean he’d got a group of Australian officers with him. I mean I suppose in a way I was lucky to have got on the crew. Well never mind.
BW: And how, how did you find flying in a Halifax compared to a Lancaster?
RM: Well, to a gunner there wasn’t a lot of difference. You were sat. I mean from rear turret to mid-upper turret you were just sat there. Sat upright. You could rotate fully. You’d two guns that would go up and down so there wasn’t a lot of change. You know you were just in a turret same as you would have been with the others in a Lancaster. Yeah.
BW: Did you feel there was more room though in a Halifax or a -?
RM: No. Well I think, I think you felt safer this way. I mean you could unclip your seat and drop out whereas with the rear turret you had to undo your back door, back door open that out then slide out into the fuselage so it was a bit more difficult. Yeah.
BW: And getting in and out of the aircraft in general did you feel it was a bit more roomy?
RM: Yeah ‘cause –
BW: Or easier?
RM: ‘Cause the door was in the aircraft side. Little short steps you know. You just, everybody climbed up those and went either front or rear. Oh yes. No, no problem.
BW: And was it, was it still as cold as before or was it a little bit warmer because you were nearer the nav?
RM: Oh it was warmer because you weren’t right down at the back end you know. I mean it was bound to be warmer. I mean I suppose in a way you looked at these things but you used to think well I’ve got my clobber on, I’ve got my coat on, I’ve got my uniform on, leave it at that. Yeah.
BW: And the difference this time is that it’s early 1945 now.
RM: Yeah.
BW: When you’re, where you’re on this part.
RM: Yeah. On the Aussies. Yeah
BW: And although your targets are still Germany was there still much opposition at the time? Were they still as active as you felt they had been before?
RM: Well I mean one of the things was obviously that the opposition, that’s really, real opposition was much deeper into enemy territory. I mean you crossed on to France and it was pretty quiet you know. It had receded. So it was a bit safer in that respect. Yeah.
BW: Were you aware of the war coming to an end? That it would end imminently.
RM: I don’t think so. I don’t think you really looked at it like that respect. You know you just looked at it well I’m in aircrew and we’ll keep flying ’til and told not to. [laughs]
BW: Just keeping going ‘til the end until they tell you to stop.
RM: That’s it. Yes.
BW: And so you’re on this, by this record there’s only five trips that were done between 12th March and 18th of April so that’s really only a month on this before you then stopped flying over, over Germany altogether.
RM: Yes. That’s right. Yeah.
BW: Were you involved in other, let’s say humanitarian ops like bringing prisoners of war back or dropping food?
RM: No.
BW: To the Dutch.
RM: No. No. As we finished flying operationally we more or less finished flying and we were just on different stations with, you know, routine jobs. You know you’d still got your rank and you’d got your, whatever you were but you were not doing that anymore. You were just more or less filling time in with being with the services until it was your time to be demobbed.
BW: And so when the announcement came that the war had ended and that you know and that was the end of operations what then happened? Did you celebrate the news and move on or -?
RM: Yeah. Well of course I got my demob. Came home. Got back in to the shop and got that more or less sorted out. Yeah. I might have had a pint or two to celebrate. I mean it was on tap.
[Voices in the background.]
BW: I would imagine the Aussies had quite a big celebration.
RM: Well I mean the thing is when you think Aussies in Cambridge I mean, er Canadians, they could go home. I mean we were home. I mean train, bus or something and you were home. They had a long way to go so it didn’t take long to celebrate.
BW: And in some cases I believe the Australians and Canadians went home sooner or were demobbed much more earlier than the, than the British.
RM: Well I mean the thing was if you look at it from a realistic point of view why not get them home. They’d further to go. Much further to go. Get them away. We were on the doorstep. We could go home at weekends. Go home for seven days leave. I mean they couldn’t so it was practical to get them, you know on the move as quick as anything. Yeah.
BW: And to be honest you weren’t yourself that far from home. I mean if you were at Driffield in North Yorkshire.
RM: Crikey no. I mean.
BW: Back to Leeds. It’s not that far at all is it?
RM: No. No trouble at all. No. No I could get home very easily.
BW: And during all that time did you manage to get to see Pat during the time.
RM: Oh we got leave. Yeah.
PD: Can I say something?
BW: Yeah. Yeah. Go on.
PD: You used to get a penny platform ticket, get on the train [unclear] with your penny platform ticket.
RM: You’re not supposed to talk about that [laughs]
BW: So you used to get a ticket just for the platform and jump on the train instead. [laughs]
RM: [laughs]. Well we hadn’t much money you see had we?
BW: You had to economise. So even in between ops and I guess with not having that tight a crew where you’d socialise together I guess most of your opportunity to take time off you went home and spent, spent with Pat.
RM: Well that’s it you see I mean the thing is you either went out with the lads which are all more or less equal rank, you know, Sergeant, flight sergeant and so forth or if you were in the upper half you went with the boys so of course we just more or less as you say me being on home territory I could, if necessary, at times, get home. Yeah.
BW: And where, where were your favourite haunts? Did you go in to Leeds or any of the nearby towns?
RM: No, because Leeds was probably too near home to be, you know. [laughter in the background] Shut up. I mean the thing was if we were in you know, the other places like Lincoln well I mean Lincoln was farther away but I mean you know if they said, ‘Right there’s no ops tonight,’ Well we all just you know have a mass exodus down to the nearest pub.
PD: Drink chug a lug.
RM: Yeah. Get around a table and drink chug a lug. Drink chug a lug. Drink chug a lug.
BW: And you mentioned when we were talking before you mentioned that sight of Lincoln Cathedral when you were going out.
RM: Yeah.
BW: And seeing it on the way back.
RM: Yeah.
BW: So that seems pretty prominent in your memory.
RM: Well as I say we used to say well where you are in the rear turret it’s the last thing you see. I mean everybody’s looking forward apart from the mid-upper and I mean he’s probably just thinking where the heck are we going? We were looking behind us and the last thing was the two towers and then when we landed just before the tail wheel went down was to see the two towers again. We used to say, you know, ‘Thank goodness we’re home.’ [laughs]
BW: So that for your personally was quite significant wasn’t it?
RM: Those two towers meant an awful lot to us.
BW: And so I guess just jumping forward a bit that where the Memorial is now at Canwick Hill the Bomber Command Spire and it overlooks the valley to the Lincoln Cathedral. That’s quite appropriate isn’t it?
RM: Yeah. Are you digging in your basket again?
JF: You see, you’re distracting him now.
PD: I’m just looking at some photos.
RM: Oh sorry.
BW: So you finished your second tour, you’ve been demobbed, you’re back home at the fruit and veg shop.
RM: Off licence.
BW: Off licence.
RM: Yeah. Fruit and veg didn’t come into it.
BW: Oh. I beg your pardon.
PD: Groceries.
RM: And then we decided that, you see, Pat didn’t want the business. The wife didn’t want the business at all. She wasn’t going to go into it so it was a case of me and I would have had to take staff on so Mrs Finon would have been living off the business, we’d have been living off the business and there would have been staff. So that’s when we decided that we would come to St Anne’s and we moved to St Anne’s just by the railway station. St Anne’s. And that was a complete turnaround then of our family away from Leeds. Yeah.
BW: And so even immediately post war and this was would be 1945/46 presumably. So you’ve moved out this way to Lancashire.
RM: Yeah to to St Anne’s and then in to Lytham and oh two or three places anyway.
PD: Blackpool and –
RM: Yeah.
BW: So you’ve been in this part of the world for the best part of seventy years.
RM: Oh yes. Yes. Yeah. Much, much more. Yeah. Yes it’s been, it’s been most of the time here hasn’t it? Yeah. [pause] Well I hope we’ve helped you.
BW: I’m sure you have. You have. Yeah. You’ve given a lot of, a lot of good information. And when you went to the Memorial last year was that the first time you’d seen a Memorial to the men of Bomber Command or had you been to London?
RM: No. We’d been before hadn’t we? No.
PD: No that was the first time.
RM: That was the first time. Yeah.
FD: You also went to Skellingthorpe
PD: While we were down we went.
FD: No before then. We went to the Skellingthorpe Memorial.
PD: With you.
FD: When they, when they commemorated it.
JF: Was that in ’89?
PD: Yeah.
FD: Something like that. Yeah.
PD: Yeah. That was when he went last year it was a beautiful day.
BW: Yeah. Yeah. It was great wasn’t it?
PD: And James as I say arranged that. [pause] That’s his. That’s his original photo.
BW: Right.
That was my grandma’s. It’s still in its original frame.
BW: Yeah and that’s the same as the photo album.
PD: ’Cause they used to paint the colours on then.
BW: Yeah.
PD: Because they were black and white so that’s –
BW: Yeah.
PD: So that’s the original. The frame’s falling to pieces a bit I’m afraid. Who’s that young man?
BW: That’s [a sergeant?]
RM: This old man. This old man.
PD: My dad is only seventeen years older than me.
BW: Right.
PD: Aren’t you?
RM: Yes.
PD: When I take him to hospital they called me Mrs Marlow. I say, ‘No. I’m his daughter.’ And James.
JF: Yeah.
PD: That bit about dad’s dad. He was in.
JF: He was in the Flying Corps.
PD: He was in the Royal Flying Corps his dad. He was in the army and went into the Royal Flying Corps.
BW: Right.
PD: Do you remember you had his Royal Flying Corps cap badge?
RM: Yeah.
PD: In your RAF cap and you lost it didn’t you?
RM: Yeah. I did.
PD: You lost it. Yeah.
BW: So your dad used to be in the Royal Flying Corps.
RM: That’s probably where the feeling really came from of being, you know, airborne, if you will. Oh dear.
BW: So your dad was in the Royal Flying Corps.
RM: Yeah. I don’t know what he was but –
PD: He was in the army wasn’t he? And then he went in the royal flying.
RM: Yeah. But he never talked about it. Well I mean bless him he just sat there for day in day out. Never talked about anything. I suppose in a way he felt that there wasn’t much for him to talk about. I mean I don’t know. I know when he came out he was a tailor’s presser. Now whether the big operating steam presses that they had any effect upon him I’ll never know.
PD: And I have a sister as well. There’s two of us.
BW: So you had a son and two daughters.
PD: No. Just two daughters.
BW: Sorry. Two daughters.
PD: Two daughters. Yeah. My sister’s five years younger.
RM: Yeah.
PD: Yeah. I’d have liked a brother but it never happened.
BW: And so I guess you’re quite chuffed that there is a Memorial going up to the Bomber Command crews in Lincoln.
RM: Oh I mean as far as I’m concerned they’ve earned it. I mean it says down there how many were, how many were lost. Where is it?
JF: Fifty five thousand [unclear].
BW: Yeah.
RM: A heck of a lot were lost.
PD: And they didn’t get the recognition did they?
RM: No.
PD: They never got the recognition.
RM: No.
BW: You’ve got your medals and Bomber Command clasp as well.
RM: Yeah.
BW: And –
PD: He had to buy that one.
BW: Which is this?
PD: That’s, that’s one they had to buy.
BW: Right.
PD: It’s not. I don’t think recognised as a –
BW: Yeah. It’s not formal issue Bomber Command medal.
PD: No. No. There are his formal issue ones.
BW: Yeah.
PD: So –
BW: Ah. Thank you.
PD: And that was the, that was the recognition one he got.
BW: Yes.
PD: Which I think is rubbish to be honest. I think it should have been a proper medal but there we go.
BW: Yeah. There hasn’t, there hasn’t been recognition for –
RM: For air force, aircrew. No.
PD: For Bomber Command.
RM: No.
BW: But hopefully the, this Memorial and the Centre will go some way to it.
RM: It will mean a lot. It will mean a lot to people. Yes.
BW: Did you say there’s guys on there that you knew? Are there, are there any names of guys on there that you knew on the Memorial walls?
RM: Well there’s always a possibility.
BW: Or not.
JF: There’s one in Edinburgh Castle.
PD: Yes. There’s one lad. His name’s in the book in Edinburgh Castle.
JF: If it’s 5 Group isn’t it?
PD: What was his name?
JF: [just a minute?] Taylor
PD: ‘Cause you told me to have a look in the book.
JF: Taylor.
PD: Is it Taylor?
RM: Could be. I forget love.
PD: [unclear]
JF: [unclear]
PD: You know when the crews split up wasn’t it because of the night vision.
JF: Yeah.
PD: They all went with different crews and a lot were missing presumed killed and he was killed.
JF: Yeah.
PD: And he’s in the book in Edinburgh Castle.
JF: Yeah before he had, his first crew was obviously Pethick at Skellingthorpe. Before Pethick he had another crew but the pilot’s night vision had gone a bit iffy so it says in the, that the pilot was sent to London for re-evaluation so the rest of their crew was all spilt up and gramps was the only one of that crew that actually survived the war. The others all throughout the period of the war were shot down and killed. We’re unsure of the pilot. We could never find out what happened to the pilot.
PD: No.
BW: And so these guys on this picture. The crew. The pilot there you say was Pethick.
PD: Yeah.
RM: Yes.
JF: All that crew stayed there together didn’t they?
PD: And Tom’s there. After the war.
RM: Yeah. That’s Tom. Yeah.
PD: Tom was the one that died a couple of years ago. My dad was at Lincoln with Frank.
BW: Right.
PD: And he used to whistle all day long and he was whistling. This gentleman said, ‘I know that whistle anywhere,’ and they met up again. They’ve all gone now apart from dad.
RM: Yeah. Oh dear.
BW: And so those were the guys from –
JF: 50 squadron.
BW: 50 squadron.
RM: That flew with 50 squadron. Yeah.
PD: Sad isn’t it but people grow old don’t they?
BW: But as you say at least they all came through the war. They all survived it.
RM: Oh yes. We all, we all came through together. Yeah.
PD: Pethick came over from Canada twice to see you didn’t he?
RM: He did. Yeah.
PD: But of course he’s not now but yeah he came over.
RM: Well of course I mean skippers of course they were older weren’t they?
PD: Yes. Well you were the youngest one. You were only eighteen.
RM: Yeah.
FD: And after 50 squadron well after you’d done your tour Pethick then went on to Fighter Command didn’t he flying fighters.
RM: He probably did Frank. You probably remember more.
FD: Yes he did. Yeah. He went on to Hurricanes.
RM: Yeah.
FD: Yeah. Hurricanes.
PD: But dad was eighteen when he volunteered so he was quite young really. Married with a family and –
BW: Yeah. That’s quite a lot of responsibility at a young age. [pause] Ok. Very good. Well I think that’s all the questions I have for you Ron.
RM: Well I’m very pleased. I hope it satisfies what you’ve been looking for. Some background to –
BW: Yeah.
RM: The likes of me. Yeah.
BW: It does. It’s been very good. It’s been very good to talk to you. So –
RM: Thank you.
BW: On behalf of the Bomber Command team.
RM: Yeah.
BW: Thank you very much for your time.
RM: Thank you. My pleasure. Yeah. Very nice to meet you.
BW: Thank you.
FD: Have you ever heard of a Peter Lonk.
BW: A Peter.
FD: Lonk.
PD: No. He’s from Belgium.
FD: He’s a Belgian. Well, he’s in America now isn’t he?
PD: Yeah. He used to find wreckages of aircraft and –
BW: Right.
PD: He used to keep in touch with you didn’t he?
RM: Yeah.
PD: Where am I? My dad is Mr November in the calendar. [laughs]. British Legion calendar.
BW: British Legion calendar, yeah.
PD: Yeah. You look a bit pickled there dad.
JF: He probably was.
RM: What day was that on I wonder?
PD: I don’t know. It’s got different ones in.
FD: Alright there James?
JF: Yeah.
PD: From different. They came and asked could they take his photo.
BW: So this is the British Legion.
PD: I think it’s the British legion. I’m not sure to be honest. I think it is.
BW: Very good. So you’ve made it to November.
PD: Yes. Mr November. One of the calendar boys. Yes.
BW: Brilliant. Thank you.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Interview with Ronald Marlow
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Brian Wright
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-04-22
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AMarlowR160422, PMarlowR1601
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Format
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01:21:28 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Description
An account of the resource
Ronald Marlow went to Middleton Council School, then worked at Forgrove Engineering. He joined the Air Training Corps, volunteered for the Royal Air Force training in London at St Johns Wood. He became an air gunner ad flew Wellingtons, followed by a post to Heavy Conversion Unit. Ronald was sent to 50 Squadron at RAF Skellingthorpe where he flew Lancasters on night and daytime operations in France during the Normandy campaign. After 32 operations as a rear gunner he was sent to gunnery instruction, crashing with a Wellington into woods near RAF Market Harborough. At RAF Driffield (466 Squadron) he served with Albert Hollings flying in Halifaxes Mk 3 as a mid-upper gunner. He carried out operations in Germany to Wiesbaden and Stuttgart. When demobbed he moved to Lytham St. Anne's and Blackpool. Ronald discusses operation cancellations with return to base, flights and preparation, reasons for joining, volunteering, crewing up, service and off-duty life, secrecy, mascots, rank structure, military service condition (temperature at high altitude and heated gloves), military discipline, anti-aircraft guns, aircraft damage during operations, searchlights, memorials, decorations, Bomber Command recognition and reunions.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lancashire
England--Leicestershire
England--Yorkshire
England--Lincolnshire
England--London
England--Lytham St. Anne's
England--Blackpool
Germany
Germany--Wiesbaden
Germany--Stuttgart
France
France--Caen
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending revision of OH transcription
14 OTU
466 Squadron
50 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
bombing
crash
crewing up
demobilisation
Halifax
Halifax Mk 3
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
memorial
military discipline
military ethos
military service conditions
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Operational Training Unit
RAF Driffield
RAF Market Harborough
RAF Skellingthorpe
searchlight
superstition
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2565/43479/PSaundersJWG18020002.1.jpg
c6c21efd49efc8414bf7439b873540a5
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2565/43479/PSaundersJWG18020003.1.jpg
1e982b486fba7aff356dc81610ccb071
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Saunders, John Walter Gifford. Training
Description
An account of the resource
118 photographs and a diary. The folder covers John Walter Gifford Saunders’ travel to South Africa on board the Highland Princess accompanied by 1,700 other Royal Air Force and British Army personnel. In 1942/1943 John visited family in Durban before continuing his journey to Zimbabwe by train. During his time there, he went to the Victoria Falls, relaxed with friends and took part in training exercises including camping in the largely uninhabited wild region far from towns. Subjects includes accommodation, transport, landscape, and local scenes.
The collection was loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Clive Saunders and catalogued by Lynn Corrigan, with additional contributions by Ella Keogh and Lucy Liu.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-03-07
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Saunders, JWG
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Five aircrew trainees
Description
An account of the resource
A studio portrait of five uniformed trainee aircrew with John sitting front left. On the reverse 'Just a picture of me and the boys left to right Ken, ?, Pat, Max, Jim (sitting) Have you ever seen such a crowd. I must say I haven't. With love from John". stamped on the reverse "Charles Howell, Blackpool 5 April 1942'.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Charles Howell
Date
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1942-04-05
Temporal Coverage
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1942-04-05
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Great Britain
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
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Royal Air Force
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eng
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Photograph
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One b/w photograph
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PSaundersJWG18020002
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IBCC Digital Archive
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
aircrew
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/486/8370/ABurdinJR170206.1.mp3
110add58ae6a4b4edfbbb17f5230f227
Dublin Core
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Title
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Burdin, James
James Roy Burdin
J R Burdin
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Burdin, JR
Description
An account of the resource
Two items. An oral history interview with James Roy Burdin (b. 1920, 1109124 Royal Air Force) and his service and release book. He worked as a radar technician.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-02-06
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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CB: My name is Chris Brockbank and today is Monday the 6th of February 2017 and I’m in Longton near Preston with James Roy Burdin and we’re going to talk about his work in the RAF in the war largely to do with radar. What is your earliest recollection of life Roy?
JRB: Living on our small holding in Longton and helping my dad from a very early age with his, with his work on the small holding.
[pause]
CB: And where did you go to school?
JRB: I started school at five I think I would be. I’d be five when I went to Longton, Longton Primary School. That’s not a very satisfactory [question?] is it? You know, the local village school. Longton Primary School and I was there until I was, I went in for the scholarship examination as we called it then. It was before the eleven plus day and it was virtually the entry to grammar school. Only the ones that the teachers at school thought had a chance were put in for the exam because we had to go to Preston to sit the examination and I passed and was awarded a place at Hutton Grammar School and I studied there for the school, for the, what did they call it in those days? It wasn’t the GCE was it? The equivalent of today’s GCE anyway and I I passed that and got my certificate for that but there was no question in those days, very few people went on to further education after that. For one thing I knew that there wasn’t money in the family to support me to go on to university or anything of that sort even if I’d been eligible for it so I I left school with that qualification and it was at the time of the big Depression in the ‘30s and jobs were very difficult to get but eventually I went to work for a small business in Preston. Radio repair and sales. Just a one man business [at that point?] but that didn’t last very long because the main trouble was that it was I had to use a bus to get into Preston. Although I’d only been with this situation for a short time the proprietor usually had calls to make on his way down to work from his home in Longridge and I was left to open up the shop although very inexperienced at the time and very often he’d be out either delivering or collecting radio sets for repair until quite late at night and the shop hours were very long anyway so my dad thought that I was, shall we say, I don’t know how to put it really. Anyway, my dad thought that I would be better off coming and helping on the, on the small holding so I went to the agricultural, or horticultural rather, training station at Hutton and took their course which was only a short course and I continued working on the holding. We had greenhouses and market garden mostly and orchards and it was quite a pleasant life but not exactly a pot of gold, you know but I was doing that until, until the war started and eventually of course as I said before, I think, I joined, I volunteered for the RAF.
CB: Why did you choose the RAF rather than one of the other forces?
JRB: Well, some of my ex schoolmates discussed it all and we thought that the RAF would be a good unit to, to get into. We thought the conditions were better for one thing and you wouldn’t get involved in the dreadful trench warfare of the previous, previous war which everybody expected might recur again and so it was actually at the time of Dunkirk that I realised, I seemed to have rather a blank in a way about the international situations and that sort of thing and I wasn’t very, very quick to realise the danger that Germany was presenting to the, to the world and when the near disaster occurred at Dunkirk and the Germans were more or less on our frontier I decided it was time to, to join up so that’s when I volunteered for the RAF. When I first went for my interviews for the RAF they said, ‘Well there will be a, a gap. We won’t take you right away. We’ll call you at a bit later date.’ So in the meantime the, what became known as the Home Guard but started off as the Local Defence Volunteers was formed and I joined the local group and we did a bit of rifle practice and general infantry training really and we had a patrol on Longton Marshes. We did a night patrol down there and from there we could see the, the German bombing of Liverpool but of course we were a little country district so we didn’t attract any of the, of the bombs and I I was with that until the RAF called me up and then -
CB: When did they do that?
JRB: I was posted to Blackpool and billeted in one of the boarding houses there. We, we were kitted out and given basic training, foot drill and all that sort of thing on the promenades at Blackpool and the Winter Gardens became a Morse school. It was all fitted out with tables with Morse keys and that was where a lot of the air crew in the RAF got their Morse training. As I mentioned to you my speed didn’t build up satisfactorily on Morse. I could, I could learn the code easy enough but I couldn’t get, I wasn’t confident enough to get any speed up and so they said, well there’s a new branch opening up and since you’ve had experience of radio repair work and actually radio had always been my hobby right from school days so they said, I think they said, ‘Do you know what a supersonic hetrodyne is?’ So I had to tell them that which a lot of people didn’t know and that got me on to the, it was, it was highly secret at the time, nobody would mention the word RDF which was our original name for the, what became known as Radar. It wasn’t until the Americans came in that they started calling it Radar but to us it was RDF which was Radio Detection Finding. So there was some delay in starting the course that I was destined to go on and in the meantime I was sent over to a place called Bircham Newton which was a Coastal Command station on the Norfolk coast and I spent some months there waiting for my course to be organised and there I was just doing ordinary general duties. You know just, it was a sort of a standby position but I saw quite a bit of the, the Coastal Command life and I was there when the, what do you call it? I’m not very good at this I’m afraid. I was there when the Fleet Air Arm, I think they were Gladiators. Would they be Gladiators?
CB: Yeah.
JRB: Or would they be -?
CB: Yeah. No. They’d be Swordfish.
JRB: Swordfish probably. The old, the old biplane.
CB: Swordfish.
JRB: I was there when they dropped in at our station to refuel and have a break and a meal before taking off to bomb the German battleships.
CB: Oh Scharnhorst and Gneisenau.
JRB: Yeah. And of course most of them were lost anyway on that raid. So I was there at that time. And then I was sent to London to join a course at Battersea Polytechnic on general radio principles and that type of thing and at the time we were billeted in premises that the RAF had taken over next door to the American Embassy in Grosvenor Square so we had the whole place taken over and converted into RAF billets really. We were taken each day by coach to Battersea to do the course at what later became London University or part of London University. The end of that course I was posted to Yatesbury on Salisbury Plain and that was the first glimpse we got of radar equipment or RDF equipment. They had obviously, they’d got the school all set up there and they’d got the equipment, the transmitters, receivers and ancillary equipment for a radar station and we studied there for several months and on, on passing out there it was practically Christmas time. This would be in ‘41 wouldn’t it?
CB: Ahum.
JRB: So we were all posted to our various units and my friend and I got postings to St Bride’s in the Isle of Man. So we duly arrived at Liverpool expecting to get a sailing across to the Isle of Man but they said, ‘Oh, no more boats sailing until after Christmas. You’d better have Christmas leave.’ So we weren’t displeased about that and went off home. He to Manchester where his home was and I to Longton. And on reporting back again, beginning of January they said, ‘You’re not going to the Isle of Man anymore. You’re going down to a place called Ruislip near London.’ So we went down to Ruislip and reported there to find that it was a small unit that was building up convoys into radar stations. The, the equipment, the transmitters and receivers and other equipment were made by commercial firms obviously such as Metro Vickers, they made transmitters and Cossors and other people made receivers and so on but I think the reason they were scattered about in that way was because they didn’t want the people to know what it all, put together, what it all became when it was assembled together. Anyway, we, that was our job. To, to set up mobile radars ready for going overseas mostly. I seemed to gravitate to, to being on the transmitters which were a very massive piece of equipment made by Metro Vickers of Manchester and they were about two tonnes a piece. Well we had to manhandle those into, into vans which were on the old Crossley vehicles of which the RAF had a lot. Big hefty thumping old, old type vehicles and they, they had bodies specially made at Park Royal body builders and so on at, at London. So we had to receive these by road from the manufacturers and manhandle them with crowbars and and whatever equipment we needed to get them in to place in these vehicles. Then we had to tune them up to the required frequency and check their output and all the functions and alongside us the receivers were being treated in a similar manner. And a convoy would consist of a transmitter vehicle, receiver vehicle, a trailer for the antennae and the wooden towers which they used for the transmitters, for the signal for the aerials for the transmitters so altogether there would be oh and there would be a diesel generator on a, on a separate trailer and all that together would form a radar station and after, after us doing all the tests and cabling all the connections and everything they would be sent off to wherever the army or the RAF wanted them. So I worked on that for quite a while. Do you want me to carry on in this –?
CB: Please do.
JRB: Yes.
CB: What was the crew, the number of people who would be on this crew for the convoy? How many people?
JRB: We never saw the full, we never saw it go out as a full unit. I don’t know how -
CB: Oh so you -
JRB: There would probably be, well you see with radar it would have to work pretty well twenty four hours a day so they’d have enough people to, to form crews to cover the twenty four hours and -
CB: So these were, you were able to move them around but what, what were they used for? Was it for training other people or were they used inland because the chain radar didn’t read inland?
JRB: Oh this, no this was, the chain radar was already in place.
CB: Yes.
JRB: Now the chain radar had heavier equipment still and the transmitters for that were pretty well built on sight, you know. They weren’t moveable really but that was operating because there had already been the Battle of Britain and the chain stations were very active during that time.
CB: Yeah.
JRB: But these were mobile convoys which would go overseas and wherever the theatre of war needed them they’d, they’d go but that didn’t, that didn’t tie up directly with the chain stations because as I say they were a very, a fixed, absolutely fixed installation.
CB: Yeah. And only -
JRB: They used, they used three hundred and sixty foot transmitter towers, steel towers and they used two hundred and forty foot receiver towers. You know, the chain system had fixed antennae which, looking back on it, it seems quite a primitive type of equipment to us but in its day it was the front of technology and we all thought we were very big stuff to be associated with it. But the purpose of the chain was to cover mostly the south and east coast although there were stations further, further afield along the coast. Every so many miles you would have a chain station and they all had to work together.
CB: So those were large and static. You’re using mobile but I thought, what I want -
JRB: These were, these were very static stations.
CB: Yes.
JRB: And of course the chain with these aerials and the frequency they worked on only looked one way.
CB: Yeah. Outwards.
JRB: The transmitter aerials or antennae were a fairly widespread beam. Not the, not the highly directed beam that we associated with higher frequency stations but the, the frequency they were working on was what we would consider very low today but obviously aerials of that sort couldn’t be swivelled around on a gantry. They had to be fixed. The receiver aerials likewise on separate towers were what I refer to as cross dipoles. That means to say that one aerial is north south and the other is east west and by using an instrument known as a Goniometer the operator on the receiver could swivel this knob that was a Goniometer which was graduated in degrees of the compass and could differentiate the direction from which the echo was coming. The whole system of radar of course as you are probably well aware is that you transmit a pulse and you measure the time it takes for that pulse to get back reflected from an aircraft or whatever, it might be a flock of seagulls and when you measure that, that time interval of the return trace you know since electromagnetic waves travel at the speed of light you know what the distance is so that’s how we were able to forecast the approach of bombers and the operators were largely recruited from the WAAFs and they became very adept at, at this work. From experience they could tell pretty well how many aircraft were involved. If it was a raid with say fifty aircraft in it they would be able to tell the controllers pretty well the size of the numbers involved in the raid which was very useful of course. So that was operational all during the Battle of Britain time and continued on right through the war actually but other forms of radar came along later on. Higher frequencies as you know with the, with the rotatable antennae. The first one I knew of that type was what we called CHL. That was Chain Low. CHL, Chain Low, because the original chain stations didn’t see the aircraft if it was quite low down so they wanted this other. Now that was on a higher frequency and it could detect aircraft at lower levels and also it used what we call a PPI which was a Planned Position Indicator tube which was a round tube. The original chain station drew a straight trace across the Cathode Ray tube and aircraft caused a downward deflection of that trace so it was like a V would form on the trace. That meant it was picking up a return signal.
CB: On the screen you mean?
JRB: Yeah, on the, on the -
CB: Cathode Ray tube.
JRB: Cathode Ray tube screen. Now the PPI, the aerials rotated and you had the display more like a map. It looked, as it swept around the, the location of your station was the centre point of the, of the tube and the trace would turn about it actually, axially so that you could get the direction and the distance of the incoming echo which was a big improvement really. I don’t think anybody would think of a radar receiver without that facility nowadays because now that we’re on much higher frequencies that is a generally accepted way of displaying it. So back to 4 MU at Ruislip where we were setting up the, the stations which were working on the same principal as the, as the chain station. They had fixed aerials and had the same drawbacks you might say as the, as the chain as the big chain stations but they were supposedly mobile but they were rather clumsy awkward things to, to consider as mobile. Then a lighter equipment called, what did you call them? [pause]. Anyway, it was a sort of a much more mobile and much more, much lighter equipment than the, than the forerunners and they started to arrive at Ruislip for us to set up and so there was a separate flight formed. B flight, which I was put into and we, we used to fit those into fifteen hundred weight trucks or vans and they had, they had a rotating aerial. They ran off a petrol generator which was adapted from a motorcycle engine I believe and then of course there was a receiver vehicle and the, the aerials were mounted up on the top of the same vehicle.
CB: Was the principal of these the same as chain? You weren’t on to parabolic aerials by then were you?
JRB: We’d got, we’d got a step forward on to higher frequency so that’s why we could use rotating aerials.
CB: Right. Rather than parabolic ones.
JRB: Yeah. And the whole equipment was very much lighter and more mobile than the previous one. Well some of these we were fitting into, into these fifteen hundred weight trucks which were very common in the army and the air force in those days and we also had, to accompany them, a jeep with the radio communications equipment so all told that made up a convoy which again were ready for going out to, well again they were used quite regularly in, in the desert and later on in, on the continent.
CB: So they’re main, mainly going to the desert were they in those days.
JRB: Yes.
CB: To North Africa in other words.
JRB: A lot went to North Africa and of course when we invaded D-Day at they went over to the continent with them and that was what I worked on for most my time there.
CB: So you were loading up these vehicles but who were the crews to look after them? Were you training the crews for the equipment or did they -
JRB: No. The crews -
CB: Come already trained?
JRB: The crews were trained at the radar schools, I expect. At Yatesbury and places like that you see. All we did was just put the convoys together and get them ready for operational use.
CB: And were they air force people who were running these radars or army?
JRB: Mostly air force I would say. Yeah. So that’s what we were doing.
CB: So they went to Algeria after the Torch landings and then on to Tunisia and then they were coming from the other end. That’s what you’re saying are you? In other words coming across the desert from Egypt.
JRB: Yes. So wherever radar was needed to follow up the forces. Of course the, being an RAF scheme it would be directing our aircraft where necessary to attack the enemy.
CB: And detecting the German attacks on the British forces.
JRB: Yes.
CB: Now you mentioned the fact that later version could the CHL gave you, gave the lower altitude detection. Was that only on the Gee, on the CH chain or was it on your mobile ones as well?
JRB: No. On the, on the mobiles as well. That was -
[pause]
JRB: Various other equipments came along and they more or less all passed through our hands at Ruislip. I don’t know. I think we’ll have a break.
CB: Ok. We’ll have a break. Thank you.
[recording paused]
JRB: I don’t think I’m doing, completely ready to switch on.
CB: So in those days -
JRB: [When it left us?]
CB: In those days everything was done by using huge valves, well valves anyway, but big, how big were the valves that would be used in your mobile radars?
JRB: In the mobile, in the lighter one they were very much smaller. I should say about six inches tall. Something like that. Probably a bit less than that. More like four inches.
CB: Each valve.
JRB: But -
CB: Was the different, was there a difference in valve size between the transmitting part of the radar and the receiver?
JRB: Oh definitely.
CB: So how big were the transmitter ones?
JRB: Well the transmitter ones I’m talking about really.
CB: Oh right.
JRB: Because I had more to do with the transmitters than the receivers. For some reason I always seemed to be picked to be a transmitter man.
CB: Right.
JRB: And I quite enjoyed working on the transmitters. Of course they were using very high voltages and a lot of people didn’t want to know about them. They were a bit scared of them.
CB: Yeah.
JRB: We’d a, I remember on one occasion at Ruislip we had a, I don’t know what his rank would be but he was, he was Ministry of Defence and he was not exactly like a signals officer but he was, he was, he classed as an officer and he used to come around more or less overseeing what we were doing and one day I believe that he got a bit too near the high voltage and got himself knocked out but he came around again but the transmitting side you’d be talking about two thousand five hundred volts and that sort of thing you know which were really very lethal if you didn’t know what you were doing but anyway that’s -
CB: So what was the process? You mentioned earlier that the equipment was built by different companies so that it wasn’t obvious what the package was.
JRB: What it was going to be when it was all fitted together.
CB: So it arrived with you from the manufacturer. Then what did you and your colleagues do with all these parts?
JRB: Well as I say we fitted them in to the respective vehicles and did all the cabling and necessary inter-connections and tuned then up to the correct frequencies that was designated and that was about it.
CB: And with the convoys was -
JRB: Any, any, any faults we had to correct and put new parts in if necessary.
CB: And each convoy had a generator.
JRB: Each convoy had a generator.
CB: What, what was that and what was its capacity?
JRB: Well, the, the ones for the original mobiles, that is the ones that were very similar to a slightly smaller version of the, of the chain station the, the generator was a, I think it was a three cylinder Lister diesel engine driving a three phase generator. Quite a hefty piece of equipment and these particular diesels, diesel isn’t very easy to turn over by hand anyway but there were no self-starters on them. The only way to start them was by a crank handle and in cold weather in the winter it was very difficult to, to turn that handle around. In fact we resorted to tying ropes to it and having a couple of men on either end of the rope and push pull to get, to get it over the top dead centre of the starting point but that was that. We had to use whatever equipment was sent to us. I think these, like a lot of the wartime equipment I think it had been adapted from some civilian usage but the ones for the lightweight convoys they were much more manageable. They were a two cylinder horizontally opposed engine. I think they were a firm at Coventry called Climax I believe had those.
CB: Again, diesel was it?
JRB: That was, that was a petrol driven generator. It was adapted from a motorbike engine. Now going on from that eventually we, they were stepping up the frequencies anyway. It was always, always trying to find equipment which would work on a higher frequency which was preferable for radar purposes and also it meant that the aerial size was smaller and we were supposedly, the magnetron was developed which would, which would operate where the old, the old type valves wouldn’t and we could, we could use much higher frequencies with that.
CB: So the magnetron was the key to reducing the size of the kit was it?
JRB: That was the key, the key to improving the radar system altogether really.
CB: What was the key point about magnetron? It’s ability to handle high frequency?
JRB: Well it worked, it worked on an entirely new principal.
CB: Right.
JRB: It would be a bit too to difficult to explain [unclear] but it involved especially designed core which had a number of cavities on a cylindrical pattern and by, its difficult to explain really. By subjecting this to a very strong magnetic field you could get, you could develop an oscillation from it whereas an ordinary valve wouldn’t oscillate above a certain, certain frequency so that was, that was much, a big improvement for it.
CB: So that was the key to the centimetre wavelength.
JRB: Yeah.
CB: Now when you go first, fast forward now to D-Day, how was the equipment handled there? Packaged and handled.
JRB: Well, prior to D-Day we had a programme for water proofing equipment and we had to, we had to make up convoys which were swathed in [blue?] fabric and Bostik cement to keep the sea water from getting on to them but they were still in the same vehicles so they could only go in shallow water virtually. They weren’t on a tracked vehicle of any sort but we all got in a horrible mess with all this Bostik and stuff around and it got on to all our tools and you couldn’t pick a screwdriver up without sticking to it [laughs] but that apparently saved them from being damaged on the landings. I don’t say they went in at the very first landings but they’d have probably followed on very shortly afterwards. So that was, that was -
CB: Now -
JRB: D-Day.
CB: Was, were there two sizes of equipment all the time or was it simply that they were being made smaller as time went on? In other words was there a bigger one for longer range and the shorter one was for -
JRB: No.
CB: More tactical use.
JRB: I don’t think so. I don’t. I think I think the original mobiles were sort of gradually phased out. I think we went more on, on to the lighter weight ones. LW. Lightweight Receivers they were called and there was another occasion when we, when we had a special job. At some stage, I think it was before D-Day the Germans started a night bombing campaign which became known as the little blitz. I don’t know whether you’ve ever heard of that.
CB: Yeah. Yeah.
JRB: But the little blitz was designed to renew the, the bombing campaign against Britain, against London in particular and the Germans thought that they’d got an advantage because they’d developed a rear, a rear looking radar which they would fit to the tails of the bombers and so they could see our night fighters coming up from behind. ‘Cause as you probably know the object of downing a bomber is to put the rear gunner out of action first and then it’s the bomber’s a sitting duck virtually so with this they thought they could get away with it and come up behind our our aircraft and -
CB: So how did that link in with you?
JRB: Well I was going to say, [pause] just a minute I’ve got something [unclear].
CB: This is interesting because they actually lost -
JRB: Lost something there I think.
CB: They actually lost sixty percent of their aircraft in that mini blitz, so, shot down -
JRB: I’m not talking about our raids on Germany.
CB: No. No. We’re talking about their, their mini blitz.
JRB: Of the German’s raids -
CB: Final fling.
JRB: On this renewed bombing against London. Now -
RB: You were going to say something about Meershum the other day weren’t you? Is that to do with it?
[pause]
CB: Did you get hold of one of these as a result of it being, the aircraft being shot down?
JRB: That was, wait a minute. I’ve got a bit lost I’m afraid.
CB: Ok. We’ll have a break.
RB: I’ll make another cup of –
[recording paused]
CB: So we’re just talking about the mini blitz and the fact that the Germans had got a rear facing radar detector.
JRB: That’s right.
CB: So what came out of that?
JRB: Now then, it turned out that the frequency that their rear, rear radar was working on was quite near to the frequency of our, some of our transmitters so we were asked to retune to get on to the German frequency and to put out a jamming signal which we did by modifying a transmitter so that instead of sending out the usual radar pulses it would send out a continuous noise signal which would block the display of the German rear radar and we always presumed that we were successful with that because we did a [panic?] programme, modifying equipment and setting it up. We went out on fitting parties along stations, the old chain station sites such as Pevensey, Pevensey and along the south coast and we went and fitted up this modified equipment in, in these mobile vans that we were using for the, the radar, anyway but instead of sending, you know that radar sends out a pulse from the transmitter and then it, it shuts off. It’s just a short pulse and you wait for the echo to come back. Well, now we were, we were asked to modify a transmitter so that instead of doing that it would send out a noise signal continuously and we set these stations up, mostly at the existing sites of chain stations and it wasn’t very long before the Germans called off their night raids so we always, we never got any direct feedback on it really but we always claimed that that had, that had influenced them in deciding to call it off and for some reason or other they named that Operation Meershum which of course is the name of a German type of pipe isn’t it?
CB: How is it spelled?
JRB: I think you spell it M E, M E, would it be M E E R S H U M or something like that. Meershum.
CB: Ok. We can look it up. So these mobile transmitters were placed where to achieve this?
JRB: They were sited on -
CB: On the CH stations.
JRB: Mostly the old, the old existing stations, you see.
CB: Yeah.
JRB: We were -
CB: Facing inwards.
JRB: Eh?
CB: Were they facing inwards in to the country these, these mobiles because they were on the back, the German radar was on the tail of their aircraft
JRB: They were -
CB: So to jam them they’d need to have, would they -?
JRB: Do you know I can’t quite remember.
CB: Was the idea to get the Germans before they reached the UK or more -
JRB: No. It was too -
CB: When they were inside.
JRB: After they got inside I believe.
CB: Yeah. So, so the, what I’m asking is if the mobiles were facing inside to be able to do the jamming.
JRB: Well I imagine that -
CB: They must have been mustn’t they?
JRB: The aerial would be sweeping around. On it’s usual -
CB: Ok.
JRB: Every time it came around it would -
CB: Ok.
JRB: Block them out wouldn’t it?
CB: Yeah.
JRB: I’m not quite sure about that but I know that we always thought that we stopped this mini blitz on London anyway.
CB: Right. Right. So there’s an important point here isn’t there? The CH stations only were for the protection and identification of aircraft coming towards Britain. In this particular case we’re talking about aircraft that got through the coastal area and were inside but your aerials were effectively giving a rotating beam whereas the CH stations were only directed out.
JRB: The CH stations were just directed outwards. Yeah because of course the equipment of the CH was, it would be quite impossible to –
CB: Yeah
JRB: Have it rotating anyway.
CB: Yeah. Yeah. I’ll stop there.
[recording paused]
CB: So -
JRB: The landing like Arnhem and that -
CB: They used gliders extensively.
JRB: They used gliders a lot and we, we had a, you’ve heard of the old Hamilcar glider have you?
CB: Yes. A big lifter.
JRB: A big one. Well the manufacturers sent us a dummy body of one of those to our station at Ruislip and the idea was that we were to build equipment which could fit in to this Hamilcar. So the thing was they wanted to make sure it would drive in as opposed to do it on the rule of thumb you might, might say and we had, we had specially set up equipment. These transmitters and other equipment which were in vehicles. I think the, I think the radar, yeah the radar would be in a specially built up body in a fifteen tonne truck and it had to be possible to drive it in and out of the Hamilcar so we, we had those made up locally and we’d one or two, not, not everybody could drive in those days you know.
CB: No.
JRB: And we’d one or two people who were quite good drivers and we trained them up to get these vehicles in and out the Hamilcar car. Well, we made up, I think it was six convoys like that to go with the troops and there was -
CB: That was for Arnhem was it? Or for D-day? D-day was a sea landing.
JRB: No.
CB: Was it for the vehicles.
JRB: It would be the -
CB: For Arnhem?
JRB: The river crossings wouldn’t it? The, like -
CB: Oh ok for crossing the Rhine.
JRB: Arnhem and that type of -
CB: And the Rhine. Yeah.
JRB: Wouldn’t it because that’s where the gliders were mostly used wasn’t they?
CB: Ok. Yeah.
JRB: We had special equipment for that and there was one, there was a station down near Bournemouth, Tarrant Rushton and that was a big depot for the gliders. I suppose quite near the coast to make a fairly short crossing and we took one set down there and there was some snag about it and it was suggested that I and one of my mates would accompany it. They were, they decided to do test flights to about six different stations up and down and one of them was a station near Bedford and we said well we’ll go on that one and there was a fault on it or something. I can’t quite remember just what it was at the time. So we got a trip in the glider which was quite an experience.
CB: To Twinwood Farm.
JRB: And -
CB: Twinwood Farm was the -
JRB: Yeah.
CB: Airfield there.
JRB: But you know when you, when the, when the glider casts off its rope you’re entirely at the mercy of the glider pilot and he knows that there’s no case of going around again and trying again. He’s got to put the thing down somewhere and pretty quick and it was a grass field and he, he had to land on the grass which was a bit, a bit hairy really but anyway.
CB: Were you looking our or did you close your eyes?
JRB: [laughs] No. We were looking out. But I don’t think we were very, very happy about it but of course a lot of the gliders were lost weren’t they? They were shot up and shot down before they ever got there [I reckon?]. That was about the only excitement we got with it really.
CB: What was the purpose of the tests? Was it to see whether the equipment would survive?
JRB: To see if it would be, the operational feasibility to do it, you know.
CB: I was thinking of terms -
JRB: To get out of the, to get the equipment out and rolling and get it set up isn’t it?
CB: I was thinking of the vulnerability of the valves to a heavy landing.
JRB: Well they had to take their chance didn’t they? And also it had to carry goodness knows how many jerry cans of petrol for the generator so it was a thing liable to go up in smoke at any minute sort of thing.
CB: I’ll stop there for a mo.
[recording paused]
JRB: The space between D-day and VJ, wait a minute. Not D-day.
CB: Arnhem.
JRB: No. No. I’m moving on.
CB: Oh ok so crossing the Rhine.
JRB: Yeah but after, after VE day.
CB: Oh yes.
JRB: Victory in Europe.
CB: Yes.
JRB: We concentrated on the war in the east of course and we expected that to go on for quite a long time. Now the, we got reports back that the termites were eating all the insulation off the wires and that in the, in the ordinary sets so we had to strip them all down and rebuild them with this new development. PVC wiring. Because apparently they couldn’t eat that and so we had a big job taking all the receivers and transmitters to pieces and rewiring them with this termite proof wire and things like transformers and components of that type, they had to be immersed in a solution of Perspex or something very similar and dried off so that they were coated in a something that the termites wouldn’t eat which of course as you well know the American atomic bombs put a rapid end to that war so these things weren’t really needed much longer than that.
RB: Although I suppose in, would they have termites in Korea after that.
JRB: But we’d, we’d modified quite a few equipments ready to go over there.
CB: Yeah.
JRB: But that was about the end of the war wasn’t it?
CB: So that was August ‘45. Then what did you do?
JRB: Well I stayed on at Ruislip and of course things got very quiet and we didn’t do very much more until the end of the, until getting demobbed but of course as you know we all had to wait our turns for, for demob.
CB: How did they keep you busy during that period? From August ‘45 to when you were demobbed?
JRB: What did I?
CB: How did they keep you busy from that, during that period ‘cause we’re talking about eighteen months?
JRB: I think there were one or two new developments coming out because there was one case where we, it was when the parabolic reflectors started coming out more and we had one or two sessions with developing or testing those of different types. I’ve got a photograph somewhere of, of a team of us setting up one of the parabolic reflectors but I just couldn’t lay my hands on it at the moment. But that was about it really you know just thinking about new equipments coming along and developing for peace time use I suppose. More or less.
CB: So the development of the parabolic aerial. What did that do to the overall size of the convoy.
JRB: Well it wouldn’t make much difference to the convoy but they were gradually getting more into microwave technology and just general, general developments that were coming along, you know but nothing very outstanding as far as I -. The pressure was off, you know. It was -
CB: Yeah.
JRB: But we were getting, going down to TRE and setting up -
CB: So what was TRE?
JRB: Technical Research Establishment I think it was and no, it was just, of course I suppose the modern radars are a big advance on what we were using at the time but we were just experimenting and testing out some new developments during that period.
CB: ‘Cause that was at Malvern at that time wasn’t it? So did you go up there?
JRB: Malvern was a centre for that sort of thing.
CB: How many vehicles were there in these convoys? What were, what were, what were the vehicles?
JRB: Well, the big the original ones. The heavy ones there would be a transmitter, a receiver, a communications, a trailer of the aerial and a trailer for the diesel generator so there would be about five, five items in a convoy really.
CB: And as time went on they did -
JRB: And then of course when we got on to the light, the light warning system
CB: Yeah. Yeah.
JRB: There would more or less be only a transmitter, a receiver and communications vehicle but all all very much smaller vehicles. More manoeuvrable.
CB: And where was the petrol stored when you were travelling? With the generator or in a different trailer? ‘Cause you used a lot of petrol or diesel.
JRB: Well as I say the ones that we did for the airborne landings they’d got to carry the petrol with them in jerry cans. Enough to run for a good time and then I suppose they’d get their supplies through normal channels you know but it wasn’t a good thing to be carrying loads of petrol on board when you’ve got troops in as well on the gliders. But I always think that I had a very easy and comfortable war compared with many, many people.
CB: So what was the accommodation like at Ruislip?
JRB: Our site, it was only a small unit, our site I think we’d two, two billets. Two huts about thirty men to a billet in the middle of a field. No, no heating unless you could scrounge some coke and get the coke stove going. No proper toilet facilities. No, no baths but there again you rely on somebody to keep the, keep the coke fired boiler going to give you hot water and and of course a few toilets but quite basic accommodation really at that place but we, we had to put up with that for several years. When I was promoted up to sergeant I had the choice of going either into, we, we were just across the, the railway tracks from the records office at Ruislip and I could have used the sergeant’s mess there but I elected to take up an option of being billeted with some friends in the area.
CB: Yeah.
JRB: So I finished off being in in billets with these people.
CB: You had to pay them rent.
JRB: Well that was all done automatically through the, through the exchequer, you know.
CB: Right.
JRB: I just had to, I suppose they got, they got sort of postal orders or something like that. They never complained. They always, always seemed to think they’ve been paid alright for it.
CB: They had your ration book.
JRB: They had my ration book yes. They [could draw?] my rations.
CB: So the accommodation for you -
JRB: ‘Cause you see in, in, when you were in RAF billets in the camp you didn’t need ration books anyway. They just -
CB: No.
JRB: You just had a cookhouse.
RB: Were you always segregated in the accommodation?
JRB: Well, eh?
RB: Were you always segregated? I mean, in your hut there would only be radar people or would there be other RAF personnel as well?
JRB: No. Just reckon that we, we were all working together in the radar.
RB: So you were all in the same boat.
JRB: Yeah all -
CB: What was the unit called? MU was it?
JRB: 4 MU.
CB: 4 MU. Yeah.
JRB: 4 MU. 4 MU at Ruislip.
CB: And where did you eat in the daytime?
JRB: We had a little cookhouse and meals were, meals were done there. And we had a NAAFI. Again, just sort of temporary. I think the NAAFI was just a, like a wooden hut but we were only a very small unit altogether you see. So that’s about what I -
CB: Good. Thank you.
[recording paused]
CB: Now yours was mobile radar but the whole concept was based on the original chain radar. So how did that work Roy?
JRB: Well the -
CB: And where was it?
JRB: The British aircraft carried a special piece of equipment which would send out a signal when, when it, when the initial pulse from the transmitter reached the aircraft it triggered this equipment in the aircraft which would send a, a varying signal back and if the, if the echo on the CRDF was pulsing they would know it was, it was this IFF responding.
CB: So what was IFF? Identification -
JRB: Identification Friend or Foe.
CB: Right.
JRB: IFF. So if it was a British aircraft it would be, it would enable it to send out a signal which would cause the echo on the tube to vary and that’s why they would know that it was a friendly.
CB: So where were the chain radar stations?
JRB: Where were the chain stations? Well they were all along the coast. They were at Pevensey. Isle of Wight. You name it there was a whole string of them all along the coast. Every so many miles apart. I can’t tell you -
CB: And what was the purpose of the chain system?
JRB: The purpose was virtually to detect incoming raids. ‘Cause you see there, there were various systems. They realised, when war was pretty imminent they realised that we’d no way of detecting incoming bombers until they were right overhead and they tried various systems. One of them was based on the sound of the aircraft engine. They built, they built a few of these big concrete dishes supposed to pick up the sound of an engine and amplify it and give warning in that way but of course that didn’t work awfully well at all and the principal of radar was well known because it had been used, it had been, been experimented with before the war and one of its uses that they foresaw was that they would be able to measure distance to planets and so on because the same, the same theory applies. If you, if you send out a radio pulse it becomes reflected from anything it hits so if you, if you directed it towards the solar system you could, by measuring the time lapse and converting it from the well known formula of the speed of electromagnetic waves and time you could, you could work out the distance so the scientists of the day were experimenting with that sort of thing and it was just that Watson Watt seemed to get the credit for it but I think that the principal was already known before that and I have always believed that the Germans had quite good radar equipment although we always claimed it was a British invention and it was, it was a big saviour to us. Which, no doubt, it did help a great deal in the Battle of Britain but its main reason for its success was the fact that with our coastline we could form a chain of stations which would detect incoming aircraft. Now the Germans were at a disadvantage because they had such a long and dispersed coastline that they couldn’t very well cover it anyway but I’ve always had in my mind that the Germans knew quite a bit about radar and in fact do you remember we sent over a party, RAF, an RAF flight sergeant I think in charge of it. A secret landing on the French coast to capture equipment from a German station and I’ve no doubt at all that the Germans knew quite a bit more about radar than what we would admit. We were always, always, always claiming that it was an entirely British invention but it was, I think it was common knowledge in the scientific world that a radio transmission would be reflected by a solid object.
CB: What did you do after the war? You were demobbed in ’47 so what did you then do?
JRB: I came back here. My dad had carried on with his little smallholding business all during the war years and I came back fully intending to take over because he was retirement age and becoming less able to do the work and I thought that would be my future which it was for quite a few years wasn’t it Ray? When you were born it was.
RB: About, about ten years wasn’t it?
JRB: About ten years I was, I was running that.
RB: I think it was a combination of -
JRB: And we -
RB: Of cheap imports and fuel prices.
JRB: Yeah. We were, we were producing well a very nice orchard in those days which is now defunct and greenhouses and we were making our living from that. I got married just after the end of the war and my wife came. She was a girl from London but she came up here and threw her lot in with, with me helping on the smallholding and that’s what we did for, as Ray says, about ten years and then there was a time when prices were very bad for produce and unless you’d a lot of capital to develop in a big way the small, the small units were beginning to get faded out. You know, they were getting superseded and I think it was when, we used to sell our produce on the market at Preston you see. Well you could go, you could go and set up your stall on Preston Market and sell your own produce but that all seemed to fade away didn’t it Ray? You know I don’t think they have that your way now do they?
RB: I think supermarkets really -
JRB: And supermarkets.
RB: The nail in the coffin weren’t they?
JRB: Supermarkets were beginning to come along and of course they were only interested in making contracts with the, with the big producers and it just got it wasn’t really a viable thing and of course with having had my wartime experience and knowledge of radio I applied to -
RB: The civil service. Barton Hall.
JRB: I think, there was an air traffic control centre just outside Preston just on the A6 going north from Preston called Barton, Barton Hall and that was, it, there was a Met section and what do you call it Ray? A meteorological section.
RB: Oh yeah. Yeah.
JRB: And there was a civilian section which was connected with Manchester Airport and that was, it had an airline for civilian aircraft coming down from Scotland into Manchester and that was like a first contact point this, this civilian air traffic control and also running alongside it more or less the RAF had got a emergency system. The idea being that we did twenty four hour coverage and but we had what in those days was considered to be state of the art technology which enabled us to position accurately an aircraft anywhere over the north of England virtually which was called auto triangulation. Now the idea being that we had, of course, remember this was entirely before the days of the, of the satellites and the the navigation that they’ve got today. We had a selection of RAF airfields in the area. Woodvale, Bishop’s, what were it? Bishops Court Northern Ireland, one on the Isle of Man, another up on the Cumbrian coast and one or two further inland over the Pennine areas and with this equipment which was put in by Standard Telephones we could get a position from each of these, each of these RAF stations could give you the bearing of on aircraft.
CB: They could triangulate it.
JRB: They could triangulate it by, we had this big, big screen with the map of the area on it and the position of each of our forward relay stations as we called them and if an aircraft, it was, it was designed specifically for aircraft in distress, civilian or RAF and when an aircraft transmitted on the international distress frequency it would draw traces from the various stations on our big map and a cross, well it was never a perfect cross it was always a little bit ambiguous but roughly call it, they called it a cocked hat. It would form a little, maybe like a little five sided area of probability so that you could say, you could, you could call the pilot up again on a forward relay station. You see all this, we’d got land lines, GPO lines to each of these stations so our controller could use, well, say for instance valley in the isle, in the -
CB: Anglesey.
JRB: Anglesey was one of them. We could use their transmitter if the aircraft was in that area.
CB: Yeah.
JRB: Or we could use one of the other transmitters, speak over the landline to that local transmitter and of course you’d get a better signal than if it was coming all the way from Preston and, and we could give him, give him his position pretty accurately and we could say, you know, ask the nature of his emergency and say well fly such and such a vector to such and such an airfield you see and direct him to try and get down.
CB: This is because you were using a big planned position indicator with a map on it aren’t you?
JRB: Yeah.
CB: And when he squawks then the line comes out.
JRB: We used, you know the television, the early television projector sets? They had a little, a little tube which would project on to a bigger screen hadn’t they? Not very distinct I would always thought but anyway we used those same -
CB: Same principal.
JRB: Those same tubes to project on to this big map that we had on our control desk and so it worked very well that did but we, we had to run on it on a watch system because it was covering the twenty four hours.
CB: Yeah.
JRB: And it was the emergency service you see.
CB: So what were you doing there?
JRB: I was maintaining all the equipment.
CB: Right.
JRB: At the Preston end.
CB: Now, you were, you during that period you trans -
JRB: You see, we had to, over our land line we could talk to the people at, at each station and if the, if we suspected that their signals were not quite right we’d have to call them to go and have a look at their equipment on the airfield and check and of course we, we used to have the authority over them to call them out if necessary for that sort of thing but it was quite a, quite a good system really but of course the sat nav type thing has entirely put that into the history books hasn’t it now?
CB: Yeah.
JRB: You’ll have heard of the RAF equipments called CADF and CRDF. Well they were installed on the airfields and each control tower if the, if the aircraft in his area called up his own station could give him his bearing to fly to the station but it couldn’t give him how many miles away it was or anything like that so this would give him a fixed position. So we used to have, thankfully we didn’t have a lot of emergencies, true emergencies but we used to do a lot of test, tests with aircraft in the area. So call, call up on the emergency channel and just check that everything was in order you know. It worked very well I thought.
CB: Now that was a transition. During that period you were, the technology was moving from valves to printed circuits. Well to -
JRB: Only just. This equipment -
CB: Transistors was what I meant to say.
JRB: This equipment was still on valves.
CB: Was it?
JRB: But -
CB: So we’re talking about the fifties and the sixties are we?
JRB: A friend, a friend of mine who served with me in the RAF after the war, this is Terry Parnell, he got a job at Standard Telephones and he, the two direction finding equipment that I mentioned CADF and CRDF they were in use by the RAF using the valve technology and I believe he converted it and brought out the transistorised versions of it and that worked alright for quite a long time.
CB: So when did you retire?
JRB: When did I retire?
RB: Well there was, there was another stage in your career when Barton Hall closed down in the early 70s. You went to Sealand didn’t you and you were working for the civil service at the, on laser, laser guided things.
JRB: Oh that was later on wasn’t it? Yes, of course.
RB: After Barton Hall closed down. So you actually retired from the laser -
JRB: Originally –
RB: Thing.
JRB: Originally we had five control centres. There was Preston, Barton Hall, Uxbridge and one up near the Scottish borders somewhere wasn’t there? Anyway there were about five, five areas. Well gradually they combined them. We took over the Yorkshire stations as well as our western stations and Uxbridge took over from somebody else so it was centralised from five to about three and then eventually it was centralised all on Uxbridge so of course the Barton Hall equipment was superfluous as regards this auto triangulation system. It was all being done collectively through Uxbridge.
RB: That’s when you were transferred to Sealand.
JRB: And that’s when, that’s when I transferred to Sealand which as you know is on, near Chester and I worked there until the end of the war er till the end of the, of my service.
CB: Which was 19 -
JRB: To my retirement and -
CB: 75 was it? 1970’s
RB: ‘85.
JRB: Sixty five wasn’t I?
RB: Yeah but ’85 you were sixty five.
CB: 1985
JRB: Yes I retired at sixty five and the last bit of my time there I was on, 30 MU at Sealand was a big RAF station. It had been a wartime flying station.
CB: Yeah.
JRB: And it became a central maintenance unit for airborne radio for the RAF. Most of the, most of the stations, if they had faulty equipment it would be sent to Sealand to be sorted out at that one place you see instead of each station doing their own repair work.
CB: Yeah.
JRB: It would come to a sensible point which was Sealand. So I worked on that for several years and then the Cossor’s, not Cossor’s, Ferranti’s. Ferranti’s of Edinburgh, they developed a laser equipment.
CB: At Sealand.
JRB: Now laser as you probably know is quite similar to ordinary radar but it’s using a different part of the spectrum.
CB: Infra-red.
JRB: It’s using infra-red and they, I don’t know whether it’s still in use but they fitted it in the Jaguars and I think in the new, the new fighter that replaced, well it was the Jaguar wasn’t it but I can’t remember what that was called but anyway but that was known as, I’m just trying to remember the [pause] Oh mark, laser ranger and marked target seeker. Now that had two purposes. From an aircraft it could, it could detect and range on a target or alternatively somebody on the ground, hopefully a little squaddie with a pack set, could direct this laser on to a bridge say that he wanted eliminating and that would be detected by the aircraft who could then range on that specific target you see so that’s why they called it the marked target seeker. So I worked on that which was a new technology again altogether using, as you said, infra-red instead of -
CB: To illuminate the target.
JRB: Radio waves. And I believe they used that in the Shetlands.
RB: The Falklands.
CB: In the Falklands war.
JRB: In the Falklands. Sorry. In the Falklands and one or two incidents since I believe but I don’t know whether it’s still, you see this, this is, we’re going back now what thirty years Ray. Something like that.
RB: Well yeah it was before Kit was born. Kit’s thirty at the end of this month.
JRB: Yeah.
RB: That’s my son, dad’s grandson.
JRB: Yes. That’s right.
RB: He’s thirty in a few weeks.
JRB: So presumably that equipment is now out of date anyway.
CB: Well just more sophisticated isn’t it?
JRB: It was the start of the, start of the laser usage for this purpose.
CB: Yes. Right. Excellent.
JRB: And then of course that was what I worked on right up to the end of my civil -
RB: Until you retired.
JRB: Service type of thing.
CB: So how many years did you do in the civil service? About thirty I suppose.
JRB: Something like that.
CB: ‘55 to ’85.
JRB: Something like that. Yeah. At, I was up at Barton Hall for quite a number of years wasn’t I Ray and then at Sealand again.
RB: Yeah.
JRB: About thirty years I suppose. Yeah.
CB: Right. We’re stopping there for a mo.
[recording paused]
CB: As a final point Roy what was the most memorable point about your service in the RAF?
JRB: In the RAF.
[pause]
JRB: I don’t know. It’s hard to say really.
[pause]
CB: Ok. What about in, in, when you, in civilian life? Was there a memorable part of your activities when you became a civil servant with radar, laser and so on?
JRB: No. There was nothing very exciting about it I’m afraid. It was just, just the same humdrum stuff.
CB: And what was your interests in the background in all that time? Were you keen on sport or some other -?
JRB: Never been much of a sportsman but I think, would you say our, our overseas holiday trips? That sort of -?
RB: Yeah. Well you went on foreign language courses didn’t you and did evening schools in various things.
JRB: Yes.
RB: Did you do a maths course? What was that -
JRB: No. I didn’t do a maths course.
RB: You didn’t do maths. Some, some
JRB: You see Peter, Peter -
RB: Sort of, was it a City and Guilds course you did? Something in -
JRB: Yes. Well that was more to do with my service life wasn’t it? The City and Guilds. It was qualification for -
RB: You did sort of later, qualifications in later life didn’t you?
JRB: Yes.
RB: And did you do Italian courses? And French.
JRB: Well I did one or two study courses. Yeah.
CB: Good. Thank you.
[recording paused]
CB: Just clarifying the mini blitz because clearly that was a memorable thing for you. You had to react quickly did you to this situation and so was this a particularly memorable event? The Meershum.
JRB: Yes it was because it was a sudden request that we got and we had to pull the stops out and design a modification to the equipment and get it, get it out to the airfields. We’d quite a hectic time going around and installing it at the various -
CB: At the CH stations.
JRB: Fields.
CB: Was it at airfields or CH stations?
JRB: It was at CH stations.
CB: Right. Thanks.
RB: That the [unclear?] isn’t it?
CB: Yeah.
JRB: Have you got it there?
CB: How long did it take you to do this? Literally a weekend or was it weeks?
JRB: Literally, literally just over a weekend.
CB: Amazing.
JRB: We were going all over the place, split up into different fitting parties and took one, one equipment to each station you see and set it up. So we landed down at Pevensey and that was the one that I was most involved in and the rest of our company did likewise. We were all separate, separate little fitting parties going along the various -
CB: You went by road -
JRB: Stations.
CB: I presume.
JRB: Yes.
CB: Yeah.
JRB: Yes. They laid transport on for us and of course we went, went straight to these stations.
CB: Good.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with James Burdin
Creator
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Chris Brockbank
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-02-06
Format
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01:51:55 audio recording
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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ABurdinJR170206
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Language
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eng
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Coastal Command
Civilian
Description
An account of the resource
James Burdin went at Hutton Grammar School and worked on radio repair and sales. He volunteered for the Royal Air Force but had to wait and joined the Local Defence Volunteers instead. He did some rifle practice, general infantry training and patrols. James had his initial training at Blackpool where the winter gardens had been converted into a Morse school. Owing his background in radio, he later went to work on radar: he discusses his postings at different training establishments and provides details of radar technical advances, installation, modify and repair, vulnerability and equipment mobility. James served in mobile equipment units in Algeria (Operation Torch), Tunisia, Egypt, Normandy (D-Day landings), crossing of the Rhine, Netherlands (Operation Market Garden), Mauthausen camp (Operation Meerschaum). Discusses the end of the war, continuing to work at 4 Maintenance Unit at RAF Ruislip developing equipment, components and technologies. He then worked at the Technical Research Establishment until demobilised in 1947.
After an unsuccessful attempt to run his family business, he applied for the civil service and worked until 1985 on radar development, auto triangulation, Cathode-Ray Direction Finder, Identification Friend or Foe, infrared devices, laser and chain radar stations.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--London
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
Algeria
Austria
Austria--Mauthausen
Egypt
France
Germany
Rhine River
Netherlands
Netherlands--Arnhem
Tunisia
North Africa
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944
Conforms To
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Pending revision of OH transcription
civil defence
demobilisation
Gneisenau
Home Guard
military living conditions
Morse-keyed wireless telegraphy
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
radar
RAF Bircham Newton
RAF Ruislip
recruitment
sanitation
Scharnhorst
training
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1010/11777/AWilliamsVD170403.1.mp3
8a621ee7029aea31c03d42b2eea0d61f
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Title
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Williams, Vivian
V D Williams
Vivian David Williams
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-04-03
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Williams, VD
Description
An account of the resource
Two items. An oral history interview with Corporal Vivian Williams (b. 1920, 616291 Royal Air Force) and one photograph. Vivian Williams served a a fitter with 56 Squadron at RAF North Weald and various training units.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Vivian Williams and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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CB: My name is Chris Brockbank and today is Monday the 3rd of April 2017 and we’re in Fiskerton in Lincolnshire talking with Vivian Williams about his life and times. What are your earliest recollections of life then, Vivian?
VW: A new house I should think. We lived in a small village called Tonyrefail — T O N Y R E F A I L where they had they, they had built, just after 1920, a new housing estate. It was semi-detached houses most of them, and they were rough cast in those days. And they had a bathroom. That was another something I remember. And they were, well at that time they were ten years before their time you know. And so that was one of the highlights. The next one was the oil lamp in the middle of the table. It had this gold filigree base, cast iron base, and a beautiful blue resin. Then shortly afterwards — yeah, that was, I must have been about four then. And shortly afterwards they actually put electricity in. As early as that, you know. And I can remember fooling about watching the electrician doing it, you know. And they had the old tumbler switches on and you screwed the cap off you know. The front of it off. And so I saw the bloke doing this and he was poking around with a screwdriver when he was connecting all the leads up. So I put my mother’s scissors in there. I leant on a chair, put my mother’s scissors in and got knocked across the room. Why I didn’t get killed I don’t know [laughs] but it was what kids I suppose. And I’d say the next big thing was the 1926 strike. And we were kept alive on charity in those days. And after that we moved to Pontypridd and stayed there until I was left school at fourteen. Elementary school. And then I was the only one in the family that could get a job. Because you got a, you went down the mine, of course everybody went down the mine so you went down the mine at fourteen and you went with a skilled man called a collier for five years. And then when you were nineteen they give you the sack and they’d give him a new boy. So, I said to my mum, I’d finished school at the end of July when the August holidays break up and, ‘When am I going to go down and get a job?’ And so she said, ‘ No, you’re not. You’re going up to London to live with my gran.’ So that was the next move. Up to London. And then the family moved up seven months later and we settled there. Had various jobs. Usually outside jobs because I couldn’t stand the factory you know. And, and then in 1938, in 1938 I joined the Territorials and I was on a searchlight detachment for a year. And then I said — I got fed up with that. I lost my job because just before, at the end of 1938, around about 1938, just say the end — they had a, had a slump in engineering and you couldn’t get a job anywhere. On the Great West Road where I worked. The factory there and all the factories were putting people off. And I was on shift work and they put off our shift. And the other shift went on to day work with the rest of the factory. And they sacked sixty four of us. You went to get your pay on Friday night and they gave you your cards. Your pay and your cards straightaway. Not an hour’s notice even.
PW: Which firm was that?
VW: Tecalemit they were lubrication specialists. Because cars in those days had umpteen grease nipples all over the chassis and everywhere. And it was an industry on its own, you know. And I was home for about three weeks getting under my mother’s feet and I said to our corporal, met corporal, I said, ‘I’m going to join the army.’ Because I just had to get away, you know, and nobody could get a job just then and so he said, ‘Don’t join the army,’ he said. He said, ‘I’ve done fifteen years in it and it never did me any good,’ and he said, ‘Join the RAF.’ And I said, ‘No. I can’t join the RAF.’ Because those days to get in you had to have a school certificate which I presume is something like four or five A levels you know.
PW: O levels.
CB: O levels rather. And he said, ‘No.’ He said, ‘You’d be surprised.’ So I went up to Adastral House where you applied. And I found that they had started an expansion scheme in the RAF and had created new trades and a flight mechanic, which is what I was, was one of them. And they just dragged you in by the short and curlies you know. And that was it. And I was in the RAF then for — well ‘til the end of the war. I did what, because this was July ’38, so I did seven and a half years instead of the six that I signed for. But, yeah —
CB: Where did you go to join the RAF?
VW: The recruitment depot was at Aldwych near The Strand. And it was called Adastral House. So I, that was the first place I went to in the RAF. We were there overnight and, no, we were sent home and go back the next morning. Picked up the train to West Drayton. And that was the induction depot. And that’s where we were sworn in. Had our hair cut. They gave us ten bob which we thought was very nice. Except it was only an advance on your next weeks’ pay. They never told us that [laughs] The next morning we went to Uxbridge for our square drill. Did all our square drill, at Uxbridge.
CB: How long did that last?
VW: Twelve weeks.
CB: So in addition to drill what else were you doing?
VW: There. Nothing really. Oh we had, the only other thing that happened we had two weeks off completely because they had the scare in September of 1938 and we were filling sand bags. And nobody ever hears of it but we was almost on alert you know, then. Then we put the complete automatic telephone exchange in. We were humping all the, carrying all the various bits and pieces for 11 Fighter Group which was right behind our dining hall. And of course it’s down steps. Lots. Have you seen the hill? The complete thing is in the hill. And we were only allowed to carry all the equipment and everything to the top of the steps and they had their own team then that took it down in to the bottom. So we never saw the inside of it at all.
CB: This was the underground fighter control.
VW: Yeah. 11 Group.
CB: Position.
VW: 11 Fighter Group.
CB: Yes. It’s open to the public now.
VW: Yeah. It is is it?
CB: It is. Yes.
VW: Yeah well. I humped all the cabinets and all the equipment that went down in there. And we had a fortnight off for that.
CB: Right.
VW: Yeah.
CB: So you’re doing drill. Did you do PT?
VW: Oh yes. Oh yes.
CB: Now what about classroom work?
VW: No. Just drill. We did just drill. PT. We did. We had — they give us an introduction to show that you were in the RAF. And they had two old fuselages, just fuselages, in the MT section and they were bolted to the wall, or chained to the wall but the engines were serviceable. And they used to just take us over there and after about a fortnight and show you. This sergeant and his corporal starting them up you know. But no it was just drill and ceremonial drill and we —
PW: Tell them about running those engines. Starting those engines.
VW: Oh yeah. They, the funny thing we were down in Old Warden and they had a — what was that one they started Phil?
PW: Oh that was a Camel.
VW: A Camel. And he started it by swinging the prop in reverse. And this is what the sergeant used to do. Swinging it in reverse. And we heard later on that he got killed doing it. But yeah but that was the only diversion if you like. The rest was just drill. Drill all the time.
CB: And you had twelve weeks of that.
VW: Yeah.
CB: In total.
VW: Well, yeah except for the –
CB: The two weeks.
VW: Two weeks I was out. Yeah. But we lost that.
CB: At what stage did you know what trade you were going to take?
VW: Oh right from the first. Because they said, give me the choice of being a flight mechanic or a flight rigger. And I said I’d be a mechanic. So that was put on your docs straight away.
CB: And when did they describe what was involved with that?
VW: Oh at the first interview.
CB: Right.
VW: At Adastral house, you know.
CB: So what was it that the flight mechanic was designated to do?
VW: As a mechanic he was responsible for the day to day maintenance of whatever engine or aeroplane he was put on.
CB: So after Uxbridge where did you go then?
VW: Well, we went down to Manston in Kent. But it was on a course that was actually obsolete but we were a small flight. Instead of being a hundred and forty four we were only sixty four and I think they lost us somewhere and they posted us to Manston on this course which was three weeks on engines and three weeks on air frames and as I say it was called a fitter’s mate’s course. You were only qualified to hand the spanners out, you know on that one. But it was obsolete anyway and then from there we went to Henlow in Bedfordshire to do a basic engineering course for six weeks there. And then from there we went to St Athans. Got to St Athans on January the 16th in 1939. And they were, we were there until the end of July and — close to the end of July and then we were given eighteen days leave. And then I was posted to 56 Squadron. Fighter squadron. And at North Weald on Hurricanes.
CB: When you were at St Athan that was basically an engines course was it?
VW: Yeah. It was. Yeah.
CB: So what variety of engines did you deal with then?
VW: Pegasus. Bristol Pegasus and Rolls Royce Kestrels. And of course the Kestrel was obsolete then wasn’t it?
CB: Did you have any Merlins there? Or —
VW: No. No. No.
CB: So the first time you came across Merlins was when you went to the Hurricanes?
VW: Well, we had three. We had three Hurricanes there. That was the nearest I’d came come to the Merlin. But to work on, no. It wasn’t until I got to 56 Squadron. As I say that was my job. I was responsible for the day to day maintenance of the aeroplane that they put me on which is actually hanging in the roof of the South Kensington Museum.
CB: Is it? Right.
VW: And —
CB: It survived that long
VW: Yes. Phil would know.
PW: It’s a miracle survivor.
CB: It’s a Mark I Hurricane.
PW: Yes.
VW: Two.
CB: Mark 2 is it?
VW: Yeah.
CB: Right.
PW: No, it was a Mark 1 dad.
VW: Was it?
PW: Yeah. it’s L1592.
VW: Yeah.
CB: So what was the serviceability like of the squadron? There were how many aircraft in the squadron first?
VW: There was twelve aircraft.
CB: And what —
VW: Two flights of six.
CB: Yeah.
VW: Twelve aircraft. A flight and B flight. Yeah.
CB: And what was serviceability like?
VW: Very good because they’d only been equipped with new Hurricanes some months before I got there and I think they didn’t fly very often but I think they must have been restricted. Looking back. You know, for saving the fuel because, you know, they knew what was going to happen. But they would only fly perhaps two hours a week.
CB: Amazingly low.
VW: Hmmn?
CB: Amazingly low.
VW: Yeah.
CB: So what —
VW: They had to keep their hours in, you know.
CB: Yes. The pilots had to keep enough hours.
VW: Yeah.
CB: To be able to qualify.
VW: Yes. That’s right. For their logbook.
CB: So how much leave did you have at the end of St Athan?
VW: Eighteen days.
CB: Oh eighteen days.
VW: Yeah.
CB: Right. So we’re in August.
VW: Yeah.
CB: When you get to North Weald.
VW: Yeah.
CB: Right. And how long did you spend in North Weald in total?
VW: We moved. The squadron moved in October. Yeah. In October and we moved to Martlesham Heath in Suffolk. They were, they were on convoy duty for the convoys. Shipping in the North Sea. They had a sector to patrol.
CB: Right.
VW: And, but we, but everything was very quiet. Very quiet, you know. They only had one, our own squadron only had one tussle with a reconnaissance flight, you know. A Dornier. One of the Dorniers’. Something like that and that’s the only time we saw the gun patches blown off the guns, you know, like that. But other than that it was very quiet. We had nothing very much to do at all. Just wait. They just did patrols and nothing else.
CB: So you got there in October ’39.
VW: Yeah.
CB: How long did you stay with that squadron?
VW: Until Christmas.
CB: Right.
VW: I only stayed with them six months altogether.
CB: Right.
VW: The first six months of the war.
CB: Then what?
VW: Then I went on a conversion course to be a fitter.
CB: Where was that?
VW: At Hednesford in Staffordshire.
CB: To be fitting what?
VW: Pardon?
CB: A conversion course to be a fitter.
VW: Yeah. That meant that —
CB: Specialising in what?
VW: Yeah. But you were only allowed to do certain things as a mechanic. Like, as I say, the day to day maintenance.
CB: Right.
VW: Which was nothing much more than filling the tanks and doing the ground runs in the morning. And then while, when I first went there they used to have all the cowlings off on a Friday morning. Just once a week.
CB: Right.
VW: Just to see that nothing had fallen off. Or you know, nuts loose on the, the exhaust stubs. Check them all around and that sort of thing. And mostly it was observation.
CB: Yeah.
VW: You had the run every morning. You would check the, just check the mag drops and that.
CB: So you’d run them up every morning.
VW: Oh yeah.
CB: How did you make sure that plugs didn’t oil up? Because if all you were doing was running it up. Did the plugs oil up doing that?
No. No. You didn’t get plugs oiling up at all.
CB: So you didn’t do plug changes because the planes weren’t flying enough.
VW: Oh no. No. Because that wasn’t my job. But when I went on a conversion course as a fitter.
CB: Yes.
VW: Instead of being on the flights.
CB: Yes.
VW: Out on the aerodrome. We were in the hangar and we you doing inspections. And these inspections came around at pre-determined intervals. And then of course you did things like plug changes and oil filters.
CB: Oh, they were done then. Right.
VW: Yeah. And well anything that was going. Anything that could be done on the station and we couldn’t do a lot because we were a mobile squadron and we had to be away completely in an hour and forty minutes.
CB: Oh did you?
VW: Yeah.
CB: Right.
VW: Shifted. Gone. So our stores was in a big box in one of the annexes in the hangar, you know. Instead of the usual thing of a separate building.
PW: Yeah.
VW: Like you get. But we had to carry everything with us.
CB: What were the trucks that you were using for that? Crossleys.
VW: We had, we had a three ton Albion lorry. Yeah. And a Bedford artic flat bed. And that took all our stands and that you used for propping up the plane when you’re doing jobs on them you know and that sort of thing. Any equipment that we had which was very little so we couldn’t do a lot. But as a fitter you were qualified then to go into what they called maintenance and you just went into the maintenance hangar and you did whatever was scheduled as maintenance on that particular aeroplane or that particular engine.
CB: So, on this course at Hednesford.
VW: Yeah.
CB: Then that was on specific aircraft. Which one was that?
VW: No. No. Just engines.
CB: Just in general.
VW: Just engines in general. Yeah.
CB: Ok. How long did that last? The course.
VW: Well from Christmas. Christmas ’39. I went there on Christmas Day 1939. And we left there to do, did part of the course there and we finished it off at Cosford. And I carried my [unclear] when we went there. Somewhere about halfway through the course. And we left on the 30th of May and I got posted to the Channel Islands. Because that’s the first flying school that I went to. The School of General Reconnaissance. And they were at Guernsey. But we were only there a fortnight. We had to get out anyway because the Germans were coming in. But we should have, the flights were at Guernsey and we should have been posted to the parent unit which was at Thorney Island. And they mixed it up again so we had another fortnight’s holiday on Guernsey until we had to pack up and go. And went back to Thorney Island there [pause] We were there at Thorney Island [pause]
PW: What dad’s not telling you —
VW: Until — we were there, I can’t remember when we left but we were there but we were there while Dunkirk was on.
CB: Right.
VW: Because everybody had to have, no matter where you went you had to have a Lee Enfield and fifty rounds of ammunition.
CB: Oh.
VW: Everybody. Everybody on the station was armed. You know. Ready for anything like that. And we left there to go to a place called Hooton Park up near Liverpool. Well Wallasey. And the day after we left they flattened the hangar.
CB: At Thorney Island.
VW: Yeah.
CB: Did they?
VW: Yeah. Flattened it. So we were dead lucky there.
CB: Well, Dunkirk was the end of May so perhaps you went to Thorney Island a bit earlier — to Guernsey a bit earlier than that.
VW: [pause] Yeah. It’s a long time ago.
CB: It doesn’t matter.
VW: Yeah. It’s a long time ago.
CB: It’s all around the same time.
VW: Yeah.
CB: What — at Thorney Island what were you supposed to be servicing there?
VW: Ansons.
CB: Oh right. These were shipping reconnaissance were they? Or what were they doing?
VW: Well, it was the school. It was called the School of General Reconnaissance.
CB: Oh I see. Right.
VW: It was. It didn’t have a squadron number.
CB: Yeah.
VW: It was the School of General Reconnaissance.
CB: Ok.
VW: And shifted us up to Hooton Park.
CB: Yeah.
VW: Which was just across the Mersey from Speke Airport.
CB: Right.
VW: And from there we went to Blackpool. We missed the blitz on Liverpool.
CB: Right. How long did you stay at Hooton Park then?
VW: Oh just a matter of a couple of months I should think.
CB: Right.
VW: And then [paused] we were posted to Blackpool. And that’s a date I remember because when I was posted from Blackpool to South Cerney in Wiltshire.
CB: Yeah.
VW: It was on the 18th of October.
PW: Gloucestershire.
CB: Yeah. That’s where I joined the RAF.
VW: Sorry?
CB: That’s where I joined the RAF.
VW: Where?
CB: South Cerney.
PW: South Cerney.
VW: Yes [laughs]
PW: 1 FTS.
CB: So, so, yeah. 18th of October ’40.
VW: Yeah.
CB: At South Cerney. What was happening there? This was a different unit was it?
VW: Oh yeah. That was 3FTS. Number 3 Flying Training School. We were doing conversions. Taking the pilots from the Empire Air Training Scheme. Canada and South Africa.
CB: Oh yes.
VW: And converting them from like Harvards onto twin engine Oxfords. Airspeed Oxfords.
CB: Right.
VW: Yeah.
CB: Because these were people all destined for bombing. Bombers.
VW: Yeah.
CB: Ok.
VW: They were introduction to multi engine.
CB: Yeah. And how long did that last? That posting.
VW: That posting lasted till Christmas again. 1942.
CB: Right.
VW: Nearly two years there.
CB: And during that time you were dealing with the, what were the engines on the Ansons?
VW: The engines? Oh the Cheetah 9s.
CB: Cheetahs. Yeah.
VW: Cheetah 9s. And then when we left South Cerney we went to 17 AFU. Advanced Flying Unit at Watton in Norfolk and we were on Masters 2s. Fighter trainer.
CB: Did they have other planes as well?
VW: No. Just them because we did engine changes all the time. I was in, in the maintenance hangar there was a fitter.
CB: Yeah.
VW: I passed out as a fitter so I was in the maintenance hangar and we did what — they used to come around to the maximum number of between inspections and we just changed engines all the time.
CB: It was quicker.
VW: Yeah.
CB: What were the engines?
VW: It was easier for us to change the engines and send them back to places like Alvaston in Derbyshire and they did a complete overhaul of them.
CB: Right.
VW: In the factories.
CB: What were the engines?
VW: Mercuries. Bristol Mercuries.
CB: So how long at Watton? So from Christmas ’42.
VW: To [pause] now my dates are a bit [pause] I can’t remember my dates after that.
CB: Ok. Where were you posted to after you’d finished?
VW: At Watton?
CB: At Watton.
VW: We cleared out everything. All our backlog we cleared that up and the Americans moved in and it became a bomber ‘drome then I suppose. One of these bombardments groups would be there. And it was all grass when we were there and they put thousands of tons of cement in one hangar and they put obviously concrete runways in, but we’d gone by then.
CB: So personally where did you go to?
VW: We went to a little ‘drome near Crewe called Calveley. C A L V E L E Y. Calveley. And doing the same thing there. Training pilots, you know. A lot of them from overseas. Australia. New Zealanders. And then we went —
CB: What were the planes? What were the aircraft there?
VW: Master 2s.
CB: Right.
VW: They were the same squadron like. 17 AFU.
CB: Oh right.
VW: And then we went to Spitalgate near Grantham. That was 12 FTS. Yeah.
PW: No. 12 PAFU.
VW: Oh yeah. Yeah. Probably yeah. Yeah. Advanced Flying Unit. Yeah. And from there we moved up to, that would be around about the end of 1944. And we went to Hixon in Staffordshire. Hixon. And was there about two months and then I got posted to Lyneham on Transport Command. That’s when I finally got out of flying Training Command. That’s when we went to Lyneham. And we were flying Yorks there.
CB: At Transport Command.
VW: Transport Command. Yeah.
CB: What were you doing at Hixon?
VW: Just on the same, 17AFU. Doing the same thing.
CB: Yeah.
VW: But not much at all.
CB: Right. What was the aircraft? Because it was an Advanced Flying School. What was the aircraft were they using?
VW: Oh the same as we had at Grantham.
CB: Oh.
VW: They were Blenheim 4s and they were obsolete too.
CB: Yeah.
VW: The first time I saw them was at Martlesham. One of the first bombing raids of the war and it was a flight of five from two squadrons, 110 and 107 and they flew over and they bombed the islands off the German coast. Silt and Bochum. Like that. And they surprised them, 110 Squadron, Yeah. They surprised them and lost one. When 107 Squadron’s five went over they lost four out of the five. That was some of the very early casualties.
CB: And that was from Martlesham.
VW: Yes. Yeah. I think they hadn’t got that much of a range and I think they were at Wattisham and they lobbed down at Martlesham and filled the tanks up.
CB: Right.
VW: Topped the tanks up. Yeah. But — and then I was demobbed from Lyneham.
CB: When was that?
VW: January the 26th 1946.
CB: Right. How did you feel about that?
VW: Actually, I was enjoying myself and we were, I was a corporal and I was offered to be made sergeant if I signed on. My wife put her foot on that and, ‘No. Not likely,’ she said. ‘You’re coming home.’ By that time we had my daughter and Phil and his younger brother who is just over from Australia. And they were there so she’d had the three of them from 1940. My daughter was born, and he was ’44.
PW: I was ’44 Ted was ’46.
VW: And Ted was 46’
PW: Yeah.
VW: So I had to get home and take my responsibilities.
CB: So the rank of sergeant eluded you.
VW: Oh yeah. Yeah.
CB: But you’d looked forward to that had you?
VW: Well yeah because I was enjoying myself there. It was a very nice station and also we had chances of — they used to fly out as far as Japan, you know, taking engines and equipment to all the stops that Transport Command from Lyneham used to stop at. They used to go from Lyneham to Gibraltar. Gibraltar to Cairo West. From Cairo West to somewhere in what was then Persia, Iraq.
PW: Habbaniya.
VW: Yeah. And then Karachi and then Singapore. But they did fly, I remember they flew a prop to Japan. I think it was for the Lancaster. You know. That went all around the world after the war.
CB: Oh yes.
VW: They were trying to sell them.
CB: Yes.
VW: You know, so they were on a promotional tour and they had several with a prop in Tokyo. And they flew the prop out there.
CB: Yeah. The Argentinians bought fifteen.
VW: I didn’t know if they sold any.
CB: They did. Yeah.
VW: Because it wasn’t all that long. Well I say it wasn’t all that long. They [pause] I was at working as a civilian on the Maintenance Unit at 5 MU at Kemble.
CB: After the war.
VW: On Lancasters.
CB: Yeah.
VW: And it wasn’t, I was there for about a year and we would bring them in from the, from the service and they would examine them. The inspectors would go over them to see what was wanted to be done and they had a list of things to be done. And then they would mothball them to a certain extent. Put them out and then when the RAF wanted them they’d bring them back in to our hangars, the preparation hangars. And we’d do everything that was on the list, like that. And they’d go back into service. New paint job. And, but that didn’t last very long and the next thing they were out on the park and they just chopped them up. Got rid of them all.
CB: Well how full was Kemble Airfield? How full was it with these things?
VW: How?
CB: How full? How many aircraft on it?
VW: Oh. Must have been about a hundred I should think.
CB: Oh right.
VW: Easy. And Hants and Sussex Aviation just took, they broke them all up.
CB: Yeah.
VW: And took them for scrap. And we say now there were rows of four Merlin engines there all over the place and if they’d seen them today. The people who need them, you know.
CB: Yeah.
VW: They’d cry.
CB: Yeah. I bet.
VW: Should be here somewhere.
CB: I’ll just stop the, stop this for a mo.
[recording paused]
CB: We paused just for you to get your prized screwdriver. Could you just describe. We’ve just had a picture of you with it. Could you just describe the background of it? Please.
VW: Yeah the screwdriver is basically a Merlin blockstud.
CB: Yeah.
VW: And the ends have been re-formed to make it into a chisel. And the handle is carved out of, shaped out of a solid block of aluminium. And the machinist shaped the handle and then he put, he drilled it to take the squared end of the, the square taper in to that. And he put the shank, the stud in the lathe and — the other way about. The handle was in the lathe and this was in the turret of his capstan lathe like that.
CB: Right.
VW: And he just pulled the capstan handles and —
CB: Put it straight in.
VW: And it never moved.
CB: No.
VW: At all.
CB: Now that engine stud. How would that have been formed in the aircraft? On the engine. Because you had the block and the head separate didn’t you?
VW: Yeah.
CB: So how, how did this work.
VW: This end was screwed in to the crank case. All you got was the crank case itself with the holes in it to take this and that was screwed in to there. Then you slide the cylinders on, right. So the end, this end, threaded again would protrude above the top of block.
CB: Yes.
VW: And then the head itself would slide down over that as well and this is just long enough then so that you get enough thread on the end to take the nut that holds the whole lot together. The three pieces together like that.
CB: Ok.
VW: And it’s in a block like that because it’s a V engine. So you have two rows of these down one side and two down the other side like that for the other block.
CB: So getting the block on is a heavy job.
PW: Yes.
VW: Well it’s yeah but —
CB: Sorry the cylinder head I meant to say.
VW: The cylinder is not so bad. Getting the block is the bad job because you have to introduce six pistons in to the bottom of the cylinders.
CB: Yes.
VW: As so all six have got to be in the right place and you’ve to gently feed them in, feed the rings in. Squeeze the rings to go in and then you just work it down very carefully because what makes it worse it’s on an angle anyway, you know, like that.
CB: Yes. A V12.
VW: It’s suspended you know and the block is on an angle going down because of the V of the engine.
CB: Yes.
VW: But — yeah.
CB: So these wet liner engines are they?
PW: Yeah.
VW: They, well Phil knows more about them then I do.
CB: They are. Effectively that’s why you’re putting in the —
VW: Yeah.
CB: Cylinder and then putting the head on.
VW: Yeah. Yeah.
CB: Right.
VW: Yeah. Because —
CB: Ok. And then for each part of the V.
VW: Yeah.
CB: Because these are V12s you’ve got six cylinders. Each. How many studs are there per cylinder?
VW: Four.
CB: Right. So that’s twenty four.
VW: Yeah.
CB: And you’re trying to thread the head over that.
VW: You’ve got rows like a porcupine.
PW: It’s like there are four studs per cylinder.
VW: Yeah.
PW: But between the cylinders the studs are shared.
CB: Right.
PW: If you can imagine.
CB: Yeah.
PW: You know, you have four studs for this one and then two of them become two of the four for that one.
CB: Right. Ok.
PW: So you got fourteen studs on each side.
CB: I see. Ok.
PW: Yeah.
CB: Right.
[recording paused]
CB: Now, when you were at Lyneham what was the excitement you had there?
VW: I was in a little section. And I had a gang of four airmen and they were split into groups of two in a little workshop alongside the hangar. And when the, the engines had done a certain number of hours in the aeroplane they were taken off the whole, what we called a power egg right from the wing, the front of the wing, you know from the firewall.
CB: Yeah.
VW: The big bulkhead.
CB: Yeah.
VW: And they’d take the lot off. Just undo all the connections and then they’d put it in a special stand with four wheels and they’d bolt them in there like that. And then they’d link them all up together and then the David Brown would bring them up to our place.
CB: A tractor.
VW: Yeah. Bring them all to our place and I went up two of them. And the other corporal in the hangar he would have the other two for his four blokes. And they used to have two on each and then we would take the engines out and then renew any, anything that controlled our pipes. You know. Various things in the, that was left, you know, in the engine bearer. Any oil pipes, fuel pipes, coolant pipes, perhaps put a new coolant tank in which is just over behind the prop. Anything like that that had to be renewed. And then put a new engine in, like that. And then they’d go back in into hangars straight on to the Yorks.
CB: Now the York was essentially a Lancaster with a different body. What about the engines? Were they different?
VW: It had Lancaster things on it didn’t it?
CB: Were the engines the same as the Lancaster?
VW: Well, no not really because they were Merlin 24s that we had.
CB: Was that more powerful?
VW: No. I don’t think so. Were they Phil?
PW: They were slightly more powerful yeah. The general run of the mill Lancaster Merlin was twelve fifty horsepower or thereabouts.
VW: Yeah.
PW: And these were, I think they were slightly more. About fourteen hundred so a little more powerful. But they had different characteristics. The supercharging was slightly different on them. So, you know the York’s flew a different profile to the Lancaster and the engines were suited to that characteristics.
CB: And they didn’t fly so high.
PW: Didn’t fly so high.
VW: Yeah they went through.
PW: Yeah.
CB: So fast forward now to Kemble. So you’re a civilian there with 5MU. How long did that last?
VW: Two years.
CB: Then what?
VW: This isn’t — do you need this?
CB: Well, it’s just to know what people did after the war really.
VW: Oh yeah.
CB: Because you learned a lot in the war that you didn’t know before.
VW: Yeah.
CB: How did that impinge on your career until your retirement?
VW: Yeah. Well I went straight into a garage you know, because knowing engines. And I had four years, yeah, four years in the garage. That brought me up to 1950. And the Suez Crisis happened.
CB: ’56 that was.
PW: No. You’re getting confused with Berlin dad.
CB: So 1948 was Berlin. So the Korean War was 1950. Did you called in to the Korean War?
VW: Maybe. That was —
CB: I’ll stop that just for [pause] yeah go on.
VW: The — anyway the petrol went back on the basic ration.
CB: Yeah.
VW: So lots of people took their cars off the road and they sacked twelve of us.
CB: Right.
VW: In the garage. Because they had no work. I went to the, what they used to call then the Labour Exchange for a job and they said, ‘What did you do in the war?’ I said, ‘I was an aircraft mechanic.’ They said, ‘We’ve got a job for you,’ and they sent me out to Kemble. To the MU. And I was there for two years. And then I had various jobs. Short term. Taxies. I drove a taxi. And then I went from there to driving milk tankers for the Co-op Milk Department. And I had six years. No. Eight years. Eight years with them.
PW: A long while with them.
VW: Eight years with them. And actually in the first year wasn’t on the tankers. It was picking up the milk from farms in churns. You know. And then I went from that on the tankers for what we used to call long distance. Our long distance was a hundred miles a day I think at the most. Because you covered all the south of England. But yeah, and in 1962 I went into the factory in Swindon building motor bodies for British Leyland. And I was there then ‘til I retired.
CB: Which was when?
VW: 1984.
CB: So just to get the sequence because we changed it slightly. Did you go from Lyneham into working as a garage mechanic?
VW: Yeah I —
CB: Before, before you went to Kemble.
VW: Oh yeah. Well that was when I was demobbed.
CB: Yes.
VW: From there.
CB: Yeah. Ok. Right. I got it the wrong way around. What year were you married?
VW: 1940. Yeah.
CB: And how did you meet your wife?
PW: Teenagers really.
VW: We were fifteen when we married because she was just nine months older than me so we were both about fifteen. Yeah.
PW: That was when you met wasn’t it?
VW: Pardon?
PW: That’s when you met.
VW: Yeah.
PW: Because you said when we were married [laughs]
VW: Oh no. When we first met. Yeah. We married in 1940. Sheila was born in ’41.
CB: She lived near you.
VW: Pardon?
CB: She lived near you did she, is that how you —
VW: Yes. In the locality yes.
CB: Yeah. Good. Right I’m going to stop there for a mo. Thank you very much.
[recording paused]
CB: So just, just going back a bit Vivian.
VW: Yeah.
CB: When you were in the Territorial Army and you working at Tacalemit
VW: Yeah.
CB: What did you do in the Territorial Army?
VW: I was on a searchlight detachment and we, we had a ninety centimetre light and we had six lights altogether and I was on, I was always on what was called the home light. So I was on the centre and all the other five, yeah the other five, they were three or four miles away in a ring around as me in the centre. Like that. They were disbursed about three or four miles. And we used to have two girls fly a Dominie from, a Dragon Rapide in Croydon as the target. So the the detachment would be two spotters laid out at forty five degrees from the light. They are there. The lights here. I’m on the end of the long arm with the wheel, the wheel elevates it and to go around you just walk forwards or backwards, you know, like that. Very primitive. And then I had an earpiece and we had a telephone line to what they called the sound locators. They were sort of wooden horns. And they were on a stand and you could move them that way or around. You know.
PW: Azimuth.
VW: Circular movement you know. And also you’d get the elevation to get the sound. And then there was a corporal who was, lance corporal who was in charge and he was shouting in the other ear. And so you know we didn’t know where we were half the time and it was like [Fred Carnell’s?] outfit. It really was. All the other lights were all over the sky like waving corn you know. Like that. And then the girls would, they’d be flying without navigation lights, you know and they’d get fed up and switch the navigation lights on [laughs] and everybody was on to them.
CB: And suddenly you’d get them. Yes.
VW: And we’d cone them in the aeroplane you know. Great stuff. And they would switch the navigation lights off again and we were all lost. We were all over the sky again you know.
CB: These wooden detectors were pre-radar weren’t they?
VW: Oh yeah.
CB: So this was the only system they had.
VW: They came out the ark I should think.
CB: Yes. And they didn’t work.
VW: No. No.
CB: So how often did you actually acquire a target with a light?
VW: I don’t think we ever acquired one at all. Only when they switched the navigation lights on [laughs]
CB: [laughs] Right.
VW: And I was on that for about nine months I suppose.
CB: Yeah.
VW: We used to go out to aerodromes. Down to Aldershot, you know. Any military establishment like that. We used to go and spend a weekend.
CB: You’d take the lights.
VW: Take the lights.
CB: Yes. And how —
VW: And then we’d — pardon?
CB: All six would go would they?
VW: Yeah. And the lorries that they were transported with were Tilling-Stevens Petrol Electric.
CB: Right.
VW: You might, I think you’d have to go online to find them.
PW: Yes. You would.
VW: They were — that’s what they were called. Petrol electric. How that worked I don’t know but they would, they had this damned great generator on them. And we used to [pause] then he had a long cable. Oh it must have been about fifty feet at least. And he’d got to link up this cable so you don’t hear anything of the generator going at all. And [pause] and as I say I’d be on the home light and as I say we never, never really caught one at all. We were always all over the sky you know. Only when the girls switched the nav lights on. But it was, it was fun really. We were having a good time. You know. Not really working at it you know.
PW: Not taking it very serious.
VW: For us it was so impossible to find them.
CB: Well it was always peacetime wasn’t it so there wasn’t exactly an incentive to do a lot.
VW: Yeah. Yeah we used to go and do aerodromes and army.
CB: What was the unit called?
VW: The unit was called [pause] my army number was 2052042. Sapper. Sapper Williams. 339 Company. 26th London Electrical Engineers. R E, Royal Engineers. We come under Royal Engineers.
PW: Only the army.
VW: Yeah [laughs] yeah.
CB: This is before they really got the searchlight detachments operating.
VW: Well then they had the big ones you know.
CB: Yeah.
VW: They also had a hundred and twenty sized. A hundred and twenty centimetres but they were the same, just a larger light. And they were carbon arc lights. And then of course I went on crush guard somewhere near Spalding and they had a searchlight detachment there and it was a radar controlled light. This was some years later in the war. And it was radar controlled and it must have been a hundred and eighty, nearly two hundred metres, you know. Like that.
CB: Centimetres.
VW: Radar controlled.
CB: Yeah.
VW: That was I don’t know how successful they were but we were bloody hopeless.
PW: Pretty good.
CB: So you enjoyed it.
VW: Oh yeah. The Terriers. You know. It was adequate. It was an opportunity to get dressed up.
CB: Yeah.
VW: We used to get a few raspberries here and there, you know. Saturday night soldier.
CB: Yeah.
VW: But no I quite liked being in a crowd you know like that. In the company. Yeah.
CB: And when you joined the RAF how different was that?
VW: It was, it was much the same. I liked being with the company of other people. You know. I quite liked it in the early times you know, like that. And it wasn’t until I come across — I ran fowl of this engineer, warrant officer. That spoiled me for the RAF and I wasn’t interested after that.
CB: So what happened there? When was that?
VW: What?
CB: When did you meet this difficult person?
VW: October 1940. Yeah. October 1940.
CB: So what happened there?
VW: Well the School of GR was at Blackpool and they got posted to South Africa and — but they had this idea that you were going to get your wives out there so you had to be earning a certain amount, certain level of pay to cope with the cost of living out there. And I wasn’t. I was thruppence a day short because I wasn’t an LAC then. And so there was twenty of us I think that got then posted to different units in the UK. And I went to South Cerney. And I was there two years. You know.
CB: But you mentioned this warrant officer.
PW: This guy was —
CB: What was the significance of that?
VW: Well he was the engineering warrant officer of that and he, we just got off on the wrong foot. And I became bloody minded and I was always in trouble. I was always up on a charge. And in the end the engineering officer had us both in the office and he got as much of a bollocking as I did there, you know. He said it himself, he said, ‘This has got to stop.’ He said, ‘Getting him on,’ me, ‘Putting on a charge on trivial things,’ he said, ‘It only makes a man bloody minded.’ And he coined the phrase.
PW: And he was exactly right.
VW: And, yeah, and after that instead of being recommended for your classifications you had to take a board so he couldn’t do anything else but give me the opportunity to have a board. He comes up to me in the hangar and he said, ‘You’ve done very well.’ It took him a lot to actually congratulate me on it. It must have been hard for him.
CB: Dented his pride a bit did it? And the result of the board was what?
VW: I became an LAC then. And then a little while later I got posted from there to 17 AFU at Watton. And the engineering officer said, ‘What’s that thing on your sleeve?’ And I said, ‘It’s a good conduct stripe.’ He said, ‘How long have you been an LAC?’ I said, ‘Not very long sir.’ And he said, ‘Right,’ he said, he said, ‘You should have been a corporal by now, you know, at least.’ And I said, I didn’t, I just sort of bluffed it over, you know. Didn’t say what had happened obviously.
CB: No.
VW: And he said, ‘We’ll soon do something about that. And then in two months I was a corporal.
PW: I bet he found out what had been going on.
VW: I don’t know, he must have, yeah.
PW: ‘Cause it would have been, it would have been on your records.
VW: He must have looked on my docs. On my records.
PW: On your records.
CB: Trouble is that warrant officers are difficult to challenge.
VW: Yeah. Yeah. And the thing was you see then you were getting, frequently getting overseas postings. Well, we were, I was actually living out in Cirencester. Being a married man.
CB: Yeah.
VW: And so they, the sort unspoken rule then was that all these overseas postings were filled by single blokes. You know. And he was living out as well so you know we were in the same boat. He couldn’t treat me any different you know and so we got away with it like that. Made it so much easier.
CB: What would you say was the most memorable point about your RAF service?
VW: Memorable. Oh my first flight.
CB: Because we haven’t talked about that. So, ok, so first flight.
VW: Yeah.
CB: What was that?
VW: In a Magister. We were supposed to have an air experience flight at the end of the technical course at St Athans but there were so many entrants there, you know. People coming off the courses. They were pushing them through as fast as they could and they just didn’t have enough aircraft to give everybody this air experience flight. And that was in a Magister. So we got to the squadron on 56 Squadron and suddenly one of the NCOs there found out that none of us airmen had flown. And our CO was quite surprised you know because we were in the air force. We obviously should have had at least had, as I say the air experience flight. The initial flight. So our CO borrowed a Magister from somewhere. And each pilot then took his crew up. And bring up and then all the way back and that was the best thrill I think I’ve ever had. You know.
CB: Right.
VW: And most memorable that was. Frightened I to death but I was hooked after that and I used to fly in anything on air test. A lot of blokes, you know would say you know, ‘I won’t fly in that bloody thing you know.’ But if a pilot went up I would.
CB: Yeah.
VW: I just loved flying. Still do.
CB: How many hours do you reckon you got on doing those air tests?
VW: I must have done seventy or eighty air tests and they ranged from ten minutes to an hour on the Lancs.
CB: Yeah.
VW: At Kemble. That’s the way to fly. On the Lancs.
CB: Now the RAF was actually desperate for air crew. Particularly early on. So people were asked if they’d like to volunteer. What happened to you?
VW: Well, as I say, you know I just — they just put my medical back a month but they said, ‘We’ll keep your posting open,’ but I never heard any more, you know, at all. And I didn’t push it because my wife said no.
CB: Can we go fast backwards a bit? So how did you come to volunteer for aircrew in the first place?
VW: To get away from that engineer warrant officer.
CB: Right. Good.
VW: The attitude in the hangar. I just lost interest in it you know. That’s how he affected me. I thought I couldn’t do anything right. Although a lot of it was my own fault but no.
CB: So when you —
VW: Actually you see then they were losing so many aircraft towards the end of 1942, or the middle of 1942 and I thought then, I mean I could have been posted to Stirlings or something like that.
CB: Yeah.
VW: And I wouldn’t have stood a hope in hell’s chance of coming through it.
CB: Yeah.
VW: And I hadn’t, my daughter then she was born. She was born in 1941 so — he wasn’t born till ’44. But —
CB: So after you volunteered what was the next step? What did they do?
VW: Oh I just got posted away.
CB: No. No. They — what I meant to say was when you volunteered they then gave you some tests. So what was the first thing they did?
VW: Well you were posted away on a gunner’s course.
CB: Yes.
VW: And, and you did that and I don’t know — perhaps their way of thinking. But you didn’t get your medical until you’d finished your gunner’s course. But our MO just took it into his mind, ‘Oh I’ll give you your medical now.’ You see. When we were clearing out our what’s the name, flew around.
PW: Yeah. You go around getting cleared from the station.
VW: You go around station and clear everything you know like that. Of course one section is the MO and as I say if he hadn’t given me my medical then I’d have gone through, you see.
CB: Yeah.
VW: I would have gone to the air gunner’s course and then back up to Penarth to the medical before I got sent on the, on the conversion course because I would have been the flight engineer.
CB: What was the hiccup with your medical?
VW: The fact that I had this paralysis.
CB: Where?
VW: And he knew how long it would last.
CB: Where? What?
VW: Before it, my face came back to normal again you see, like that, and he said, ‘We’ll keep your posting open,’ but they never did and we never pushed it.
CB: ’Cause you wife wasn’t in favour.
VW: No. No. She wasn’t.
CB: Unsurprisingly.
PW: If you knew my mum you’d understand just how much of a brick wall that was.
VW: Yeah. I mean —
CB: But looking back would you have liked to have converted to aircrew?
VW: I would have liked to yes but looking back —
CB: Ok. So —
VW: I could weigh up the chances looking back.
CB: Yeah.
VW: And then never even thought about being shot down.
CB: No.
VW: Or anything like that.
CB: No. You were invincible.
VW: In retrospect, I mean I would, I could easily have been one of fifty five thousand.
CB: And which planes would you have wanted to have flown in?
VW: Oh the Lancaster. Yeah definitely. A Lancaster. Because the other went — I only know one of them. He was my mate there at Cerney. Name Lou Boyd. An Irish kiddie and he went and he did his conversion course at Swinderby.
CB: Right.
VW: On Lancs. I don’t know where the others went. I mean on one of them, on one of them.
PW: 1660.
VW: One of them was the sergeant in the hangar and he was thirty five
PW: Yeah.
VW: And he was the same as me. Just didn’t like our warrant officer. Never got on with him. And he went. Yeah thirty five he was.
CB: And how many ops did he do?
VW: I don’t know. I lost touch with all of them. I really did.
CB: Right.
VW: I only met Lou once. He came back and sorted us out and he was half way through his first tour then.
CB: So he —
VW: That was the, they told us when you lose an engine from mechanical failure. You don’t see it. You don’t realise it. The engine is not working.
CB: Because it’s wind milling.
VW: It’s wind milling.
CB: Yeah.
VW: And the thing is that it windmills. The revs stay the same.
CB: Do they?
VW: Yeah. The revs. The oil pressure stays the same, and that. You don’t get anything off the dials to indicate that it’s not running. The pilots afterwards said that there was, he felt a slight drag on that one side. But the first indication the engineer got, the flight engineer was the oil temperature goes down.
CB: Right.
VW: But everything else is the same bar the oil temperature.
CB: Because the pilot can feel it yawing.
PW: Just a little.
VW: Yeah but he would just take that as the engines getting a bit out of sync. Perhaps. You know.
CB: Right.
VW: Like that. Yeah.
CB: Actually that’s a point. How, yes, on the ground did you go through the procedures for synchronising the engines.
VW: Well you get the throttles and your boost gauges as near as damned synchronised and then when it comes to revs you [pause] you set the revs by synchronising the two. Either starboard engine or the two port engines or two starboard engines. So you get one engine up to what do you call it [pause] economical cruising. And then you look through the propeller. The inboard propeller so that it’s superimposed on the inside of the outboard propeller and if its strobes they’re out of sync.
CB: Right.
VW: And you use then the prop control.
CB: The pitch.
VW: Pitch controls.
CB: Yeah.
VW: And when that stops and it’s superimposed and just stops inside the other and then you do the same with the other side. With the other two engines.
CB: Just going back to your earlier point— if you lose an engine, you feather it and put it in —
VW: Yeah. You can feather it yeah.
CB: And what pitch can you put it in. What is the description of the pitch that you can put it in?
VW: Neutral.
CB: Right.
VW: Because it’s just the blades are just dead on to the slipstream.
CB: Yeah. The side of the blades.
VW: Yeah. Yeah.
CB: Yes. Good. Thank you very much. We’ve done really well.
PW: I really enjoyed that.
VW: Is that ok?
CB: Absolutely fascinating.
VW: You can edit. Edit it.
CB: They will but the fact is that they will be letting you have a cd. Listen to it and if you want to alter anything you can let them know.
VW: Yeah.
CB: But eventually they will edit it. Initially they will copy it.
VW: Well I shan’t bother.
CB: Now, you may remember what I said to you was it would be helpful if we’d any supporting stuff. That picture.
PW: The photograph that’s up there. Just on the end.
CB: That would be really good if we could borrow that. Yes. Have you got your wedding picture handy?
PW: No. We haven’t at the moment.
VW: No. We can’t find it.
CB: If that can come later.
PW: No. Dad hasn’t got it.
PW: I will find the pictures for you.
CB: Will you?
PW: And I will sort this one out as well.
CB: So there’s just one other form then which is to say that you’re happy. You authorise them to donate a copy of the picture and let you have the thing back.
VW: Yeah. That will be alright.
CB: Ok. How did you come to settle in Fiskerton? You were never stationed here.
VW: That’s another story in itself. We were, Phil got demobbed from.
PW: Waddington.
VW: Waddington.
CB: Yeah.
VW: And settled here in Metheringham and we used to come up on weekends for a weekend like that and we liked it up here.
CB: Yeah.
VW: And —
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Vivian David Williams
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Chris Brockbank
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-04-03
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AWilliamsVD170403
Conforms To
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Pending review
Description
An account of the resource
Vivian joined the Royal Air Force in July 1938 as a flight mechanic and served for seven and a half years. After square drills at RAF Uxbridge and a course at RAF Manston, he did a basic engineering course at RAF Henlow. After six months at RAF St Athan working on Bristol Pegasus and Rolls Royce Kestrel engines, Vivian was posted to 56 Squadron at RAF North Weald on Hurricanes and their Merlin engines. He spent six months at RAF Martlesham Heath before doing a conversion course to be a fitter at RAF Hednesford and RAF Cosford. Vivian was posted to the School of General Reconnaissance on Guernsey and Thorney Island before going to Hooton Park and Blackpool, followed by No. Three Flying Training School at South Cerney. After two years, Vivian went to No. 17 Advanced Flying Unit at Watton, where he changed engines on Masters. He went on to RAF Calveley, RAF Spitalgate and RAF Hixon before going to Transport Command at RAF Lyneham.
Vivian was demobbed in January 1946. After the war, he worked for a year on Five Maintenance Unit at RAF Kemble.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Julie Williams
Sally Coulter
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Fighter Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Bedfordshire
England--Cheshire
England--Cornwall (County)
England--Essex
England--Gloucestershire
England--Kent
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
England--Lincolnshire
England--Norfolk
England--Shropshire
England--Staffordshire
England--Suffolk
England--Wiltshire
England--Wirral Peninsula
Great Britain Miscellaneous Island Dependencies--Guernsey
Great Britain Miscellaneous Island Dependencies--Channel Islands
Wales--Vale of Glamorgan
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1938-07
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
Format
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01:20:43 audio recording
Advanced Flying Unit
fitter engine
Flying Training School
ground crew
ground personnel
home front
Hurricane
Lancaster
mechanics engine
military service conditions
RAF Calveley
RAF Cosford
RAF Grantham
RAF Hednesford
RAF Henlow
RAF Hixon
RAF Hooton Park
RAF Kemble
RAF Lyneham
RAF Manston
RAF Martlesham Heath
RAF North Weald
RAF South Cerney
RAF St Athan
RAF Thorney Island
RAF Uxbridge
RAF Watton
searchlight
training
York
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/83/7967/PCochraneDH16010002.2.jpg
645644c14fae1962178d97166c9df906
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/83/7967/PCochraneDH16010001.2.jpg
b8742c442003d5ddaec63664e0eea93b
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Cochrane, Donald Harvin
Donald Harvin Cochrane
D H Cochrane
Subject
The topic of the resource
World War (1939-1945)
Great Britain. Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Description
An account of the resource
13 Items. The collections concerns Donald Harvin Cochrane DFM (1926 - 2010, 1395422, Royal Air Force) and consists of his log book, letters, service material, photographs and a memoir. Donald Cochrane completed 29 operations as a wireless operator with 460 Squadron <br /><br />The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Pamela Ann Staffel and catalogued by Barry Hunter.<br />
<p>This collection also contains items concerning Colin Farrant. Additional information on Colin Farrant is available via the <a href="https://internationalbcc.co.uk/losses/107397/">IBCC Losses Database</a>.</p>
<p> </p>
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-04-12
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Cochrane, DH
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
38 airmen
Description
An account of the resource
A group of 38 airmen arranged in four rows and are wearing side caps with a white flash indicating they are under training. The photograph is in a cardboard mount with a handwritten '1941' at the top. On the cover is 'Dalette Studio' and an address in Blackpool.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Dalette Studio
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1941
Format
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One b/w photograph and mount.
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
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Photograph
Identifier
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PCochraneDH16010001, PCochraneDH16010002
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Blackpool
England--Lancashire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1941
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
aircrew
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/641/8911/ASmithJG160408.1.mp3
6d16663cc2df8504569f79a4c660d19f
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/641/8911/PSmithJG1601.1.jpg
539605fd7b5011ef5d9f78fb4e506c21
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/641/8911/PSmithJG1602.1.jpg
5f42fdfc71fb9f4a4d8b502b766e4e60
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Smith, Jack
John George Smith
J G Smith
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Smith, JG
Description
An account of the resource
Three items. An oral history interview with John 'Jack' Smith (1921 -2019) and his memoirs. He flew operations as a wireless operator with 189 Squadron.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by John Smith and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
DK: Right. So it’s David Kavanagh for the International Bomber Command Centre interviewing Jack — would you mind if I call you Jack?
JS: Yes.
DK: Jack, Jack Smith, um, on the 8th of April 2016. [slight cough] OK, I’ll just put that there.
JS: Right.
DK: If I keep looking down at it, don’t worry. I’m just checking that it’s still working.
JS. Yes, alright. OK.
DK: OK. So if, if I could just take you back a little bit before, before you actually joined the Air Force —
JS: Before, yes.
DK: What were you actually doing then before you joined up?
JS: I was a trainee chartered accountant.
DK: Right.
JS: And of course I was only — I was eighteen the year the war started. So, er, knowing when the war started they were calling up men at twenty I didn’t want to join the Army, I wanted to be in the RAF. So when — as soon as I was nineteen I, along with one of my colleagues, we volunteered for the RAF and we went to Padgate in September 1940 and in fact we were sort of sworn in at the Battle of Britain weekend on the 14th of September 1940.
DK: Oh right.
JS: And then after six weeks we were sent home and, and called for, for active service on the 4th of November 1940.
DK: Was there anything in particular that made you choose the RAF? Was it simply because you didn’t want the Army? [slight laugh]
JS: Well, why I wanted is rather interesting. When I was still at school I considered joining the RAF and I went for a medical and, er, I had quite a lot of bad teeth. My father was kept out of the First World War because he had bad teeth. Anyway, I said, ‘That’s not a problem. I’ll have them out.’ And they said, ‘Well no. If you’ve had more than twelve out you don’t pass the medical.’ I said, ‘Well OK.’ So, I couldn’t get any further at that stage so, to cut a long story short there, I had twenty-two teeth out when I was seventeen and I’ve had dentures ever since, you see? Well, of course, when the war came, 1940, and then I wanted to join the RAF, I went in and of course passed medical A1, no problem at all really, with me dentures. So, er, that’s how I came to be in the RAF. I wanted to be in the RAF anyway.
DK: Right.
JS: And I thoroughly enjoyed it, you know, thoroughly enjoyed it. And so, of course, when we joined the — we went to — as I say, we were sworn in at Padgate and then started service on the 4th of November by going to Blackpool to commence training as a wireless operator and, of course, there we did all our drill on the promenade and marching and all that sort of thing. Then you did your Morse, one word a — increase one word a minute per week and then, when you got up to twelve words a minute, you were posted to a radio school. So then I left Blackpool and then I went down to, er, Compton Bassett, which was strictly speaking the, er, wireless operators for ground [emphasis] staff, which several of us couldn’t understand we were sent there ‘cause air crew used to go to Yatesbury —
DK: Right.
JS: For the training, you see. And then, of course, qualified as operators and I was posted, er, to a unit, RAF Bramcote, and I was only there a month as a wireless operator when I was posted abroad and, er, of course, found that there were fifty of us, wireless operators, had all been treated the same and we were not very happy about it.
DK: And this is when you went to Iraq, was it?
JS: That’s right. We went to Iraq, you see, and then when we got to Iraq the officer there didn’t know what to do with us but eventually we all settled down on different units and, er, got on to the ground operating, which was OK, and then, of course, we kept on moaning about the fact we wanted to fly and then, after much moaning and groaning and, sort of confined to quarters and everything, er, February 1943 I’d been on night duty on wireless operating duties and, er, the officer from the orderly room was there reading out names, including mine, of wireless operators to be returned to United Kingdom for air [emphasis] crew training.
DK: Ah, so were you pleased about this when you heard this?
JS: We were quite happy about it, see? So, of course, we all belted down to the air officer in charge of signals and, ‘Oh hold on a minute. Hold on a minute. There’s fifty of you.’ He said, ‘You’re all experienced ground operators. I want replacements.’ So, of course, we had to wait for replacements and they didn’t arrived ‘till July 1943. So eventually we travelled overland, through Iraq, and through to Gaza, and then by train into Egypt, and then we waited for a couple of weeks, and then we were put on board a troop ship to return to the UK. And we were the first convoy to return through the Mediterranean after it had been reopened. This was August 1943. This time Italy were packing up and so we eventually came through the Med and we stopped at Algiers and two days after we left Algiers the Germans bombed it. And then we pulled into, um, Gibraltar and, er, whilst we were there every night they let off depth charges in the docks to prevent submarines from entering and, anyway, we eventually got home. We arrived at Greenock in end of August 1943 and, of course, we were given disembarkation leave for three weeks and then I was then posted to the radio school at RAF Manley to resume my air crew training. And, of course, then I went through the course there and qualified at the end of December ‘43 and then I was kept on as sort of help the trainers with the, with the new intakes and eventually started then going to advanced flying unit in North Wales, and then on to Operational Training Unit at Silverstone, and then on to, er, on to heavy aircraft at RAF Winthorpe, on to Stirling aircraft, and then we went to Scampton then for a couple of weeks to convert to Lancasters.
DK: What did you think of the — flying on the Stirlings?
JS: Well, we, we enjoyed it in a way but our skipper, he was an Australian skipper, he said it was like driving a double-decker bus. And I mean he didn’t like it an awful lot, you know.
DK: So at what point did you meet your crew then? [unclear]
JS: Oh, when you were at Silverstone, at the Operational Training Unit. You’re all sort of assembled in one big hall and the pilots there are left then to, more or less, go round discussing the various members of the crew, you know, and sort of saying — you’re in different groups, you know, wireless operators and whatever, you see, and you, you just wait for a pilot to sort of come and say, ‘Well, would you like to join my crew?’
DK: Did you think that worked? Because it’s a bit of unusual for the Forces ‘cause normally you’re usually told where to go. This was all a bit hit and miss.
JS: Yes. It worked. In, in my case it worked fairly well really, er, but I suppose if you wanted to be sort of really hundred per cent sure about it then no because, I mean, you didn’t — the pilot didn’t get an awful lot of chance to ask questions of you, you know.
DK: No, no.
JS: You qualified as whatever and because you qualified as a wireless op, ‘OK, well you can come in my crew.’ You see, I mean we were fortunate, we got a pretty very good skipper. But our crew worked out very well except for our tail gunner, who was an Irishman, and we had to ditch him after the third trip because twice he went to sleep on the way back from Germany, you know. I had the job to go down to see what had happened to him and there he was with the turret doors open, fast asleep.
DK: Oh dear.
JS: So we had to ditch him. So apart from that —
DK: So from the, er, Operational Training Unit then did you then go to —
JS: Operational Training Unit. Let’s see, we went straight from Silverstone, then to Winthorpe on to Stirlings.
DK: Yeah.
JS: And then —
DK: This is the Heavy Conversion Unit?
JS: That was the Heavy Conversion Unit at Winthorpe and then, having done that, you then went to Scampton just to get on to Lancasters.
DK: Right.
JS: Oh, and then we went — let’s see, we went to one more station, just near Newark, the Lancaster Finishing School near Newark, yeah.
DK: Right, and what did you think of the Lancasters after the Stirlings?
JS: Well, we liked it and some of us liked better, much more comfortable in many ways, you know. Certainly, I mean, it didn’t affect me too much but it was a bit more of a, a barn of an aircraft. The, the Lancaster was also nice and cosy and compact, as cosy as it could be, you know. We were all pretty well close together but you didn’t feel quite the same in a Stirling.
DK: No.
JS: But, er —
DK: So from the Lancaster Finishing School then was that on to your operational squadron?
JS: Operational squadron then.
DK: Yeah, and which squadron was —
JS: I went to 189 Squadron.
DK: 189, yeah.
JS: And they were based at Fulbeck, which is no longer operating, because it was near Cranwell, very near to Cranwell. And so we got there, I think it was in October ’40, ’44, October ’44, and then I actually started my first operation. We were b—, we were briefed, I think for three trips, which were aborted before — so we had all that operation for your first trip, you know, getting geared up for it, and then at the last minute it was cancelled, you see.
DK: How did that make you feel then? Was it very frustrating?
JS: Well not very happy about that, you know. You’re all geared up for your first trip, you know, and you think, ‘Oh well this is it. Tonight we’re — OK, fine.’ Then sort of five minutes before you’re going it’s cancelled.
DK: And that happened three times.
JS: It happened three times, yeah, it did.
DK: So, can you remember where your first operation was to then?
JS: Yeah I can. Er, without looking in me book, er, it was a mar—, a marshalling yard, um, railway marshalling yard.
DK: In France?
JS: In Germany.
DK: In Germany.
JS: Yeah.
DK: OK.
JS: But, um, we did quite a lot of marshalling yards and oil targets obviously. One of my raids — I did the Dresden raid.
DK: Right.
JS: And we did two targets on —
DK: So how, how many operations did you do altogether?
JS: I did twenty-four and two semi-operational trips because before you go on to a squadron, when you’re still on OTU, we did a leaflet raid in, in Wellington bombers.
DK: Right.
JS: A, a leaflet raid over France and then we did — what they called the Bullseye — a diversion off the Dutch coast to try and put the German radar off, thinking it was the main force were going there, you see. So you did two semi-, semi-operational raids and then, of course, by the time I did my twenty-four VE Day arrived and that was it and, of course, even then there were crews then waiting then obviously to go out to the Far East but, of course, I was considered tour-expired anyway then. That was alright, you see.
DK: So as, as a wireless operator then what were your main duties once you were on board the aircraft and you —
JS: Well your main duties really were to keep a listening watch all the time as to whether you got anything coming through from your base, and weather reports and things like that, anything of importance like that, and then, of course, it was also you were needed in case, as it happened, we had to sort of, er, get diverted because, er, we were running short of fuel on a couple of times and then, on one occasion, Lincolnshire was fog-bound for the whole of December 1944 and we were diverted to the north of Scotland and we had to spend a whole week in the north of Scotland before we could get back down to Lincolnshire because of the fog. So, then my other duty then would have been if we had to ditch. I had the job in the dinghy, if you got the dinghy, I had the emergency radio and I got to operate that.
DK: Right.
JS: And that was the worst thing I’d have to do really.
DK: But that never happened then?
JS: That never happened, thank God, no. But listening out and of course — well, I had to call up to request where we could be diverted to because we were short of fuel and we wanted to know the best place we could put down so it was Carnaby in, in Yorkshire or Manston in Kent.
DK: Because they had the wider runways there?
JS: Yes and they had what they called FIDO.
DK: FIDO.
JS: The fog dispersal unit, yeah. So I did two or three, probably three, diversions I think, yeah.
DK: And was, was your aircraft ever attacked at all? Or —
JS: Well, we were attacked but we was — we never had more than glancing blows, should I say. The worst we had, we did the — one raid to Gdynia in Poland. The German Navy were there and to, er, to get on the correct heading for the bombing run, we had to sort of go south of the target to come out over the port so that when we released the bombs we were over the Baltic. And somehow or other the navigator miscalculated and we got to the target five minutes early and then we got coned with searchlights. So we had a, a few hectic minutes with the searchlights on us so — but even that wasn’t too bad because they didn’t hit us anyway but it was a bit of a hair raising moment shall we say, you know. You’re sort of pretty vulnerable when you’re sort of coned.
DK: Yeah. So were, were all your operations at night?
JS: Not all of them, no.
DK: Some were in daylight?
JS: I did a thousand bomber raid on Dortmund and this — you’ll see in my log book they’re in green and all the night time ones are all in red.
DK: Right. OK.
JS: So I think we did three daylight raids, probably. Yeah.
DK: But what was it like at night though? Was it — is it something you got used to? Because its —
JS: Well you did. It sounds, now you think — you wonder how you did it, ‘cause there were no lights on anywhere, you see. I mean, your aircraft, you had no lights on, and most of our bomber strength, it was usually two hundred, that was the average strength of a bomber force, and sometimes more than that, but the average, average two hundred. Well, when you consider that you had a rendezvous point, quite often in our case it would be over Northampton or Beachy Head. Well, you consider you come in from different squadrons to the rendezvous point and there’s two hundred of you getting together to go to the same place and you’ve got no lights on. When you think about it that’s a bit hairy.
DK: Yeah.
JS: And of course, obviously, there’s no, no lights below you at all. The only time we got lights when we were sort of coming back, like, when we’d been to Gdynia and we came back over the Baltic. We then followed the Swedish coast and the Swedes were very kind. They put sort of small lights up along their coast so they were quite decent about it. But those were the only lights we ever saw, you know.
DK: So when — what was it like when it got back then as you saw the airfield and you came into land?
JS: Well, a mighty relief, obviously, that was and, of course, it was a relief and it sounds silly in a way but with so many aerodromes, particularly in Lincolnshire, as you know, it was a bit hairy coming in over your own circuit because a lot of circuits nearly overlapped.
DK: Yeah.
JS: And, of course, towards the end the Germans were getting so desperate that, er, they were sending their, some of their fighters back amongst the bomber force, and two or three of our planes got shot down over Norfolk because they’d been followed all the way back, you know. So there were those situations arising.
DK: So you never got attacked by another aircraft then?
JS: No, no, we didn’t. We sort of — obviously, when you’re in the target area you feel, obviously, all the explosions coming underneath, all the bumps and everything like that and then, of course, on one or two raids the Germans put up — what they called Scarecrows — that was sort of the imitation of an aircraft crashing, which can be a bit unnerving, you know, because you’re not too sure whether it is a Scarecrow or not and it gives all the appearance of being an aircraft going down in flames so it doesn’t do your morale any good, you know.
DK: Did you see many of those then?
JS: Oh we saw, I think over the years, over the operations, I probably saw half a dozen of those, I suppose, you know.
DK: So when, when you weren’t flying and you were off duty did — what did you do then? Did you and your crew socialise together? Or —
JS: Well, yes, yes. I mean, we often socialised, probably not all of you together. I mean, er, you bond in different ways really. I mean there’s seven of you. Well, er, in our crew our navigator was a bit of a quiet type and he, he never or hardly ever came out with us. I mean the rest of us were going down into Newark or the towns and having a night out but the navigator, he was an architect by profession, and he was a bit more quiet and he didn’t join us. But the skipper was a good, good Aussie, and he was the oldest member of the crew. He was early thirties. Well, I mean, we called him ‘dad’ because I was the second oldest member. I was twenty-three.
DK: Right.
JS: And — but he was a real Aussie and when you were out with him you had a good time, you know. We —
DK: Can you remember the pilot’s name?
JS: Yeah, Richter. Rod Richter, yeah.
DK: And how did you feel, feel about, um, those from the Commonwealth, Australia and wherever?
JS: Well, they were a terrific asset. I mean, we had a lot of Aussies, a lot New Zealanders as well, and Canadians, and they all mixed in with the rest of us very well, you know.
DK: And did you, did you stay in touch with your crew after the war?
JS: No and that was the big, big mistake I think perhaps a lot of us made. It was awfully sad. You say ‘Why didn’t you?’ Well, it didn’t happen. I don’t know why.
DK: Because presumably he went back to Australia?
JS: He went back to Australia, yeah, but I mean we were all good friends and there’s no reason why we shouldn’t have done but, for whatever reason, we didn’t, you know.
DK: And the rest of your crew were they all — well the Irish gunner — but were the rest of them all English then?
JS: Yeah. The navigator was from Stoke on Trent, the bomb aimer was from Llanelli in South Wales, the flight engineer was from New Malden in Surrey, the mid-upper gunner was from Hartlepool and the tail gunner was the Irishman from Belfast. So we were all around the British Isle.
DK: And, and some of the major raids then. You mention you few to Dresden?
JS: Dresden.
DK: And what, what was that like?
JS: Well, that was, of course — it was just one hell of a raid. I mean, we were bombing at midnight. We’d sort of — the Americans had been during the day and then the British were going at night. And I remember we were flying and we were flying over the Alps and we were getting iced up and we were getting a bit bothered, the skipper was a bit bothered, because we had to sort of reduce our height a bit from what the flight plan said but we were getting iced up rather badly. And then, of course, you could see the target miles away before you got there because, I mean, it was as you know, it was just one big blaze. And, er, actually over the target, I mean, there was a terrific amount of anti-aircraft fire and a lot of activity from night bomb— night fighters, you know, so you were getting quite a bit of hassle from one way or another but it was such a big raid that — but, there again, we were pretty fortunate. We missed anything of any serious consequence, you know.
DK: Did Dresden at the time stand out as anything? Or was it just another raid?
JS: Well, the reason we did the raid and I noted it in my log book. The reason — when we were being briefed we said the reason we were going, the Russians had pushed the German Army back and Dresden was absolutely full of the German Army, and that’s why we went to Dresden, as simple as that. And so you were sort of quite encouraged to think that there you were doing a target which you got the Germany Army there and wonderful, you know, just the job. You couldn’t have a better target with that sort of description, you know, but it was — it covered, it seemed to cover one hell of a big area, you know, because you’d see it, I don’t know, must have been at least a hundred miles away, must have been.
DK: Yeah.
JS: Because we were one hell of a height up, as you know. We were given the height we had to fly and all that sort of thing and we were sort of — well we were usually about anything between fourteen and sixteen thousand feet, I suppose, on average, and sometimes we’d been down as low as ten, you know.
DK: Yeah.
JS: And, er, but — I mean, all the raids you have you got sort of, obviously, a lot of apprehension because whilst you’re in the target area — when you consider that there’s two hundred of you going over one place in about twelve min— twelve, twenty minutes I should say, you’ve all got your bombing times, you know, H plus whatever, and when you think you’ve got — there’s two hundred of you going over that small area all in the same time and you’re stacked. And of course that was another job the wireless operator’d do. I had to stand, if the radio was OK, I had to stand on it and look through the astrodome and if we got our own aircraft with bomb doors open above us I gotta tell the skipper to dive port or starboard, you know.
DK: Did that ever happen at all? Did you actually see aircraft blown up?
JS: Yes. Well, I mean, we did that three or four times. Well, it happened quite often because, as you know, when you’ve got so many up more or less together, I mean, in fairly good layers, you know. And, particularly, it seemed to be the more trips you did the further down the stack you came, you see.
DK: Yeah.
JS: And so there was a big risk. I mean, we did lose — not our squadron but there were quite a lot of our aircraft lost through bombs from the ones above, you know. Because there isn’t much room. If you’ve got a bomber upstairs there and he’s getting set to load and let his load go, you know, and you’re just beneath, you’ve got to get out, you know, because otherwise you’ll soon get involved in it.
DK: Yeah, yeah. So the war’s come to an end then. What, what happened to you in the RAF then? Did you leave soon after?
JS: Well, I had a bit of a relaxing time because I was a flight sergeant and then I became a warrant officer because of the time and so I was on good money and very little to do. And the station near Ipswich and that’s where I met my wife.
DK: Ah.
JS: I met my wife in November 1945.
DK: Right.
JS: And so Ipswich was the nearest town. I was stationed at Woodbridge and Woodbridge actually was one of the stations with an emergency landing strip.
DK: Yeah, yeah.
JS: So I spent the rest of my time — I was actually working on the flying control tower signals, you know, and I didn’t have a lot to do really. I mean, as I say, it was — the end of the war, you see, fortunately VE Day came just as I’d done my 24th trip and that was the end of the war, you see, and there was nothing much for us to do except we’d obviously have a rest period anyway.
DK: When did you leave the RAF then?
JS: Oh, April 1946, yes.
DK: And did you go back to your previous career? Or —
JS: Yes, yes. I had my job kept open for me, you see.
DK: Oh, right. OK.
JS: In fact, I was released on the 3rd of April 1946 and on the 4th May I got married and so the next 4th of May it’s seventy years since we got married.
DK: Oh, congratulations. [slight laugh]
JS: So, our seventy years dear, isn’t it? [slight laugh] Unfortunately, my wife had a stroke four years ago and it affected her speech and so we, we haven’t been able to socialise these last four years like we usually do. It’s awful difficult. We have carers come in four times a day so — we’re social people and we miss that so much, you know. We haven’t had a holiday for six years. We sort of — it’s not as easy as it sounds, you know.
DK: How do you look back on that period of your life in the RAF then? Do you, do you think about it still? [unclear]
JS: I — it sounds silly in a way but I enjoyed it, er, not because it was a war but the spirit of the RAF. I enjoyed being in the RAF. And, er, no I thoroughly enjoyed it from that point of view, yeah. I mean, I did consider whether I should stay in but, of course, if you wanted to stay in you had to reduce two ranks and I was a warrant officer I didn’t want to go back down to being a sergeant. So anyway, as it happens, I’m still working as an account. I’m ninety-five in August.
DK: And you’re still working?
JS: I’m still working.
DK: Oh excellent. [slight laugh]
JS: So, you know —
DK: [laugh] That’s good.
JS: Oh no. The brain keeps ticking over.
DK: That’s amazing.
JS: And people still pay me so —
DK: Well, we’ll stop there.
JS: Yeah.
DK: I think that’s probably enough.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Jack Smith
Creator
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David Kavanagh
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-04-08
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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ASmithJG160408, PSmithJG1601, PSmithJG1602
Conforms To
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Pending revision of OH transcription
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Format
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00:29:00 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
Iraq
England--Blackpool
England--Buckinghamshire
England--Herefordshire
England--Lancashire
England--Northamptonshire
England--Warwickshire
England--Wiltshire
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Suffolk
Germany
Poland
Poland--Gdynia
Temporal Coverage
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1944-10
1945-02
1940-09
1943-12
1946-03
Description
An account of the resource
Jack volunteered for the Royal Air Force (RAF) in September 1940. He went to Padgate and then on to Blackpool where he trained as a wireless operator. Jack proceeded to a radio school at RAF Compton Bassett and then RAF Bramcote. He was posted to Iraq, doing ground operating rather than flying. He eventually returned to the UK for aircrew training. Jack was posted to radio school at RAF Manley and qualified in December 1943. He went to the advanced flying unit in North Wales and then the Operational Training Unit at RAF Silverstone where he met his crew. This was followed by the heavy conversion unit at RAF Winthorpe on Stirling aircraft. Jack went to RAF Scampton to convert onto Lancasters and a Lancaster Finishing School near Newark.
In October 1944 Jack was posted to 189 Squadron at RAF Fulbeck. His first three trips were aborted. He carried out 24 operations and two semi-operational trips (leaflets dropping and a diversion to confuse German radar). Several operations were to railway marshalling yards in Germany. He also describes an operation to Gdynia in Poland and the Dresden operation and its rationale.
Jack discusses the main duties of the wireless operator, his experience of ‘scarecrows’ and the difficulty of flying at night in close proximity to other aircraft.
When the war ended, Jack became warrant officer and was stationed at RAF Woodbridge, working on flying control tower signals. He left the RAF in April 1946 and returned to his job as trainee chartered accountant.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Sally Coulter
189 Squadron
aircrew
bombing
bombing of Dresden (13 - 15 February 1945)
crewing up
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Operational Training Unit
perception of bombing war
RAF Bramcote
RAF Compton Bassett
RAF Fulbeck
RAF Scampton
RAF Silverstone
RAF Winthorpe
RAF Woodbridge
RAF Yatesbury
Scarecrow
Stirling
training
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1021/11392/AMartinFJK180309.1.mp3
a7c8b2de21c5a8f6d71d637fd2e397d1
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Martin, Frederick Joseph Keith
F J K Martin
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview Warrant Officer Keith Martin (b.1921, 1580351 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a wireless operator with 626 and 300 Squadrons.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-03-09
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Martin, FJK
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
DH: Right. Ok. Right. Let’s start off with a serious thing to start off with. This interview is being conducted for the International Bomber Command Centre. The interviewer is Dawn Hughes. The Interviewee is Mr Keith Martin and you like to be known as Keith, don’t you? Yeah. The interview is taking place at Mr Martin’s home in Wem, Shropshire on the 9th of March 2018, and thank you Keith for agreeing to talk to me today. So, the first thing I wanted to ask was thinking about the lead up to joining the RAF how did it come about that you joined the RAF?
FM: Right.
DH: And what influenced you?
FM: I can go back to living and working in Shrewsbury. I was working for quite a big countrywide firm of agricultural machinery merchants with a branch in Shrewsbury. Hence that’s where I was working. My calling up papers came quite quickly. I was eighteen and my boss said to me, ‘You won’t need to go,’ he said, ‘Because you are on a Reserved Occupation.’ Well, I was very immature. Honestly. No, I was very immature and so that suited me. And it happened again a year later when I was nineteen. But when I was approaching twenty and I knew it would happen again I was reaching the stage where you felt guilty really if you were comfortably sitting at home, when even your own friends were going off and so I said to my father, ‘I’m going to volunteer.’ He said, ‘Volunteer for the, for the Royal Army Pay Corps,’ he said, ‘Because they get you, you’re excellent at figures,’ he said, ‘To get you well behind a desk.’ And, I, I thought about that and decided no. I liked the RAF uniform. It’s quite true. I don’t want to go in to the Army in case I land up with a bayonet. And I can’t stand the thought of the water but I can’t swim anyway. And so I went and volunteered for the Air Force which I was accepted straight away, and on the 20th of April 1942 I arrived at Padgate which is North Lancashire for my indoctrination. That’s the right word. I was there for five days only during which time there was a group of about thirty. This squadron leader addressed us and he said, ‘Would any of you like to take an aircrew medical?’ And so, well a damned good idea having a medical so I put my hand up didn’t I? And of course I passed the medical, which mainly funnily enough was, and several other failed through vision. Vision. What I didn’t know, I was innocent at the time, that I had already volunteered for aircrew and about four days, be about the 24th of the month, April I was interviewed by the same squadron leader and he said, ‘Martin, your legs are too short for us to train you to be a pilot.’ And he said, ‘Your educational standard is too poor for us to educate you to, to train you as a navigator.’ I accepted that, because I only went to the Catholic, Catholic ordinary school. So, he said, ‘We’ll train you as a wireless op air gunner.’ ‘Alright, sir.’ The following day I was posted to Blackpool, and I found that Blackpool was the school that taught you two things. One was, the important thing was how to learn the Morse Code and how to handle sending and receiving, and the other thing that was important to them but not to us was how to learn how to march up and down Blackpool streets. Behave ourselves because we were not in billets we were out to houses. Took us in, you know. So they took me. Was it how many? The school for wireless operators was I think three months. May. June. July. That’s right. And I left Blackpool having passed out at the required eighteen words a minute on the 4th of August. Went home for a, once you got a break you know. And then nine days later I received a posting to a place called Yatesbury in Wiltshire, which was the flying part of the learning to be a wireless operator. Doing it in the air. So, in effect that was the first, my first meeting with an aircraft. So, from August to November I was training as a wireless operator air, from which you got your sergeant’s stripes if you passed out. And I passed out, and got my sergeant’s stripes and was then sent for a short, what I call waiting to be properly dispersed. A small, well yeah it was a waiting station and that of all places was Ternhill. And I was at Ternhill for [pause] three weeks from the middle of November to the middle of December, and then I was posted to Calverley in Nantwich. Near Nantwich. And that really was further progress, and I have an idea of what we were flying then. Memory you know. Very good but —
[pause]
FM: I think. ’43. No. That’s right. Calverley as I was saying was again just further progress on generally learning how to fly in the air, you know. Nothing particular. And then I was sent to Aircrew Recruitment Centre in London, and I didn’t really know why but it, it did, how can I put it? It was, in fact to tell me or to tell the person that they had been selected for A — wireless operator, and B — air gunner. And I’d been selected for wireless operator. And then, so then I was sent to 18 ITW, Initial Training Wing, Brignorth for just a month. Initial Training Wing speaks for itself. And from there, from that very station I got married.
[pause]
FM: Then I was posted of all places to a place called West Freugh in Scotland which was Advanced Flying Unit, which you have to be in an aircraft flying over the sea, and you had to go through certain rules and regulations to do what you had to do. Having passed out there in May 1943 [pause] No. No. Sorry, no. No. That’s before, having passed out in August 1943. That’s right, when I finished at Yatesbury, and then to West Freugh. I passed out there in October ’43. Sorry. I was only there about six weeks and I was posted to Hixon, Stafford, which is an Operational Training Unit and we were, I was introduced to Wellingtons, Wimpies. I was also within the first week [pause] I was introduced if I can describe it as the crew. The crewing up procedure need, needs talking about because it’s something that outsiders wouldn’t know. How do you get crewed up? Who does it? The answer is the pilot chooses his own crew. The end of the week that you’re there being introduced as I said to Wellingtons, you’re told to report to the, what was the big room that was used generally for dances and things, and there was thirty wireless operators, thirty navigators, thirty engineers, thirty rear gunners, and thirty pilots. Now, that was a crew of a Wellington. Did not include a mid-upper gunner because a Wellington does not have a mid-upper gunner turret. So the skipper chose his own crew, and I was there in the room and this, seemed to be elderly gentleman he turned out to be six years older than me [laughs] came along to me and he said, ‘You’re Sergeant Martin.’ ‘Yes.’ He was only a sergeant, so I didn’t have to say sir. ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘You’re from Shropshire.’ I said, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘So am I, would you like to fly with me?’ I said, ‘Thank you very much.’ And that in effect, I say to this day saved my life because he was a superb pilot, and he got the crew together and instead of us being half a dozen individuals we became a crew. Right. So we then flew Wellingtons as a crew in training from a place called Seighford, which was a depot of Hixon’s’ and we were, I was there from November ’43 to January ’44. I think it was possibly at that time that we flew our first not exactly operation but our first trip over a foreign country [pages turning] Yeah. It was on the 30th of the December during that period that we were sent to do a leaflet raid over Belgium. This was one of the Royal Air Force’s ideas that every crew should taste flying over the sea and flying over what was still dangerous territory, and so that we got back and we hadn’t lost our nerve and we didn’t report anything silly. You know what I mean, and so that was the important thing and that was in a Wellington on the 30th of December. Having [pause] passed that, we then immediately got transferred to a four engine Conversion Unit. Immediately after that. We were not going to fly in Wellingtons in operations. We were going to fly in the new four engine bombers that were coming on line. And the first thing we did when we got there was pick up a mid-upper gunner. The mid-upper gunners had been trained ready, but had been sent straight to Conversion Units as they’re called because it was there that the, the skipper would pick one up and so that’s where we got hold of Jock. And now we were a crew of seven which you need. And so we did Conversion Unit at Sandtoft, and during that time had a crash. We crashed a Halifax [pages turning] We crashed a Halifax on the 6th of April 1944. We had a 5 o’clock take off. Evening take-off. It was only what we called circuits and bumps learning, for the skipper to learn how to take off and land and he had an engine failure on take-off. And because we hadn’t really got any height the skipper, the skipper decided to crash land. The decision he made we just accepted it, and in the subsequent report which I’ve got a copy of it says, “No pilot error. No disciplinary action to be taken.” But we were a bit, we were sent straight to the medical to be checked over, and we were a bit cheeky so in their wisdom they sent us straight up again. Well, in a few hours, 9.15 that night we went up again but this time we were also accompanied by a senior pilot as well as our own to see that there was nothing wrong, and that went on all right. And the amazing thing is we saw that Halifax the other, the next day or the following day and it was, it was a ruin. We’d hit a tree in a forest or in a field, and it had torn the wing off. But how we all got out alive I don’t know but we did. The aircraft was a write off. So, we —
DH: Can I ask what plane that was—
FM: That was a Halifax.
DH: A Halifax, yeah.
FM: An old Halifax. They only sent the old ones to training places. So we had a couple of little trips before we, whilst we were there when we had to go to learn what they called ditching practice and this was up in Lincolnshire. Just a day out. You had to go. They had a big pool with a half a Lancaster in the middle and you were taken out but you had to get the dinghy out and on and get yourself home. You see what I mean.
DH: Yeah.
FM: Right. We were posted from Sandtoft to Hemswell for the month of April to transfer from Halifaxes to Lancasters. A small transfer. Just the difference for the pilot really and on the 1st of May 1944 we were posted to Wickenby.
DH: So can I ask with your job as a wireless operator what was different going from the Halifax in to the Lancaster for you? Was there any difference?
FM: Nothing on those two. Different coming from the Wellington because it was a different radio. But no my job was basically the same. Very little radio, and mainly standing in the astrodome as an extra set of eyes but I’ll come to that when it comes to operational flying. Right. On the 10th of May, on the 11th of May we were on just Lancasters locally. Further training. But on the 19th of May we had our first operation but to the marshalling yards at Orleans. Orleans south of Paris. Total time there and back five hours and fifteen minutes. Right. We then had to prepare for the next one by an air test. The next operation which was on the 24th of May which was the marshalling yards at Aachen right on the border. Five hours and five minutes. Now, I don’t want to go through these individually. I shall want to just pick out those that matter. We went to Aachen again. We went to marshalling yards. These marshalling yards were so important because it was coming up to D-Day. We didn’t know that. But the Germans were, their marshalling yards were bombed ruthlessly. The next one is a marshalling yard as well.
DH: Can you explain what a marshalling yard is please?
FM: Well [laughs] I thought you’d know that.
DH: No. No.
FM: A railway. Well, they’ve got a big railway. When you marshall all your equipment it’s a marshalling yard.
DH: Right.
FM: You know. It’s the same in this country. We got in to early June and we were on such things as heavy gun batteries on the coast. Railway junction again, and marshalling yards again. You can see the picture. We’re averaging the 5th of June, 7th of June, 10th of June, 12th of June. We were averaging one almost every other day and then [pause] that’s right. I’d passed it over without thinking how I got the Legion of Honour because on the 5th of June and the 6th of June was D-Day and in those twenty four hours we did two operations which was a thing unknown. To do two in twenty four hours. One was to the north of the coast, and one was to the south. And I’m talking about the German coastal batteries and we bombed them north and south. The south one we did first. You’ve heard a lot lately of these emigrant towns called, one was called Sangatte. Well, that’s where we, that was a bombing because Sangatte then was a big German coastal battery. So we did Sangatte and within a matter of no time at all we were off again, and this time we did the bottom ones near [pause] near, well I can’t think what the big town is on the corner. Anyway, that doesn’t matter. It was one of the southern ones, and doing those two on D-Day was the reason for the French had fixed that anybody operating on D-Day would get this medal. So, came to the last trip that I did was on the 12th of June. Again, marshalling yards and then I was transferred to the Polish squadron with a week’s leave in between. Got back. Got to the Polish squadron 17th of June. We, they didn’t waste any time. We air tested on the 17th of June morning and went on operations in the evening on the 17th of June. So we then go to several operations with 300 Squadron in June. I’ve got 24th, 25th, 29th and 30th. On the 30th, the last one was a daylight. Marshalling yards in the daylight God knows why. I can’t think of why but in fact the next one, the 12th of July, by now I must have gone on leave then. You had a leave generally every so many months because I have a blank space between the 30th of June and the 12th of July. On the 12th of July we started operations. Now were on longer distance ones. This one is nine hours and eight months. This one which I just wanted to describe is the most dangerous one we did. It was to a marshalling yard in the south of France, almost on the Swiss border at a place called Revigny, and when we got there it was ten tenths cloud. You were flying at about ten thousand feet in beautiful sunshine with a blanket of cloud right over the target. Couldn’t see anything. The Master Bomber, I don’t know whether you understand Master Bombers, the person who is there controlling. The master bomber said, ‘I can’t mark the target.’ And he recommends go home. You know, abandon. Abandon the exercise. And I can remember my skipper saying, only to us, ‘Look lads. We didn’t fly all this way to take our bombs home.’ He said, ‘I’m going to try to go through the clouds and see what happens.’ So then came the most scary time of slowly, slowly descending through cloud, and could see nothing. The navigator had taken the distance. No. Yeah. No, the direction that we were travelling so that we could reverse and go back and kept on going through this cloud to Revigny. Anyway, we came out into sunshine. Or night. It wasn’t sunshine. It was moonlight really. At four thousand feet. The skipper said, ‘Right lads. Now, we can reverse along so that we go back the way we come until we find these marshalling yards.’ And so the bomb aimer was the important one because he was lying in his turret in the bottom and he could see, and he right up, ‘Coming up marshalling yards.’ Right. So skipper said, ‘Right. Prepare for bombing run.’ And we had a very quick bombing run. Not the usual four minutes because he wanted to get the bombs away whilst we were over the marshalling yards, and so we bombed. We luckily we had time to close the bomb doors when a four engined plane which we could only describe as a four engine plane, couldn’t say it was a Lancaster or a Halifax came right underneath the clouds straight down underneath us, all four engines ablaze. An absolute, you know, a roman candle and either it exploded or it crash landed and exploded but it blew us up on our backsides. And I can remember skipper who never swore saying, ‘Oh Christ.’ And we seemed to be all over the place, and he was desperately trying to correct. Anyway, at two thousand feet he corrected, and we were back on an even keel so he said, ‘Lads, I’m going to stick these throttles right through, and we’re going to get home quickly.’ Now, when we got home we had to report to the intelligence. Why? Two things. A — the skipper had disobeyed an order to abandon to go home. B — he pressed on and bombed the target. A — he was going to be court martialled. B — he was going to get a medal. He got the medal. So he got the DFC, quite rightly. Then we carried on several quite long trips. Stuttgart. We went twice to Stuttgart and that wasn’t very nice.
DH: Can you explain why it wasn’t very nice? What mainly —
FM: Because you’re going to go through the Ruhr first of all. You’re on the chance of night fighters for such a long distance before you even get to the target because it’s an eight hour trip. Four hours each way. Do you see what I mean? You’re under, you’re in a, their well armed area, and to do it twice in oh hell, twice in four days. Yes. 24th and 28th. I can remember one little thing. On the way home on the second trip I said to the, through the, ‘Skipper, permission to speak.’ You weren’t allowed to talk, you know. ‘Permission to speak.’ ‘Yes, wireless operator.’ ‘Will you all wish me a happy birthday? It’s my birthday today.’ Because it was now, we took off on the 28th of July and on the way home it was the 29th of July.
DH: And did they?
FM: We did that night. Then there were several trips, and then came the period at the end of August. We had already now done [pause] we’d now done twenty six. And the skipper, and now the bomb aimer had also been made a [pause] a what do you call it? You know, we were still sergeants and he, yeah. You know what I mean. Anyway, the skipper called us together and he said, ‘I’ve had,’ because he said, ‘I’m a senior crew,’ he said, ‘I’ve got the ears of Bill Misselbrook — ’ our squadron commander that at the end of August the wing is being disbanded because the Poles have now got sufficient trained people to take over the wing completely. Now — ’ he said, ‘We’ve got four trips to do.’ And he said, ‘I would like to think that we could get them done without us being posted again to some other squadron, you know and have to start all over again.’ So, he said, ‘I’ve got to get your agreement that if you agree I’ll see Bill Misselbrook and say, ‘We volunteer for every trip that’s going.’ And he said, he must have agreed and from the 25th of August to the 31st of August we did four operations, and one of those was the biggest we’d ever done and it was at, it was up to a place in the Baltic called Stettin. Or it was called Stettin then and there was a Nazi naval base there and somehow Stalin had asked for us to bomb it. I don’t know how. You can get these funny things that go on. So we did Stettin as our twenty ninth trip and again on the way home he said, break the rules, he said, ‘I’m not going to stooge back under the rules of the speed that you can do safeguarding the engines,’ he said. ‘They can only shoot me.’ So it was boof, and we came home and the funny words, we landed and I can remember the words coming over the, over from the ground radio lady. She said, ‘U-Uncle. U-Uncle have you completed your mission?’ Because we were fifteen minutes before time getting home. Whereas the others took fifteen minutes longer obeying we’d, anyway that was another story. And then we did a daylight raid on the 31st of August and at the end of that I have a note signed by the station commander, and the squadron commander, “You’re tour is completed.” And so that in affect ends the chapter of my time doing bombing raids. Can you —
DH: Do you want to pause?
FM: Well, do you want any further more?
DH: I’ve got some questions if that’s ok.
FM: Because I mean going on, you can go on forever. I’ve got —
DH: Yeah, no, I’ve got some questions if that’s ok.
FM: Otherwise, I can go on so long with —
DH: No. That’s fine. On an op what would your job entail because it took you five hours, eight hours? So what would you do during your time?
FM: Your main job that you are trained to do for the, for the crew is that you take a message in code from Bomber Command Headquarters at oh, they’re active then. Not the headquarters now. They’re active headquarters every fifteen minutes. Every fifteen minutes they send out a message. It may be status quo. It may be they’d got a change of wind direction, change of wind speed, a change of anything, but every fifteen minutes the wireless operator takes a message and passes it on to the navigator.
DH: Right.
FM: In between, each skipper may want to use him in a different way but most want to use him as a lookout, standing up under the astrodome and helping to spy night fighters.
DH: Right.
FM: And the bit, the important thing he does on a bombing run, when you can imagine there’s a mass of aircraft coming through to bomb on the same you suddenly see one appearing above you and immediately you tell the skipper. Because what you don’t want to do is be bombed by one above. So you’re first of all a wireless operator and second of all you’re a lookout.
DH: So you kept busy.
FM: Yes.
DH: You mentioned before we started the interview, you talked about the Polish squadron. You talked about the make up of the Commonwealth crew.
FM: Yes.
DH: Can you explain that please?
FM: No, when a Commonwealth was pure luck and they had to use the name Commonwealth because they didn’t want to insult like for instance our navigator was a Canadian. My friend that I had there who’d trained could still be alive. The last time I heard of him he was in a wheelchair but his navigator was the most unusual thing. He was a Yank. But he was a Yank who had wanted to get into the war, and so he volunteered from America to join the Canadian Air Force, and from the Canadian Air Force he got, so there’s another one. So if you said it’s an English crew, or a British crew you could be offending, so it was called a Commonwealth.
DH: Right near the start of the interview you talked about your training and everything and you were saying that you got married.
FM: Yeah.
DH: Before we started the interview you said briefly about your feelings about getting married and did you do the right thing at the right age and that. Can you, can you talk about that again please?
FM: That came after though, dear. I don’t know whether it’s worth talking about. I mean, I didn’t [pause] how, how can you say that in effect during your period of the war until, until the later time that when she was allowed to come and live close to because I was no longer on operations but in those early days every leave was like a honeymoon. You got, you know you and to be honest with you we, we reached demob without ever realising what married life was, and then by then we got a baby on the way, very difficult to put it in to words. I just felt that she was too young. She never complained, but at eighteen.
DH: Yeah.
FM: But as I said marriage went on for sixty one years and we got a letter from the Queen here so that couldn’t have been too bad.
DH: Oh no.
FM: It was only in my own mind that. Yeah. Yes.
DH: Right at the start you were saying that you got the call up papers but you were in a Reserved Occupation.
FM: That’s right.
DH: So were you allowed to ignore those call up papers if you were in a Reserved Occupation?
FM: Oh yeah. Only, only as a volunteer.
DH: Right.
FM: Only, and if you were accepted you could have been a volunteer in a far more important Reserved Occupation for some reason and be turned down. You could have been in a, some kind of laboratory somewhere and what have you. But the rule was you, if you, if you, you had to volunteer and you had to be accepted.
DH: Right.
FM: And my Reserved Occupation was really only agricultural machinery. I know it was helping to keep the farmers going but it wasn’t of grade one importance.
DH: You said at the, near the start again that you went for your initial training. You said you went for training and the indoctrination. What did you mean by indoctrination?
FM: I think I can explain that. A big word for a little thing.
DH: Yeah.
FM: 16th of June 1943 [pause] That’s right. I hadn’t started. I hadn’t got to the [pause] Yeah. The first introduction to an aeroplane we [pause] now, can you edit this if you —
DH: Yes. Yes. It can be edited.
FM: The important thing was to try and make you sick on the basis that once you’d been sick you were never likely to be sick again. But if you persisted in being sick you would get discharged from aircrew because you couldn’t be sick.
DH: Right.
FM: You just couldn’t be. Now, that was the indoctrination that I, and it, on the 16th of June ’43, I went twice in one hour on a Dominie with seven, six others and we marched to the aircraft and as we marched they gave us each a bucket. Now, that was before we got to the aircraft they gave us a bucket. When we got inside they had purposely not cleaned it up and I think half of them were sick before we got off the ground. But then he was an experienced pilot and he could hedgehop. You were only up and hour but believe me we were all terribly sick. Is that sufficient indoctrination?
DH: Yeah.
FM: If you see what I mean.
DH: Yeah. Yeah.
FM: If you followed on, and I had four but the first two were only experience. The second two I had to do two message taking. That was my initial contact with the wireless.
DH: So I take it you stopped being sick.
FM: I stopped being, I was only sick once. It’s a terrible feeling and you walk out, stagger out of this aircraft and they say, they march you out, two march. ‘You now go and clean your bucket in the toilets.’ It’s not a nice story, but that was the indoctrination. It had, they could not have people who were going to be sick passed as aircrew. It could not be allowed, and so they had that method to making you sick and giving you four chances really.
DH: Yeah.
FM: I can only, I can’t honestly tell you if they all failed. All four. All I know is I was only sick once [pause] The crew, or most of them.
DH: Which one are you?
FM: None, I took it, I took the photograph as it happened. I didn’t know at the time, you know.
DH: Yeah.
FM: That I was going to take a photograph of the others. The skipper of course is in the middle. The one who looks a little bit elderly.
DH: All so young.
FM: Yes, all so young.
DH: So young. Can you tell me when you were actually on an op did you get a chance to get scared? Were you so busy that you couldn’t get scared?
FM: You were scared all the while. But you were a part of a crew and you got your courage from them, and they in turn got their courage from you. You were a crew. To say you weren’t scared would be a lie. Many’s the time I hung tight to the [pause] especially on, when you get a bad take off and you don’t get off the ground at all due to weather conditions but that’s another story. You can’t. You can’t. Some get all the stories you need to get your memory, you know. But scared, yes. We were scared. We were scared. Especially when you were flying over the Ruhr and the ack ack was almost bouncing off the bottom of your aircraft. You could hear the crackle of it. Yes. Yes. Anything else?
DH: I don’t think so.
FM: I think I’ve been pretty thorough.
DH: You have. You have.
FM: I, as I said I had two further RAF lives after that but I don’t want to go into them all.
DH: No. No. After, so after VJ Day how, how did, what affect did the war have on you do you think?
FM: None at all.
DH: No.
FM: We were still going on targets. The fact that they were targets of a different lot, because the one lot was being prepared for VE day and the second lot afterwards. No. The only thing, you know, how can I put it? When we finished we didn’t know that we weren’t going to be called up for a second tour and would have done if it hadn’t been for the Americans dropping the atom bomb. If that hadn’t have happened after six months or more of it we would have been called back again.
DH: So, after you finished your tour how did the RAF occupy you?
FM: Well, that’s another life. I could go on then about a whole year flying down near here, and then a third tour. A third life when I managed to get appointed to the Test Pilot’s School and that’s where I finished.
DH: Are you able to tell me about the Test Pilot’s School?
FM: Yes. It’s very interesting. We’ll forget the next bit. That was a year literally at South Cerney just outside Gloucester where I was flying with advanced, advanced trainee pilots when they sent, and it was a two engined aircraft, an Oxford when they sent them out to do night trips. They were not allowed to go without a wireless operator because the wireless operator could get them home by getting directions. So that was literally a year. And then there was a message on the notice board, “Volunteers wanted for the Number 4 Empire Test Pilot’s School,” which was being transferred from Farnborough to [pause] I can’t think of the name now. Anyway, I’ve got it in here. It begins with a C. Yeah, that appears, Neville Duke. I flew with him once. Empire Test Pilot’s School. What am I trying to tell you?
DH: You transferred from Farnborough to —
FM: Right. No. They were transferred. I was still at the Advanced Flying Unit until the end of October ’45.
DH: Right.
FM: So, I’d been there a little over a year and they wanted volunteers. Wireless operators who would go to just a quick training school to teach them how to help a pilot flying on his own on a four engine aircraft. You’ll appreciate that if being able to handle all the throttles, being able to close down one or more engines, jobs like that we were taught and then we were sent off to this school. And when we got there, there was nothing there and the station commander called. He said, ‘Your warrant officer has just come through Martin so you’re going to be in charge.’ So, he said, ‘You set up this unit. There will be five others,’ he said, ‘We tried to get youngsters who haven’t had the — ’ he called it luck, ‘The luck to have a bombing life because they came in too late.’ So he said, ‘They’re raw youngsters most of them but,’ he said, ‘There is one senior man as well as you.’ And so we set up this. They gave us an office. Oh anyway, we set it up and eventually it was got going but it was months. A long, I don’t, I can’t remember why but anyway it was January’46 before we actually flew when they were ready as well. And we flew from this Empire Test Pilots School. From Cranfield. Couldn’t remember it. Cranfield, which is north of, north of Bedford. Anyway, we started flying there in January ’46 and we did very little flying because they didn’t, they weren’t always flying four engines. They only needed you when they were. But, you know you did some interesting small jobs with them. And then came my moment of, there came a time in May ’46 when I think we’d had a couple of these six taken ill with something, flu or something and suddenly we, we had to do a lot more because I got a book here when I’d flew four times on the 6th of May, five times on the 7th May, twice on the 8th of May, five times on the 9th of May. I don’t want to go on but you can see I was doing a lot then and during that time, you’ve never heard of Duke have you?
DH: No.
FM: Neville Duke.
DH: No. I haven’t.
FM: Well, he became, later on he became a test pilot and he became holder of the speed record and I, and I just flew with him once for forty five minutes. N. Fifty minutes. So that’s my fifty minutes of fame, and carried on there still flying and the last trip I did before I was demobbed, 8th of July ’46. Without this I couldn’t remember all those things.
DH: No.
FM: That was the best and the luckiest posting I ever had. Suddenly going from training pilots in night cross countries often being more scared than I ever was bombing, and suddenly getting pilots good enough to be test pilots, you know. It was an entirely different experience. And the fact that I’d became a warrant officer which helped a lot. Financially it helped a great deal.
DH: Yeah.
FM: Right. Any more questions?
DH: So after, after you were demobbed what were you going to do?
FM: Well, I was lucky you see. One of the reasons that I could safely volunteer was the company, and I’ve got a letter from the boss, what would I call him? Anyway, he was the boss, guaranteeing any member of the staff anywhere in all of the branches around the, that volunteered for the Services, whichever Service and came back were guaranteed a job. And I’ve got the letter from Hubert Burgess himself and he thanked me very much for my service, services, and understood my feeling of, of volunteering. And so when I got back I went down to the branch in Shrewsbury, had an appointment with a man named Richards who I worked for. He’d, he’d been too old, you know to go in. Anyway, he’d be too important to have to go in the Services and he said, ‘Yeah. When do you want to start?’ And I said, ‘Well, can you give me a week? I’ve got to find, I’ve got to find lodgings for the wife and, and my daughter.’ And so I think I started work, I think I started work on the 1st of September.
DH: Wow, that’s, that’s quite good, isn’t it? That’s very good.
FM: It was good.
DH: For them to say that.
FM: Because, because this man Richards and I had a very long working relationship and he, he pushed me up until I was eventually, you know in a very good job. So that’s really the story of how lucky we were that we came back. I mean, I can remember one very good high rating head office boy who went, and he went in the Air Force and he came back and he went back to a job and it happened. He kept his promise. Your job was there, and that was a marvellous thing, you know. You didn’t have to worry about your week’s wages did you?
DH: No. That’s quite something.
FM: Another thing he did. This is, this is only for your information because you had to recognise what money was worth. He instructed the wages people to put ten shillings a week in an envelope in the safe in my name.
DH: What? During the war?
FM: All the way, whole time I was through.
DH: No.
FM: For the whole of the time I was through he paid me ten shillings a week for fighting for me country.
DH: Wow.
FM: Believe me when we came out that money set up the furniture for our first place. Now, how many bosses would do that?
DH: Not many.
FM: But that’s actually absolutely true. They say, ‘Oh, ten shillings a week,’ but ten shillings a week then.
DH: Was a lot.
FM: Was a different kettle of fish. And anyway, he didn’t need to give me anything, did he? Guaranteeing me a job was sufficient without paying me ten shillings a week for five years.
DH: Wow, that’s quite —
FM: So you do get good bosses. You do get good bosses. Yes.
DH: Well, can I say thank you. You’ve been absolutely fascinating to listen to.
FM: No. I, I didn’t want to overdo it as I said. There’s the three lives. The second one I told you about flying trainee pilots around the skies over Gloucestershire were not a happy experience and then the Test Pilot’s School which was quite marvellous. Quite marvellous. Although to get in [laughs] this is not for you, I’m just talking to you, you get in, and this test pilot he says, ‘Well, Martin —’ or, yes. Well, yes. Sometimes they know your Christian name but you know there was, you weren’t together long enough. He’d say, ‘Well, I’m doing single engine flying today.’ So he said, ‘You know how to feather.’ That was what I was taught of course. I said, ‘Yes.’ ‘Well,’ he said, ‘Be careful to feather in the order that I tell you because —’ he said, ‘I’ll have to adjust the balance of the aircraft.’ So you get quite happily tootling along and he says, ‘Feather outboard.’ So you press the button for stop the outboard and the engine dies and it’s just running in in the wind and he’s adjusting. And a little later he says, ‘Feather inboard.’ So you press the inboard button and that so he says, ‘We are now flying on two engines.’ That’s alright. And then he said, ‘Feather inboard,’ or whatever. The one he prefers. He may say that he prefers to feather inboard, or feather outboard of the other two and you do it and suddenly you’re flying or trying to fly a four engine bomber on one engine. It has its own moments. It has its moments. Oh yes. But you trusted them you see. They were skilled, and they had to be able to fly this bomber on one engine without losing height. Just keep it and they would, they passed. Anyway, enough about that.
DH: Which aircraft were they?
FM: Lancasters.
DH: They were Lancasters.
FM: Yes. And the latest model too. The latest Rolls twenty two engines I think. They had all the best to train on they did. Yeah. Anyway, thank you for coming. I don’t want to bore you to tears.
DH: You’re not boring me whatsoever.
FM: I mean, I was one of the lucky ones to have lived through it and to some extent to still have an active memory. I do need this because the dates sometimes run into one.
DH: It would be very difficult to remember all those dates.
FM: Oh yeah. Yes.
DH: Very difficult, one last question.
FM: Yeah.
DH: Have you got any you know, lighter moments. Any funny things that you can remember from your time on operations?
FM: You know, it’s hard to remember a funny thing. I think the funniest thing was not what happened on the day but what happened on the day had a remarkable [pause] how can I put it? Resurgence of life many years later. And I’ll tell you this, I can’t remember which daylight raid it was but the Polish squadron, Polish aircraft my pilot had got friendly with their pilot was in, landed in the next bay, and they were getting out and we were getting out and they had, one of the ground crew was a bit snap happy taking pictures and he came along and we grinned at him and he took the picture and that was it. Never thought anything about it. Now, this is one daylight raid towards the end of the, with my life at Faldingworth with the Poles. Now, how many years later? I would be [pause] Phyl had died so it was one of their anniversaries at Faldingworth and I got an invitation and I had a friend, a golfing friend who was very keen on anything to do with, ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I’ll take you. I’d love to.’ He said, ‘I’ll take you willingly.’ I said, ‘Ok.’’ He said, ‘Don’t worry about driving,’ he said. I was still able to drive. I hadn’t reached this stage but it must have been ’87 ’97. Fifteen. It must have been fifteen years ago. An anniversary they had and that we went up and we went first thing and we went in to the village hall which was also now laid out with old photographs and everything to do with the Poles. And the Polish people, or the remnants were there and a lot of them had got tales to tell. And I was walking along here, this lady had got a book and she spoke English. She said, ‘Have a look at my records.’ She said, ‘Do you happen to know my father? He was a Polish pilot in this.’ And I said to her, ‘Apologies,’ I said, ‘We were only there three months. We never got really to know our own lot properly let alone — ’ ‘Oh, I understand.’ She said, ‘Have a look at my pictures.’ And she turned over a page and there was the photograph there that he’d taken what would be the best part of, if he’d taken it in ’44 and this would be in, in ’84. The best part of forty years later. And I squealed. I said, ‘You won’t believe it,’ I said. ‘That’s me.’ ‘Oh,’ she said, reading it. This was the pilot who was a friend. And this ground crew had taken, and it had got to her and she got it and there it was. A photograph of myself and oh, I remember the bomb aimer was there and the rear gunner. Unfortunately, the skipper hadn’t got out of the aircraft because we were only disembarking, you know.
DH: Yeah.
FM: But I can remember squealing. Then I called my friend, ‘Brian. Brian come and have a look at this.’ So he came along and I said, ‘Look at that.’ ‘Bloody hell,’ he said. I said would you believe that you could come to a place and see yourself forty years ago. And that was in effect, you could call that the most happy and unexpected —
DH: Yeah.
FM: Thing to happen. To find that you, your photograph had been taken and been kept in this, her father’s album.
DH: Yeah.
FM: And had got to her. Anyway, yes so that was I think that was a jolly tale. You know what I mean. It was a happy one.
DH: Yeah.
FM: Not a miserable one. A happy one.
DH: Well, thank you so much for talking to me, Keith.
FM: I could tell you one which is dead funny. Unbelievable but still it happened. You wouldn’t know, couldn’t know but during the war only bottled beer was available. There may have been draft beer in small quantities round about Burton on Trent and places like that but I mean normally bottled was the only beer. And the day we finished operations was a daylight raid so like it wasn’t like coming back in the middle of the night and so we all, we were all going to go down to Market Rasen which was only three and a half miles away. The skipper had arranged transport. He’s the boss now. He’s well thought of on the squadron and he arranged transport so we can drink as much as we like. So we go in to this hotel in Market Rasen. I wish I could remember its name but it’s there. We go in to the bar. It’s quite early. Not in to the bar. Went in, oh no we went in to the smoke room. Didn’t mix. We wanted a big room of our own and there’s seven of us sat around this table and the, and the navigator, Frank who came to see me from Canada who, thirty five years later, but he said, ‘The first round’s on me.’ We didn’t argue about a round. But he walked up to the bar and we could hear him. This young girl came and he said, he said, ‘I want fifty six pint bottles of beer please.’ She said [pause], ‘I’m not joking,’ he said, ‘I want fifty six pint bottles of beer.’ And they were all brought around our table. Eight of us, seven of us, supposed to drink eight each. The skipper could drink one. The navigator could manage twelve. I may have managed my eight at a push, but I think that particular order was the biggest individual order for beer I’ve ever heard placed.
DH: Yeah.
FM: Yeah. That was Frank. He was going to buy the first round so he did but there was never a second [laughs] Yes.
DH: Could you tell me the names of the people on that crew?
FM: I can. Very well. Pilot George Davies from Oswestry. Navigator Frank Yate from North Hamilton in, in Ontario. Bomb aimer Freddie [Pittey] from Newbury, trainee, a trainee teacher and went back to become a school teacher. Jock Gilchrist. Jock, obviously mid-upper gunner, Scottish from Ayr. The one, the one we found difficulty keeping in touch with and I don’t know why maybe he got married and moved around was the engineer. I’ll think of his name in a minute. And then the rear gunner was the oldest. Harry [Fay], a cockney from East, East Ham. Harry was the first to die. He had a heart attack and one by one they all dropped off leaving me, yeah. I even kept in touch with the wives. With the widows. The two widows that I mainly, because it was rather amazing when you think of I went to the wedding of the bomb aimer and I went to his silver [pause] Oh, let me think. If he was married in ’46, and I went to his golden wedding, that’s right. That’s right. He was married in ’46. Ninety. Yeah, that’s right. And Phyl was alive of course and at his golden wedding of course we were guests of honour fifty years later. That was one amazing thing. The skipper of course married a New Zealand nurse who then wanted to go home and he didn’t have no interest in his father’s business which was a business that I was in. And when he’d gone and I was living in Oswestry and his mum and dad were still alive in Oswestry, I used to visit them didn’t I? And his dad who used to run this big agricultural, owned it, that George wasn’t interested in because he was a Batchelor of Science in his own right on metallurgy. Anyway, that’s another story. Anyway, his father said to me, ‘Get in touch with your boss and tell him that when I’m ready to retire I want you to buy the business.’ Now, geographically it was perfect. We’d already moved from Oswestry when we bought out a company in Welshpool so one more step to new town was perfect. And it happened. He called me, ‘Come and see me. I want to retire,’ he said, I want to safeguard my staff,’ he said. ‘You get hold of your boss.’ Well I did and of course my boss, the big boss then contacted my boss Ben Richards who’d been with me all the lifetime and we went down and we looked and eventually we bought it. And because of that I was made what you’d call area supervisor, having already taken over Welshpool as well from Oswestry, and the funny thing to think that from that day when George Davis says, ‘You’re from Shropshire.’ ‘Yes.’ ‘I’m a Salopian too. Would you fly with me?’ Comes years later his dad. It’s, you know —
DH: It’s amazing, isn’t it?
FM: It is. You can’t really believe these things happen. Yes. Yes. I’m glad I’ve got a pretty active memory because sometimes I can enjoy going back on a given period. I don’t have to go back on the lot. I can remember doing something that I never thought you’d do in the wartime. Have you heard of mayday?
DH: Of?
FM: Mayday. The word mayday.
DH: I know what the word mayday means. Yeah.
FM: What does it mean?
DH: It’s a call for help.
FM: Right. It’s also something you don’t use unless you’re in —
DH: Trouble.
FM: In trouble. And so I called mayday and I had to explain when we got down why, and this was with these trainee pilots. We were out one night in January and we were in a horrendous snowstorm. He quite rightly had lost his way. I could understand that. We got down to, over a big town at about four thousand feet or was it, sorry four hundred feet, and we could recognise it was Cheltenham. I also knew that we were, had a safe flying height over the Cotswolds of fourteen hundred feet, and we were flying at four hundred feet. So I tapped him on the shoulder and I [pause] ‘Oh yes,’ he said. We climbed up, and then we were lost, you know. We were close to home and yet lost so I called, ‘Mayday. Mayday.’ The answer, ‘Your requirements?’ And I just said, ‘Searchlights.’ And within no time the beams came up. We could see them and we came home. Got home. I got away with them. My reasons for mayday. They accepted it. I don’t know whether he got away with having lost, you know. I don’t know. I can’t remember, but I do remember that. Possibly being the most scary night of the, you don’t call mayday once in a lifetime. Yeah. And then have to say, go in front of the intelligence and tell them why you called mayday. A thing unknown. Mayday. Yes. Yes. A bad thunderstorm in an old fashioned aircraft is pretty terrible you know. I mean you can’t see anything. Not like these modern things where you’re, yes, enough of me. You’ll never get home ‘til tomorrow. You get me on my memories and I’ve got so many. So many.
DH: Well —
FM: I don’t know.
DH: If you wanted to chat another time and give me memories that would be wonderful.
FM: [unclear] Right. My legs get, slowly but surely they’re deteriorating. You’ve seen that medal haven’t you? That’s the —
DH: Let’s have a look.
FM: That’s the Legion d’Honneur.
DH: Oh yes. That’s beautiful isn’t it?
FM: It is.
DH: Beautiful.
FM: Put that there.
DH: Yes.
FM: It’s just something. I don’t know if I’ve got it. It won’t take a second to look. I’ll finish my coffee. So many documents that I’ve got which [pause] Different crew members but I don’t want to show you bits and pieces. I thought I’d got a [pause] There’s the skipper. What you can see of him. Only his head.
DH: Oh, inside the plane.
FM: No. I can’t see there’s anything particular. It’s hard to remember [laughs] I told you we were in civvy billets in Blackpool.
DH: Yes [pause] Ah, which one are you?
FM: Right in the middle, at the back.
DH: Oh right. Oh yes, nuisance.
FM: I’ll get it. I’ll get it.
DH: All right, love. I did get a little one of the two gunners. The rear and the mid-upper together.
FM: Yeah.
DH: I’ve got other photographs somewhere dear but I don’t know where they are.
FM: Ok. What I’ll do is, if we finish —
DH: Yes.
FM: If I finish of the interview now.
DH: Yeah.
FM: And then I’ll explain a few things. Ok. So, thank you very much.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Frederick Joseph Keith Martin
Creator
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Dawn Hughes
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2018-03-09
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AMartinFJK180309
Format
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01:41:51 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Description
An account of the resource
Keith Martin was working for an agricultural machinery merchants in Shrewsbury when the war started. This was classed as a reserved occupation but when he was nearly 20, he decided to volunteer for the Royal Air Force in April 1942 and was selected to be a wireless operator/air gunner. Initial training took place in Blackpool, followed by further training at RAF Yatesbury, RAF Ternhill, RAF Calveley. Promoted to sergeant he was then posted to 18 Initial Training Wing at RAF Bridgnorth to complete his wireless operator training. Flying training took place at RAF West Freugh and in October 1943 he was posted to an operational training unit at RAF Hixon flying Wellingtons. It was there that Keith was formed in to an aircrew. In December 1943 Keith’s crew flew their first operation, as part of their training, which was leaflet dropping over Belgium. January 1944 saw a posting to a heavy conversion unit at RAF Sandtoft to fly Halifaxes. In April their aircraft had an engine failure on take-off, resulting in a crash landing which wrote it off but injured no-one. He transferred to Lancasters at RAF Hemswell and was then posted to RAF Wickenby. From May he was in an operational squadron. Keith describes the many operations that he carried out, including an operation during which an aircraft below his exploded, and caused his aircraft to go out of control until the pilot recovered control at 2000 feet. In June 1944 he was posted to 300 Squadron. By August his crew had flown 26 operations. On completing his tour, Keith went on to spend a year at the advanced flying unit at RAF South Cerney before volunteering for the Empire Test Pilots’ School at RAF Cranfield. He was finally demobbed in 1946 returning to his pre-war employer, who had kept his job available.
Contributor
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Nick Cornwell-Smith
Julie Williams
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Belgium
France
Great Britain
England--Bedfordshire
England--Cheshire
England--Gloucestershire
England--Lancashire
England--Shropshire
England--Staffordshire
England--Yorkshire
England--Wiltshire
Scotland--Dumfries and Galloway
England--Blackpool
France--Paris
France--Sangatte
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-04-20
1943-05
1943-10
1943-12-30
1944-01
1944-04-06
1944-05-01
1944-06
1944-08-31
1946
1944-07
1944-06-05
1944-06-06
Conforms To
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Pending revision of OH transcription
300 Squadron
626 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
aircrew
bombing
bombing of the Normandy coastal batteries (5/6 June 1944)
crash
crewing up
Halifax
Heavy Conversion Unit
Initial Training Wing
Lancaster
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Operational Training Unit
propaganda
RAF Bridgnorth
RAF Calveley
RAF Cranfield
RAF Hemswell
RAF Hixon
RAF Sandtoft
RAF South Cerney
RAF Ternhill
RAF West Freugh
RAF Wickenby
RAF Yatesbury
take-off crash
training
Wellington
wireless operator / air gunner
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/584/31580/BHookingsEWHookingsEWv1.2.pdf
ce818869fb668740b8ff19720151de37
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Hookings, Eric
E Hookings
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Hookings, E
Description
An account of the resource
Three items. An oral history interview with Eric Hookings (184315, Royal Air Force) and two memoirs. He flew operations as a pilot with 619 Squadron.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Eric Hookings and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-10-24
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Transcribed document
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
Chapter One Early Days 1920 was a very special year, George V was King of England, David Lloyd George, the Liberal Statesman was Prime Minister; the Peace Treaty was ratified, the first meeting of the League of Nations took place, there was prohibition in the USA and, on July 8th I, Eric William Hookings was born in Clapham, in southwest London ! Before their marriage my father William Herbert Hookings served in the 1914 -18 Great War with the Royal Horse Artillery Regiment and my mother Rosina (nee Barber) was Nanny to the children of a Captain Talbot whom she accompanied, along with his family when he served some considerable time in India. I was the first child of William and Rosina but within two years I had a brother Dennis and there followed five years after that a little sister Barbara. It was the middle of the Great Depression and there is no doubt that we were poor, we all lived in two dark and dingy rooms in Battersea that were rented from a Mrs. Lye, who terrified me. To me she appeared as the wicked witch and one of my first memories was an occasion when my parents had left me to look after my brother whilst they went out for an evening. I must have been about seven years old and - as usually occurs my brother started to cry for Mum and Dad. I had no idea what to do and eventually Mrs. Lye appeared bringing us food and drinks. This terrified my brother and I even more for we were both convinced she was trying to poison us ! She really was a horrendous figure, always dressed in long black clothes and wearing a bonnet. From a very early age I was fascinated by the local markets and regularly accompanied my mother on her shopping trips. The noise hustle and bustle, the smells and the general atmosphere caught my imagination and I wanted to be involved. 2 On one occasion my mother took me with her to buy her vegetables and I can recall the allure of the balance scales, with their brass weights. They were irresistible, especially the four-ounce weight with a hole in the middle and one day I secreted one from a market stall. I slid it into my pocket unnoticed and that night threaded it onto a piece of string and hung it above my bed. It was wonderful to have this object swinging above my bed and I imagined it to be a pulley. But my happiness was to be short lived for the knocking of the weight against the bed head brought my mother into the room to see what on earth I was doing. Her “What have you got there ?” and “Where did you get it?” was followed by “Tomorrow you will come back with me, return the weight and apologise” mortified me, But early next day I was dragged back to the market and red faced, made to apologise for my misdeed. I still hold that fascination for markets of any kind and as you will see if you have the patience to read on, buying and selling became my life. My mother was a very strict disciplinarian, probably her nanny training and I recall the day she took me to the barbers for a gentle trim as she requested of the barber. Off she went on one of her many errands leaving me to wait my turn. She returned to find me with the shortest haircut imaginable, I had been scalped. She yelled at the barber that he had given me a short back and sides and that I was not the sort of boy who wore his hair like that. I had visions of the barber sweeping up my hair and trying to stick it back on to my head !! 3 The highlight of our week was Sunday when father would be at home with us. During the winter the muffin man used to sell his crumpets and muffins from the tray he carried around on his head and in summer it would be the ice cream barrow selling what we called ’hokey pokeys’ or cornets as they are now known. There was never much money, father was the only one who worked and he supported mother and three hungry children, all squashed into two rooms, but somehow they found the means to one or other of these Sunday treats. Time came for me to start school and mother searched for an appropriate school to accommodate her eldest son. The local school was not good enough, mother felt this to be rather rough and not of a high enough standard for me, for as well as being a strict disciplinarian she also had what was deemed as ‘ ideas somewhat above her station‘, Consequently, although certainly not of that faith, in 1925 I was enrolled into St Joseph’s Roman Catholic School in Battersea. It was not too long after joining the school that mother’s ideas of her ‘little gentleman’ were questioned, for during one of the playground games that we played - British Bulldog, which was a rather strong physical game that involved trying to tip each other over whilst on the ‘piggyback’ of another, I was thrown headfirst into a brick wall and knocked out my two front teeth. Short back and sides and no front teeth, always-grubby knees under my short trousers, and with a strong south London accent, I must have been a charmer. 4 We were poor but very happy, there was always food on the table and clean clothes on our backs, father worked very long hours and it seemed, mother always washing, ironing and cleaning our spotless little home. In 1926 came the General Strike throughout Britain and although only five at the time I can still recollect crowds of men standing at street corners looking tired and hungry whilst begging for work. The street fights between the strikers, strike breakers and police were to me really frightening. My father was fortunate enough to be employed as he had, since leaving the army. He was a dray man working with the horses he so loved. He would leave home at 6.00am every Monday to Saturday and not return home until 9.00 pm at night, tired and exhausted. I adored my father and would stay awake waiting for him to come home, I would then sneak from my bed, sit on his knee and help him eat his dinner (pinching quite a lot of it as I recall). The highlight of my life was to be taken to work by my father during weekends and school holidays. I dearly loved the two huge horses and was so keen to help him bed them down and feed them in the evenings. It was my father’s job to collect waste paper from commercial outlets and private homes and to take this to the salvage depots, today known as re processing. Off we would set each day with me feeling as big and important as my father, we would harness up the horses into the huge dray cart and, complete with my big toothless grin would set off around the London that I grew to know so well and come to love. 5 My father taught me to be most respectful and polite and to touch my cap, especially if we were given tips ! But for me the best and most exciting part of the day was to stop at one of his favourites local cafes that he frequented with all his mates and to thoroughly enjoy a huge mug of steaming tea and a great slice of bread and dripping. I was a man of the world ! 6 Chapter Two Moving On One of the highlights of my father’s job was to participate in the Easter Parade, held annually in Regent’s Park in London on Easter Monday, I would rise with my father before dawn to prepare the horses and drays for their entry into the competition for the smartest and best turned out horse and vehicle. There were drays to be scrubbed, brasses to be polished, paint to be washed and for the horses there was grooming until coats gleamed, manes and tails combed and plaited and decorated and their shoes blackened until you could see your face in them. I was never happier, working with my father along with his workmates, in an atmosphere that crackled with excitement and anticipation. At the back of each dray would be placed a couple of kegs of beer - just a little refreshment for father and his pals before, during and after the parade. The family was included in the parade and mother scrubbed and polished her offspring with equal gusto to that of father and his horses. The horses and drays, full of well-presented families would line up in Regents Park and slowly walk through the park to the judge’s stand where they would be inspected by (as I recall) rather portly gentlemen in suits and waistcoats complete with gold watch chains and bowler hats. Competition was very keen for the enormous prestige of winning the ‘Best in Show’ rosette which could result in not only a small financial reward from the boss but the respect of fellow draymen for that year. My dear old dad had won several times and the horses stable was well decorated with rosettes for Best this and Top that. He was a well respected man whom I adored. 7 There was one particular parade I shall never forget, I must have been about ten years of age. My father had a pal called Tommo, he was a very short, bow legged fellow who liked his pint or six of beer. He was funny, always smiling and laughing and together he and my father got up to all sorts of pranks. Mother did not exactly approve of Tommo she thought he led my father astray ! Never ! it was six of one and half a dozen of the other. We had all risen very early on this particular Easter Monday and arrived at the depot for hours of preparation, mother arrived later with Dennis and baby Barbara and we set off in the dray, for Regents Park. Now quite naturally, all this hard work makes a bloke really thirsty doesn’t it ? Consequently the two kegs of beer and I think a third one had been thoroughly enjoyed by Dad and Tommo. I was given the honour of sitting up front beside my father and I felt so proud to even be given the important job of holding the reins. The two giant horses were well used to the parade and moved along by themselves automatically. It was a slow task for each entry had to be inspected and judged so it was stop and start all the time but the horses knew the routine and lumbered along accordingly. By the time it was our turn to be judged father and Tommo had consumed a great deal of the contents of the kegs for it was a very warm day. I was holding the reins tightly when suddenly there was a gap in the queue and the horses lurched forwards. Totally unprepared for this sudden movement, father, whose attention had been diverted at that second, fell over backwards into the dray, arms and legs waving hat rolling away and face very red with not just the heat and humiliation. 8 My mother was furious and berated him all the way home for the embarrassment he had caused her. Father and Tommo - they just laughed and spent many a long and happy hour in their local pub telling this tale. We had even won one of those much coveted and prestigious rosettes ! 1930 brought about big changes, not only in my and my family’s lives, but worldwide too. The area in which we lived, Battersea, was recognised as being ‘the slums’ and in the early thirties a clearance programme of the whole area began. There were five of us still squashed into the two rooms at Mrs. Lye’s so we were one of the first to be moved. We were allocated a council house in Morden and what a fantastic change it was from the damp and dingy unhygienic conditions in which we were all squashed, to a brand new house that not only had a garden but it had running water, a real bath and an inside toilet ! To have a bath, which always seemed to be on a Friday night whether we felt we needed it or not, one had to first light the fire under the boiler in the kitchen, then fill the copper with buckets of water, sit back and wait for it to boil. Above the copper was a large round pump complete with a long wooden handle which, when you pushed it back and forward pumped the water upstairs and into the bath. There was a cold water tap above the bath but that was not really necessary for by the time the water had travelled through the myriad of pipes to the bath the water seemed to be tepid anyway. Dennis and I regularly fought to be ‘pump boy’ and after the tin bath in front of the fire the pure luxury of having what we thought of as a real bath was beyond our dreams. Being the eldest I was allowed to have first bath with the rest of the family coming in after me with the bath being ‘topped up’ for each following member. 9 Chapter Three ‘Allo ‘Allo - Wot ‘ave we ‘ere then ? So thrilled were we to have such luxurious accommodation, the whole family rallied round to create a home of which we could be proud. The garden was dug and bricks were found to lay little paths and we all lent a hand to paint, distemper, clean and polish and dig and plant vegetables. The best item for me in our new home was an indoor toilet, no longer would I have to trail downstairs in the middle of the night and out across the dark frightening yard in all weathers where I knew the bogeyman was waiting for me. It was bad enough during the day, but there had been times when I over indulged in rare green apples that resulted in the old ‘gippy tum’ - now that was horrendous. The only person inconvenienced by our move was my father, the move from Battersea to Morden resulted in his taking the tube train to Clapham and then the bus to Battersea Bridge which still left him a considerable distance to walk to his place of work where he had to be at 6.00am every Monday to Saturday. He then had to reverse the procedure to return home where he would arrive after 9.00pm - exhausted. Every cloud has its silver lining however and father’s was the fact that he now lived nearer to his old mate Tommo. Every morning Tommo would appear wearing his big grin and off they would go down the road, whistling their way to work. How I loved those days when there was no school, for I could go with them. If I was not up and ready by the time Tommo arrived he would rush in to my bedroom, rip off the bedclothes and tweak my big toes, a very painful torture that soon had me hopping around throwing on my clothes in haste. 10 A new area to live, meant a new school for me and mother registered me into the Number Three Council School at Morden. This school had a very good record for the education it offered. I enjoyed Math’s, particularly in relation to pounds, shillings and pence and Science but English was a mystery and spelling way beyond my comprehension the latter, a fault that still baffles me at times. As with many council estates, the kids formed ‘gangs’ and I tagged along with a gang of about eight or nine lads of my age. We got up to mischief - naturally for boys, but our mischief was to tease girls, play knock down ginger and generally play very tough, physical games. Being the ’new boy’ on the estate, I was proud to be asked to join what was considered to be the ‘best’ gang in the area, especially when they asked me to tag along with them when they were going to the rail station to get some chocolate from the machines on the station platforms. “But I haven’t got any money” I had to admit, thinking it would mean my exclusion from the best gang. “You don’t need money” they explained and I followed along full of admiration for a gang that could have such treats given to them for nothing. Arriving at the station, we all crowded around the machine that spewed out chocolate bars and I watched in amazement as each member fed a flat disc the size of one penny, into the money slot and then pulled out the draw that to reveal their prize of a bar of chocolate ! “Come on Eric, you want one don’t you?” they whispered pressing one of the magic discs into my hand. Not to be outdone I took the disc, fed in into the machine and lo and behold, there was my bar of chocolate ! 11 So enthralled in what I had achieved, I failed to notice how quiet it had become and as I turned, a large hand grabbed me by the collar of my jacket almost lifting me off the ground. “Allo ‘allo ‘allo what ‘ave we got ‘ere” a voice shouted in my ear as he spun me round and I was confronted by the biggest policeman I can recall ever seeing who demanded to know just what I thought I was doing. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” I wailed, wriggling with terror, noting that all my newfound mates had disappeared. Within minutes a large black Wolsey police car complete with ringing bell had pulled up and I was unceremoniously bundled into the back and taken to Wimbledon police station, where I was thrown into a cell. Locked up all alone in a police cell at ten and a half years of age is terrifying, my mates had scarpered, I had been arrested and worst of all my bar of chocolate had been confiscated ! There were not many houses in the area that had telephones in the 1930’s and I was compelled to wait in that awful cell until the police had called to my home, told my parents of their errant son and brought them to the station to collect me. It was past ten o’ clock and I was cold, hungry and very frightened but that was nothing to the anger portrayed in my mother‘s face when I was released into her care. She had strict instructions to report with me to the Magistrates Court next day and I was brought before the Magistrate who asked me many questions about my relationship with what I had thought to be my mates. I can never thank my mother enough for the way in which she supported me throughout that awful ordeal, a tiny figure in that Courtroom who begged for me not to be punished for I really was a good boy. I was let off, but the worst punishment was my mother’s anger and the fact that I was never allowed to join another ‘gang’. 12 Chapter Five My working life begins I have always had a very sweet tooth and used to frequent a little sweet stall outside the school gates. When that sweet stall came up for sale I bought it - my first venture into the world of commerce. It cost me two shillings and sixpence - a whole half a crown ! The stall had previously been owned by a boy who was leaving the school and, having noticed how popular it was I had been most interested and longed to have one like it, for a considerable time. I asked the owner of the house adjoining the school if I could leave my new possessions in her back garden, - and complete with scales and weights and a cover I parked my sweet stall there each night, paying her a few pennies a week in rent for her letting me do so. I was there selling my sweets not only before school but every playtime and lunch break and after the school closed too, selling my selection of toffees, bulls eyes, chocolate and humbugs and tiger nuts, that I purchased from Ivycon , the sweet wholesaler nearby in South Wimbledon. My best seller was Kay’s toffee, which came in 12” by 8” trays, complete with little hammer with which I would break up the toffee. I became quite adept at weighing out 2 ounces of toffee with my fingers strategically placed under the scoop ! I kept my sweet stall until I left school at thirteen and made quite a lot of pocket money from decaying the teeth of my peer group at school ! Whilst shopping in Sutton one day my mother saw a notice in a shop window for an errand boy, the shop was Talbot’s, a high class fruiter and grocer and without further ado she marched in and put my name down for the job. 13 The pay was half a crown a day - half a crown being 2/6 or twelve and a halfpence today and the shop’s idea of a ‘day’ was from 7.30 am until after all the shop had been cleaned out, usually around 10.00pm. I got the job and every Saturday and during school holidays I was there, keen as mustard and very eager to learn. My work included unloading the delivery lorries, packing the stock, filling the shelves, cleaning the shop and best of all, making the deliveries to customers. The good point was that Sutton, being quite an affluent area in those days, the tips were good ! I ensured that I was most polite as my father had taught me, I was helpful and obliging and consequently I did quite well financially. The bad point was Sutton Hill, a very steep gradient that I had to climb with my trade bike loaded so high that I could hardly see over the top of the boxes that were stacked over the front wheel. I huffed and puffed up that hill, my heart beating nineteen to the dozen but the thrill of freewheeling back down with legs sticking out each side of the bike made it all worthwhile. There was one special delivery that I really enjoyed making and which I recall so vividly, I must have been around twelve and just becoming aware of the difference between the sexes. At one particularly large house in Sutton, the lady of the house always answered the door wearing a rather low cut negligee, with my eyes glued to her cleavage, I soon learned that if I placed the box of groceries on the door step, rather than handing them over to her, as I had been taught to do, she would have to bend over to pick up the box, thus giving me a further glimpse of the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. No wonder I returned to the shop with a smile on my face ! 14 Earning half a crown a day made me aware of money and I was very interested in acquiring more. All the money I could save was intended for one purpose - to buy my own brand new bicycle and eventually I achieved my goal and bought myself a Sturmey Archer, three speed, drop handle bar, red racing bicycle ! The world was mine to explore and with my pals I set off early on Sunday mornings to places like Southend on Sea or Folkestone. I bought a tiny tent and sleeping bag and other camping paraphernalia and with my many friends I had now made we would set off at weekends and holidays in the summer to enjoy the fresh air, fun and much, much laughter - idyllic days. 15 Chapter 5 Growing Up Leaving school, I had to sell my treasured sweet stall find full employment. Talbot’s had been such an experience for me and I grew to enjoy working with the fruit and vegetables, meeting customers and of course earning money. Consequently when Mr. Talbot offered me full time employment I was over the moon. Talbot’s were well known and respected for the high quality and exotic fruit and vegetables they sold, Avocados, Custard Apples, Mangos, Passion Fruits and many others which have become common place today. One of the specialties were Corbert Grapes, an English grown grape. I can still recall seeing these lying in their individually constructed baskets, they were the top of the range and so expensive but Talbot’s had a clientele at the top of the hill that requested such delicacies and luxuries. The next opportunity that Mr. Talbot offered me was to join him on his early morning trips to Covent Garden, the biggest fruit and vegetable market in the country. Corberts and Munros were the suppliers of all the high quality imported produce for Talbot’s and I was thrilled to be able to see for myself how we actually obtained our supplies. Covent Garden fascinated me, porters rushing around wearing their flat hats upon which, with great dexterity they carried as many as ten large bushel baskets, piled high with the fruits and vegetables that were in season. The excitement was catching and I loved to mix with all those fascinating cockney characters, watching listening, discovering and learning so very much that although I did not realise it at the time would put me in good stead for my future life. 16 The early morning start that going to Covent Garden involved meant that my day began at 6.00am, but this was greatly rewarded in two ways, the first, by sharing the tea breaks with my fellow buyers, at the working men’s cafes, where we ravenously devoured great mugs of tea and thick chunks of my beloved bread and dripping but the second, was Mr. Talbot’s car. The car was a very large Ford Lincoln which boasted a special body with folding seat in the back which enabled six people to travel in the huge vehicle in the three seats in the front and divided by a glass partition -three seats in the back. I not only had the pleasure of going with Mr. Talbot to Covent Garden in this car but occasionally, on a Wednesday afternoon ( half day closing) Mrs. Talbot, who had taken quite a shine to me would invite me to join her on one of her weekly trips to Brighton ! She would take me to the Ship Hotel in Brighton for afternoon tea - what a treat for such a young lad from such a poor background, not only the ride in the fabulous car but the opportunity to eat such tasty food- especially the cream cakes ! There were many employees at Talbot’s but my ‘pal’ was Harold. Harold was a couple of years older than I was, although he acted as if he were much younger. He was a determined body builder with aims of becoming ‘Mr. Atlas’ the hero of all young men in the 1930’s whose muscular body adorned many an poster with the slogan “You too can have a body like mine” if you used whatever product he was advertising ! We would compete to see who could lift the heaviest weights and who could carry them the furthest, with sacks of potatoes being the burdens. Oh the energy and exuberance of youth! 17 Chapter Six Me and my bike ! Between 1935 and 1938, my new found friends, shop assistants, delivery men and office workers would meet in the local cafe, near to Talbot’s store. It specialised in spaghetti and beans on toast which we invariably followed with a Lyon's fruit pie, washed down mugs of strong tea. This, I thought, was the high life of cafe society. One day, the more senior members of Talbot’s staff decided to have a race and, borrowing trade bikes from the delivery boys, which had a large wheel at the rear and a small wheel at the front over which sat the trolley on which the large delivery baskets were placed, we decided to race down Sutton Hill. My bike was the one that still had the large wooden boxes full of oranges in front, securely tied down of course - or so I thought. Off we set at break neck speed, pedaling like fury, hoping to be the first one to be able to reach the point where we could free wheel the rest of the way, thus assuring first place. Half way down the hill, the top box of oranges began to wobble and before long it fell off into the road, taking with it the rest of the boxes which scattered in all directions bouncing out their contents of oranges into gardens and gutters, under prams and push chairs and motor cars and charabancs ! I did not win that race and instead I was left, rather shamefacedly, to salvage what I could of the oranges and their boxes which had by now been reduced to matchwood. How is it I wonder that whenever I am in trouble there is always a policeman about ? I looked up, and there he was, looming over me watching, with a meaningful glint in his beady eye. His remark that I should be more careful or I might have an accident was I thought quite unnecessary but I got away with it this time ! 18 Fred, one of the lorry drivers at Talbot’s gave me my first introduction into driving a motor vehicle. Although not exactly law abiding, for the laws of the road were nothing in comparison to what we have today, I discovered I had a natural flair for the motor engine and I relished the opportunity to get behind the wheel of the company van on every occasion, which for a mere fourteen year old at that time was quite a feat. Another employee called Webb, encouraged my love of cycling and with my Sturmey Archer drop handlebar bike I was easily led to purchase all the gear, which included a pair of double seated corduroy cycling shorts, cycling shoes and an alpaca jacket - I was the king of the road ! Thus, fully equipped we would set off on Sunday mornings in the summer to take part in the cycling speed tests that were held on a new bypass in Kent that had recently been opened, I still have the photographs of me looking a treat - even if a dated one. Hormones and pubescent urges were now changing my body and I was becoming very interested in the opposite sex, especially one young lady who worked in Talbot’s office. My parents never explained the intricate details of any birds or bees and even today, I still regret my innocence at not having any idea of how to approach a young lady and ask her to accompany me on a ‘date’. Having left school a few days after my fourteenth birthday I felt, in 1936 at the age of sixteen that I should be making some progress within my career, if I was to have one. I had obtained a great deal of experience within the world of fruit and vegetables and I felt confident enough to approach Mr. Talbot and ask for a step up his ladder and try my hand at buying the produce for the shop. 19 Fortunately as it turned out, this was denied me and Mr. Talbot insisted that I continue learning about the origins of the produce and that I sustained display work that involved the baskets of fruit that I had become most proficient in arranging. I found solace however in my cycling and each weekend my friends and I would set off for faraway places such as Southend on sea, Margate or Portsmouth. Another favourite haunt for me was Croydon Airport for I was fascinated by aero planes even in those early days of my youth. I loved to watch the little ’planes land or take off, knowing their destinations were Paris or Amsterdam, places I longed to see, but never imagined that I would. One evening whilst cycling toward Croydon, I saw a vast red glow in the sky and I realised it must be an almighty fire. Cycling as hard as I could, I tried to get as near to the fire as possible, which I could see was on the far side of Croydon but it was impossible to get very near and I went home quite disillusioned. Next day the newspapers were filled with the tragic story of the huge fire that I had seen and I realised I had witnessed the burning down of the famed Crystal Palace ! 20 Chapter Seven Grown up responsibilities. At sixteen I felt a restlessness with life in general, I liked my job but felt the frustrations of not getting anywhere. I was therefore most delighted when a friend, who managed Bernard’s, (another famed fruit and vegetable merchant in Kingston upon Thames) told me of a vacancy in their shop for the position of an Assistant Manager. I attended an interview and to my delight I got the job ! Gladly I accepted the position and was delighted to be given the task of arranging all the window displays and the fruit baskets. I knew I had some artistic talent and appreciated the fact that they recognised it. The only real issue that I missed were all the ‘perks’ of working at Talbot’s. On a Saturday evening Mrs. Talbot would tell me to go through all the remaining stock and pick out all the fruit that was specked or damaged and to take it home to my mother. Mother would make fruit salads and pies that were so gratefully appreciated and a fine contribution to the diet of the family. Working at Bernard’s, gave me much more varied experience of the trade plus the fact I was now earning two pound and ten shillings per week, which was a great boost to my morale. After eighteen months I was offered another job, this time it was with A A Smith of Stoneleigh - it was the position of manager ! It was great to be sought after and not to have to ‘job hunt’ as so many of my friends were having to do. The pay rise gave me an income of three pounds per week and I so gladly accepted the position for unemployment at this time in 1937/38 was rife. The shop that I was given to manage was situated in Ewell in Surrey and with my own shop and a staff of three I was a king ! It was hard work with weekly targets that I had to achieve but, I was keen and those targets were achieved. 21 Opposite the shop in Ewell was a ladies hairdressing salon that employed several very attractive young ladies. I made great friends with some of the girls and we all used to go off cycling on our half days off. For me once again it was the old story of not knowing how to handle a situation that involved the opposite sex. My body was telling me what to do but my brain left me floundering ! My relationships with the girls may not have been very adventurous but my work improved greatly and I was complimented upon my creativity in the display work of the fruits and vegetables in the windows and for my fruit baskets that were works of art, Mr. Smith valued my work so much that he gave me a pay rise of ten shillings which was over a 15% raise. I worked at the shop in Stoneleigh until I was eighteen when I was approached by Mr. Smith with what I felt to be a great proposition. He explained that his shop in Streatham was not doing too well - in actual fact the whole shop needed revamping and he thought that I may be the person to undertake the whole project. Streatham certainly was not such a pleasant shop as that which I left behind in Stoneleigh, but, I was keen and full of determination to make a success of it. Starting work very early each morning I worked until late at night, decorating and cleaning the shop, creating displays of fruit and vegetables and turning the whole outlet into a very attractive and thriving business. This, in time led to another rise in my wages, a ten whole shilling increase which now made my weekly wage £ 3.10 shillings and at the age of nineteen I was now earning more than my father ! 22 Chapter Eight Discovering Girls. One of the pleasantries of working in Streatham was the proximity to the Ice Rink and the Locano Ballroom and very soon, along with my mate Harold, I learned the art of ice skating and ballroom dancing. This of course led me to start to take more pride in my appearance and, with my new found wealth of £ 3 .10 shillings per week I felt able to do so. Gaynors of Mitcham Green and another branch in Sutton both sold Guards clothing which I cherished and I became hooked. Guards were middle market outfitters and I bought several sports jackets, trousers and even an overcoat from them. I thought I was the cat’s whiskers in my new clothes and, what with these and my new Hercules Sturmey Archer, three speed, drop handlebar bicycle that was costing me 2/6 per week in hire purchase, I knew I was just that! My first encounter with the opposite sex had been was a disaster. It was in 1936 when I was working at Talbot’s in High Street, Sutton. The secretary to Mr. Talbot was, in my eyes, the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She wore very high heels with stockings with seams down the back, she had a tiny waist and beautiful bosoms over which she wore Crossover blouses. Her lips and nails were high gloss red and I was captivated. Her boyfriend was Fred, the van driver who had film star looks which made me green with envy but, after deliberating and agonising for weeks I plucked up courage and asked her if I could take her to the cinema. Her reply was with a winsome smile as she patted me on the head was “ Come back and see me Eric when you have grown up!” What a put down, I was puce with embarrassment as I crept back into the store. It took me weeks before I could speak to her again. 23 The first real girlfriend that I had was Doreen who lived in Moleshill in Surrey. In 1938 friendship was just that, for relationships between the sexes rarely progressed beyond hand holding and a little ’Goodnight kiss’ on the cheek. We were just two innocents who had no idea - and who were too afraid to take our relationship any further. We used to go out for days, visiting Madame Tusuards or just sightseeing in London. The problem was Doreen, whose father worked for Costain’s the builders, lived in Moleshill whilst I lived in Morden some miles away. The last Green Line bus each evening left at 9.30 pm and if I missed that it would take me hours to get home. I had a mile to walk from Doreen’s home to the bus stop and then another mile when I got off the bus in Morden so I was very aware of time. However the inevitable happened one night when after a rather protracted goodnight kiss I ran to catch the bus, only to find it pulling away from the stop and no amount of waving or shouting could stop it. It was an eight-mile walk home and the reception I received from my mother when I did eventually reach home was not exactly welcoming. An eighteen year old earning what was a very good wage, having a very attractive girl friend whom he did not know how to handle and who still lived at home with his parents and brother and sister was bound to feel frustrated and things began to get a little tense and fraught. I recall so well asking my mother if I could bring Doreen home to meet the family or if I could bring her home for Sunday afternoon tea, her reply was “ What do you want to do that for ?” “Well” I replied “ I want you to meet Doreen”. “Huh” she said “ I don’t want to meet Doreen so the answer’s NO” We had reached stalemate ! , 24 Doreen eventually moved to Dagenham and, after another fracas with my mother I, after threatening many times to leave home, eventually packed my bags and set off for Dagenham. Doreen’s mother welcomed me but insisted that I let my mother know where I was - a wise move but I was sure my mother did not want me. After five days a telegram arrived for me at Doreen’s home, it was from my mother and read “Please Come home” - Mother. I had had enough adventures for a while, admitted that I was homesick and with my tail between my legs, I returned to Morden. My friendship with Doreen ended amicably a short while after this incident, she found another boy friend and I buried myself into my work. 25 Chapter Nine Threats of Aggression. Thoughts of a possible war were on everyone’s mind during 1938 and early 1939 but Mr. Chamberlain, the Prime Minister at that time, reassured us all, as he waved the famous Peace Treaty that had been signed. Peace in our time was agreed and there would be no war. The media thought differently and the continuing news that we, as a nation were rearming, building Hurricane fighter planes, tanks and weapons, prepared the country for the anticipated announcement at 11.00am on Sunday September 3rd that we were indeed at war with Germany. Within hours the first siren - the wailing scream that warned of imminent enemy attack sounded, caused panic ,but instilled into all the urgency of defending ourselves. My family along with hundreds of others began the task of filling sandbags, building Anderson shelters in our gardens and preparing for what was a anticipated to be a quick fight that would be over by Christmas. With no disrespect to my bicycle, for I had great love for my chariot of speed, I bought myself for the princely sum of £ 5.00 a 250 cc Velocet motorcycle, much to the chagrin of my mother who predicted dire happenings on such a machine. However, aboard my noisy machine, I set off along with many other nineteen year olds of that era - to fight the war ! I had given a lot of thought to volunteering and knew even then that there would be no way that I would join the Army for the tales my father had told me of his harrowing experiences in the 1914-18 war, the mud, the filth, death, fear and the sheer futility of the whole debacle made me vow to never become a soldier. It was the Royal Navy for me for I was already familiar with the names of the ships that I had seen off Spithead when I had cycled to Portsmouth and I could envisage myself on the bridge of one of these giants, complete with binoculars, looking out for the enemy. I had forgotten that I was always very sea sick - even in a rowing boat !, 26 I arrived at the recruiting office, along with many others who were volunteering and carefully explained to the officer in charge, my intentions. I had thoughts of signing the dotted line and emerging wearing my navy blue bell bottoms. Nothing prepared me for the conversation that ensued: “Please sir, I want to volunteer for the Navy” “Yes of course my lad, just fill in these forms” I sat and laboriously filled in the spaces “ Right now, off you go and we shall consider sending for you in six months’ time” “But, I want to join NOW sir” “Impossible - how do you think we could manage if we enlisted all the young men who are volunteering? You have to be trained and pass all medicals and that alone may take weeks and still you may not be accepted. Anyway we haven’t got enough training personnel to cope with all the volunteers that we have already, so off you go and we shall see you in six months” I was disappointed and completely deflated but, it made me think very hard for there was every possibility that I would be ‘called up‘ into the Army and I would move Heaven and Earth to avoid that. What about the Air Force ? Well, I liked the colour of their uniforms and I loved to watch the planes at Croydon, so why not give them a try - in fact anything to avoid the Army. The RAF recruiting officer kept me waiting but eventually, after taking my details, he told me I would have to have a medical and then - if I was suitable and fit, I would be contacted. I explained to him that I was on the waiting list for the Royal Navy, to which he roared “Well go away and make up your mind either say YES NOW or go away and WAIT TO BE CALLED UP !!!” The thought of being called up into that khaki uniform was enough for me and I signed up for the Royal Air Force with haste ! 27 Chapter Ten Into Uniform. A couple of weeks later I was summoned to Uxbridge for my attestation to see how bright or thick I really was and the dreaded medical where they really did the things that blokes dread or enjoy ! I obviously passed for eventually I was summoned or ‘called up’ and sent to Blackpool in July 1940 much to the consternation of my family, especially mother who once again found her eldest son leaving home. The shock of change was enough to make me bald let alone having my head shaved, uniforms, kits, square bashing and those dreadful boots - what a change of life from my cocooned home life with my job at the greengrocers and my dancing, ice skating and cycling. Even the weather was such an extreme change, from cosy Morden to the cold windy sea front in Blackpool and the eternal marching up and down and getting up at what always seemed to be the crack of dawn. They say Lady Luck always looks after her own and I really was one of the lucky ones for instead of being billeted under canvas as were so many of my compatriots, I was placed with a delightful Landlady on the south side of Blackpool who not only issued us with our own front door key but also fed us extra tit bits for we were always hungry. The food that was given to the hotels to feed us was never enough for young chaps. There were six weeks of initial training and, by the end of those six weeks we had become men. We had discovered the Tower Ballroom and the attractions to the opposite sex of men in uniforms ! 28 Following my initial training in Blackpool, I received my first posting, it was to R A F Nottingham which was a front line aerodrome. From here flew squadrons of Fairey Battle ‘planes to attack the French coast down as far as Brest and across eastwards to Holland. The Fairey Battle aircraft which had a single engine was a sturdy and strong ’plane and although very slow, it was all that England really had in those early days. We suffered very heavy losses with these ’planes, the worst night being when Maastricht in Holland was bombed - twelve ’planes left England for this raid, from which not one single aircraft returned. Being a new boy I was given every conceivable job from guard duties, police work, kitchen duties, patrols, and manning the gun pits to loading the bombs and ammunition on to the Fairy Battle aircraft. I was trained to use the Lewis machine gun and one day I was posted to the outskirts of the airfield, to a gun post near to the bomb dump. It was a cloudy, dull day, I was on duty on this site from 8.0am until 4.00pm and I recall being rather bored. Suddenly, out of the clouds appeared a German Junkers 88 plane which began to strafe the airfield. I flew to the Lewis gun and opened fire but - the Lewis gun was really rather unreliable and it jammed after about twelve rounds. The pilot of the Junkers 88 however had spotted my gun firing at him and he came toward me and I realised he was dropping a stick of bombs straight in my direction. One bomb hit the area between me and the bomb dump and the blast from its explosion sent me flying through the air, my steel helmet went one way and I went the other. I was knocked unconscious and later recovered in the hospital to the realisation that if this was war then it could be rather dangerous. 29 Winter in 1940 was one of the coldest on record and one bitterly cold night I was posted to guard duty in the edge of the airfield. Being so cold, my duty hours were just from 4.00pm in the afternoon until 8.00pm in the evening. Feeling completely isolated I stamped around trying to keep warm and thinking of very little but getting back into the billet and having something hot to eat and drink. Snow started to fall which quickly, in the icy wind that was blowing, became deep drifts. I was freezing cold, tired, hungry thirsty and very lonely. Eventually, through the snow I saw the small slits of light that emitted from the blacked out headlights of the lorry carrying my relief but then, to my dismay, I began to realise that it was making no progress towards me at all. After an hour of peering at these distant lights I knew there was no way that the lorry could reach me for the snow by now was very deep and still falling heavily. Suddenly the field telephone in the sentry box rang and I was told that although every effort was being made, it was highly unlikely that my relief could get through to me that night but, they would try to get me some hot food. The night wore on and I knew that there was no way anyone would be able to reach me and any thought of hot food was completely out of the question. What I did not realise was that in the next field was a large herd of cows who decided to meander up to the barbed wire fence at the edge of the airfield where I was stranded. The twenty year old city boy, who had never been near a cow was terrified ! I had no idea if they were cows who may have a bull amongst them who might take an unhealthy interest in poor lonely little Eric. What would I do if they got over the fence and came nearer ? I had no idea at that time how glad I would be a few years later to cuddle up to cows for warmth and shelter - but that is another story. 30 It was in November 1940 whilst stationed at RAF Newton, Nottinghamshire that I was summoned to the administration office and told that my parents, living in London had been ‘bombed out‘! I could not obtain any information as to whether they were safe or even alive and, in spite of my begging for information I was told nothing. I was just told to report to the Commanding Officer and request more information for, in spite of the dreadful fear that I felt and my deep, deep concerns, I was in the RAF and had to go through the regulatory offices to find more information. All leave had been cancelled and only compassionate leave was allowed. To my mind this was compassionate enough, but I still had to appear before him to try to get a pass to travel to London. That Commanding Officer was not at all sympathetic or understanding and showed not one iota of concern, his words to me were “ If every time a bomb falls I he let airmen go home to see if their family are OK then the RAF will be nonexistent“. I stood my ground and eventually he relented and gave me a 48 hour pass. 48 hours to get from Nottingham to London and then back - hitch hiking - for there were no trains and I could not have afforded the fare anyway. He stuck to his guns and told me to take it or leave it. I took it and wasted not one minute collecting clean underwear, my razor, warm clothing and what money I could scrape together. A service uniform was an asset in 1940 and I was able to thumb lifts quite easily - a venture not entirely recommended today but although there were petrol restrictions, there were still vehicles on the roads and I found my way to London. I eventually arrived at my parents home in Netley Gardens late at night, but was distraught to find that where the house has stood, there was now just one large gaping hole in what used to be our lovely little front garden. 31 Fortunately for me an air raid warden was just passing and he directed me to the local community air raid shelter where, to my immense relief I found my parents, brother and sister safe and very much alive. It seemed that a land mine had been dropped onto the house whilst they were in the Anderson shelter in the back garden, which father, Dennis and I had helped to dig. They were alive but had lost everything we ever possessed. Eventually they were all re housed, again with another family in lodgings and were compelled to stay in these cramped, stressful conditions for some time. It was fortunate that they all got along pretty well but nevertheless the strain must have been horrendous. I spent quite an enjoyable Christmas in Nottingham in 1940 and if I have any regrets it is that memory has erased the names of the majority of my fellow compatriots who were there and I did not take the addresses and means of future contact for those good pals that I made. Weekly dances were held at the village hall for all the local residents and the RAF boys, probably to promote friendships or what today we call good relation exercises. The floor was the most uneven, badly knotted floor boards that I had never before encountered, but we did not care although there was some doubt as to whether or not the floor would give way under the stomping in unison feet, all clad in heavy duty, air force issue, boots. Saturday nights found us full of trepidation, hearing the three piece band and eagerly viewing all the girls who seemed to sit on one side of the hall whist we sat on the other side watching them watching us ! We certainly knew how to enjoy ourselves for we were taken from the RAF base to the dance hall and then shuttled back after midnight - there was no such thing as being drunk whilst driving for us ! 32 One evening, returning to our billet after what I considered to have been a great night out, one of the chaps in the billet called out “ Eric, I have been watching you dancing this evening and I must say you are just too fussy - you look for all the pretty girls and will only dance with them! When I go dancing, I look for all the cross-eyed girls wearing glasses for they are so grateful to have someone dance with them they are far more eager to go little further - if you get my meaning”! I did, but still did not know how I would handle such a situation like that, if it arose. I did enjoy my stay at RAF Newton, it was a full time active aerodrome and there never seemed to be a dull moment in squadrons 103 and 105. My awareness of the uncertainty of life was realised when I saw these little Fairy Battle planes - the front line of our defences take off, whilst knowing full well that they may never return. I was very proud to serve them and to have served at RAF Newton. My family meanwhile had been rehoused and their new address was 74, Abbotsbury Road, Morden in Surrey, it was a council house, having three bedrooms, one for mum and dad, one for Barbara and the one that Dennis and I shared. However the best thing about that house was for me Joan - the girl next door, she was lovely, had a superb figure, smart and was very pretty. We dated many times, went dancing, walking and lots of canoodling in fact I think she really was my first love. Marriage ? At this time in my life I felt far to young to even contemplate it for the most important thing in my life was my career and learning to fly. 33 Chapter Eleven Air Crew wanted. Time, is seemed just flew by along with all those aircraft, but, one day my life changed forever. Whilst walking past a bulletin board, I spotted a notice which read : ‘AIR CREW WANTED, IF YOU WISH TO VOLUNTEER, APPLY TO THE ADMINISTRATION OFFICE’ My hopes and imagination soared and I envisaged myself up there in the wide blue yonder, flying my own little Fairey Battle. I applied! To my amazement my application was accepted and I was posted back to London not to south London and near to my old home, but to near Lords Cricket Ground and London Zoo. I was billeted in the most lavish accommodation I had ever encountered, opposite Regents Park, where there are the most magnificent buildings divided into sumptuous apartments that boasted marble bathrooms with fittings to a luxurious standard and furnishings throughout the apartment that appeared to have just been left by the owners. There I was, twenty one years old, from the poorest part of the city, living in such splendour! Such extravagance I had never before beheld and I reveled in the grandeur. I stayed in the apartment for several weeks whilst completing my training, which was actually staged in Lords Cricket Ground with meals being eaten in vastly different accommodation - London Zoo !!!!! The rarer animals had been removed for safety but it looked as if the food which we were served was that which had been rejected by them before they left. Our daily routine of PT before breakfast, followed by lectures and schooling throughout the day was tiring, but not so tiring as to realise that we were in the West End and the nights were ours to live it up. 34 Our only misfortune was that we were all so poor, that everything was beyond our reach but, I was young, I was keen I was ambitious and eagerly anticipating my future. At the end of the training period I, along with everyone else took the examinations to see just how far I could go. My results were not good and I realised how limited my chances were of ever making air crew. Through my lack of schooling and basic dearth of education I had failed miserably. My saving grace was that although my answers upon that examination paper were not all correct, the ’layout’ was acceptable and, it appeared, that I had managed to grasp the fundamentals of what my tutors had tried to teach me. I was called before the examining board, five gentlemen of varying ranks and - standing to attention I was told “ Hookings, sorry to have to tell you, you have failed this examination - BUT” and I held my breath “although you have failed, we believe you do have potential and, with the possibility of further education there is a chance that you may pass next time” The Chairman of the examining board then asked me if I would be willing to attend a six week course of further education and then re sit the examinations. Would I be willing ??? My heart leapt with joy and I more than eagerly agreed to accept this second chance rather than be returned to the ranks as a failure. I was not alone for there were several of us who had failed this initial exam who were offered a further opportunity to prove that we were capable of doing far better things. My posting, when it did come through thrilled me to bits for I was to go to my old haunt of Brighton, the seaside town with which I was so familiar. I eagerly boarded the transport, leaving behind the luxury, and set off for my second home where I found much to my delight that we were to be based at the Metropole and the Grand Hotel where years before I had taken tea with Mrs. Talbot ! 35 Once again I was blessed with luxury, I had a superb room overlooking the sea the best plus however, was that our food was considerably better and this time our meals were eaten in the huge dining rooms and not in the local zoo. Although there were plenty of opportunities to go out and have a good time, the majority of my time was spent studying, doggedly persevering with what I should have learned whilst at school. I was so resolute for I had been given this second chance and I was determined to take it. My time was spent between lessons, drills, PT and studying, leaving very little time for play. One of the most fascinating lectures was hygiene, which at that time I did not comprehend its importance, however in my later years and experiences of close communal life, the value of these lectures were proven to be so very beneficial. Final examination day arrived and we were sat at desks and papers handed out which, to my delight appeared comprehendible. As the papers were finally collected I heaved a great sigh of relief, knowing I had done my best and now what would be, would be. That night along with my pals I certainly went out and enjoyed myself and, to my great delight a few days later I was told I had passed and was now officially AIR CREW ! Whilst awaiting my transfer to the Initial Training Wing for pilots, I stayed on at Brighton, studying navigation, aircraft recognition and the simple basics of flying. The Brighton public baths were commissioned by the RAF for the exclusive use in training crews in the basics of survival, rescue and other such events that may happen over water and, what with the swimming, drills, exercise and fresh air, I think I was at the peak of my fitness. 36 Chapter Twelve Stratford on Avon The war at this point was uppermost in our minds, the Battle of Britain was over, heavy fighting was taking place in North Africa and we were all very much aware of our responsibilities. We were continually worrying when our training in full would begin and just where we would be posted. The relief of having passed all my exams was so reassuring that I must admit my social life improved considerably at this point. The town centre of Brighton was considered to be safe but the beaches were full of mines and covered in barbed wire which rather curtailed any amorous adventures on the beach late at night. I compromised ! Eventually my posting came through, I was to go to Stratford on Avon that lovely old town in the Cotswolds so steeped in history and, to crown it all, the Gods were still with me for I was again billeted in great comfort, in the Linton Hotel on the banks of the river Avon. In 1941, rivers were not as they are today, polluted and unfit for swimming in, but were clear, clean and a pleasure for bathing. During my stay in Stratford on Avon in the summer of 1941, the weather was perfect, long hot summer days, staying in a hotel next to the old water mill - I was in paradise. We would swim, boat, visit the theatre and thoroughly enjoy the town and its history and culture between our intense periods of study during which I discovered aerodynamics and solved the mysteries of flying. Our corporal in charge of our group would daily, proudly march us through the centre of the town to the local cafe where we would all ravenously fall upon piles of tea and toast. We were a rather arrogant group, with our ‘chip bag’ hats with the white flashes that denoted we were air crew but, the local residents accepted us and we were warned and emphatically drilled not to cause any trouble. 37 I spent six months in Stratford on Avon and I recall those as being one of the happiest times of my life. The camaraderie, the fun, the feeling of achievement, the excitement and the anticipation of our unknown futures, were the essence of life. The thoughts of failure never occurred to us, for we were all so keen to achieve our aims and ambitions - to learn to fly. Unfortunately for some there was failure at this stage, but not for little Eric ! After my six months at Stratford on Avon I was posted to Heaton Park, just outside Manchester which was the place of dispersement for Air Crews, it was from here we were sent to points of the globe that were considered to be ‘safe‘ for us to learn to fly - Rhodesia South Africa, Canada and of course the United States of America. There were thousands of men living here, the majority living under canvas, in tents which was not the most comfortable billet in which to be found in Lancashire in the middle of winter ! Again I was blessed, I was billeted with a young couple in their house nearby. They made me so welcome, offering me the freedom of their house, giving me the key, telling me to come in whatever hour I wished and what is the most generous - they offered to share their food with me. This I could not accept for I was well fed by the RAF whilst they were on the meager allowance of rations that were allotted to the civilian population of Great Britain. I could not accept this hospitality but felt myself again to be so blessed by the generosity of people. I spent many weeks at Heaton Park patiently waiting to learn where I was to be posted and then came that fateful day - I had achieved the best posting that I could have wished for, I was off to the United States of America, via Canada ! 38 Chapter Thirteen Off to see the world. Anticipation, excitement, fear of the unknown, these were the mixed feelings that we all had for several weeks, whilst we constantly searched the notice boards for the dates of our departure. We were allowed a short embarkation leave, under strict instructions (which meant to us the fear of being shot) not breathe to a soul where we were to be posted. My parents were aware that I was going overseas but to them the fact that they knew not where, only added to their worries. Added to their fears, apart from the nightly air raids over London was the fact that my younger brother had been called up and was, like me, now serving in the R A F. Eventually the call came and I was posted to Greenock in Scotland - for the first time in my life I had ventured beyond the country of my birth and I was ensnared in the vast changes that travelling those few hundred miles made in Great Britain. The dock where we were to board our ship - as yet unknown to us, was a hive of industry, noise, fumes, smells, people rushing everywhere in what to me was organised chaos - it was Covent Garden early in the mornings all over again, but with far different smells and voices with strange accents that so few of us could comprehend. And then I saw her, the biggest and most wonderful ship that I could only dream of travelling upon - The Queen Mary ! I had seen pictures of this wonderful lady sailing from Southampton and here was little old me about to board her - I felt I had arrived and somehow at this stage in my life I knew that this was to be the beginning of the style of life that I would endeavour to always enjoy. 39 I did have deep consternation about the large hole in the side of the ship and felt depressed that we would have to wait again whilst they repaired her. Wrong ! large chains were placed around the hold of the ship and the hole was blocked We were to sail in her in that condition and we were ordered to muster on her deck. How long could my luck last I thought when I was allocated my accommodation, in the most luxurious cabin imaginable ! Here was I a little nobody from Battersea aboard the most opulent ship in the world, wallowing in untold comfort. It was just too good to be true. How much would this have cost me I pondered, if I had to have paid for this trip in peacetime ? What a marvelous run of luck I had enjoyed in all my accommodation since joining up - but, could it last ? We left England filled with trepidation and the fears of the unknown, wondering if we would ever see our homeland again. Our real fears were realised when next day the Captain summoned us all onto the decks to instill in us the life boat drill and dangers we may encounter crossing the submarine infested waters of the Atlantic ocean. He explained to us how the ship came to be holed. On the homeward journey, the Queen Mary when entering the mouth of the river Clyde, sliced through the ship that was escorting her, the Curacao. The zig zag action that both ships were taking to avoid the submarines put them on to a collision course and the Queen Mary, being such a huge vessel and so fast was unable to stop and consequently she sliced through the Curacao. The Curacao sank with a loss of two thirds of her crew. From a crew of 430 men, only 101 had survived The words of the Captain regarding our safety still ring in my ears “ Any man who has the misfortune to fall overboard during our voyage will be responsible for his own life” 40 If there is an opportunity, he will be thrown a life belt, but, there will be no prospect to stop, turn around and search for that man for the Atlantic is filled with U Boats, just waiting to torpedo us. It is far too dangerous for us and we shall not put the lives of hundreds of men at risk for the sake of just one man” The message sent a chill of fear through us all and brought home to us the stark realities of war. Because of the damage that her been incurred to the ship, we did not put in to our intended port of disembarkation - Halifax in Nova Scotia, instead we sailed in to Boston Massachusetts, U S of A where the ship could be repaired. The journey which in peace time would have taken four days, took us six, for our course was far from straight, and the Queen Mary although she could out sail and U boat took the evasive zig zag pattern of sail, changing course continually. Glorious sunshine and a calm Atlantic made our crossing perfect and we felt as if we were on holiday on a luxurious cruise ! We learned of the submarines that were in certain areas from the ship’s crew, but although we felt safe, we were somewhat relieved to eventually see the shores of the United States. What a shock to our systems when we disembarked, for having left the blackouts of the U K, here we were in a fairytale world of brilliance, with well fed, smartly dressed people, all seemingly blissfully unaware of what was happening on the other side of the Atlantic ocean. 41 Chapter Fourteen The wonderful U S of A My posting was given to me as we left the ship and to my delight, I found I was off to Ponca City in Oklahoma - sounded like an Indian reservation to me but, before I could find out just what Ponca city was like we all had to go to Monkton in Canada to be officially designated and dispatched. I did not care one iota which way we would travel, this was my first time out of England, I had escaped the blackouts, the food shortages and the constant fear of air raids. My only worries were for my family, pals and many girl friends I had left behind. Leaving Boston, we travelled by the most wonderful train I had ever seen, passing through Maine and New England which was at its most glorious best - in the Autumn or the Fall as I learned it was called. I had never seen foliage of such brilliance nor such vast landscapes. This beauty coupled with the excellent food we were served upon that train gave me the first insight into a world that little old Eric from Battersea could never have envisaged. We travelled through Toronto and Montreal where to our surprise, we found ourselves caught up in a parade. So caught up were we all in the excitement of seeing, for many of us for the first time, the beauty of Canada that we had not realised that it was November 11th and the parade was for Armistice Day. Monkton as I recall, was just a whirl of to’s and fro’s, papers to fill, goodbye’s to be said to friends we had made, who were off to different flying schools, classes to attend where we learnt the customs and ways of our host country and where we learnt this difference between British English and American English. Then the longed for day arrived and I was off to learn to fly - off to Ponca City in Oklahoma, to the Number 6 British Flying Training School, known locally as the Darr Flying School. 42 The first few days were spent acclimatizing ourselves with the layout of the station, our billets and of course the completely different way of life we were all discovering. Much to my surprise, one morning whilst on parade, I was called out of line and told to report to the Officer commanding our group, fearing the worst, wondering what I had done as well as imagining my self being shipped back to Blighty, I knocked upon his office door. To my delight I found I had done nothing wrong, instead I had been selected as the Leader for Group A - a group of very keen chaps. Peter Watson, a fellow new arrival was to be the leader of Group B. The idea of splitting us into Groups was one of pure competition, for we were not only pitted against each group but also against other Sections some of whom were far advanced in their training, from us. Although called the British Flying School, it was not only British Airmen who were stationed there for there were many Americans too. Our instructors were not servicemen but instead were civilians with a vast amount of knowledge and experience of flying. Friendly rivalry between the ’Poms’ and the ’Yanks’ , excellent food, comfortable dormitories and the feeling of security allowed us the ability to give our entire concentration to what we had all come so far to achieve - to learn how to fly. The course was not a ‘walkover’ by any means, nor was it a holiday although it was obvious that some there had thought that was what it was to be. Within a very short while some began to fall by the wayside, either through their basic inability to grasp the fundamentals of flying, not being up to the standards set and failing their examinations or even the basic fear of flying. Our course in which eighty keen individuals began finished with only 33 of us passing, which was apparently about the norm expected. 43 Not all of those who failed to learn to pilot an aeroplane were sent back to England, quite a large majority were redirected back to Canada where they trained as Navigators or bomb aimers. The next nine months were to be the most important in my life, I was aware of the intensity of the course, I knew I would work and study harder than I had ever done before , I realised the enormity of the responsibility I had undertaken but, I knew that I wanted to succeed and I wanted to go home to England wearing a pair of precious R A F WINGS Our early lessons were very elementary, we learnt what keeps a ‘plane flying and about lifts and drags‘. It would have been difficult to find more enthusiastic young men who were so keen and who had the hunger to learn how to fly. This was all so interesting, but for me all I wanted to do was to see and climb in and inspect the ‘planes and have the opportunity to touch the controls ! Our flying instructors were Americans and our daily routine began with the famous American breakfast which consisted of streaky bacon and pancakes with maple syrup - different but we loved it. Then it began and for six days out of seven we drilled, took PT, attended lectures and we learned to respect, concentrate and to OBEY ! The rules had been set down long ago by experienced pilots and drummed into us was the fact that you never ‘did your own thing’ The normal time for completion and for being able to fly solo was from seven to ten hours and after that we knew that we would have to be moved on. 44 Chapter Fifteen Going Solo. For me, the most frustrating fact was that I had to sit in the seat behind the instructors I wanted to be in the front and to see where I was going. I had already had twelve hours of instruction and I knew the time was fast approaching that would be make or break for me. I just could not get my head around the way to land the ‘planes softly and I bumped and skidded, hopped up and down and really made a mess of things. Finally I was given notice, and I was told to report to the Chief Flying Officer next day, for what was to be my final chance. This was it, all ‘my boys’ had passed and that night were going out to celebrate and yet here was I their section leader and I had not even passed my examination. They invited me along to what I felt was to be our final night together and I thought ‘What the heck - just go’ I was not a drinker, just the sniff of the barmaids apron would put me under the table but I was determined to go out with all my pals that night although I knew I had to be at the flight office at 7.00 am next morning. We crawled back to the airfield around 2.00am and slipped quietly under the barbed wire perimeter fencing. I could not face going back to the billet with the lads and all those happy smiling faces, so I walked straight to the flight room where I set up my kit and putting my head on my rucksack promptly fell asleep. At 7.30am next day I was on parade and waiting for the CFI. He appeared and standing to attention, I greeted him with a smart “ Good Morning Sir” “Get in the ‘plane Hookings with me and taxi out to the runway ready for takeoff. You are in control” he said. “I want you to make a full circuit and then come in to land” Full of trepidation I did as I was told, I reached the end of the runway lifted her up and I was off. 45 During the requested circuit I looked into my side mirror and saw his steely eyes staring back at me, instead of fear I felt that this was my chance to really prove that I could fly and I approached the runway ready to land, full of determination. I kissed the ground and made the most perfect landing possible and thought to myself “I think I have done it !” “Well done Hookings” the CFI said “ Now taxi back to the flight office, let me get out then make another full circuit and land” I had satisfied the CFI and now it was up to me to prove that I really could go solo. There I was. In takeoff position, waiting for the flashing signal from the Aldis lamp to signify I was free to go. It came and I began to roll. Three hundred feet - great - whoopee - marvellous then - whoops, I have to land this thing ! My landing with the CFI had been marvellous but, could I do it again ? My approach was good, although I felt nervous, now was the moment to kiss that ground again but no, touch again, then again and again, I bumped up and down on the runway and my heart sank - it was not good. I got back to the flying office and approached the CFI “ I am sorry Sir” I apologised “ I have made a bad landing” I expected me to tell me that I had failed. “ A bad landing” he queried “that was not a bad landing, it was a safe one, you did everything you have been taught and you have passed. Now enjoy your day.” I could have kissed him but instead thanked him profusely and walked back to be with my boys with my head held very high. The time had come for us to move on -perhaps a bit of leave and then for our advanced training and the final course examinations and those set of wings for those who were to pass. 46 I had completed my first solo at last, it had taken me far longer than anyone else in my Group and my fellow comrades as well as myself had begun to despair that I, the Group leader would not make it because I could not pass my first flight examination. What a feeling of relief it was to be ‘in control of my life again’ and to retain my dignity as Leader. My first plane that I flew alone was a P17 Stearman it was heavier than the Tiger Moth but it was the first training plane used in the USA. The problem with this particular little craft was that it tended to ‘ground loop’ on landing. I was one of the lucky ones, fortunately it never happened to me, but to those that it did I knew it was a very frightening experience. The world was mine and for the first time in my life I knew the feeling of freedom, I could take off alone, fly across the countryside, do my own map reading and explore Oklahoma from the air. As I gained more experience and confidence it was time to go back to school and I was put in to an aerobatic instruction class. I admit this did concern me somewhat but the instructors were adamant that we were not allowed to attempt any feats below a certain height thus possibly giving us more space and time to correct what we were doing. Me ? Well I was always up there in the clouds, not the 3,000 feet that the instructors told us would be a safe height, but I was 5,000 to 6,000 feet, thus giving myself plenty of time if I did get into any difficulty to straighten out and fly right ! One of the most exciting feats in aerobatic flying is the ‘spin’ where you have to gently pull up the nose of the ‘plane until you stall and then, when the wing drops you will spin into that direction and you will find yourself going down toward the ground. 47 The first time that I did this I was more than a little anxious but I had listened to my instructor and, by applying the opposite rudder, although the plane was still descending , it stopped spinning. I pushed the stick forward and, with the blood draining from my face, the ’plane levelled out and I was safe. Although the course was very intense, we were learning to fly in the correct manner, putting in long hours of study and practice but, we still found time to go out to play ! 48 Chapter Sixteen Generous Hospitality We were free in the evenings and at weekends and considered ourselves to be very lucky, for the local people who lived in Ponca City were so kind and hospitable to us ’poor RAF chaps who were so very far from home and missing their families.’ These kind people would arrive at our base in their cars to collect us and take us to their houses, feed and entertain us and make us feel so very much at home. One family in particular that ’adopted’ me had a very attractive daughter who took a shine to me, she was allowed to drive her father’s car and we would go off for hours visiting local hostels but, there were conditions laid down for her to have permission to take me out and her father lending us his car - I had to attend church every Sunday. Being compelled to attend church every Sunday with the Training School and then again with my adopted family should have improved my religious knowledge and also my morals but in 1943 to put your arms around a girl was risky and to kiss her Goodnight was considered to be rather ‘fast’. The weeks flew by, hours and hours of lectures covering all subjects such as flying, navigation, personal hygiene, mathematics, astronomy, cloud formation and such like. Somehow personal danger never seemed to occur to us, for we were all so keen to learn to fly, to then go back home and do our bit but, mostly to get those pilot‘s wings. Then came that final day of examinations and to my utter delight I passed and for those of us who did so it was up and away for a two week furlough as the Americans called it. I had made a good friend of a fellow trainee pilot called Ray Harvey and he and I set off to explore the US of A, beginning with Wichita. 49 Accommodation had been provided for us throughout our tour in what is the equivalent of our YMCA, but it was far more upmarket than any YMCA that I had seen. Our greeting in Wichita was so welcoming, there were special more ‘mature’ ladies whose duty it was to meet and greet us and when they heard our accents they were fascinated and asked us to just carry on talking to them. They wanted to know who we were, where we were from and even - “In which U S State was England” Each day we were collected by ladies who accompanied and mothered us during our stay. One of the first visits was to the huge Boeing Aircraft factory and it was here that I met Pauline and Ray met Fiona ! The hospitality they showed us was like nothing we had ever known, food and drink flowed and we were entertained and treated like royalty wherever we went. Pauline and I became firm friends and wrote to each other for many months of my stay in the United States and we were later, invited to visit Pauline and Leona their homes in Dallas. It was two months before that opportunity arose , for we returned from our leave in Wichita only to be summoned into the main hall of the flying school in Ponca City and told what our next course was to be. I was directed to course number 11 which was the elementary class for advanced flying. The C O told us that the aircraft we were about to learn to fly would be much heavier, fly faster and have different dihedrals for landing. It was back to school for us to learn to fly what was to become one of my favourite aeroplanes - the Harvard. It was not just the flying of ‘planes that we were to experience, we had flying lessons in the mornings and after lunch I was back at school sitting in our basic classrooms. 50 The AT6A or the Harvard was a completely different craft from anything that I had ever flown, there were rev counters, fire extinguishers, retractable undercarriages, instrument panels, oil pressure gauges, pitch controls and so many other dials and panels, it blew our minds. We flew in pairs for it was essential, as we were doing ‘cross country runs’ that one could fly the ’plane and one could navigate. Ray Harvey was my flying companion, we got along so well together and became very firm friends. Night flying was a completely new experience that was at first very frightening, little did I know at that time how much night flying I was later to experience. I consider myself to have been most fortunate at this school of learning for, having taken 13 hours to learn to fly solo, I passed all my examinations and tests and was the first in my group to fly solo on the Harvard. I did it in only three hours and forty minutes and broke the school’s records ! What a wonderful feeling that was, my normal height was 5 feet 11 inches but on that day I was over 7 feet ! It was not long after ‘soloing’, that I was instructed to take cross country solo flights - at night ! The weather in Oklahoma is normally calm and settled - one of the main reasons for us learning to fly there but, one particular night I recall so well. I set of alone and flew off in to the wide blue yonder and eventually, one and a half hours into the flight I realised it was time to turn back. What I had not noticed was that the cloud which was at 5/10ths had become 8/10ths ! We had been taught not to reduce height through cloud because you did not know what was underneath so, my only alternative was for me was to make contact with base and ask for help. 51 The spins, rolls and stalls that I had learned and practiced were fine but they were of little use to me now, I had to rely upon my lessons learned to ‘blind fly’ and regretfully these were not, as I recall, my strongest point. Now keep calm think hard, what do you do when you can’t find your way home in a London smog ? Ah - look for landmarks ! OK but there are not land marks at seven thousand feet, in thick cloud. Got It - Beacons, they would indicate where I was. I saw a break in the clouds and slipped down through it and to my relief I found the beacon signal and railway lines and with these ‘landmarks’ I was able to find out where I was and finally make my way back to base. What a relief to land, I was shaking with tension, relief, fear - I don’t know what, but I saw my instructor approaching and to his question “Is everything OK Hookings ?” I smartly replied “Yes sir” but then admitted “I was so scared” Leave came round again and both Ray and I set of for Dallas to meet Pauline and Leona, two of the most attractive girls who had been part of the ‘welcoming committee’ when we had first arrived in Ponca city. We had the most wonderful holiday, good hotel, excellent food, generous hospitality from so many of their friends who were all so keen to meet the two boys in funny uniforms, who spoke so strangely. I never did get to meet Pauline’s parents for the week just flew by and before we knew it we were heading for the train to take us back to base. Pauline and Leona drove us to the rail station and as I hugged Pauline goodbye, she slipped a letter into my hand and said “Don’t open this until you are on your way” Through tears and kisses the train pulled slowly out of the station and I eventually sat down and looked at the letter she had given me. What was it ? Had she fallen in love with me ? Was I to get married in the U.S of A ? No, she had a regular boyfriend who was a great big Marine (I had seen the photographs) 52 I opened the envelope with trepidation and there with a wonderful letter of thanks for being such a good friend was a crisp 50 dollar note ! I had never seen such money - it would keep me in coffee and doughnuts for weeks ! What a wonderful friend, she was not only beautiful and fun to be with but she was so kind and generous to boot. 53 Chapter Seventeen Those Coveted Wings The day finally arrived for the presentation of those well-deserved wings. Wings signified that you had passed all exams necessary to become a pilot. The RAF’s type were a set of cloth embroidered, gold coloured pair of wings set each side of the RAF crown and emblem and it was the ambition of all those remaining in my group to achieve the receipt of this much desired badge of accomplishment. From the original thirty five men who had begun their training in my group there were only eighteen of us left who had passed all the exams, tests and assessments and who had achieved their desired status as a pilot. For those who had, for some reason or other, not passed exams or were not considered capable of becoming pilots, it had been a return to Nova Scotia where they’re trained as navigators or bomb aimers or for some it had been back to England. I marched my proud little group into the parade ground and we stood to attention before the Commanding Officer - a Wing Commander Ball and I can envisage his face today as he called us out individually and I remember the pride I felt as it was my turn to stand before him and have this wonderful badge of triumph pinned to my uniform. I imagined the pride I would have when showing these wings to my mother who had been quite convinced that I would never reach this status. I had been so determined to become a pilot and now I had scaled those heights and difficult days to reach my goal. The euphoria of getting my wings was quite short lived, for a few days later I was summoned before Wing Commander Ball once again, this time to learn of my rank. I felt confident that I had been an asset to the course with my leadership skills and my position as ‘section leader’ and beating the school record for going solo. 54 The interview did not go as I had hoped, I thought it would be just a matter of “Congratulations Hookings” and the presentation of my Commission but, unfortunately Wing Co. Ball spoke to me about my education and concentrated upon the fact that I had left school and my basic education at the age of only fourteen years of age and, because of that, in his eyes I was not his type for officer material ! I was given the rank of Flight Sergeant which to me was most demoralising. The time came for us to eventually all say our Goodbye’s and, although very sad, I was pleased to be going back to England for, having volunteered for Bomber Command, I was anxious to complete my training back in the UK. This meant I would either be flying twin or multi engined planes. We boarded the train for Monkton in happy spirits, loaded with gifts for our families and girlfriends, but for me it was a heavily laden chap who had two kit bags full of food for Mum, Dad and my family to enjoy. Two days later we arrived in Monkton, Nova Scotia to be told that we were awaiting shipment but that could take up to three weeks before embarkation came. I was free of all training and school work and felt this would be my last chance to really let my hair down and enjoy the beauty of Nova Scotia. I visited the local beauty spots but my one outstanding memory is that of the local ice cream parlor where my pals and I devoured large quantities of such delights as knickerbocker glory’s dished up in huge glasses and topped with tropical fruits all served by a young lady I shall never forget. It was Gladys, who always saw that my ice cream was the biggest, had the most cream, Wafers and fruits and all served to just me with a beautiful smile. We got along famously and I was even invited to her wedding bit, I could not attend for very soon we were told of our intended departure from the United States. 55 Since joining the Royal Air Force I had enjoyed all the trappings of luxury, from the Grand Hotel in Brighton, to the luxury flats in Regents Park and the opulence of the transatlantic trip aboard the Queen Mary and I hoped we would be returning home in the same manner. We were notified of our sailing from Halifax but, to my horror came instructions that we were only allowed to take one kit bag on board. - What could I do with all the goodies that I had saved ? I did not want to disappoint my family and so the ‘Hookings enterprise’ had to come to the fore and I set about sewing two kit bags together - making one VERY large one, which I filled with tins of del Monte fruit for mother, tins of ham for Dennis, silk stockings for Barbara and for Joan, the girl next door and the love of my life, perfume and luscious lipsticks ! In fact any goods I could carry or squeeze into that gigantic double kit back which were completely unobtainable in the U K. The luxury liner to take us home ? Was it to be those so comfortable beds aboard the Queen Mary ? We all hoped so for we had become very accustomed to the good life and had come to expect the best and now - now that we were fully trained pilots we all felt sure we would be treated in the grand style and well respected. We duly arrived in Halifax, Nova Scotia and loaded to the gunnels lugging my double kitbag I, along with all my fellow group and many more men from other training stations set off for the docks. 56 Chapter Eighteen Back to dear old Blighty We arrived and frantically searched the docks for sight of that beautiful liner, the Queen Mary but there was nothing but an old French rust bucket, the Louis Pasteur, that was looking very much the worse for wear. This could not be it we all thought. She will never make it across the Atlantic. Officialdom could not have been so thoughtless as to spend all that money on training us to perfection only to let us sink in mid Atlantic ! It seemed my luck had run out at last and to cries of “All Aboard” we climbed the gangplank with our hearts in our boots and queued up to (as we expected) be allocated our cabins. “Officers this way please sirs” came the cry “All other ranks to the front of the ship” Front of the ship ? Where was my cabin ? It was at this moment my feeling of intense dislike toward Wing Co Ball rose into my throat - he had not given me my commission and I was just another ‘oike’ in the general melee of serving men. It was hard to accept. A steward passed me and I asked him to direct me to my cabin - “Cabin mate ? There ain’t any cabins for you, so you better get moving so you can grab yourself a hammock I climbed down into the bilges of this detestable vessel and found a large area with hammocks strung across strategic points, most of which had already been claimed. There were no portholes for we were well below the water line, the air was stale and I had nowhere to stow my precious cargo. “ Move along there” came the cry “We are sailing” I looked around in despair. A hammock for me ? Just how stupid could that be ? I could not get in to it and when eventually I did manage it - I fell out ! I hated it, I was sea sick and I just wanted to get back to Blighty or go back to Ponca City. 57 The crossing was dreadful, the weather was bad, I was very seasick, we were not allowed on deck, time dragged and the journey seemed endless. For safety and confusion to the enemy we did not sail straight across the Atlantic but instead zig zagged across making the journey all that much longer. There were several scary moments when hatches were battened down and we were told there were U boats lying in wait in the vicinity. The Louis Pasteur had no escort and we knew that if we were hit there would have been very little chance of survival. It was very frightening and I came to realise how lucky I was to have been put ’on standby’ by the Royal Navy when I had applied in 1940, for I would never have made a good sailor. It was going to be so much easier being a pilot - or so I thought ! It took us five long days and nights to get back to England and the relief we all felt after being cooped up in that God awful ship was heartfelt when we were told that we were docking in Liverpool. We hastily gathered our possessions and we were told to prepare to disembark and go through customs. CUSTOMS ? I had not given a thought to customs. What on earth could I do with a double kitbag filled with what would be considered contraband ! I would be locked up, demoted, or even worse have all my goodies confiscated. What was I to do ? We left the ship - albeit thankfully and queued to go through the custom shed. It was glorious to set foot back in England but the accents of the dock workers left me quite flummoxed, I had not heard the Liverpudlian accent before and I wondered if I could explain myself and be understood by them ? 58 I need not have worried, the time came for me to go through and declare all my kitbag contents and I approached a cheery chap who greeted me with “Hello, Have you had a good crossing? “No,” I replied “ It was rough and I fell out of my hammock” “Sorry about that” he said “Have you got anything to declare ?” I had to come clean and I told him of the things I had things for my mum, dad and sister. “Oh ! They will be pleased” he said as he waived me through “Enjoy your leave” I had done it. I was going home and I had my precious cargo still intact, Whoopee ! I lugged my heavy kitbag to the office that had been specially set aside for us and I collected my leave pass and my train ticket to Kings Cross and Euston. And after saying fond farewells to all my pals and promising to keep in touch, I set off for the station and home. The welcome I received was overwhelming and the gifts I bore just knocked them all sideways, the food for mother and father who was still working for Phillip Mills, the paper recyclers, the lipsticks for Barbara were so appreciated and the special gifts of stockings for Joan were welcomed with more than open arms ! Dennis had joined the Royal Air Force during my absence and was stationed in Cornwall, but he managed to get a spot of leave and we all celebrated in style. Here I was at last a fully-fledged pilot in spite of mother’s doubts, she was so proud of me that one day during my leave, she asked me to meet her from ‘work’ to take her shopping. She had a job in the local munitions factory situated in Lombard Road, SW19 . When the girls all came out of the factory and saw me complete with a full set of ‘wings’ they were so surprised, but the look of pride on my mother’s face was enough to make me realise just how much she really cared about me. 59 I thoroughly enjoyed my leave, I met up with lots of my old prewar pals who, like me had ‘joined up’ into various armed services but who were either married or had steady girlfriends. Here I was, twenty three years old, due to go onto operations from which who knew what would happen and I did not really have a ‘steady’ girlfriend, I just loved them all. I had the girl next door to my parents -Joan - Joan was beautiful, very sophisticated with a superb figure and who, in spite of the clothing shortages always looked so smart - I loved her dearly. We went walking, to the cinema, dancing and did all the things that girls and boys did in those days but, everything stopped at that ‘goodnight kiss on the doorstep’ Joan was very correct ! There was one thing that I never did and that was to introduce Joan to my friends - she was so special to me that I feared that I would lose her to one of them. Joan and I had been walking out together for some time and I realised that we should make some sort of commitment so, at Christmas I asked her to marry me and we became engaged. I bought her a ring and we had a shindig to celebrate with our families at the Park Farm Club in Cheam, and danced the night away . I knew that before long I would receive my posting to an aerodrome in the UK where I would amongst other things learn to fly heavier ‘planes, adapt to night flying in the UK and to learn to fly ’blind’, that is totally using your instruments. 60 Chapter nineteen. Posted in the United Kingdom I knew that my mothers work was hard, dirty and dangerous but I was not prepared for the nasty accident that occurred whilst I was on leave. She caught her hand in a machine and was badly injured and totally incapacitated, having to go into hospital for surgery. I was the only one at home, Dad having to go off to work all day along with Barbara and Dennis having to return to his post as an aircraft fitter so it was obvious that I was the one to look after mother. Naturally - or ‘Sod’s Law ’ as I called it, my posting came through at this time - it was to Banff in Scotland. I did not appreciate that one iota, all those mountains, valleys and mists and me just a sprog pilot to boot. I reported to the C.O. and explained my home situation and to my relief I was rerouted a week later to South Cerney in the beautiful Cotswolds. With mother recovering off I went to Oxfordshire, looking forward to discovering England from the air, but it was straight back to school for me where for several weeks I learned aircraft recognition, weather situations and how to fly in them, night flying and the dreaded - blind flying. Eventually it was back to flying and I was in love and it was not just with Joan, but with the twin engined ’ Oxford’ aeroplane. The Oxford was a neat, compact little ‘plane that was easy to handle and I got along famously. I learned to ‘blind fly’ using only instruments, more navigation and aircraft recognition I passed all my exams on twin engined ‘planes and awaited my posting to operational combat, but this was not to be, for I was posted to RAF Maddingley in Herefordshire where I flew the DE Havilland Rapide - another twin engined ‘plane that I enjoyed immensely. 61 My duties involved teaching other personnel to become crew members, there were wireless operators, navigators, gunners, bomb aimers and engineers all of whom, although they had completed their basic training, had never flown before. Their reactions varied from delight to sheer terror. I also regularly flew aircrew and other personnel up and down the country where they were to attend meetings of the War Office My social life was hectic, the uniform attracted the girls and I was in heaven. In the United States I had learned to jive and to jitterbug so I was in great demand - pure bliss ! In the local pub I had befriended a Mr. and Mrs. James, local farmers who invited me to stay with them occasionally whilst off duty. They had cows, horses, sheep poultry and a large orchard - the fresh air was nectar and their hospitality extreme. One point of issue upon which Mr. James insisted was that I never went near his prize bull, a massive beast that he kept for breeding. It looked continually angry and there was really no need for Mr. James warning, I avoided it like the plague. There were many land army girls working upon farms in the area and one in particular took a shine to me. She worked on the farm that was at the end of the runway and whenever I took off she would be there waving to me and blowing me kisses. Food was plentiful on the farm and she supplied me with continuing gifts of pork, bacon and butter which I duly carefully packed and sent home to my family who were always hungry in war torn London. The precious eggs that she gave me were stored gently packed and then taken home with me on weekend passes. At the time I did not realise just how glad of this extra food my parents were. My rank of Flight Sergeant, stood me in good stead for better accommodation, access to the sergeants mess and improved food, it also gave me a lot more responsibility which, on one occasion I regret I abused ! 62 We regularly visited Hereford where we would attend en masse the dance halls, the station provided us with transport for these visits which consisted of an old ‘Dennis’ ‘bus which had a six foot overhang from the back wheels. It was a rickety old 1930’s banger but it carried us back and forth to our nights out without many mishaps. One particular Saturday night Flight Sergeant Hookings, who did not usually drink alcohol , for as I have said, one sniff of the barmaid’s apron would render him unconscious - decided to imbibe rather copiously. All was well until it was time to go home where, being the most senior rank I was in charge of ensuring all those personnel who got on the bus at the station and off at the dance hall did the same in reverse to come home. The ‘bus started off before I had chance to count heads and as I was standing up at the time the sudden jerk and lurch of the old bus shot me from one side to the other and my elbow went clean through one of the windows. There was glass everywhere much to the amusement of my charges. Had I been sober no doubt I would have been more steady but the result of my overindulgence meant that I was called up before the Commanding Officer next day where I was severely reprimanded and told that with my rank I should set an example to other ranks. Expecting worse to come I was greatly relieved when he said that because I was doing so well with my flying, there would be no withholdings. I had hoped to be placed in operational aerodromes but neither South Cerney nor Maddingley were so and my duties consisted of transporting Military Personnel all over Great Britain as well as training air crew. 63 Chapter Twenty Promotion In March 1944 I was promoted to Pilot Officer and I was transferred to Buntingthorpe an Operational Training Unit and it was here that I converted to two engined Wellington Bombers and where I formed my own aircrew and where, as a team, we trained qualified and became a skilled bomb raiding team. The Wellington Bomber was a medium sized two engined ‘plane, made by Vickers factory that was only a few miles from my home and for the next eight weeks we as a team learned to handle a ‘plane with a bomb load. We flew out to the Wash in the north sea where we learned to bomb aim under dual instruction until after four weeks we were on our own. My team consisted of five sergeants - Ron Walters my bomb aimer, Ron was 21, very smart, with a moustache and a great big smile. Butch Crony who was 23, Butch had a very dry sense of humour, he knew his job so well. He was my Navigator. Rex Temperman from Tasmania was my Radio Operator, Rex was 26 and smoked like a chimney. The two gunners were Alex Norris and Ted ‘Timber’ Woods. Alex was the rear gunner and Timber was the upper gunner, two great and very funny Midland lads. We shared and so enjoyed each other’s company in those planes where we became a big happy family. At weekends I would manage to get the occasional pass and would rush down to London to take Joan dancing at Park Farm Club but, I must admit that I enjoyed female company so much that during the week whenever I had the chance I would be visiting the local ‘hop’ and made good friends with many a local beauty. One day my sister Barbara came to the base to see me, she brought with her a girlfriend - Mary who I found to be good company and a good dancer. 64 As our training to fly Wellingtons went from strength to strength I became very much aware that ’blind flying’ was not so easy for I did not care to have to rely totally upon instruments to fly, it was natural for the mind to take control and to believe that you were right and the instruments at fault. One day that actually happened and I lost control of the ‘plane but, luck was on my side and I broke through the cloud only to find we were flying at a rather undesirable angle. I had instructed the crew to ‘belt up’ for we were going to really try some blind flying. We dived in and out of clouds and ’played around’ for about half an hour going across country and I really had a good feeling of confidence then, I found a real heavy cumulus cloud which meant plenty of turbulence and flew straight in. I quickly discovered that I was really no good at blind flying and became extremely worried as to where I was. The crew became very quiet and I felt that I had lost complete control. The answer was to tell the crew to bale out and, as I was about to do just that, I found a clear area. It had been a nerve racking experience. However the opportunity to fly those wonderful Wellington bombers was brilliant for us all, we dropped 14 lb. practice bombs in the Wash and I am pleased to say we had pretty good results, mainly because we worked so well as a team Our next posting was to RAF Wigston in Leicestershire, which was an Operational Conversion Unit and what a shock it was for me to see the great lumbering Stirling four engined bombers. They were so high up from the ground and looked to me to be a gigantic challenge. It was back to school once again for all of us, where we were to confront the liabilities of this great monster. An engineer joined us here - a crew member we had not needed in previous ‘planes his name was Sergeant John Tate who was to become the most important man in my life in 1944 ! 65 As with every conversion especially transferring from a twin to a multi engined ’plane, a lot more individual attention and concentration was required especially when ‘taxiing’. This necessitated moving the nose of the plane from side to side to do which, we had to use just two of the engines. Our training here was individual, I concentrated upon flying, John upon the engines, Butch upon the new navigation system, Rex upon the radio equipment, Ron upon bomb aiming and the two gunners Timber and Alec concentrated upon target practice. This training school was considered to be capable of bringing us up to full operational standards. Having experienced quite a few trips with my flying instructor who in his wisdom decided that I was ready for my first solo, the crew and I were more than thankful when that day arrived. When flying the Stirling along with the instructor, it was he who assisted with the throttle control and lifting the undercarriage but, to fly solo it was up to John to undertake these duties for the very first time which at the age of 19 was a huge responsibility. We HAD to all work as a very close team . Normally the first solo would involve only one circuit of the airfield with the instructor standing by the control tower watching your every move carefully and confirming that he had made the right decision in letting you all go solo ! Progressing through the course we were to spend a lot of time cross country night flying with ‘blind flying’ through cloud. All of which was to prove invaluable in the tasks that lay ahead of us. 66 The dangers of flying at night could involve the highly perilous position of being caught within the beams of a searchlight. If this happened to be the ‘master beam’ the pilot would become blinded instantly for this ‘blue beam‘ was of such brilliance that nothing outside the ‘plane or your instruments inside were visible. To practice this experience we became involved with the Army in Bristol. The severity of the blue beam and the dangers even on a training exercise necessitated us having a special code that informed them of any dangers we were in whilst being caught in that dreaded beam. On my practice run, I admit I was ill prepared for the strength of that searchlight’s shaft of light but I had been trained and knew what I should do. I maneuvered, dived, turned, flew into the beam rather than away from it as I had been taught stood me in good stead of getting out rather than becoming more subjected to more dangers. But, I was trapped and I realised that we were all in great jeopardy. I knew that I had to issue instructions to Rex, my wireless operator for there was no way I could get out of that light. However, just as I was about to switch on the intercom to Rex, the Army must have realised that I was in difficulty and switched off the beam. Even when that light was switched off I was still blinded and it took me quite a few seconds to straighten up and fly right ! Upon landing we left the ‘plane and stood in the airfield having a chat and for those who did so - a smoke. “ Skipper - what the heck happened there ?” was the general question. “We were thrown about - worse than being on boat in a stormy sea, were we in danger ?“ How could I admit that we really were, but this had just been practice …. What would I do if it was the real thing ? I was becoming very aware of the hazardous risks that were out there. 67 Chapter twenty one Having left Wisley in Leicestershire with the experience of flying a four engine ‘plane, we were posted to Scampton in Lincolnshire where we were to ’convert’ onto Lancaster’s and eventually to operations. Our squadron was to be 619 which was alongside 617 Squadron now famed for the Dambusters raid and the sinking of the Tirpitz. Our conversion onto the Lancaster was pretty quick and before long I was enjoying being in control of that monster. An important factor was to be au fey with take offs and landings for the Lancaster was a much lighter ’plane than the Stirling bomber had been. The landing of a Stirling was a matter of dropping it onto the runway whereas the Lancaster enjoyed ‘floating’ down. A part of our training was practice bombing, which took place over the Wash - far more interesting for the crew as they were able to participate rather than just being involved with taking off and landing. Weather played a most important part of what we did or did not do and on one particular windy day with a cross wind blowing I became aware as I approached the runway that I faced a difficult landing. I realised that I would not make it on that first approach and at a height of about twenty feet I shouted “Overshoot”. This command to the crew meant for one thing that the engineer had to hold the throttles in place whilst I held the aircraft steady. Continuing down the runway ready to take her round again and having reached the required height I called to John the engineer “ Wheels up” 68 “Skipper” came the reply “They are already up !” When I heard that I realized what a narrow escape we had for if we had landed with no wheels down sparks certainly would have flown ! Over the intercom came the voice of the Squadron Commander “Hookings I want you to go to the satellite ’drome, land and report back to me” Having carried out his instructions to perfection I knocked on the door of his office hoping that he would praise me for my skills in holding the aircraft steady. That was not to be, for his concerns were the fact that we were only inches from the ground with no undercarriage down. “ Why did you give instructions to pull up the undercarriage ?” he queried. “No sir I did not, it was just a misunderstanding between pilot and engineer” I explained. His reply was sarcastic “ We lose enough ‘planes over Germany Hookings and we don’t need your help to lose more over here ! Now go away, concentrate upon your training and make sure it does not happen again” Duly reprimanded I did just that and never was so inattentive again. My private life however was very good for there were far more occasions to socialise with the local girls at the village hops and occasionally my sister Barbara and her friend Mary would come to see me again, staying at the parents home of a Naval friend of mine - Tony Rasketts. 69 In August 1944 we were transferred to RAF Strubby in Lincolnshire, to join an operational squadron. Strubby was five miles west of Maplethorpe and our squadron was 619. I found squadron life to be entirely different from that of any previous training. I was amongst experienced crews who had flown many missions and I felt very much the new boy with a lot to learn. In training you saw the same faces almost without fail, but within a squadron it became commonplace to realise a pal was missing or there were those dreaded empty spaces at the breakfast table. I realized that one day it could be my turn and I reflected death or injury. In fact gave instructions to John my engineer that if I was ever injured whilst at the controls, he was to inject me with the morphine that was always carried in the survival kits, for I was the only person who would be able to fly that ‘plane. My only other alternative would have been to order the crew to bail out. Never in my wildest imaginings did I contemplate what was to happen to Eric Hookings ! After the first couple of weeks I settled into squadron life. Although not committed to operations as such, we as a crew were directed to the bombing range on the east coast of England to practice, practice and then practice. As a crew we became a very happy bunch who were contented with our results but for me, I was so looking forward to going on my first operation as second ‘dickey’ or copilot. The one incident that remains so clearly in my memory was one of the days we spent practicing low flying over the Wash, off the coast of Lincolnshire. 70 We had been directed to fly our Lancaster’s whilst overland, at a height no lower than 1,000 feet but the sea gave us our opportunity to low fly. On this one occasion whilst at a very low height I had a call from my rear gunner Alec “ Skipper - we are a Lancaster bomber - not a bloody submarine, take her up for God’s sake ” as I started to pull up I realized that my tail had been only about twenty feet from the waves. Now that was low flying! 71 Chapter twenty two… There was no doubt in that we were a very happy crew working together in good harmony, with lots of fun and laughter. However, our objectives were recognized as being very serious and our lives were dedicated to practice, practice and then more practicing. How to handle an emergency should one arise was imperative. We were taught what to do if we were (for whatever reason) forced down into the sea. We trained on how we would leave the aircraft and get into the large dinghy that was on board, then to send out that signal upon which our lives could depend. The other actions we practiced so many times was how to leave the aircraft if, God forbid that we had to bail out over land. We were told that if there was a fire in the engines or cockpit it was the duty of the engineer, John Tate to press the gravimeter or fire extinguisher button, for my actions were to ensure the fuel supply system was turned off and the plane put into a dive that we hoped would extinguish any fire. As anxious as we all were to commence operations it was crucial for me to gain further experience and I was ordered to act as second pilot on a bombing raid before taking charge of any operations with my own crew. I was summoned to a briefing, introduced to the crew and informed that the ‘target for tonight’ would be the Bergen submarine pens in Norway. The actual briefing covered the types of bombs we would have onboard, target indicators and their special color significance and the importance of knowing which color flares would indicate the enemy and not our own forces. Navigation aids and the weather was also of such importance to us all. 72 We taxied out and, for the first time I actually was in control of taking off the mighty Lancaster with her full load of bombs on board. What an experience it was and I heaved a sigh of relief when I completed it successfully. The crossing of the North sea was uneventful, we saw no enemy aircraft and the weather was kind but, problems arose when we arrived in the target area. The weather had closed in and with the cloud base at 9/10ths the master bomber was unable to drop the target indicator flares. After circling the area for 30 minutes we were directed to abort the operations and we headed for home. I was sad that we were unable to fulfill our intentions but my concentration was brought sharply into focus when, on our way back across the North sea we ran into a severe electrical storm which was more than a little disconcerting, with lightning flashing across the aircraft which still had the full bomb load. We eventually crossed the coast only to be told that, due to bad weather we would not be able to land at our own base ! We were transferred to a nonoperational base further up the east coast where the weather was clear. Here I was, not only having to try to land with this full bomb load, but also to have to land onto a strange airfield ! It was my good fortune that on this occasion I had with me the full assistance of the experienced pilot and, between us we managed to get her down. Thankfully all the ‘planes on this sortie also landed safely and it was a relieved bunch of boys that went into the mess for our eagerly awaited bacon and eggs, followed by a good sleep. 73. We awoke next morning to good weather and, as our base was only twenty flying minutes away, we were eager to get going. We each arrived at our individual aircraft only to find to our utter horror some ‘nonoperational based officer’ had given instruction to ground staff to fill our fuel tanks to the top !!! This resulted in us all not only having to embark on the difficult take off with full tanks and bomb loads but, we were also unable to land at our home base due to the all up weight of those fuel tanks and bombs. We were ordered to fly out over the sea and drop our bomb load ! What a waste ! So, we flew out, bombed the North sea and flew back to home base ! What I had been up to with the crew of another ‘plane was of great interest to my crew and they were anxious to discover if I had any contact with the enemy ? It was September 1944 and we were soon making preparations for our own first raid as a full crew and that call appeared on the Daily Record board, a few days later. We were summoned to the briefing room and told that our target was to be Dusseldorf and our squadron 619, would be in the first wave. We now put into practice all our training routines, weather, type of bomb load, flares etc. and eventually went to our messes, they to the sergeants and me to the officer’s mess for our bacon and eggs. Assembling at our respective dispersal point, complete with parachutes we awaited the transport to our Lancaster bomber and I suddenly became most apprehensive. It had arrived, I was there, this was it, my ’plane was waiting to be boarded, I was in charge of this ’planes mission and I was responsible for the lives of those six brave boys. 74 I signed the 700, which was the logbook pertaining to the mechanics of Aircraft, confirming all was in order and we boarded, went to our fixed positions and commenced our checklists. I started the engines, carried out cross checks and proceeded to taxi out. Eventually, after what seemed a lifetime I saw the green light from the Aldus lamp giving me the all clear for takeoff. It was an emotional Eric Hookings that roared down that runway at Strubby, I was fully aware of what I had to do and of my responsibilities but after takeoff and once I got to 2,000 feet I settled down and accepted my fate. As we crossed the English channel we - as was the normal practice - tested our guns, the navigator Butch Croney set our course and we joined into the main force of over 900 bombers. There were no enemy ‘planes on our outward bound flight but, our concern was collision, for there were so many of us and the danger was in the slightest touch of a wing that would spell disaster. All the crew was on intensive ob’s for this and at one time the shout from the mid upper gunner Timber Woods “Skipper, watch out there’s one right above us” brought us to the reality of close formation flying. We neared our intended target and I could see nothing! No action from any other ‘planes, no flares, no fires and I wondered if we really were on the right course. Butch reassured me that we were and reportedly told me we were in the target area and I consequently ordered the bomb doors to be opened. Ron Walters, the bomb aimer made his way to the bomb sights and within a few moments the whole scenario changed. 75 Searchlights beamed up at us, heavy flack was everywhere and we were in the thick of it. Ron gave me the directives “Left skipper” or “Steady” or “Right” It was my duty to keep the ‘plane as steady as I possibly could so that he could line up his sights onto the target. Ron’s cry of “Bombs away” was a relief to us all and it immediately became my urgent duty to get our craft out of the danger area as soon as possible for there were a great number of ‘planes behind me with sights set on the same target and I had to get out of their way. This I did by putting the ‘plane into a very steep downward turn which gave me the maximum speed to get away from the target. In view of the amount of flack which we encountered, my first responsibility was to check that the crew were all OK. I knew that we had been hit, but where and how serious was it ? All reported back that they were safe and we set our course for home. We landed at Strubby in the early hours of the morning, a very happy and relieved crew. We had completed our first mission successfully and our delight was increased tenfold later by learning that we had hit the target - the marshalling yards in Dusseldorf. As we left the ‘plane we became aware of the fact that we had been damaged, there were shrapnel holes all over the ‘plane and, amazed at the damage that been incurred and we thanked God for our safe return. 76 “Gardening Raids” were so called because we undertook such tasks as ‘planting’ mines and attacking enemy shipping. It was on one such raid that, after briefing, we prepared for takeoff and having checked with the crew that all was well I proceeded down the runway on full power. The tail was up, giving me full control of the rudders and as we approached lift off speed, the port outer engine lost its power, causing the aircraft to veer off the runway at an angle of 45 degrees. A quick decision was called for and I immediately pulled back the column and issued instructions to the crew to get to the rear of the ‘plane as the nose of the Lancaster was trying to bury itself into the ground! Fortunately that ground was soft from earlier rain but nevertheless we were sinking into the mud as we headed toward the watchtower. Our aborted takeoff had left a very muddy Lancaster, a deeply furrowed airfield and a badly shaken crew ! I was more than a little pleased to find out that our next raid was to be in daylight and even more pleasing was the fact that we were to have fighter escorts The target was Meebeck ( Homberg) oil installation depot. It was a pleasure to be able to see where we were going instead of flying by instruments and the feeling of protection afforded by our fighters was reassuring, we almost enjoyed the flight ! Reaching the target however was a different scenario especially when we were greeted by flack which became very severe and we appreciated the knowledge that those fighter boys were always in the background warding off aerial attacks. Of the 18 Lancaster’s from 619 squadron that set off upon this raid only seventeen returned to base, the missing ‘plane made it back as far as Woodbridge in Suffolk but crash landed killing the entire crew. 77 Having completed several missions we settled down to a working routine. Never complacent we had complete faith and trust in each other and became a ‘happy family’ always looking out for each other. Off base we could mix socially and many times we jumped aboard the camp bus for a night out in Skegness where I in particular could really enjoy the dance floors. Having become a jitterbug champion in Bedford (flying a plane was not all that I learned in Oklahoma) I was quite popular with the girls and could hold my own against any GI challengers. Saturday November 4th 1944 a crowd of us from 619 Squadron were enjoying ourselves in one of the dancehalls in Skegness when a particularly attractive young lady who was an excellent dancer caught my eye. I asked her to dance and could not let her go for she was as light as a feather and a joy to partner. We got along famously, she had a good sense of humor, told me she worked in Boots the chemist and later even escorted me to the ‘bus back to camp. We all had to leave sharply on time for we were all on standby for missions from the next day. Having all had such a good evening out, we were loath to leave but duty called. As I gave her a goodnight kiss, I asked if I could see her again to which she replied “ Eric - I would love to see you again but, I have a bad record, for every flyer that I have arranged to see again, never comes back !” I laughed and assured her that it would never happen to me…………………
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Eric Hookings's life story book 1
Description
An account of the resource
From birth in 1920 until operational pilot in 1944. Covers early life in Battersea and Morden in London, family life, school and first jobs after leaving school at 14 years old. Describes family experiences at beginning of the war volunteering for Navy at first and the the RAF. Describes initial training at Uxbridge and Blackpool and duties at his first postings to Nottingham and RAF Newton. Mentions that his parents were bombed out in London but survived. Describes volunteering for aircrew and passing exams at second attempt. Covers initial aviation training at Stratford-upon-Avon and Heaton Park (Manchester). Posted to United States for flying training. Describes journey across the Atlantic to Canada then on to Ponca City Oklahoma where he trained on PT-17 Stearman and Harvard. Covers journey home and training on Oxfords at RAF South Cerney and at OTU on Wellington at Bruntingthorpe where he also started to crew up. Continues with training on Stirling at RAF Wigston and eventual to RAF Scampton for conversion to Lancaster. Joins 619 Squadron at goes to RAF Strubby from where he flies his first operations, which he describes in detail, gardening and to Germany to attack Homburg.
Creator
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E Hookings
Format
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Seventy-one page printed document
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
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BHookingsEWHookingsEWv1
Coverage
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Civilian
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--London
England--Middlesex
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Nottingham
England--Warwickshire
England--Stratford-upon-Avon
England--Manchester
Canada
Ontario--Toronto
Québec--Montréal
United States
Oklahoma
Oklahoma--Ponca City
England--Gloucestershire
England--Leicestershire
England--Lincolnshire
Germany
Germany--Homburg (Saarland)
Ontario
Québec
Temporal Coverage
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1920
1939
1944
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
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David Bloomfield
6 BFTS
619 Squadron
aircrew
Battle
bombing
British Flying Training School Program
crewing up
Flying Training School
Harvard
Initial Training Wing
Lancaster
love and romance
mine laying
Oxford
pilot
RAF Bruntingthorpe
RAF Heaton Park
RAF Newton
RAF Scampton
RAF South Cerney
RAF Strubby
RAF Uxbridge
Stearman
Stirling
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2047/33328/ABiltonGHA960623-0001.1.pdf
68edbe099b5e26f2922404b2fb056c11
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2047/33328/ABiltonGHA960623.1.mp3
3f3f5cac621761fcd3088cee74a5d0fd
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Bilton, George Henry Albert
G H A Bilton
Description
An account of the resource
Nineteen items. The collection concerns George Henry Albert Bilton (b. 1923, 175723 Royal Air Force) and contains an oral history interview, his log book, correspondence and photographs. He flew operations as a flight engineer with 428 and 434 Squadron.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Anthony Bilton and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2018-09-14
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Bilton, GHA
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[Music]
I: Were you born in Hull?
GB: Well, outside of Hull at Anlaby.
I: Which year were you born?
GB: 1923. October.
I: And what did your father do for a living?
GB: He was a coach builder for, well it’s now British Railway but first of all Hull and Barnsley. Then it was taken over by the London Northeastern and he built the coaches and the waggons. He was with them all his life.
I: Did you go to school in Anlaby?
GB: Anlaby Church of England School. And then the last two years I was at Hessle School when they closed the Church of England one down. I left school 1938.
I: So you were fourteen.
GB: Fourteen. Yeah.
I: Did you get a job?
GB: Yes. I went and got a job as an apprentice furniture salesman.
I: In Hull.
GB: In Hull. At Harry Jacobs Furniture.
I: Were you doing that when war broke out?
GB: Oh, I was still with them when war broke out. I was with them until I went into the Forces in 1942.
I: What was your reaction when you heard Chamberlain make the declaration that we were at war with Germany?
GB: Well, I think it was a bit too young and didn’t know anything about it but I volunteered for an ARP messenger boy and I was accepted and that kept us busy on a night time. Even with practices.
I: Where did you volunteer for it?
GB: Anlaby House which became the Central Headquarters for the ARP in Haltemprice. It is now the headquarters of Beverley Borough Council. The same house.
I: What kind of work did you have to do as an ARP messenger boy?
GB: Well, if any of the telephone lines were broken in a raid we had to go out and take messages from one post to another.
I: By foot?
GB: No. On our bikes.
I: Did you have a uniform?
GB: No. Just a steel helmet and an extra special gas mask. That’s all.
I: What was extra special about it?
GB: Well, it was more like the Services one. Not like the ordinary civilian gas mask.
I: What was the difference between the two?
GB: Well, it was heavier and, well and you just, you didn’t have the mask at the face. You had a small canister at the side.
I: So you didn’t have the protuberance.
GB: No. That’s right.
I: Did you have an arm band to show who you were?
GB: Yes. ARP messenger, that was all and the steel helmet with M on.
I: What did M mean? For messenger.
GB: For messenger.
I: Did you get paid for it?
GB: No. It was all voluntary. No. Nothing at all. You, you, when the sirens went you reported to Anlaby House and you stayed there until the siren all clear and then you went back home.
I: Whereabouts did you do this work?
GB: In Anlaby. The farthest we ever had to bring a message was from Anlaby to Cottingham when the lines were down.
I: Did you enjoy doing it?
GB: Oh yes. I did.
I: Could you have thrown it up any time you liked?
GB: Any time you wanted you could decide to finish and that was it.
I: Was there competition to get these jobs?
GB: Well, there was about four of us and that’s all they needed. They all went in the Forces and of the four there was one killed.
I: How did that happen?
[pause]
GB: It was a lad called John Harding. He was killed in Italy about a month after the war. He went all through the desert, all through Italy and he was killed about a month after the war moving shells from the artillery.
I: Were there any incidents that happened to you after you had done the messenger work?
GB: Not really.
I: That you can recount.
GB: No, there was, it was very very quiet in the area of Haltemprice. All the damage that was done was done in Hull. I think we had what five bombs dropped in the village of Anlaby and they were unexploded.
I: Whereabouts did they drop?
GB: At the, two or three hundred yards from Anlaby House down Woodlands Drive in a snicket.
I: A snicket being a cut through.
GB: A cut through. Yes. They did no damage. The Army came, found them and exploded them.
I: Was anybody injured?
GB: No. There was no injuries whatsoever.
I: When did the bombs drop on Anlaby? Which year would that have been?
GB: That was in the big raid of 1940. May the 8th 1941.
I: ’41. Any others that you remember that dropped in Anlaby?
GB: None at all. There was only the five.
I: Did you ever see the damage in Hull?
GB: Yes. I used to work in Hull. The place where I was employed in Jameson Street was completely gutted during the 1941 raid.
I: What was the name again?
GB: Harry Jacobs Furniture, Jameson Street.
I: What else did you see of the damage in Hull?
GB: All of Jameson Street were moved. Our offices were down Osbourne Street and that was severely damaged. You could see all of Paragon Square which was Hammonds at the time was gutted. There was a terrific amount of damage done and especially in the Stoneferry District where the oil mills were and the flour mills around it.
I: Did people come out of Hull to Anlaby to get away from the bombing?
GB: Yes, they did. They built a camp down Lowfield Road in Anlaby for displaced personnel from the raids and there was one built on Priory Road just outside Cottingham which was taken up by people who had been bombed out. Those two camps after the war housed the young couples who got married and they had no housing. When I got married in ’51 I finished up in one of those converted accommodations for a year before I got a house.
I: What were they like?
GB: Alright.
I: Just describe them.
GB: Well, they were two little bedroom. You had a small bedroom, small living room and there was a small like kitchen for cooking and doing your washing. In Priory Road where the camp is we spent a year in there didn’t we before we came to Cottingham. There were no housing at all and they were in use for about ten years before they were finally closed down.
I: What was the standard of accommodation like?
GB: Poor. Single bricks. Very damp. Corrugated roof.
I: Wasn’t it later used to house Poles?
GB: That’s correct. Yes.
I: Now, can you tell me how you came to be in the Air Force?
GB: I volunteered for air crew in, when I was eighteen in what we called a Selection Board. And I was accepted as a wireless operator air gunner.
I: When you, which year would this have been?
GB: That was 1941. I was eighteen in October ‘41 and I volunteered then and went down for an interview at Padgate. I went through the examinations. Then my medical and then the Aircrew Selection Board and I was accepted for training as a w/op a g.
I: Why did you volunteer for it?
GB: I was, I should have made a very very poor sailor and my father always said, ‘Don’t go in the Army.’ He’d had enough.
I: So you wanted to exercise a choice before you were directed.
GB: Before I was directed.
I: But you were. Did you become a w/op air gunner?
GB: No. There was, they had a tremendous influx of people wanting to be w/op a g’s and I think I’d been waiting about four months to go in and they were short of flight engineers for training so they asked me if I would like to take a test board and become a flight engineer for training. And I accepted that instead of waiting. So I was called up in August ’42. Went to Blackpool. Did my initial training footslogging and I stayed in Blackpool then for about ten months doing a flight mechanic and a fitter’s course. Passed out AC1 flight mechanic and AC1 fitter and I went down to St Athans for six weeks to do the Halifax course and I waited then in August ’43 and I was posted from St Athans up to Number 6 Group, a Heavy Conversion Unit 1664 which was then at Croft and I crewed up with a Canadian and English mixed crew on August 1943.
I: In that training did you run into any problems?
GB: None at all. The only time I got jankers was for failing to carry a bayonet whilst on duty [laughs] and I got seven days CB for it and I swore never again to do any punishment.
I: What happened to you on the CB?
GB: CB? Well, you reported at 6 o’clock after you’d done all your schoolwork for three hours of square bashing. Fifty five minutes square bashing, five minutes off with full kit. Saturday you scrubbed the NAAFI out at Squire’s Gate and it was a huge one. Sunday you reported after Church Parade on the hour every hour until 10 o’clock at night. That was enough. No more. So I kept my shoes clean after that.
I: Did you resent the punishment?
GB: Not really. It taught you to behave yourself.
I: What did you think of the quality of training that you got?
GB: Very good. The instructors were very good. I had no complaints whatsoever against any of the instructors. They were always fair and they helped you whenever. All the way through the course.
I: Were you taught what you had to know or did they miss any?
GB: Well, I think the original entries for flight engineers were given far too much training on engines. You didn’t have to become a fitter to become a flight engineer as they found out later. They shortened the course to about a twelve week course where it took me nearly a year. You didn’t have to be a qualified flight fitter engine to become a flight engineer.
I: What did a flight engineer have to do in a bomber?
GB: Look after chiefly the control of the engines, the petrol consumption, know the hydraulic systems and all the emergencies. Assist in take-off and landing.
I: If the pilot had been hit would you have been able to pilot it?
GB: It would have been a struggle. As a Halifax flight engineer you didn’t have any pilot training. You were never on the controls whereas in a Lancaster you were. You acted as a second pilot for take-off and landing but on a Halifax bomber the bomb aimer assisted in take-off and landing.
I: Now, you said that you were posted to 6 Group. Can you tell me about what 6 Group was?
GB: 6 Group was the Halifax group financed by the Royal Canadian Government. They provided all the aircraft and the crews were mixed. I had three English and four Canadians in the crew. The pilot was, pilot, navigator and the two gunners Canadians. The wireless operator, the bomb aimer and myself were the English members of the crew.
I: How was the crew formed?
GB: Well, I met the crew. They’d done their Operational Training Unit course and they were posted up to Croft and ten crews and ten flight engineers were told, ‘Sort yourselves out.’ And they picked me and I accepted them and I went with them. You weren’t allocated. You weren’t told, ‘You fly with that man.’ Or, ‘You fly with them.’ You were left to individually sort yourself out which crew you wanted to go with. So if you met a sergeant in the mess, you know you knew him and you had a drink or two before you crewed up you went to him.
I: How did you like serving with Canadians?
GB: Oh, they were very good. Very friendly. They didn’t have the bull. The discipline wasn’t as severe on the Canadian group as it was on the English groups.
I: Can you give an example?
GB: Well, I mean you mixed freely with the, when I was an NCO you mixed freely with the two officers. The Canadian officers. No trouble at all calling you by your Christian names.
I: Now, what was your first operational squadron?
GB: My first operational squadron? Well. I lost my first pilot. We went to 427 squadron and Sergeant Dresser went on his second second dickie trip and never came back.
I: 427 was your first.
GB: First squadron at Leeming. So we were a crew without a captain.
I: When did you join that squadron do you think?
GB: We joined 427 Squadron 4th of September and we left on the 23rd of September. We were posted back to 1659 Conversion Unit Topcliffe where there was another pilot waiting for us.
I: So did you do any operations —
GB: None at all.
I: At that base?
GB: No. None whatsoever there. As I say the pilot never came back from his second, second dickie to Frankfurt.
I: So you were posted to a new squadron.
GB: No. A new Conversion Unit for a new pilot. A new pilot by the name of Watkins, a flying officer who had been instructing in Canada for nearly two years. He’d been, come over and we crewed up with him on the 24th of September with Flying Officer Watkins at 1659 Conversion Unit Topcliffe and we went through our month training with him again until the 7th of October ’43 where we were posted to 428 Squadron, Middleton St George.
I: And it was then you started operations.
GB: Operations. Yes. The first operation we did was the 3rd of November.
I: Can you describe what you remember of it?
GB: Very very little. It was Dusseldorf and everything seemed to be on top of you at the first you know. You didn’t take it all in. All I seem to remember is a little bit of flak and the flares going down for target indicators for bombing. Everything happened so fast on your first two or three trips that you hadn’t adjusted to operational flying. I learned more on my second op. We went to Ludwigshafen on the 18th of November.
I: What happened then?
GB: Well, first of all we got coned over the target. We got the master searchlight on us which was a bluey colour and he followed us and we got out of him after a lot of evasive action and as soon as we got out a fighter opened up on us and we got a good hiding. The rear gunner was severely wounded. The IFF that we had was damaged. Monica, which we had was damaged. All the trimming wires for elevator and rudders were cut. We had petrol tank wires cut from one, two and four tanks. All hydraulic pipes were cut. We couldn’t close the bomb doors. They were fully opened. We were in a mess and we got hit about twenty one thousand feet and by the time the pilot got control we were down to fifteen thousand. We had no navigational aids and the navigator brought us back by straight navigation of the Pole Star. We were off track coming back when we crossed over Ostend at fifteen thousand feet and they hit us with everything.
I: They what?
GB: Hit us with everything. They opened up with everything they had and we couldn’t take any evasive action. We just had to go through it.
I: This was the flak.
GB: Yeah. There was flaming onions coming up in between the tail plane and the main plane. It was rough. And then we crossed the coast and we still didn’t know exactly where we were so the skipper called up. The emergency call sign then was Darkie and Woodbridge accepted the call and we did a full emergency landing there.
I: What was the emergency landing like?
GB: It was very rough. We couldn’t get the undercarriage, it came down but I couldn’t lock it down. We tried everything. Put in to a shallow dive, pulling out to see if we could just pulling into a shallow dive, pulling out to see if we could just jerk it that two or three inches to make it lock and we couldn’t do that. We were all in the emergency positions coming in to land and just as they pulled up to do a belly landing it just threw it that little bit forward, the wheels, and they locked. So we were alright. We came out. The rear gunner we, we’d patched him up. We’d pumped morphine into him and he went to Norwich Hospital. We never saw him again. He was very badly wounded in the head. And we spent the night there and then an aircraft flew us back the next morning to our base at Middleton St George.
I: What was the date of that?
GB: 18th of November.
I: And which Halifax was it? What was it called?
GB: NA O-Oboe. We were just off on a night operation at 16.45 on a trip which lasted seven hours and five minutes.
I: Did that put you off wanting to go on operations after that experience?
GB: Not really. We were in operations again on the 26th of November. We took two spare gunners and we went to Stuttgart and we had a reasonable trip. We had no fighter trouble but when we went to a diversionary raid being done on Frankfurt and the Germans had laid what they called you know the fighter flares, the path the Mosquitoes were taking oh and it looked rough. We bypassed it and Stuttgart was quite you know quite a normal trip. A bit of flak. No fighters. But I think that got the confidence of the crew back.
I: When you went on these trips to Stuttgart and Ludwigshafen could you see other planes being hit?
GB: Not on those two. No. I never saw anything anyone shot down over Ludwigshafen, Stuttgart or the first trip Dusseldorf.
I: How did your next operations go?
GB: Well, the next operation was January the 20th 1944, Berlin and that was a rough one.
I: Can you describe it?
GB: Well, at one part the Germans had laid a flare path for fighter flares and they were among the bomber stream and we were going down. You could see the fire from the German aircraft and a small amount coming from our aircraft. The Allied aircraft and then you’d just see a ball of fire and it would hold steady for a minute or two then it would just go in to a dive. That was quite an experience to see it. When we got to Berlin we were in the first wave and the target indicators were a few seconds late and we got caught in predictive flak because we were the first wave. We had no cover from the metal strips. The tin foil that we threw out. It didn’t affect, it didn’t help you it helped the people behind you and we were a little bit off. [pause]
I: Which was the worse? This Berlin one or the Ludwigshafen?
GB: Ludwigshaven. Ludwigshaven was the worst. I mean we got a lot of shell, a lot of holes, a lot of damage. This Berlin it was just that you were in the predicted flak. We didn’t get hit. We didn’t have any fighter trouble. Berlin, Ludwigshafen I’ll never forget it. Never.
I: Was Berlin a particularly dreaded place to go to?
GB: It was, yes. It was such a long, it was such a long stooge. It took us eight hours fifteen minutes. It was very tiring and it was overpowering on the target area because it was so heavily defended. There were so many searchlights. I think on the first one we lost about forty odd aircraft that night.
I: You said which particular Halifax you had. Did you always have the same one?
GB: No. That was Halifax NA U-Uncle on that Berlin trip.
I: Was there any competition to get the best aircraft?
GB: No. It was just what you were allocated. Our pilot later became a flight commander and he took any aircraft. I mean I think we were nearly always in a B flight when we flew aircraft.
I: What does that mean?
GB: Well, you had A flights and B flights.
I: As part of the squadron. To make up the squadron.
GB: The mark up the squadron. Yes. And the A flights were the first half of the alphabet and so the second B was the second half. We were either V-Victor, Q-Queenie, or O-Oboe later on that we flew in.
I: But was there any, ever any feeling that the more senior people were getting the best aircraft?
GB: No. No.
I: Or the best ground crews?
GB: No. The best ground crews were on operational squadrons. I thought so anyhow.
I: But was there any difference between the different ground crews that you had in your squadron?
GB: No. They were all first class. They all did a first-class job. The aircraft were always in good condition. We never turned back from thirty four trips from any trouble whatsoever.
I: What was the next operations that you had to do?
GB: Well, the next two I did were two mine laying stooges. One was to Kiel which was a quiet trip and the other one was down to la Rochelle which was a very long stooge. Eight hours ten minutes. That was the fourth of February ’44. Then we went to Berlin again on the 15th of February.
I: Was mine laying usually a quiet job?
GB: Yes. Well, it was a very hard job because you were by yourself. There would probably be about twenty aircraft you know to lay mines and you were on your own. You had no cover whatsoever. I mean the tin foil that you threw out didn’t help you. It more or less showed the Germans where you were because you were always ahead of the tin foil you were throwing out. There would be about twenty. Probably twenty two twenty three aircraft would go down to La Rochelle and lay two mines a piece. In between the island of la Rochelle and the mainland.
I: Did you ever call those gardening operations?
GB: They are gardening operations. I did the La Rochelle. I did two La Rochelles in February. One on the 4th and one on the 21st and then on the 25th I did a mine laying stooge to Copenhagen Sound.
I: Well, what was your next Berlin operation like? Was it any different from the first?
GB: It was the same as the first. A lot of flak. A lot of fighter activity but we never had an attack. That day, night we were diverted to Shipdham which was an American base and we were there for three days for bad weather. Our base was closed down and we stayed with the Americans. Had their hospitality.
I: What was the date of your second Berlin raid?
GB: 15th of February. We took off in NA Q-Queenie. We took off at 17.20. We were airborne for six hours fifty minutes.
I: What did you fear most over Berlin? Was it the night fighters or the flak?
GB: The night fighters. The flak no. It was the fighters. We were always looking out for fighters. You didn’t want, you didn’t want to battle with them you wanted to get out of their way because the armaments that we had was four 303s were just like peashooters to their cannons if you could see them and get out of their way. That was the main thing.
I: And then after Berlin? That second Berlin operation.
GB: After Berlin we did as I say two mine laying stooges to la Rochelle and Copenhagen Sound in February. Then March we started with another gardening operation mine laying to the mouth of the Gironde River which was seven hours fifty minutes. Then we started the pre-D-Day marshalling yards in the March of ’44 and it was the marshalling yard at Trappes. Now that one we had an absolute full bomb load, I’ll never forget it of eleven thousand five hundred pounders. We had eleven thousand five hundred and fourteen hundred gallons of petrol and it was made up of seven five hundred pounders and six one thousand pounders. That was the heaviest bomb load we’d ever taken and after the operation the marshalling yard at Trappes was never used again. It was, it was quite an easy trip. There was very very little flak. It was very light. No fighter trouble. We came, we did five hours forty minutes and there was bad weather at the aerodrome and we were diverted to Harwell. And we spent the night at Harwell and we left the next day back to base.
I: Now here you’ve given me a sheet headed “Target Token” relating to this Trappes raid on the 6th of March 1944. Can you tell me what this sheet signifies?
GB: Well, that is the marshalling yards there. Those are early flares, the photograph flares that we dropped to illuminate the target so we could take the photograph. Well, from that they could photograph from the headings that we were on. They could tell you exactly where those bombs straddled the target and the whole load went right across the marshalling yards.
I: So you’ve got the copy of the photograph.
GB: Of the photograph. Every crew member was presented with a copy of the photograph.
I: As a means of congratulating.
GB: Congratulating. More or less that you’d got the whole fifteen bombs right across the marshalling yard.
I: Any other marshalling yard operations that you did?
GB: Well, I know the next one we went to was, the next operation I did was another gardening trip to Kiel. We did the mining to the entrance to Kiel harbour. The next one was on the 25th of March. We went to Aulnoye. That was quite an easy trip. A marshalling yard. No trouble. Then on April our skipper had been promoted to squadron leader and we were posted 434 Squadron where he became B Flight commander.
I: Where was 434 Squadron?
GB: At Croft. It was a satellite aerodrome of Middleton St George. It was one that was built during the wartime use whereas Middleton St George was a peacetime aerodrome. The next marshalling yard we went to was Lisle. That was a quiet trip. That was on the 9th of April. We went on the 26th of April to Villeneuve St Georges. A French target. On the 29th we had a short gardening trip to the Frisian Islands. The mines we were laying were supposed to be for a convoy that was coming through. We laid the mines and the convoy was coming through. There was quite a bit of flak from the flak ships. That was then —
I: Were you hit?
GB: No. It was, we had no trouble. We seemed to be lucky again. There was a lot of flak from the flak ships but we had nothing. No holes whatsoever. Come to May, the 1st of May we went St Ghislian. And then on the 27th we went to Le Crepiet. They were quiet trips. Five hours and four and a half hours we did. On June the 15th we flew in J-Jig on a daylight to Boulogne and you could see the flak there. When we were going in there was one aircraft coming out with the whole of his starboard wing in flames. We never knew what happened to him.
I: Was that the first daylight raid?
GB: That was the first daylight I’d done. Yes.
I: How did you feel about that compared with the night raids?
GB: Well, you’re more confident because you could see what was happening and you knew you had fighter cover. It was just the flak but then flak you got used to. It never really bothered people unless you got hit with it badly.
I: What was the date of that bombing operation?
GB: 15th of June.
I: So this was after D-Day.
GB: After D-Day. I was on leave on D-Day. We were. And the next operation was to Disemont on the 21st of June.
I: What was the target in the Boulogne raid?
GB: On the Boulogne raid we were dropping bombs that exploded as soon as it hit the water to cause waves to go into the fence to destroy their MTB boats and that.
I: Do you think it worked?
GB: By all accounts yes. The reports we received afterwards it had been a successful raid and the docks got a good pasting as well. In July, we started off the 1st of July we went to a place called [Benayes or Beugnies] and when we got there there were no PFF markings so we bombed on Gee. There was quite a bit of flak and we lost all hydraulics and had to, we had to land using emergency undercarriage but I could never close the bomb doors. They were open all the way back and all the way for landing. And we had to use full emergency for getting the undercarriage down and the use of the flaps.
I: When was that?
GB: That was the 1st of June. We went in Q-Queenie that night.
I: 1st of July.
GB: 1st of July, sorry. They sent us back to the same target on the 6th of July. To [Benayes or Beugnies]. We went on G-George that time and it was a quiet trip.
I: Where is [Benayes or Beugnies]?
GB: It’s in France. All I can —
[recording paused]
GB: And after that I went to Caen on a daylight and on a night operation on the 18th of the 7th took off at 3.30 in the morning. That was when they started the big push and their breakthrough at Caen.
I: Was that a particularly big raid? A mass raid.
GB: Yes, it was a mass raid. They practically destroyed Caen that night and the Army moved forwards and they never stopped moving after that.
I: Do you have any memories of that raid?
GB: Yes, all I can remember was it was a dead easy raid. Flak not bothered. No fighters. No nothing. Just like a cross country.
I: Were you aware of all the other planes?
GB: Yes. They were all, they were all so close together. All bombing on one area. You could see them even though it was that time. Just two hours. It would be about 5.30. just dusk coming on.
I: So you didn’t have any opposition.
GB: Nothing at all. Nothing whatsoever. It was just like flying from here to Jersey on your holidays. No opposition whatsoever.
I: Do you think you hit your target?
GB: Well, we must have done because the Army never stopped moving. They took Caen. The next job after that it was a rough one. It was Hamburg. That was the 28th.
I: What happened then?
GB: Well, we were in the second wave and we were a bit late and we were at the scheduled height of bombing at seventeen thousand feet. There was somebody else above us and they dropped their bombs and we had, on our bombing run we just had to dive starboard to get out of the way of his bombs or we should have got the lot because they always had separate heights for bombing and we were late. Two minutes late. We were at seventeen and the next wave was at seventeen five. That was it. There was quite a bit of flak at Hamburg. That was the most terrifying thing. A full bomb load up there. And the skipper just dived starboard and we were on the bombing run. Where our bombs went we don’t know.
I: Was it common for planes to be hit by bombers above them?
GB: I don’t think so. I think it occasionally happened but this was too close.
I: What about collisions between bombers?
GB: I never saw any. Never saw any at all. I think they did happen but they were very few and far between.
I: And then —
GB: And then after that August was a very busy month. Our skipper had been promoted because our original wing commander, Wing Commander Bartlett had been lost. He’d been shot down and killed in action and our skipper was promoted and became wing commander of 434 Squadron. On the 1st of August we took J-Jig to Acquet in France. There was no PFF markings so the full bomb load was brought back. We brought the whole load back. On the 3rd of —
I: How dangerous was it to bring bombs back?
GB: Well, they weren’t fused. I mean they weren’t fused until you were bombing. Didn’t press the selector switches so they would be alright. It was just that we would have a heavy load for landing. After that on the 3rd we took J-Jig again to le Foret de Nieppe which was for fuel dumps. On the 4th of August again in J-Jig again we went to caves that were just outside Paris where the V-2 rockets were assembled and that was heavily defended with a daylight op and we were hit by flak. We got a few holes. We were caught in predictive flak. We were diverted on the 4th to Dalton.
I: Was this a V-2 place or a V-1 place?
GB: No. A V-2 place where they were assembling the, where they assembled where they assembled the rockets.
I: And where was it?
GB: Just outside Paris. Some from what we could understand from the briefing they were more or less mushroom caves and that. And then on the 5th we went to St Leu d’Esserent. On the 8th we went to a fuel dump just outside at Foret de Chantilly and that was hit and there was black smoke when we left up to fifteen thousand feet.
I: What do you think you hit there at Chantilly?
GB: It was a fuel dump. And on the 9th we went to Le Breteque. On the 12th of August we went to Brunswick. To Germany. On that raid according to recent record was a complete failure as everyone bombed on H2S as there were no markers went down so we bombed individually and there was no concentration.
I: Did you feel at the time that it was a failure?
GB: Well, it seemed to be a failure because there was no concentration of fires or anything. Then on the 14th we did the Army coop where the German divisions were trapped at Falaise. Now that was a very easy trip. There was no opposition whatsoever. The only thing wrong was that the Canadian group bombed their own troops. The Canadian Army had advanced past the markers and of course there was a few killed.
I: Was yours one of the bombers that dropped on the Canadians do you think?
GB: Hmmn.
I: Right.
GB: It wasn’t the Air Forces fault. It was the Army had advanced past the markers. And the last trip I did—
I: And that was what? That was the 14th was it?
GB: That was the 14th of August. We took off at 12.40. It was a five hour ten minute job. And the last trip I did was the 25th of August. We went to Brest to soften it up so the Yanks could take it. And that was quite easy. There was no trouble at all. I think they were more or less giving in. And that was on the 25th of August. There was bad weather back at base and we got diverted to Thorney Island. We spent the night at Thorney Island and then came back the next day and we were told that was it. We had finished our tour.
I: Had you done thirty?
GB: We’d done thirty four and one sea sweep. The skipper, the navigator and the bomb aimer were each awarded a DFC and myself, the wireless operator Jackie Bennett from Newcastle and Jimmy Silverman the rear gunner were granted a commission. That was our reward.
I: What happened to you then?
GB: Well, after that I was posted down to Bruntingthorpe which was 29 OTU and I was instructing on engine handling. I did very little flying. And a week at Blackpool on an Air Sea Rescue course which I thoroughly enjoyed. I only flew twice in the six months I was at OTU. I was never keen on Wellingtons.
I: Why not?
GB: Well, the Wellingtons were clapped out [laughs]
[pause]
GB: Then I went, I volunteered to go back on a second tour and I went in April ’45 with a Flight Lieutenant Kennedy. He made a crew up from 29 OTU and we went to 1651 Conversion Unit at Woolfox Lodge.
I: Why did you volunteer for a second tour?
GB: I didn’t like 29 OTU and I didn’t like what bit of flying I did do.
I: Why didn’t you like that OTU?
GB: Well, there was a little bit of too much bull. The group captain in charge was an ex-Cranwell boy and I think he thought it was still 1938 and not 1944.
I: So you preferred to risk your life.
GB: Yes.
I: Than have the bull?
GB: Have the bull. Yes.
I: Did you go back on ops in the end?
GB: Well, we did our conversion unit on to Lancasters and we were picked out unfortunately to go to Warboys for PFF training so by the time we’d finished the PFF training the war had finished. They had special training at Warboys and then we had to go through another course of automatic gun laying turret which was new to the gunners. By the time we’d finished those courses the war had finished. We finished up at 156 Squadron at Upwood and that was quite enjoyable because we did [pause] took ground crew on what was called a Cook’s Tour. We used to fly them over Germany up the Ruhr and show them all the damage that they’d helped to do in maintaining the aircraft. I did two of those Cook’s Tours in in June and we did a little bit of flying. I did an air test for the Royal Aeronautical Establishment. Another Cook’s Tour. We did a postmortem to Denmark where they did an actual like on operation to Denmark to see how the German radar system worked and that was on the 29th of June ’45. That was a five and a half hour.
I: Testing the radar defences.
GB: Yes. Of the, that the Germans had. Then we just did local flying and then for three days we were dumping. The 21st, the 24th and the 27th of July was dumping incendiaries in to the North Sea that were no good. And in the August of ’44 we, the 1st of August we did a passenger trip to Frankfurt and Nuremberg taking crew, ground crew in and bringing ground crew out. And we had a trip which made me want to go back to Italy when I got married but on the 15th of August ’45 we went to Bari in Italy and we had three days. Well, we crammed twenty of the 8th Army boys into a Lancaster fuselage, gave the a sick bag and put their kit in the bomb bays and flew them home. That was thoroughly enjoyable to see Italy.
I: Can I ask you about the difference between Lancasters and the Halifaxes. What did you feel about flying in the two?
GB: Well, on a Lancaster the flight engineer did the work of a second pilot. He did the throttles, looked after the undercarriage controls, flaps and everything. But as regards flying I still like the Halifax. Especially the Halifax Mark 3 with the Hercules Centaurus engines. It was a marvellous aircraft. There was more room in it. It could carry a bombload of twelve thousand pounds but it couldn’t carry the big bombs because they hadn’t the depth of the bomb bays. But I still liked the Halifax. I think it was because I did all my operations in them and I got through a tour with them.
I: Did the Halifax have any disadvantages?
GB: I don’t think so. Not the later ones. The one of the first lots, the first ones had a tendency to stall but they altered that by doing, altering the rudder system.
I: What did you learn in the Pathfinder course?
GB: I took a bomb aimer’s course and learned how to drop bombs [laughs] That’s the only difference.
I: How did you do that?
GB: Well, they give you a concentrated course on dropping practice bombs and that was the only difference.
I: Now, can I ask you some general questions about operations in the war. what was morale like amongst the bomber crews as far as you personally experienced it?
GB: Very good. Very high indeed. I only ever knew one person who went LMF and he was a member of our crew but everyone else that I knew enjoyed the life. It was a good life. I mean admittedly it was very very dangerous but it was a clean life. You came back to a clean bed and you came back to good food and you were treated well. You were given leave every six weeks. You were. You had extra rations when you came home. It was a dangerous job but they looked after you and discipline wasn’t severe on bomber squadrons. That was on the Canadian group anyhow. But aircrew was quite relaxed.
I: Could you see signs of LMF in this chap?
GB: No. No, we couldn’t. It was only the second trip after we got a good hiding and he never said anything on the night when we did the emergency landing at Woodbridge. When we came back the next day I met him in the Sergeant’s Mess in the afternoon and he said what had happened and I never saw him again. He was off the squadron as quick as that.
I: So you couldn’t think of any reason why he should have gone LMF.
GB: No. None at all. He was the mid-upper gunner and that was just it. He just threw the sponge in.
I: What did the rest of the crew think about him going LMF? Did you have sympathy or did you look down on him?
GB: I don’t think they looked down on him. They were just pleased that he’d gone so quick and nobody could dwell on the subject. And when we got two new gunners and as I say we were away within seven days of that operation on Stuttgart 18th to the 26th and we got two spare gunners. And after that we got two permanent gunners.
I: Were the aircrew superstitious? Did they have any lucky charms or anything like that?
GB: Yes, I’ve still got my little St Christopher cross and three us was always emptied our bladder on the starboard wheel before we took off. Myself, the rear gunner and the wireless operator.
I: This was a superstition was it?
GB: Always did it. Always, whether it was a daylight or a night op. Whether the groupie was there or anybody it was always emptied against the starboard wheel.
I: And did other crews do that?
GB: I think other crews always went in in certain order. Pilot first and like that.
I: What were the briefings like? Can you describe the scene when you got the briefings?
GB: Well, when it was the Berlin and you looked up and everyone said, ‘Berlin,’ everyone, ‘Oh.’ That was it. Then you just stepped back in silence and let them all give you the information. The German targets when you saw them when you saw the red lines leading you knew you were in for a warm night. The French targets everyone [clap] was happy.
I: They clapped.
GB: Well, there was that and a cheer when they said Caen or St Leu d’Esserent like that. I mean compared to the German targets they were easy. The only targets that we didn’t really like, the whole crew, was the mine laying duty because they, the majority of them were so long and there were so few of you you felt so exposed. I mean the Germans would probably leave you alone but then the next time they’d probably lose four five aircraft out of twenty odd. They would really come down on you like a tonne of bricks than leave you alone. When they hit you they hit you.
I: What do you feel about the criticism that has been lodged against Bomber Command since the war?
GB: I think its people who have got no idea about a war. They have no idea what the targets were like. Bombing had to be done. It was the only way of offensive against the Germans and I don’t think they take in to fact the amount of damage that we did do. The amount of people that were tied down. There was over a million people tied down in German defence. There was thirty thousand anti-aircraft guns and over, nearly ten thousand of those were eighty eight millimetre. Now if those eighty eight ten thousand millimetres had been used on the beaches of Normandy the Channel would have been blood red. They had, the German defences had all the ammunition they wanted up to within six weeks of the war. They were never short. They rationed the Army but they never rationed the local defence. And after all we did reduce production and if you reduced production by twelve and a half percent of the Tiger tanks it’s a heck of a lot because there was nothing could touch a Tiger. So I think the criticism has been very unfair because the boys went through hell.
I: When you were at these stations how and where did you spend your spare time?
GB: Well, at Middleton St George and Croft we used to go into Darlington and we all had one particular pub. The Fleece. And that’s where we spent our time. At the Fleece. But I was up there about eight or nine years ago and it’s been knocked down. The Old Fleece pub.
I: Did you put any kind of trophies or anything like that up in the bar?
GB: No. No, we just went there to drink and sing and other things.
I: Were there any breaches of security with people telling girlfriends about —
GB: Not to my knowledge.
I: Ops.
GB: No. No. If you were going up there for a night out you didn’t know anything because the station would be closed if there was a full ops on. There would only be probably only a few ground crew but the aircrew wouldn’t go, be allowed out. So most of the telephone lines were shut down. Were closed. You couldn’t make outside calls if there was ops on.
I: Did the German Air Force ever attack these airfields.
GB: No. Not to my knowledge. Not whilst ours.
Now, I think after the war had ended you went out to Burma.
Burma, yes. On 267 Squadron at Mingaladon. The squadron was keeping the airways open taking mail and passengers flying from Mingaladon in Burma up to Dum Dum at Calcutta. And then from, back again and then from Mingaladon to Bangkok. Bangkok, Saigon. Saigon to Kai Tak which is the aerodrome for Hong Kong on the mainland of Kowloon and they used to fly down to Singapore.
I: This is Dakotas.
GB: On Dakotas. Yes. And the flight engineers were all remustered as air quarter masters on those trips looking after the baggage and the passengers and I had about fifteen of the lads under me. We used to take them out on these trips which they thoroughly enjoyed going up to Calcutta. Spending a day in Calcutta and then coming back going down to Hong Kong. We had a thoroughly enjoyable time.
I: What kind of passengers were you moving?
GB: Well, RAF and Burmese and if you were coming from India you used to bring down the Indians who were coming down on business trips or anything like that. Used to bring our own people down to [unclear] and look after the stores. Generally taking mail across to Bangkok, Saigon.
I: So you were a bit like an airline.
GB: A bit like an airline. Yes. A bit rough and ready. I did one or two. I went to Saigon and worked with Saigon. Wanted to look around during the night time but we were informed that all personnel were on curfew and had to be in by 9 o’clock. And the biggest shock I ever had was walking into the hotel where we were billeted to be given a salute by a Jap prisoner of war with a rifle and fixed bayonets.
I: When was this that you were in Saigon?
GB: 12th of February ’46. Then from Saigon we’d go to Kai Tak which was the aerodrome for Hong Kong on the mainland and the people of the mainland which was a British colony I’ve never known people so friendly to see us. We were taken into cafes and restaurants and you could have everything you wanted.
I: In Hong Kong.
GB: In Hong Kong. But what I was surprised about Hong Kong is that they had everything on show and sale and the war had only been over for five months. You could go in and buy a Rolex Oyster watch. You couldn’t see them in Europe but they found them. They could. You could buy anything you wanted.
I: Were these Chinese who were —
GB: Yes. The —
I: You in Hong Kong.
GB: In Hong Kong where they were first class.
I: Coming back to Saigon did the Japanese soldiers do their job well?
GB: Yes, as far as I know they had no complaints. They guarded us well. But the trouble was just beginning to start then. There was just a bit of discontent amongst the Saigon people I think. It was just beginning to start with the Viet Cong. Just beginning to get unruly.
I: What did you see of disorder there?
GB: Nothing at the night time. That’s when it happened. During the day everything was normal. It was on a night time when they used to come and try and interfere on the aerodrome but we were in the town itself so we saw nothing.
I: So they were trying to attack the aerodrome.
GB: Trying to you know disrupt it more or less.
I: Did you see any French military presence there?
GB: Well, last I was there the only French presence was two Corvettes in the harbour. There was no French troops whatsoever. If the French had spent a little more time in French Indo China as it was then instead of parading around Europe they might have been in a bit better position out there.
I: Did you feel in much danger in Saigon?
GB: No. Not really. I wasn’t there long enough and the short time where the trouble was we were in the hotel out of the way.
I: You were telling me about 29 OTU at Bruntingthorpe was it called?
GB: Bruntingthorpe.
I: Where is that?
GB: Just outside Leicester.
I: And you were telling me about the excessive bull there that drove you to apply for a second tour. Can you give any examples of not —
GB: Well —
I: Without mentioning the group captain’s name any examples of the kind of bull that went on there?
GB: Well, we had once a month we had an officer’s dining in night where all the tables were put in the shape of a horseshoe with the group captain in the centre and then going left to right from squadron leader. From wing commander, squadron leader, flight lieutenant, flying officer down to pilot officer which was pre-war bull. Not wartime discipline. And then he would hold a full parade of the whole OTU and every officer and every airman would parade on the main runway and would march past the rostrum as though they were the guards which again goes back to pre-war. It should never have been done in wartime RAF. But the Australians didn’t like it because we had a lot of Australians go through there and they objected strongly. And in the Officer’s Mess we had a very big organ by a very well known organist. The organ, keyboard and the sound box system was flooded with beer. The Mess notice board all the Mess board notices were burned down by the Australians. The group captain had his own hook for his hat and coat with a bolt right through the wall. The peg was pulled out. Also, part of the wall [laughs] In fact they did so much damage the group captain closed the Officer’s Mess bar for a week. All because of bull.
I: Did you approve?
GB: No.
I: Of what the Aussies did?
GB: Yes. I did. But no one was allowed in the Officer’s Mess after 5.30 unless they were in full dress. No battle dress. I came back and I’ll tell you the exact day. We’d, I’d been out a cross country to check the pilot for engine handling on the 19th of February ‘45 and we took off at 12 o’clock and we’d been diverted to Husband Bosworth. And by the time we got back it was 16.35. I was pulled up for entering the Mess in battle dress and not allowed to have a meal, my evening meal until I had changed. And the evening meal finished at 19.00 hours which is 7 o’clock and I didn’t get in as I say until 16 —
I: Twenty five you said.
GB: That’s how bad, that’s how bad the bull was.
I: You also were telling me about another job you had I think in ’46 of having to deal with airmen’s possessions who had been killed.
GB: Yes.
I: In accidents.
GB: That was the, I did that at 29 OTU. The last job I had was on for in the July 1946 was Dakota KN585 was hit by lightning and crashed in to the Irrawaddy Delta at Bassein. The death roll was twenty two. By the time we got the bodies they were four days old and I had to [pause] another flight lieutenant and the local police identified the bodies and arranged burial which was a very distressing thing to do especially as five days later I was on my home.
I: How were the possessions dealt with?
GB: Well, most of the possessions that they had I had to burn because they’d been on the bodies and they had been five days in the swamp and they smelled terribly and there was very very little went home. And of the twenty two they had no identification. They were all just interred with no headstone. No one knew who they were. They were interred at the European Cemetery at that time in Bassein. They would later be moved to the War Graves.
I: But you were telling me about your special problem you had with the possessions of Australians.
GB: When I was at 29 OTU. Yes. With the letters I mean the Aussie boys would have two or three girlfriends and the trouble was sorting out the letters to make sure that the right ones went home and the other ones were destroyed. Of the, we had two crews killed whilst I was there. Eleven men died.
I: Would any of them leave wills?
GB: No. There was no wills. I never found a will in the, any of the airmen who I buried. I went through their personal effects.
[Music]
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
War Memoir - George Bilton
Description
An account of the resource
Talks of early life at school and work in Hull. Volunteered as ARP messenger and described duties and air raid damage in Hull. Volunteered as aircrew and initially selected for wireless operator/air gunner but later asked to change to air engineer. Trained in Blackpool and RAF St Athan. Crewed up with mixed Canadian British crew on Halifax HCU before being posted to 6 Group 427 Squadron. His pilot did not return from a second dickie orientation sorties so crew went back to conversion unit to crew up and train with new pilot. Then posted to 428 Squadron. Subsequently transferred to 434 Squadron when pilot promoted. Completed tout of 34 operations on Halifax. Gives detailed description of individual operations, experiences and activities. Describes flying in Halifax and discusses moral, discipline issues, operating with Canadians and other general comments. Did instructional tour after completing operational tour, offered commission, did not enjoy it and volunteered for second tour but curtailed by end of war. Comments on tours after war including one in Burma including dealing with casualties in from a Dakota crash in Egypt.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
G H A Bilton
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Oral history
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Sound
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
ABiltonGHA960623
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Canadian Air Force
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending revision of OH transcription
Pending review
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Yorkshire
England--Hull
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
Wales--Vale of Glamorgan
England--Durham (County)
England--Leicestershire
Burma
Germany
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Ludwigshafen am Rhein
Germany--Kiel
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Stuttgart
England--Berkshire
France
France--La Rochelle
France--Lille
France--Boulogne-sur-Mer
France--Caen
Germany--Hamburg
France--Paris
France--Creil
France--Falaise
Germany--Braunschweig
France--Brest
England--Sussex
England--Huntingdonshire
Italy
Italy--Bari
Denmark
Denmark--Copenhagen
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
Atlantic Ocean--Bay of Biscay
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
France--Chantilly Forest
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Julie Williams
427 Squadron
428 Squadron
434 Squadron
6 Group
aerial photograph
Air Raid Precautions
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
bomb aimer
bombing
C-47
civil defence
Cook’s tour
crewing up
flight engineer
Halifax
Heavy Conversion Unit
lack of moral fibre
Lancaster
military discipline
military ethos
military living conditions
military service conditions
mine laying
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Pathfinders
RAF Bruntingthorpe
RAF Croft
RAF Harwell
RAF Middleton St George
RAF St Athan
RAF Thorney Island
RAF Topcliffe
RAF Warboys
RAF Woodbridge
target indicator
target photograph
training
V-2
V-weapon
Wellington
Window
wireless operator / air gunner
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2047/33332/EBiltonGHABilton[Mo][Date]-030001.jpg
8993368b1565055ba625a66c3fe41672
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2047/33332/EBiltonGHABilton[Mo][Date]-030002.jpg
cd8530b7793771ff7c1a8319cfffe470
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Bilton, George Henry Albert
G H A Bilton
Description
An account of the resource
Nineteen items. The collection concerns George Henry Albert Bilton (b. 1923, 175723 Royal Air Force) and contains an oral history interview, his log book, correspondence and photographs. He flew operations as a flight engineer with 428 and 434 Squadron.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Anthony Bilton and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-09-14
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Bilton, GHA
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
1623799 AC/2 Bilton
c/o 11 Wendsor Av
Blackpool
S.S.
Friday
My Dear Mother
Just a few lines to let you know that I am getting on OK with my cours [sic] the reason I have not written before is I have been swotting up for an exam we had on Thursday, it was all about the work we had done in the Past fortnight, all about areo Engins [sic].
I came top of the [deleted] call [/deleted] class and second in the entry [?] there are 90 in the entry. I passed with 65 out of 100 which is good marks, seeing the average is only 57 since the school oppened [sic]. We start on magnetos and Boost Control supperchargs [sic] and [indecipherable word] next week fr [sic] one week so dont expect a lot of Letters as it is the worst Part of the course.
I recived [sic] your cakes on Wednesday, and they have nealy [sic] all gone were very good. I have [not] recived [sic] my washing yet, when did you get it.
The weather here is terrible it is raining like the Devil
[page break]
and has been since Thursday whats it like in Hull.
Hows dad getting on with his work has he got the managers job yet has jerry left you alone lately? How are the chickens the duck [?] and Ginger.
Well thats all for now as it is time to get back to school. Will write again on Sunday. Will close with all my love from
your loveing [sic] Son George [kisses]
PS Please send me a black tie as [indecipherable] is worn out and I canot [sic] change it for another[?] [indecipherable word/s].
Will be home in 4 weeks time to day.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Letter from George Bilton to his mother
Description
An account of the resource
Writes while on course in Blackpool. Mentions studying for exams and relates how well he did. Comments on cakes she sent and the weather. Asks after family news and asks her to send black tie.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
G H A Bilton
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two page handwritten letter
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Correspondence
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
EBiltonGHABilton[Mo][Date]-03
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Sue Smith
military service conditions
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1561/34783/SRAFIngham19410620v040001-Audio.2.mp3
beecb77e5ba24652eef7ada82bd88855
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
RAF Ingham Heritage Group
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-11-14
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
RAF Ingham
Description
An account of the resource
25 items in six collections. The collection concerns RAF Ingham and contains interviews photographs and documents concerning:
Andrzej Jeziorski - Pilot 304 Squadron
Arthur Hydes - Boy in Ingham
Brian Llewellyn -ATC
Jan Black - Rear Gunner 300 Squadron
Lech Gierak - Armourer 303 Squadron
Marion Clarke - MT Driver RAF Ingham
Mieczyslaw Maryszczak - Armourer
Stanislaw Jozefiak - Air Ops 304 Squadron - Pilot on Spitfires
Wanda Szuwalska - Admin 300 Squadron Faldingworth
Zosia Kowalska - Cook RAF Ingham
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by the RAF Ingham Heritage Group and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
GB: On record now, right. Right. Hopefully, the intention is obviously, when we get, we’ll get a professional company to edit the whole tape to make it into, you know, for presentation, so it doesn’t matter if we have kind of little kind of funny laughs and things like this, because it will obviously kind of, hopefully the tape will look, you know, quite good when it’s all finished and put together so it doesn’t matter a bit of explaining.
JB: Yes. In style.
GB: Indeed yes, indeed. I mean really obviously the intention today is just to talk to you about your life, before the war, and obviously kind of little bit about your family. Obviously your time in the Polish Air Force before you left Poland and then obviously your, your kind of trip or your route into, all around and into.
JB: I will tell you completely different route, my route, you know, how I came here, yes.
GB: Okay. And then obviously once you came to Britain, obviously about joining up with the Polish Air Force in the RAF.
JB: Yes, yes.
GB: And then really talking a little bit more perhaps in depth about when you were at RAF Ingham. If you’d like to talk about, obviously, the missions that you were on and in particular the one where your aircraft crashed, then we don’t mind but if you prefer not to talk about that for personal reasons, then we fully understand.
JB: No, I think is good to mention how it happened, and because it will be, you know what I mean, the real story, you know what I mean. It’s no good to leave something important what happen in my life, not to mention it, yes.
GB: Well the nice thing is this will be a lasting memory, unfortunately after you have passed on and probably after we have passed on as well, the Heritage it’s almost the Heritage Centre will be for future generations, yes.
JB: That’s what I was thinking. What now you see Minister of Education try to bring the Second War into the children, into the history, because you see somehow after the war you know what that generation went through, for such a suffering and sacrifice which in giving their life, what was quickly forgotten, you know what I mean. GB:Because that was worst history than Napoleonic days, because Napoleonic War, it was gentlemen war, but that, in a Second World War, that was almost unbelievable what in twentieth century you know, such a barbarous could be committed, crime on the people. So you see new generation came, and the authority, you know, completely forgot about the suffering, what we went through it, you know what I mean. And to listen now what they said when they asking children at school about history of Battle of Britain, some of them even don’t know, because there is so much newcomers to this country. But all right, they newcomers, but they should learn the history of this country, you know, what was happening here, and I think now what they’s trying to um, recover the lost time you see, after so many years, you see, because that was probably one of the most, I would say, desperate effort, that Second War what we win, because if the Germans would succeed, what they almost did, I mean we probably would be for thousand years under their domination. That’s what they had idea, you know what I mean.
GB: I think so.
JB: That’s what they kept it, the rest of the world for so long.
GB: Yes.
JB: Because they had the system what, you know, that they would manage under their sort of strict rules you see, and I’m glad what you now try to recover some of the history so the young generation after us, you see, will probably know what we had to go through it, you know what I mean. Yes. It’s important what they still try to save something you know it would be a good idea. Look at Margaret Thatcher. I used to remember, I used to go to her shop, when father, on the corner, had that shop.
GB: Yes. In Grantham.
JB: Because I used to get cigarettes some time, but when I used to go to that little shop, early in morning, I had to look left, and right, if nobody already in the shop or if somebody been in the shop, I was waiting till they come out, and then I would walk to the shop and ask for some cigarettes because I didn’t want cigarettes only for myself. I wanted for myself and for my friends. So when nobody been in the shop, I was alone, so I used to get one or two packets extra! [Laugh] You see, that’s how the things were you see, those days! I mean people today have no idea. If you, in morning, you see, yesterday your friend went to get cigarettes, but the next day was your turn. So you see we used to do in turns, we used to get up early in the morning!
GB: Just to get the cigarettes.
JB: To get cigarettes and go from shop to shop! Terrific. [Laugh] We come for holiday to London, come to holiday, and sometime we come in afternoon, all hotels booked up because all the people who have forty eight hours, military people, come to London. If you come late, outside hotel: ‘No Room, No Room’ you see. So you didn’t have even to go and ask, because they used to leave the sign: No Vacancy. So we used to sleep in Serpentine, you know, they had the deck chair, [indecipherable] we put some deck chair. In morning we go wash ourself in Serpentine, shave because we won’t be served in our gas mask, you know what I mean and waiting for pubs to open, you know what I mean. [Laugh] So first we had to order ourself rooms early in morning, because that was only time, but many times we slept in, in the Park, you know what I mean, because we been happy, and living from day to day. If you went to bar on your own - I’m just telling you this story what I went through.
GB: Yes, yes.
JB: And some time you make appointment with your friends, so we meet you in Fifty Two Piccadilly – that was well known pub - and sometime you got to the Park and your friends still been delayed, so you would be standing on your own. You will not be standing for long because people come and talk to you, you know, straight away, you see, because you could not stand on the corner and drink alone, the people be friendly, you know what I mean.
GB: When you were on the forty eight hour pass did you have to go in uniform?
JB: Oh yes, yes, uniform.
GB: Always in uniform.
JB: Yes, uniform, because if you been in civvie you always been suspected what you some, probably you know person undesirable, you know what I mean, yes. And I mean pubs were packed [emphasis] during the winter, I mean during the war, because people just been living uncertain life, you know what I mean. And they been so happy you know. You came and the cinemas were playing, the bombs were dropping, shows were going on, you know what I mean, people just got, in the end you know, they got used to bombing, you know. Sometimes they were falling closer, sometimes they been, the Germans used to bomb East London, dock side you know what I mean. Somehow they didn’t do much in the centre of the London, you know, but the East London was receiving the most hit, yeah.
GB: Did you always come to London for your forty eight hour passes? Was that the best place?
JB: No, some time, some time I go to Scotland, because you see when you come some time to London, and you know you have lots of disturbed nights, you know what I mean, then some time you will go, and Blackpool.
GB: And Blackpool. Because that was the Polish Depot, wasn’t it.
JB: Blackpool. That was our depot you see. We had such friendly relations there because we used to, sometime when you been doing, you did half tour, used to get two weeks little rest you see to Blackpool, and we nearly always went and stayed same small boarding hotels, you see, and it was beautiful place, Blackpool. Oh, I still think Blackpool is one of the nicest part in England, you know what I mean. That beach, long, you know, sandy beach and the Blackpool Tower, you know, dancing, you know, phoar! [Laugh] Manchester public house on the corner on the Promenade, you know what I mean. Blackpool was lovely place, and so much in holiday, in those days, so much excitement.
GB: Was, in those days, was Blackpool like little Poland, because of the sheer number of Polish airmen that were being trained there?
JB: Yes, yes. You see, I’ll tell you why we left good respect, but after the war, when war ended, from Germany, from lots of those concentration camps, came lots of different people what they call themselves what they were Polish, but they were not, they were all different, some even Germans been disguised telling them they could speak Polish, that they were Polish, so they spoiled us reputation. But when Polish Air Force only stay in Blackpool, when we used to enter to the small hotel on the Promenade, we made our own rules. Some time was landlady the owner of the hotel because her husband was Captain in the Far East serving for four, five years, and in the hotels was the rules what you can bring girlfriend to sitting room for cup of tea or coffee, but nowhere else. And we had our rules and anybody brought girlfriend sometime, because every hotel had sitting room, you could invite her to sitting room, you can treat her with cup of tea or coffee or cake.
GB:: That was it.
JB: Gentlemen, If you wanted anything else you have to look outside but not in! And we had those rules and you know the landladies would go to sleep during the night and they didn’t have to worry because they knew what anybody who came inside to the hotel, she was sure what there would be not be any bad reputation on her. And we kept that, you know what I mean, and that was good. [Laugh]
GB:: Jan, what’s your full name? Cause I wasn’t sure. I spoke to Danny and he wasn’t sure.
JB: Yes, I tell you. I’m glad you asked. You see, when I met my wife, in London, my wife managed private club [sniff]. And I, so we went to one pub in London and we met English, erm, English, erm, he was, PO, Pilot Officer and he came and talked to us, asked us from which squadron we on. We told him we came from Lincolnshire and spending holiday and the pubs was closing because they open from eleven till three, after, open five till eleven, so he said - and we been seven of us - he said and what you doing now and we said probably have to go to cinema, wait till pub to open again! He said to us, listen I am member in one of the club, would you like to come with me? Well we said, oh thee, In those days if you could go to private club it was almost big, you know, satisfaction you know what I mean, because so we say you know that would be almost unbelievable what you. Oh yes he said, I’m member and I can take you but you not allowed to buy drinks; I will treat you to drink. So we went with him and he introduced us to the person who owned the club, and he said they are Polish aircrews from Lincolnshire and I like to introduce them to the club so they can have a drink with me. So the young lady said very nice, thank you. So we had one drink, second, and the people in those days they all were shop owners, solicitors, engineers, come for lunch during, because they were active in their own profession you see, but members of the club. They invite us in evening again because you see the club had also hours opened in afternoon and after in the evening. So we went in the evening and we behaved properly and the lady who owned the club, after second day, she said to us, listen you bunch, I will make you members. But when she said she will make us members we got stiff, frightened, because we thought she would ask us to pay the membership! And in those days membership, you know! [laugh]
GB: Was some money, yes!
JB: So she said but don’t you worry, she said, you don’t have to pay. I know you come from time to time and my members, her members mentioned that she should make us members you see, so she give us little book with the rules, how we have to obey the membership. So if we have friend to bring to the club we must treat them with the drink, not allow them to buy the drinks and be sure what the people we guarantee their membership you see, so that was fine. We went one night, second night, on third night, when our lady was closing the club, our navigator, he was our banker because we used to give him all our money to him, and he used to pay the expenses: hotel, restaurants, drinks [laugh] and we only stayed on holiday till kitty was lasted. When kitty was empty we returning back to the station, some time before the holiday finished, depends on the kitty.
GB: How much time, yeah how much money.
JB: Anyway, to come to the point, you see we had yes, and the lady was closing the club and you had to finish the drinks on time because in those days the police rules were strict. If they caught you some time half an hour late delay the club was fined, heavily, you know, for not obeying the rules. So anyway we had to finish drink quickly and we said to the lady who owned the club, and what you going to do now? She said I’m going home. So we quickly said, we suggest to her, we want to take her to dinner. So we said what about if we take you for quick dinner? You been so kind to us, make us members, and we like to reimburse you something what we can. Well she said, I have to take dog for walk. [Laughter] [Indecipherable] when she finish. So we take her by taxi, we wait in taxi outside, she take that dog for walk quickly, come with us, we got to Soho, to little Italian restaurant and we give her nice dinner you see, and we finish almost two weeks, nearly every night we went to that club because we’ve got so many nice members there and we just been waiting for night to go up there you know, to have, meet the people. Then she said to us, look, if you have any friends, you come again to London, you give them my club address and tell them you are friends of your crew and I will make them members. Because there were Canadians coming, New Zealands, you know, all the military. Our second crew, what we recommended, we say you go to London, you will be able to go to club where lovely ladies come, you know, and you will, it is different from the pubs you know, because in those days it was big different between club and the bar. So we went there and the lady said what happened to that crew, first lot? They said, oh they were all killed, only one survive. She said and this one survive, where’s he? Is on the station and not come to London, they said to her, no he is in hospital. Oh, I see, and he still alive. Yes, he is badly burned. Which hospital is he? Oh he is outside London, in East Grinstead, Sussex. Oh I see, yes, that’s a big hospital for Royal Air Force, you know what I mean. So she made note and the one Saturday afternoon, sister, ward from hospital, come and she said, Jan, you have somebody come to visit you. I said sister, I don’t expect. Oh yes, somebody know your name, yes. So I said bring her in. She come and I was all in bandages. And she said you laying here and you never even phoned me, to tell me what you are here, and I said I don’t know where is my telephone numbers; I lost everything, I said that’s all what I own: my bandages! She said never mind, I’m glad what you are here. And I was so proud, because that’s on Saturday, listen, lots of my English colleagues had father, mother, brother or sister come, and I was on my own and knew, been feeling very, you know, lonely. She used to come and see me you know. Because when my English colleagues bring her, they said to their father oh that’s the Polish airman. So they will come, treat me with cigarettes, have a joke and talk, but I knew it was not the same, you know what I mean, but when that lady came especially to see me, I honest, I was important, really was. [Laugh] So that sister, and afterwards she spent a few hours, that sister brought tea, cup of tea, cakes, you know, because that how was treating the visitors. And I said how you came here. She I came by train because I have car but I have no petrol. So I call taxi and there was about one mile to the station. Took her to the station, I thank her for her visit, and she said if you ever passing through London, you come and see me. I said to her I will be going to station to collect certain thing, so I said I come for quick drink. She said you do that and afterwards she came few times to see me in hospital because I spent in that hospital six months, and it was just friendship, she was so kind to me. I said to her, I used to call her by her name, I say Evelyn, listen you coming to see me, you have so much business to do. She said listen, I come to see you, you don’t know why? I said no. Well, she said look, your friend, this one, has father and mother she said, somewhere they have, and you are on your own she said, and that’s why I come and see you. And you know this touched me, you know what I mean, what I felt I had somebody still. I was so happy afterwards because you know, I used to talk to my friends – you had visitor but I had visitor too, you know what I mean. And you know that develop afterwards that I became friendly and I married her. I married her for fifty years.
GB: What was the date of your marriage?
JB: 19 10 46. Yes, I remember that date. I was married in Lincolnshire: Great Eastern Hotel. That’s a railway hotel.
GB: Was that in the middle of Lincoln, was it?
JB: Yes, yes.
GB: Great Eastern.
JB: Listen, nearly all the staff got sack because I got married in Registry, [sigh] but reception was, you know, in a, and I booked myself in the Great Eastern with my wife for couple nights and nearly half of my station turn up and the rest of the hotel could not sleep! So they said the next day, the next manager had all the waiters, waitresses, everybody, what there was so much noise all the people could not sleep! But there was no disturbance, no problem except lots of people turn up. And they made kitty and they been ordering the drinks, you know what I mean, people in corridors, everywhere, but in the end you know, he accepted what that was special wedding, only one what he would remember you see, and there was some of them had caution you know what I mean, but that about all you see, and that was also lovely wedding because I wanted, you see, I even show you, you see here, here, if you have glasses.
GB: Permission to Marry.
JB: That Permission to Marry. In those days our commanding officer would not let crew, aircrew, to get married, girl, if he doesn’t see girl first. Because a lot of them go on holiday, get drunk, meet any girl, get engaged and get married and some of that marriage didn’t last long. And afterwards it, rules was what any aircrew member who want to get married must bring his girlfriend first, commanding officer had to accept and if she was suitable and you see I had from the commanding, when my wife saw him, you know what he said to me, he said I will, because she used to come and stay in the White Hart Hotel.
GB: In Lincoln
JB: On top, you know.
GB: On the top, near the Castle, yeah.
JB: That’s right. So he would, he sent her taxi back to the hotel, you know, she almost had it from beginning he was asking her question, afterwards she was asking him! [Laugh]
GB: That’s very good!
JB: And you see I got married.
GB: This has answered the question. You know, my first question to you was what was your original name, your Polish name. It was Stangrycuik.
JB: Stangrycuik I tell you why: my wife, you see my wife was named Evelyn Black and she was born in Derbyshire, but her father had lots of land, big land and she was as a young, studying economic and working on the land. She had two brothers. After when father died, two brothers left on the, on that big farm, and on that farm they had pub, so on Saturday and Sunday, local farmers come with their children, discuss what crops they should have in different parts, because the weather is the most suitable for such a crop and children would play in the garden, have orange juice and the father and mother would discuss in the bar you see, their life. But when she finished study economic she didn’t wanted to return and work on the farm because it was hard work. Hard work. She decided to work for big London company, hotel and restaurants, as er, erm, she was, you know, qualified accountant. She was kept all the, from the restaurants, all the expenses, statements. People used to come, have table, waiters used to serve them with the drinks, whatever food and used to bring to the office expenses of those. And in those days Royal Family, Café Royal off Regent Street she was working, and that was syndicate. They had hotels in Maidenhead and different expensive hotels in London. When they had extension nights, sometime, they applied to the police for extension because it will be till two o’clock in morning, you know, special function, and she would get that extension for the later night. So my wife used to, the manager ask her if she work overtime because is very busy gala night you know, when also from royal family members come, so they used to pay her double time. And she worked few years there and not one time, and when used to have gala night big function, they used to invite the manager from brewery, Watney Brewery on Piccadilly, Victoria, sorry, Victoria, that was brewery in Victoria, and in the end they were asking if they lower their drinks because in the end they said we give you so much business you must lower the drink. So I will make the story quickly, and when is that gala night, he, that big manager come from Watney Brewery come with his wife and often talk to my, in the end wife, who was in the reception, accountant. He said listen I don’t think I will be coming much often here, so my wife then as the secretary of that Café Royal, said why not? I had terrific bust up with your syndicate and I think we breaking our relation business, no longer. She said, no not really. Yes, yes, they try to bring me, so down in prices what I can’t lower them no more, you know, to supply with the drink. And he said to her then, to my wife, he said and you working here so few years, they not treating you so generous. Well she said but I’m still happy, I pay my rooms and I said, he said you know that business better than owners, you should have your own business. Because she was already annoyed with the syndicate company what you see he was breaking the business after all those years, he said you should have your own business, you know that business better than the owners. She said yeah, but you must have money to have that. He said surely you must have some money! Well, she said, my brothers sold the estate in Derby and gave they me little because I would not work with them so they gave me a small compensation One went to Australia and one brother went to went to Canada; they had bust up between them so they went far from each other, you know, but they, you know, share whatever. She said but I have no money to start. Don’t you worry, you tell me how much you have, brewery will give you, find you place but you have to buy drinks, in exchange for little concession what I help you, and you should have your own business, he said, because you will make better business because you know that business better than the owners of that syndicate, hotel in Maidenhead and Café Royal and the [indecipherable] in London and he put her that fix into her head what she should own private club, and for seventeen years she owned that, during the war, and that’s when I met my wife you see. I was little airmen gone to club and land myself with the lady who own the business you see.
GB: Can you remember when you actually met her when you went down to London that first time?
JB: Yes, that English pilot officer took us in, and he was the member you see.
GB: Do you remember what year that was?
JB: Yes! In, end of ’41 you see, and my wife was ten year older than me, but she was, after I show you photographs, everything. Anyway I married her and she was, some time when we go to our reunion, because I show you some, you see that’s where I go to my Guinea Pig Reunion, yeah.
GB: Did, when you got married, did Evelyn take your name or did you change straight over to Black?
JB: Yeah, I was, you see is already war finished and my wife knew I not going back to Poland you see. Because there was so much communists and the communists didn’t like the people from the aircrews because you see all people, aircrew, we knew all the sickness of this country and so on, and they used to suspect us what we will be spying against the communists, and we been always, those who weren’t, been always followed by the KGB you know what I mean. So I, my wife knew I was not going back to Poland and she said look Jan, calling me by my name, I have business and for me to change all the administration is lots of extra expense and she said I want to keep on the same and she said I want to naturalise you British, because you not going where so many communists there, you went enough with the Germans and she said now you have another you see, people to follow you. And I love my wife so much I didn’t care what I, and you see, and of course my doctor from East Grinstead, Sir Archibald McIndoe, that big plastic surgeon - he used to call me Polski you know – and when he used to meet us in East Grinstead in the Whitehall bar, that’s hotel bar, when he's not operating on people, his chauffeur bring him in Rolls Royce and wait for him outside and he will come to that bar and when we had operation finished, so we can work we used to go in evening to East Grinstead to have a drink or to cinema and return to hospital for next operation, and sometimes he will meet us in Whitehall Bar and have a drink with us. He was like our friend; our advisor, our surgeon and all the doctors in those days were so friendly, you know, with the airmen. When they had some time in the evening they used to, we meet in certain places and have a little drink or chat, yes, and he was also advisor to us. And when I had demob, I went to see him and I said Sir Archibald, I said, I have letters sent for my demob. So he look at me, he said listen, he said I would not advise you to sign for the Regular. Because in those days when you were young still, you didn’t have to take demob but you had to sign for the Regular, for seven years or fourteen years contract. He said when you take demob now, you will be entitled to your pension and he said if you have problem we find you job and you’re sure. He said you sign new contract, suppose you get discharged for some reason, what you didn’t obey the rules or something, he said you lose all your entitlements. So he said I advise you, you take your demob you see, and I had to listen to him, you know what I mean, because he was, he was to us like our doctor, advisor and so on. And I took my, and I had two jobs after the war. Och, I tell what job I did. I did twenty years in rubber factory. You know why I did in rubber factory? Because owners of the rubber factory were members of my wife club. Listen, my wife said you are mad going. I said Evelyn, you have business, but I want to be independent; I cannot work with you because I say I will ruin your business. She said why? I said listen, your members come to the club, they will buy me drink, I have to reimburse them drink. I said I have to feel I’m the same like them and I said your business will go bust! I don’t want nothing to do with your business, you keep your business, and you see the sister of the owners of that big rubber factory was her friend. They used to, went to school together and she used to come to my wife club. And she said to me listen, I take you to my brothers and I tell them they have to give you job. So I said Sonny, I don’t know if I would be able to do the job. Don’t you worry, I tell them what they have to do with you: they have to teach you. I in one year I was supervisor, I could sell rubber, anything, rubber tyres, whatever rubber you see, because they train me as a supervisor because their old fellow was leaving the job after sixty years. That was big rubber factory and I start I thought I just work year or two, I get enough money to get some deposit on some house, because my wife always paid flats, you know. She was renting in Albemarle Street that’s near Ritz Hotel, almost, where our Margaret Thatcher, poor thing, died yesterday, and she said because she wanted to rent near the club because she always walked from business from hotel, to her flat and she paid lots of money. I say Evelyn, I said you work so hard and I said half your money is going for the, she said in this district you have to pay you see. So I said don’t you worry, I make enough money. So I bought old house, with the leaking roof in Holland Park because during the war all the houses in London were so much dilapidated because you get no paint, no wood, nothing, and I like the house. And the roof was leaking, stair was broken, I said to my wife, never mind, don’t you worry, I want this house. She said you’re mad! So I paid the flat one month, I moved myself with the dog [laugh] to the house; four storey house. In those days it was two thousand five hundred pound, but to earn two thousand five hundred pound in those days was like almost fifty yesterday, but every month I did something, a bit, you know and in the end you know, that dilapidated house you know, start going up and up in prices, you know, and when recently you know, the property went, you know, sky high, I would, in the end when my wife finished the club business and we rented up flats in Holland Park with her because even club was too much in the end because that’s a big responsibility. When she was young she was. Boys I must give you drink coffee, cake listen I have special cake made for you.
GB: Shall we take a little break for a moment then, we can switch the filming off and talk about some photographs.
JB: Listen quickly.
GB: I think you probably need a break more than we do, you’ve talked for about a whole hour! If you press the red button again the word record should come off the screen. [Beep]
JB: That’s right, plenty sugar.
GB: I’ll just er, leave that running anyway, might be some other bits that are worth, oh yes please, thank you.
JB: That’s why I don’t worry! [Crockery sounds] Long as your stomach enjoy it! [Laughter] [Pause] Well I’m so glad you came all the way from Lincolnshire to see me because you see we spent so many years in that part. I used to love Lincolnshire, Yorkshire, because the countryside in summer beautiful, you know, yes. Lincolnshire, I used to go with my friends in Lincoln, when they had racing in those days. You know that was first race in the spring what used to start.
GB: The horse racing in Lincoln, yes, yeah.
JB: Nowadays that’s went to Doncaster.
GB: But the old grandstand is still there.
JB: Still there, yes.
GB: And the racetrack is there, for the horses, but nobody races any more.
JB: Yes I know.
GB: Still run at Market Rasen.
JB: Yes, oh yes, that’s right. Yes, Lincoln was lovely – that Cathedral, every time we used to coming to land we always had to joke and be careful captain don’t touch the thing! [Laugh]
GB: Well we’re delighted to come down to see you and we’re looking forward to when you can come in May, not just because of the time at Faldingworth for you, but also hopefully the next morning on Sunday, and I’ll speak to Daniel, to come and visit us, to see how the renovation is going up on the site. Cause we’ve got the old airmens’ mess where the Junior Ranks, but we can walk round the corner to the old sergeants’ mess, the big long building, that’s still there: the farmer keeps chickens in there now.
JB: Oh boy!
GB: But, and there are one or two other buildings that are still there, including the old control tower, but that’s been changed now; the present owner has turned it into a gymnasium I think. There’s one or two things on the old airfield, and if the weather is good for us as well we can drive you round and stop at different places around the airfield and you can tell us if you remember certain things. Many of the old buildings have gone now, just because the farmers, they’ve either fallen down or the farmers have knocked them down to make a bit more room for the fields.
JB: You know last time when I went and I saw, saw that overgrown airfield, I thought to myself, every time we shall return, we thought that was our home, you know that. Yes. You know you, when you came out from the plane, you thought I am at home.
GB: I’m at home.
JB: You see the trouble was, when you used to miss your friends and you went to dining room and you saw that table empty, and that table empty and you think to myself I wonder when this table will be empty? Because we always used to sit together at the same table, the crew.
GB: I was going to ask you did the crews sit at set tables, you had your own crew table.
JB: Yes, we had our own chart, and at one time [sigh] my crew, my squadron, had quite bit of bad luck, you know, we lost five crews in short time and Bomber Harris came, paid us unexpected visit. So in evening, we didn’t have flight then, the adjutant said we will be meeting special guest in one of the hangar. So have a, all good shave and wash and after tea get yourself into the hangar. Because this guest come, we thought who it would be? Maybe King you know or, who, and he came with the car and he had little talk with us. He said, boys I came to see you because you look bit depressed, and I know why you feel depressed. But he said, that’s what happen in, during the war: some time we going to happy day, sometime we going to depressing days, but he said I tell you what I want to tell you - I’m exactly telling the words what he explain. He said our friend Germans always had ideas to start the war, because he said, by starting the wars they used to make good gains. They invade other people homes, destroy their homes, rob their homes and bring the loot back to their own country. And he said people in their country never saw the destruction and suffering. But he said, I came to tell you, with this war, we going to take destruction and suffering into their [emphasis] countries, so the Germans will know what war brings, and memories. So he said for the first time we’re doing that, and by doing that we’re having those depressing days left in our memory, but he said this will not last for ever. Sooner or later the rest of the world will start to be happy. But he said is getting very near when that success we achieve, but success is in front of you, so don’t you worry; it will not last forever, you know. And that we give him because we knew that he was under pressure to do that you see, because not only he, the Russians press him, because you know what the Russians knew, the Russians say if you not going to help us, the Hitler will, he had planned to, was the destruction of Dresden, because the Germans had very big concentration troops there and they wanted to contra attack Russian’s advance and Stalin said if you not helping me they going to chase me back to Stalingrad and the war may completely change still in the last phase of the war. And that’s why destruction went to Dresden because they were preparing lot of last Germans, you know, contra attack on Russian’s advance you see, because the Russians was pressing with all their strength because they didn’t give Germans chance to recuperate, you know what I mean, and by doing so they were gaining the successes. But they knew they wouldn’t be able to do it for much longer. That’s why the destruction went on Dresden, because, to completely wipe out the Dresden. We had such heavy losses in Bomber Command you see, because Bomber Command support the Russians, and support our troops. Our troops. Our invasion on Normandy coast, without Bomber Command going and smashing fortification from Baltic to Atlantic, none of our troops would landed on Normandy coast. The Bomber Command helped them you see, to bridge it, just because they had so fortified, you know what I mean. They, they were, Germans nasty, nasty people. But Bomber Command, paid the price and achieved the result in the end. More cake boys? Yes!
GB: I’m all right thank you.
JB: Now listen!
GB: That’s not good; that’s on tape now. My wife will know I’ve eaten cake! [Laugh]
JB: That thing is red.
GB: Is that the warning? I think it is.
GB: Yes. Is the red thing on?
GB: Yeah, it’s flashing and it’s got green, it’s not got the pause. It’s just the battery usually. Is it on the screen is it? Does it say red?
GB: Just record on it.
GB: How many hours left does it say?
GB: Nine hours thirty six. If I can read without my glasses.
GB: It should be quite a lot because it had had about four years worth of recording on there, everything from when Hayley used to swim. I cleared all that off last weekend. My camera when we bought it about three or four years ago, probably little bit longer than that now, we just recorded everything from family holidays to everything, it’s got quite a big memory on there so this last weekend I wiped all of it off, well saved it onto my computer so that we knew we would be chatting for quite a while today, so you know, we’ve left it on so.
JB: It’s nicely set I think for our height, you know, so.
GB: It captures you just here nicely, with us out of the screen.
JB: More coffee? Listen, I’m not going to charge you no more because not hot. I make you hot. [Steps] [Pause] We have a hot coffee this time!
GB: Oh! Okay, thank you.
JB: {Banging] Listen, next time you come to [indecipherable] we won’t be strangers you see because you’re our friend from Lincoln, Yorkshire. Yes.
GB: Well next time you’re coming to be our guest, aren’t you, in May, you’ll come and see us.
JB: You see, which way round, Yorkshire and Lincolnshire, Bomber Command. Here in [indecipherable] they want fighters, you know, and most Bomber Command boys lived there because they had friends and so on, so they remain there.
GB: In Lincolnshire everything is all about the Lancaster and they forget about the Wellington. So because Ingham was purely Wellington squadrons, this is it, we go Lancasters, Wellingtons.
GB: Line them up!
JB: Wellingtons give us the start, yes, yes, they give us the start.
GB: Never heard anything back from Malcom.
GB: Malcolm?
GB: Everett from Nottingham. His uncle. Polish. He was in Fighter, he’s a Fighter. He’s over in Canada. [Indecipherable]
GB: Colin did say that quite a few of the Polish WAAFs are coming to the Faldingworth thing, and [emphasis] the Nottingham Polish scouts.
JB: This time you have the good coffee!
GB: Oh right. We have the rubbish coffee first! [Laughter]
JB: Yes that was it!
GB: I thought you were just seeing how the visitors were going before you give us the good coffee maybe!
JB: You came long way you know, to see me, and sugar, help yourself to sugar. That’s right.
GB: I’ll move that back. There we go. [Sounds of movement] I’ll come and sit this back here a little bit just so that it faces more the front.
JB: Thank you. Yeh, you see, the trouble was, not many people remember the history, but I tell you what I want to tell you. In the old days Poland was country surrounded by three very big power: Russia, Germany and Austria. At one time, many years ago, Poland was the strongest nation in Europe. We stop Turks’ invasion on Europe, but our history start change, you know what I mean, like every country, you know, in future. And then at one time Poland went under occupation of three big power: Russia, Austria and Germany, and we stay under their occupation for hundred twenty years. When the First War started, after hundred twenty years we regain independence, and we’d been destroyed completely, left like that because the biggest battlefield went on the Polish land, you know, between those three superpowers, Russia, Germany and Austria. But when we got independence, for twenty years, England and France was only our far neighbours what we could depend. The rest we still been surrounded by er, not friendly nations, like Germany, Russia, and even Austria and then there was Czechs, Lithuanians, I mean those country, encouraged by the Russians, by the Germans, to cause Czechs against Poland. They knew what that new country, after fifty years to gain independence, was very weak nation. But we had only two countries what we thought we could depend little on friendship: England and France, and we kept it. But in the end we knew in Europe what the Second World War is brewing. But one thing what I have respect for England till my dying days, what England had the guts to stand up against the Germans. No other nation in the world in those days. They all were frightened of the Germans. When the Olympics started in 1930-
GB: Six, yeah.
JB: The Hitler show well his superior power, you know what I mean. And when that Olympic finish, everybody were in fear of the Germans’ superiority. But England, always they were big Empire in those days, they knew what the Germans to them also are big danger, you know, because they knew what the Germans always were creating to regain their superiority in the world. When 1939 came, England only had the guts to stand up. Even French was hesitating in the end. They, you know, were not hundred percent sure, but in the end they had just to do it, but they didn’t do it with heart, no, you see, and the French being senseful were truly bluffing in the end, what it ended that way, you know what I mean. What in the end the Americans got themself involved, because the America didn’t want to it come to the war, and we had very, but in the end who stood up only? England and Poles on this island; everybody was running away. I remember, I work in London, in some parts, in Willesden, where lots of Jewish community live. Rich community, nice houses, and it was at night. I took girlfriend I met in the dance, it was very dark and she promise me she stay with me if I take her home because she was frightened afterwards when dance finished. I said I take you home. I took her home and I was walking back to the Paddington station, I had small room there where I working, and I walk through Willesden, where was half dead. Houses, windows were boarded in, everybody, lots of Jewish community fled to Canada, or somewhere, because they thought the Germans inevitably coming here. And when I walked through that empty park, I thought to myself, will it really happen, you know, what everybody so frightened you see, but that how it was in London. Certain parts in London they were almost deserted too, you know what. I don’t know where people gone, if they gone to different parts of the country but some of them went abroad. So you see, the world, because I went through the beginning of the war till the end, what this country, with Mr Churchill in the end, as the warmonger, I think maybe he was wrong sometimes, [laugh] he didn’t know what he was doing!
GB: We needed a strong leader.
JB: He kept going, you know what I mean! He started in the First War, in didn’t go according to plan everything, but when the Second War came he was about one of the best, you know what I mean, what could come at that time. And he took bluff, he bluff many times and he was biding for the time, because that was only hope what something will happen. And yes, we may don’t like the Japs, but good job what they attack Pearl Harbour, you know what I mean, and they made Americans to come into the war.
GB: Big mistake for them.
JB: Because otherwise I remember the war how every day I was studying the events from day to day and only when Americans go to war you could see the laughs on the people’s faces you know, because we knew now we are not alone and that happened like that, yeah. But from beginning it was hard going but in England with Mr Chamberlain, he was, he believed Hitler from beginning. The trouble was with him, every time he go meet Hitler, he come back, step on Croydon airport: ‘There will be no war, I have signature in my hand.’ But Hitler did not have honour to tell the truth: he was just playing for time, you know what I mean and in the end he knew what he made blunder because he believed him, he believed him, and that’s why he had to resign and coalition became, you see.
GB: Don’t forget your coffee.
JB: That’s right, and you see by bluffing that time, when Mr Churchill came, what Americans got themselves involved, and that, he made also mistake, attack Russia, too late, because he wanted you know, for his stand place petrol and he had not petrol, petrol running out. Every time he had any reserves somewhere we used to bomb there, you know what I mean, and he could hide no longer and he was desperate. He started in North Africa, yes, he won Alamein but it was already with Americans help, yes, okay, you see. Because Rommel, you see he got himself involved in Russia, could not help Rommel in North Africa. Of course, Montgomery beat Rommel you see, but they prepared themselves, up to here Germans you see, when they started but they made lots of mistakes and we gained it. [Laugh] You see that’s how war go. Sometimes you see, you almost have victory but mistake costs and to put mistake right Is very costly. [Laugh]
GB: Can I ask you Jan, about?
JB: Ask me anything.
GB: Can we talk about your, when you came to, when you first came to Britain and joined the RAF, as a Polish airman, can you tell us which, did you fly in or did you come by boat and where did you come to? Tell us a little bit about about Blackpool because I think that was your first- the Polish Depot.
JB: I think you touch one of the most important ones. My father was soldier in the First War and we, when the Russians, the Germans were defeated, Austria collapsed, Poland start re-emerging independence, my father was in Polish erm, in Polish Army. When the Germans collapsed, you know, in 11 11, the Russian wanted to invade, under the Bolshevism, the rest of Europe, because Europe was so tired of the war. The France was almost collapsed; England was very bad unrest, because suffering for five years in the First War and the Russians people who starved, they were hungry of food because the big pressures was on Russians’ Front too you see, and we beat the Russian’s invasion on the Vistula river, in Poland. Because how we beat the Russians then, when they wanted to invade the rest of Europe – Bolsheviks. Because the communists was breeding, wanted to overthrow the monarchies, in Germany, in Austria out, out. England sent small reinforcement because the English Royal Family were linked with the Russian Royal Family and as you know, in the First War, Russia, and England and France and very strongly united.
GB: [Beep] Carry on. Right we’re back on again.
GB: [Indecipherable] battery at the same time.
GB: So were you going to tell us a little bit about how you actually came to England.
JB: Alright. Before war started, my father knew the Second War would always begin sooner or later, and he was fighting against the Bolshevism in the First War. When the Russians had very big defeat and they were always warning what, you know, they will return. That was the, always sign. And he saw, he saw the First War destruction and he said to my mother what he don’t like to see Second War. He had the idea what the war will come and would be same thing what happened in the First War, so he sold his possession in Poland and in those days was very big emigration going to Canada, America, South America, Brazil, Argentine, and my father went, decided to go to Argentine, to start plantation there. We went on the boat from Poland. When I was passing near Dover Strait, I saw the white chalk of Dover, I thought to myself, I had been at school having so many lessons about England, what the democratic system in this country, how near. I could see it but I cannot be in, on that coast to see it. You know how it’s in sight you see, because England was always in Poland very important lectures done you see, how it is leading modern nation in the world. Anyway, my ship continue through the English Channel, stop in Spain, stop in Portugal, stop in North Africa, Casablanca, Dakar, then cross to Brazil, off Brazil went to Argentina, BA. My father you see had already planned where we went to settle down in Argentine. We went there, bought lots of land. I thought to myself what he's going to do, forest? He said we will start plantation: plant lots of oranges, bananas, all different type of wine grapes. I went to school in Argentine to learn Spanish. I was already fifteen year old, where you, during break play football, so some of those Argentinian he said you cannot play football. Then, you know, I shoot goal. No, you didn’t score that goal, you bloody fool! I said what did you say? I already knew how to ask him what this he say. He says something again, I punch him in the face. He will go to teacher, report what I misbehave at school. The teacher report to my father, your son not behaving properly at school. My father said listen, you going to school to learn Spanish and learn the Spanish history. I say father I’m learning but I said, I’m not happy. I said they not going to call me what I don’t want you to call me. [Laugh] He said but you don’t have to fight with them I say sometime you have to. [Chuckle] Anyway, I continue to listen to father. War started; I was already nineteen. English Embassy, French embassy, Polish Embassy calling for volunteers. You don’t know how many volunteers came from South America to this country, from Brazil, from Argentine. They were all different nation joining, against Germans. We had three English ship, the Royal Mail had, big English company Royal Mail, going continuously because English had so much investment in Argentine, they were building railways in that huge country. All the meat factory, because Argentine is one of the biggest meat producer in the world after United States. Frederice Angelo, the factory, when the trains come with the, all the stock from the, those huge provinces with the, to the factories, whole train, you could see those cows inside in the train going from beginning of the factory when slaughter start, in the end of the factory, all ready, ships taking all the meat frozen to different parts of the world. England had lot [emphasis] of money tied up in Argentine, lot; big companies, big companies. And when war started lots of volunteers, English, French, Polish start, because Embassy put, advertise, need people. We start, we been put in the hotels in BA, never know what time we going to leave because the German submarine was all over waiting and all those big boats what were going from Argentine with meat supply to England, and volunteers, we used to sleep on the hammock; we had no beds. All the time you have the salvage tied up in case the boat is torpedoed so you jump into the water to save yourself and we had at night a turn we had to watch with binoculars for German submarines somewhere, and our boat – huge! Royal Mail had three: Highland Moorland, Highland Chief, Highland Princess: four big boats. Continuously they used to cross each other, one coming already from England, second come and they used to hoot each other when they pass each other, crossing the Atlantic. And they used to never come to Southampton, the far as they come to Belfast. Unload in Belfast and go back. Belfast then go back. I came to Belfast and first I felt bombing [laugh] and what a souvenir, imagine! And from Belfast they shipped us to Scotland, you know, at night. And from there to Blackpool and from Blackpool to Evanton in Scotland on the train and we be start training day and night, in hurry because the war was in hurry, you know what I mean, to train. We had sometime few hours sleep, you know what I mean. In Scotland we were living in huts. Those round huts, you know.
GB: Nissen huts.
JB: In the middle we had coal fires, chimney. In morning cold, we had, river was passing near our hut and the wooden boats was from the river, we had to wash ourselves, shave ourselves, quickly before the you know, our duties start. And coming in Argentine during that time was summer there, we came here it was winter. In Scotland dark [emphasis] at night in winter time, cold. First I had to go climatise myself to Scottish weather [chuckle] and start training there. When we got first training then we been shipped to Midland, that was better, you know, better. Then when we finished training in Midland, we then joined to the squadrons you see, and in squadrons was much better, you know, much better life. Yes. So you see I start my way, come from Argentine, was seven hundred of us on that boat coming, on Highland Chieftain, big boat, twenty two thousand ton, and we, German submarine all over South Atlantic, with that Graf Spey what they could not catch, that big German er, battleship what you know eventually they caught him near Montevideo, what they, being sunk you see; we start training. Then, you see, when I was start to fly I done few ops from my OTU. First we been doing lots of leaflets, throwing over France. ‘Don’t you worry, we beating Germans in three months, war finished!’, to give to the French people! [Laugh]
GB: So they were your training runs.
JB: Thousands! Then afterwards they send us bit more deeper in Germany to drop few bombs, you see. And then I, we had our accident and I came out on my own from my crew, because my plane got broken, Wellington. I lost consciousness during the accident and when I woke up, I recover my memory what we had crash and I saw everything in fire. [Pause] I, I was squeezing myself; I’d been trying to get my pilot out of, out of his seat, but I think he was still tied up with his, and I couldn’t get him out and in the end I was running out of breath because I could not see, I could not feel, and I start to crawl back and when I crawl back the plane was broken in half, so I had to exit where I got myself out. When I got myself out, my uniform was burning on me, because some parts, some parts I think got wet with petrol, so those parts when was wet, or when I touch maybe, when was trying to squeeze myself from the plane were fire, and we crash near farm, and the people run out from that farm and er, [pause] they tear my clothes from me you see, but I was, I lost my helmet because during that, er, er, during the crash, you know what I’m, impact, I was you know, I was somehow thrown, my helmet was thrown, so I already burn my hair and good job what they torn my flying [indecipherable] out because otherwise I would got probably burn you see with my uniform. We crash near farm somewhere, very near.
GB: Was that in England?
IJB: In England, yeah.
GB: And your aircraft at that time, was that a Wellington or a Lancaster?
JB: Wellington, yes. And I land myself in Cosford hospital, Royal, RAF hospital, that’s where we crash near, and they soon give me, I was in such a pain, but before we crash, the pilot notify flying control what we are in trouble you see. You see during that time our plane not been serviced properly, we’d be in such a hurry training, training, training, and our plane not been hundred percent sometime, maybe, fit to fly, but if you too often put what there were certain problem, you’re gonna some time maybe you don’t, just don’t want to fly, you know what I mean, so you had to do it. Now if something not working In the old days You see now sorry.
GB: Can’t fly.
JB: But in the old days small problem you just have to -
GB: So your crash happened when you were on the OCU then?
JB: Yes, you see, that plane was continuously refilling it up, refilling it up, you see. They had not enough time to service properly. Anyway, I don’t know what was problem but the pilot signal what we are, you know, going down you see. Then I land myself in hospital, but with pilot notified, he give a signal, we going to crash land, you see. It was at night time and when those people took me inside to their house, I couldn’t see them because everything was red in my eyes because my eyes was also burnt you see, from the flame, so everything was red, and he give us, the pilot give directions to the plane control exact place where we been heading to, to crash, and the ambulance came in about half an hour, but I was in such a pain, such a pain. I still remember that today what, and those people were offering me cup of tea, something I couldn’t touch, nothing, because my hands was, but they were talking to me. And I land myself in Cosford, RAF hospital and they start giving me injections to lower the pain, and in the end, in the end when I woke up, that was somewhere I think in afternoon and we crash in evening, so it was long time, and I just look at my, everything, I was embalmed, but I still could see very little through my, one eye I could see ward, what everything was when I look on my hands was full of bandages and the doctors start came and slowly they start talk to me what to get better, you know, start tell you and I spent there three weeks. And Sir Archibald McIndoe, that the big plastic surgeon from East Grinstead, he used to go visit different hospitals in England, also see different cases, the Air Force fellow who burn, in different locations, and he was surgeon and asked them to be to transferred to his hospital in East Grinstead. So he came and spoke to me. He said you, do you know me? I look at him. I said no. I am big plastic surgeon from East Grinstead Hospital. In those days I didn’t know East Grinstead! I said where, he said East Grinstead near London. Oh yes I said, yes, I know. He said that’s where you come to, I’m taking you there! He shout at me! I say when? He said tomorrow you will come. I said thank you, and you see they transfer me with the ambulance to that hospital, and that was proper hospital there because there was modern facilities, good staff, beautiful hospital. Every time when I pass near I always go visit there, you know what I mean. And the people there, in East Grinstead, they so kind, because some of the boys so badly burned, if you would saw some cases you will close your eyes. Their faces, eyes, ears, no hair: completely [emphasis] new faces, you know what I mean. They had to repeat, because fire is a shocking thing, because fire damage. I was in my life couple of times drowning because I was swimming and in the end I got in some very steep, deep hole what I couldn’t get to the edge of it you see, I was drowning, in the sea, but the fire is the worse enemy. The water is bad but the fire is even worse, you know what I mean. You see I spent there six months and the hospital was every night new cases come, at night. People shouting at night. They bring them on the trollies with pain, from different accidents; tell they could have done with the injection, with the pills you see. So as they, they bathe you little. They keep sending you to diff, to units, because hospital could not cope with so much overloading. Then you do certain time and they recall you back for to continue. So they sent me doing instructing in the gunnery school you see, because I already had few ops behind me, they used to call me, I was capable to do that job what they been so desperately need. So I used to go with those gunner, Lysander used to have that air bag and we going in [indecipherable], that’s a twin engine plane with the two, when the gunners in turn go and shoot him. They sometimes shooting bag, shooting the pilot [laugh], pilot shouting on the intercom [laugh] stop you bloody thing you know what you doing! The bullets flying over my head! [Laughter] Because you see the student you have to tell gently, you know, he somehow press on the trigger you see that turret moving fast you see, so you get him out, you see, you put another one, you say listen when you turn it you must turn gently not so sharp! I said once you pointing on the airbag, once you pointing at pilot head! [Laugh] I said you shoot down the pilot you get into trouble, you get me to trouble you understand! What you doing! So I kept it for six months then I went back as I told you, back to my squadron, then I start to feel to be like home, you know what I mean. Yeah. Because there was, you did your job, and there was no shouting at you, you had more respect, you know what I mean. On this gunnery school I mean I was already instructor but still you had to stand up as a, you know what the discipline, to show them what they must be, you know, example to be, know what I mean.
GB: What rank were you at the gunnery school?
JB: I was Warrant Officer.
GB: Oh Warrant Officer. And was it just Polish.
JB: I had Warrant badge.
GB: The students you were teaching, were they English or just the Polish?
JB: Mixed. There was Australian, there was Canadians, you see, there was Poles. Some of the Canadians been coming already trained, some of them been finish here you see. In the end my squadron sometime, because we always had about eighteen crews operational, from my squadron. So some time when we had replacement we had to have backup from the Royal Air Force because we had, our crews were still due to be, er to come, so we had some spare crews coming, flights. A Flights or C Flights you see, English Section, because we always sent about eighteen planes you know, on the op.
GB: On op.
JB: That was big, big, lovely aerodrome for headquarter, new build by Wimpey, beautiful there.
GB: What, you obviously can remember the date, what was the date of your crash?
JB: My crash, yes, 1943, about three weeks before Christmas.
GB: So yeah, beginning of December ’43.
JB: Yes, somewhere, because Christmas, I tell you, I never forget that Christmas till my dying days. We had Christmas tree, beautiful tree, and you know, first when you badly burned, every day they take you to have a bath. They take your pyjama out: top, bottom, beautiful two WAAFs, nurses, WAAF officers will come and take your dressing gown from your hands, face, because that dressing is with oil, so the oil doesn’t stick to you. And they have to keep changing those dressing gowns till skin heals, you know what I mean. So they have to keep clean every day you must have a bath, they run bath full of water, imagine, from beginning, young man, you go to bath and two beautiful nurses you know, take your dressing gown, afterwards you get used to, but from beginning you almost, you shy to look them. They used to because they already been doing that, but you from beginning. And that Christmas, Bing Crosby sang White Christmas. Anyway, before midnight there was nice atmospheres, nurses were singing, the lights weren’t on and afterwards we had spare room so they turned the lights down and I had radio, and Bing Crosby sang ‘White Christmas’,’ and that touch you, you know what I mean. And I was then in the little room, lights very dimly lit up and I thought, if it is Christmas, that special day, what it touch you so much, you know what I mean, with that song, and every time when I ever heard him singing that song, you know, it remind me that day I was in that hospital you know what I mean. Because that Christmas was such a thing, once you land yourself in hospital and you knew, when in the past you always mix with crowd of people, and this time you was on your own, was very, very sentimental, yes. You know even now, you say, I’m sorry I’m probably bore you talking, but I want to tell you my exactly life.
GB: Oh no!
JB: Even when I go now, during Battle of Britain, when we have all big crowd here - I don’t know if you ever been here, by the monument?
GB: Yes, last September we came.
JB: I’m glad. I hope you come this September.
GB: Every year. We will come every year.
JB: You to us you are very valuable because you going to live lots of, you help us lots of history what we, you know, want to leave behind, because the war’s it is remain, all the history should be known. Yeah. So every time I go to that and when I see those face, my men, who, I’m telling you exactly what I, what to tell you from my heart. I think to myself why didn’t I die with them, you know what I mean, when I say their name because you think they gone and I left behind why should be? I should be there with them but it just happen like that. But some time you, you think you would be better off if you would died with them, you know what I mean, yes. You see friendship, you see, you probably will remember, when you facing, facing, death, and we are three of us together, [pause] is the biggest friendship, the biggest brotherhood you share together. Because you know you depend on each other. You see the same thing would have been in crew, seven, you knew defend each other life and when you miss one of them is probably more than your own brother, you know what I mean. The sort of friendship, you sort of develop friendship. If I see my English crews like I, before [crashing sound].
GB: It’s all right. I’ll get it.
JB: Oh sorry, I’m sorry to give you problem. Oh thank you.
GB: That’s all right. Gone everywhere.
JB: I have lots of more memory, I lost lots of my different records, but I’m still holding [paper shuffling], oh, yes, yes. That’s all right. [Paper shuffling] I thank you, you’re friend.
GB: I’ll move those on to there.
JB: Yes. That’s lovely. [paper shuffling] Look, before we have our statue erected, few years ago Daily Mail was, I miss some daily, because that was every day different added story, I thought why don’t we have our recognition? Even Churchill betrayed them; the nation turn its back. So should we still feel duty, you know what I mean, and in the end we got this monument because every time I see them I was the same like them and I felt what the people forgot us. But you know why? When war ended, the Germans call what was that’s biggest barbaric system done on Dresden, but so many and Mr Churchill slightly turn us back, to give the most recognition to Fighter Command. But we never forgive him because who were Fighter Command, they just stop, delay invasion, in the end Hitler said I will come back to you later, I’m not in such a hurry, but the Bomber Command, who from beginning till the end, went night after night, day after day, from beginning nobody could touch Germans, only Bomber Command did here and that’s why we pay such a big casualties.
GB: You took the fight to them.
JB: We had to go for eight hours. The fighters -
GB: Would you like to sit down.
JB: Yeah. The fighters, listen!
GB: There we go. [Paper shuffling]
JB: Thank you. Sometimes they jump in their Spitfire, they come back and the cigarette still left on ash tray, burning. When we had to go, we had to go for eight hours, over their sky, over their land and face them for eight hours, you know what I mean, then return to English Channel, that was sacrifice and you see people always talk with mistake: Battle of Britain. We only stop invasion but he still had so much power he went on Russia, because he was running out of petrol, that’s why he went in hurry to get, he start North Africa, no success, Then he said well, the other way: I go on Russia. And if he were to take Russia much early probably he would succeed, you know what I mean, but he attack them bit late and winter came and delay him, and why delay? Because Bomber Command, night after night, went over their sky, over their cities, over their whatever places what it hurt them badly, you see, and made destruction and who in the end lost the most people? Bomber Command – yeah, we paid the prices. And we should be, now we have our statue. Every time we go there, we know what only, I went there, Duke of Edinburgh pass with the Queen and I sat in the second row of chairs. So I waved to him, he turned, he said I know you from somewhere! So I turned to him, I said so you should Your Highness. He saw me from somewhere! I often talk with Duke of Edinburgh because he is our President of the Guinea Pig. When we have our dinner before, in East Grinstead and when he is not abroad or somewhere he always come to dinner with us and he eats, every time will enjoy pint of bitter in the bar and he talk with different voice. Then my English colleagues said to him, they bring him what they said that’s a Polish airmen, he stay with us. So he turned to me and said oh, so you not in Poland? I said no because I said the Russians don’t like me, so I said I’m still here. Oh so you here, where you living? I said I’m living in London, Your Highness. Oh in London! I say yes. Whereabouts in London. I said I’m your neighbour. You are my neighbour? I say of course I’m your neighbour: I live in Royal Borough, I said, I live in Holland Park. Oh, but you never come to see me, I say don’t come to see you because you have so many fellows with rifles and stuff! [Laughter] So he said but, you have to tell me, you are my friend – I said they don’t listen to me! [Laugh] And he laugh and he went andgo talk with somebody else, you know, he’s a very. People say talk to Duke of Edinburgh what he’s such a, you know, he’s just the same, and he will have same food with us and he enjoy joking and telling us some nice story. He said when I go to different meetings I have to be so careful because, he said, if I make something, they up to it and he said next morning in the press lots of things done to it. He said with you boys I can talk and it’s no paparazzi [laugh]. And he will have same pint of beer to start, and he will walk in bar and chat, you see you never can press yourself to start talking with him, but when he is brought to you, then you can have a chat with him you see, [laugh] then, yeah. So, he said so you are living in my borough? I say yes, I say I have been living before you, because I said, I know you got married after me [laughter] when you came, and the fellows who escort him laughed, you know, because I remember when he got married, and in Hyde Park we had all different groups from Colony come, and they had in Hyde Park, in the tents, accommodation, you know what I mean. So I said oh yes, you became my neighbour much after me, I say I came after the war, yeah, because, and he, he few times he came to see us and after, when dinner finish, quietly to take him through back door and back to London, yeah.
GB: Can I ask you a question? When, you said when you went on operations and you went for eight hours, can you tell us a little about what it was like? Did you spend all eight hours in your gun turret, or were you allowed to walk up and down the aircraft? Did you take a little bag with a flask of tea and sandwiches? What did they give you? Tell us a little bit if you can about an ordinary mission.
JB: Yes, I tell you what. We used to take coffee with flask; strong black coffee with drop of rum, drop of rum, and pilot will always, from time to time: Jan, you all right, how you feel? All right skipper, don’t worry, I’m watching, watching, don’t worry. Oh we just want to know, you know, he communicated with one each other ever so often, you know, so, because some time certain fellow can fall slightly sleepy, you know what I mean, so we keep in communicating from time to time, but I, you see when I went second time after my accident, and the new crew came, they were feeling what I was to them like, superior, because I already had few operation before me and I had to tell them, before we went on first op, I said listen, I can advise you one thing what you have to do. What you have to keep your eye left and right all the time, because if you going to keep that, what I’m telling you, you probably will have much more chance to, because I said the Germans come so quickly and so unexpectedly what, before you notice it’s too late, so you have to see him much before he see you you see, and I said you must keep eye on each other so you all know what you’re doing, and you keep looking. Because I said, pilot has his responsibility and you as the gunners, you have your responsibility, because you have the responsibility for the rest of crew. I say you have your guns and your guns is for defending ourselves. I said some of the members of the crew, they have no guns. Well you have the guns and you have to give that, you know. They felt, you know, like I was to them, bit more superior because I already had few ops you see.
GB: You had the experience.
JB: Yes, that’s right.
GB: How many operations did you go on all together do you think?
JB: About fourteen.
GB: Fourteen. Did you, it’s a delicate question to ask, but did you manage to shoot down any Germans?
JB: No. I had one, I had, who wanted to attack us, and I don’t know why, and he kept following us for while, but I think he knew what we saw him you see, and he was coming, was lowering himself down, from the back he was following, but never took attack you see. And I, to the mid upper I said look, look he’s on your right, on my, on my right from the back, watch him, watch him, he’s going to do something! And he follow us, I don’t know, or he had not enough guts.
GB: Maybe.
JB: Because Germans too also, not everyone was not brave, you know what I mean. And in the end when clouds came we went, because when clouds came you run into the cloud, you don’t care what happen, if you collide with something long as you get away, you know, so the most danger night it is when it’s moonlight. When we go on bombing and is full moon, is almost fifty fifty chance, you know what I mean, because the Germans could see you like in daytime, you know what I mean, and long distance but when is certain over cloud, over target, is, you see, very, very big to us, future to survive, you know what I mean. Because you don’t care when you see the fighter is attacking you, if you have near cloud you run into the cloud, you know what I mean, and he will be frightened to follow you because you know, you can collide, but you, to save yourself you don’t care.
GB: You go into the cloud.
JB: You will do it. Yes.
GB: Did you think yourself, you obviously with a rear gunner in a Wellington and then also in the Lancaster, what was it, what were the guns like, were they powerful enough do you think you could have better? Because they kept changing the different armaments that you had.
JB: No I think Lancaster had better, they were more modified, more superior, movement and erm, effectiveness than Wellington. You see every, from Wellingtons they made lots of improvement into the Lancaster and you felt the second, what you been, not two gunners, it was three of you, you know what I mean, and the Germans knew, when he would attack you from the back, he would have two gunners against him, you know what I mean, instead of one. Because Wellington is rear and front, so he know the front, he’s not bothered about the front, he only, and the German fighter, first of all, when he attacking you his first idea to kill the rear gunner, because once he point on you and he, he upset your defence, then he know he got the rest, you know, easy way. So his first idea to have eyes set on the rear gunner you know, and he will always attack from the back, very seldom from the side, because from the side is so big speed, what he cannot catch you in his gun sight, but when he follow you from the back he has distance.
GB: A still target.
JB: And he get you right in his circle and then you are, you know, almost in his mercy you see, yeah.
GB: Did you have any armour plating in the rear turret at all to protect you?
JB: No.
GB: Nothing at all.
JB: No. You just, you know, you had good visibility, but pilot had, pilot had. From beginning we had sometime two pilots; one and assistant pilot who’s doing first trip or something. But afterwards you train pilot for Lancaster four engine; it take so long what they couldn’t afford it to have two pilots so we had one, yes. Maybe some time first trip, some time, when the pilot, Commanding Officer knew, what he need to send with the second pilot, so they send him to give him one trip, what to experience, you know what I mean.
GB: When, when you came back from each operation, was there a certain time when you were able to relax? When you were still in the air, coming back from an operation, was there a certain time when you came over the British coast or was it further inland than that?
JB: You know first of all when we just been over Holland, to Belgium, even France, we felt little better, but when we came over English coast at least you know you were home, yes, [telephone] you knew what maybe some Germans here but they so scared over our land when they have no time and because sometime we will come and the Germans will be around here you know, so we had some diversion you see, yes. There were occasion we landed on American bases. That was good because we could get cigarettes you know, [chuckle] and bottle gin, and bottle of gin! And you can have a beautiful food whatever the time of the night you like, because kitchen is always open you see. So listen, next time you come back to your station all your friends after you because they knew you’d been diverted to American station! It was like you know [laughter].
GB: Are there any funny stories you can remember when you were on operations, up in the air, the funny things that happened in the aircraft? Can you remember any funny things that happened with your crew when you were up on operations?
JB: Oh yes, yes! Sometime you know there is certain job, fellow sitting, he said, listen you know what this, our skipper doing now? He turned, he completely turned his course, he sort of [indecipherable] going on Berlin, I say you’re joking! No, no he’s something, doing wrong! Listen, you don’t tell me he not so stupid to do such a thing. Only jokes, you know. But jokes is all right if is quiet, but when is sometimes hot you know what I mean, there is no joke, there is no joke, you know. After, when we get from the danger, we can joke, you know what I mean, yes.
GB: And your time when you were back on the ground, on the stations, tell us a little bit about your life on the RAF stations, if you can, in between operations. What was your normal day on the ground?
JB: I’ll tell you what we’ll do, [sigh] I was very good snooker player, and you know when I learned very good snooker? When I land myself in hospital and we had recreation room and three snooker table. So when you not in bed, you go to that canteen, have a cup of tea or coffee, and sometime play game or two just to pass the time, and I had you know, very good talent for the snooker and some time - I’m glad you ask me that because I cannot remember everything, so when you ask me certain question I sometime give you interesting answer - that Sir Archibald McIndoe, what he was such an important person in Air Ministry, if he phoned to Air Ministry and he said listen, I want twenty professional nurses: my hospital short of nurses. After two days new nurses come from Ireland, because most Ireland supply beautiful trained nurses, young girls. And they come to hospital and after one years hospital short of nurses because boys married them, you know what young boys, and they soon find themselves husbands you see, but anyway, that Sir Archibald McIndoe also liked play snooker. Sometime he will start operating from seven o’clock in morning because the more they operating those people, the more some of them they finish them in to do the service again, you know, it was like you know what I mean, conveyor belt. People coming in and going out, coming in and going out. So he would start operating early, certain cases, and lunchtime sometime, you know what he would do to me? He will call me, to my, I will be on Ward One, he will ask sister, sister call that Polski – he called me Polski – so sister say, hey Polski, your boss want to see you, So I get on the telephone. Yes Sir Archie, what can I do? Listen Jan, reserve table one o’clock today because I give you game. I give you three black start! I say thank you Sir Archie. Yes, yeah, because you have to learn little bit more about snooker! [Laugh] So he bloody come, I will already have a sandwich for them, coffee, because he will play snooker with me and have a sandwich and coffee because he, then we finish one game listen, we have a quick one, another one. So instead of one game we will have two games, we would have sometime he would not even have time to finish a sandwich and coffee, but two game he will finish, and then he will laugh. Some time I specially let him win the game because that give him satisfaction. He will go back to operating room, he said I beat that Pole, because he thought he will beat everything! But he said I told next time three blacks is not enough for him, next time, listen, so that give him satisfaction. And he loved playing snooker. When he will meet us in bar, in Whitehall, in the evening, not every night, but from time, he usually know Friday or Saturday was the best time to meet us, he would always talk snooker to you, you see, because he loved that game and he used to play with me and with other fellows you know, but he always used to like play with me because I supposed to be quite a good player what wins them, because they all knew, so he used to enjoy beat the best one. And he was really nice. Some time he will ask us, he lived in East Grinstead, New Forest, that’s a little outside town. He has beautiful big bungalow there. So sometime he few us, he ask us for glass of beer into his, because we all had cars, you know, in East Grinstead, because lots of people sold cars cheaply because petrol was so expensive, some of people had cars but no petrol so you could buy petrol for, car for twenty five pound in those days and you know on the station you always been able to get petrol.
GB: Little petrol here, little petrol there, yeah, yeah.
JB: So we go to his, that little, that nice bungalow and he will have a drink with us in his sitting room and afterwards sometime he leave us, because he said I have to get up tomorrow morning, I have to go to London and we will have a game or two in his you know, also have a drink and afterwards go back to hospital. He was really our friend; we, we, when he died we felt for him like he was our advisor, doctor and father, you know what I mean. And he had so much influence, you know whatever, because when the Queen and King came to visit, he was the right hand man, you know what I mean, and Queen and King from time to time visit that hospital because it was all the Canadians, Australians, New Zealanders, you know, colonial boys too and you know Royal Family often pay visit there. He was, and he was such an influential,so. Whatever he wanted to gain you know, something, he had his voice was respected everywhere. Yes.
GB: Do you remember back to the names of the crew in your aircraft when you had your accident?
JB: Yes, I yes, that my second crew who died, I have in my book – this one.
GB: Oh, in, how do you pronounce his surname. Is it Jerzy Cink, is it Cinic? In Polish, how do you say that name there?
JB: Ah, Cink. Yes, Cink.
GB: Cink, I’m just going to use your toilet for a moment. Brendan wants to ask you a question.
JB: Just here, first on the right, go there. First on the right. Yes, just first on the right. [Cough] I’m sorry I, [cough] do too much talking, but you see I have to tell you whatever, because you came long way and if I don’t tell you I forget, you know what I mean. I find when my second crew got lost. Four hundred something. Thank you, yes, put that somewhere. [Crockery sound] Yes, thank you.
GB: I presume, this book references, I’ve seen copies.
JB: Put that, yes thank you. [Long pause] Yes, you see here, I.
GB: Page [indecipherable]. Three hundred Lancasters.
JB: Oh yeah, here you see.
GB: Oh right, marked.
GB: More heavy losses on the first raid in 1941, attack on [indecipherable] on the night 2nd of January VHJ?
JB: Yeah. That’s my crew. Konarzewski, yes.
GB: Right. That was the aircraft. VHJ.
JB: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Where is Konarzewski? [Pause] No. There is the car. [Footsteps] [Crockery sounds]
GB: All marked in here as well.
JB: That’s right, yeah, Jan Konarzewski, oh yeah, that’s my crew. Second one.
GB: VH-J then. EB722.
JB: Yeah. That’s my crew what I was recalled to hospital, they went and, and that fellow was instructor, and he was in Hucknall, Hucknall.
GB: Mmm. Nottingham.
JB: And afterwards he got so fed up he said, he went, he came to our squadron and pass all the training and he was made Group Captain. Because for his services, for few years he was instructing, and imagine just before war ended, went on the flight, and you know what I mean, and crew vanished, yes. I mean different from beginning of, this end like er, that fellow, er, our ace, what in the last war, before war ended, went over Belgium. One was um, my memory, my memory you see is, er, Group Captain, Group Captain who had the most bomber, the highest Victoria Cross in Bomber Command there.
GB: Polish or British? English? Do you mean Guy Gibson or Cheshire?
JB: Guy Gibson. On Mosquitos. He went just before the war ended, in last few days, over Belgium and was shot down and killed. And the second one was er, er, his wife also contribute a lot, Group Captain Guy Gibson and second one was er, he had the most, the most trips, he was the most highly decorated – Cheshire!
GB: Leonard Cheshire.
JB: Leonard Cheshire. They were, my friends, I, listen, Leonard Cheshire had gunner in Holland Park. I tell you why, I will tell you history, fact, why Leonard Cheshire did so many trips. He was the highest decorated man in the Second War, Leonard Cheshire. He was first as a Lieutenant, made first tour, and when they finished first tour they had given holiday, everyone went different directions. One live in Scotland, one in Wales, one somewhere in London. When they return from that holiday, they all been given different, afterwards, type of duty to do. But his crew came back first, day before, from his, from their holiday. He came on second day, it was on Saturday he came back, and somebody tell him, oh your crew went to the local park to have a drink because one of the fellow is having birthday. So he get in his car and go to that park, and he said why have they just spend holiday. Oh, we had lovely holiday, one was in one place and one in another! And they said so what you doing here? No he’s, Jack having holiday, birthday, so they his birthday so we have drink, skipper, we buy you drink too, what you have? So skipper he says Oh, I have a bitter. Well he said listen boys I have the news what I will be transferred to London, to Headquarters, I will do office job now, he said I don’t know what you going to do. Well skipper, we decided today, as we having that birthday drink, what we going to continue to fly till end of the war. You know they got drunk and decided they not going to take, you know, different jobs; they want to fly. So he said when did you decide to do that? Oh well, Jack had birthday and we had drink, we thought you know, it’s nice to continue. And he start to feel sorry for them they going to fly without him. So he said why didn’t you told me that before? Well we didn’t know that, but we somehow came back from holiday and we decided the best thing for us to continue. And he start to feel sorry to leave them, you know, behind. He said now I have to do, rearrange everything you know if I want to stay with you. No they say, you don’t have to, you know, you decide for yourself. So he decide to fly with them second tour, he decide to fly second and third tour you see, and that’s how his story went. When war ended, he knew what Polish Air Force contribute to the Second War. He was lovely fellow, Leonard. He went to visit Poland, with his wife, and he saw some Poles who went back, because some left their wives in Poland, you know, and when he went there and saw some of them, or some of them already by communists badly treated, badly, you know, went through different interrogation, you know, he decided to build in Poland few, to those homeless people, home, to the ex RAF who went back to Poland and he found them in such a suffering, with his wife. So the Polish government made her Baroness of Warsaw, you know, his wife.
GB: Yes, yes.
JB: Leonard Cheshire became Catholic after the war, he went to Rome and he made application to Pope what he want to become Catholic. You know why? Because he made so many trips and sometimes he said, the, his guilty conscience was hmm, touching him, maybe so many trips what he made maybe the bombing, maybe some suffering to some people and he thought maybe to ask God forgiveness, because he was half religious person, you know what I mean. Probably that’s why did so many trips know what I mean, and his wife spent half of the time in Poland when he died, you know what I mean. Because she was doing some charity job there and she was well respected you see, in Poland. That’s Leonard Cheshire. But I tell you one story about him. You see when I live in Holland Park fifty years, all people knew me – oh that’s ex Polish airman, that’s Polish Guinea Pig. Our Police Station, all Police Station knew me because two girls from the station rent the flat in my house so when they have time they will popping in for cup of coffee, when they had day off they would come and go by, oh, Mr Black, how are you, all right, we’ll pop in quick and have a coffee. I, you see I did and in one job after the war, twelve years in rubber factory and after, when I finish, I work for electric wholesaler, twenty years. Because I knew all the cities in England and my boss like me so much because he send me to Nottingham, Coventry, Birmingham. I know that city Doncaster. He send two fellows you see they couldn’t do the cover because you see they had no experience to be in that part. I work for big electric wholesaler, [telephone ringing] so I very seldom saw my boss because he send me, all my customers like me. When they ordering, want to put orders, they asking on the reception they want to talk to me. Because when they talk to me, I promise them what I will deliver them tomorrow or after tomorrow for sure. When they talk to the boss, he take the order but long as he take the order he doesn’t bother if he deliver on time! So you see all the customers got to know me. They phone for the orders, they want to talk to me, because they know, what I, and they used to give me always good orders. You respect the guy what’s ex you know RAF and so on. So my boss was jealous of me. He said I don’t know what you do with your friends, they phone me, they only want. I said because I tell you why, I said when they order with you, you take their orders but you don’t bother to deliver on time! I said when I take order I sometime don’t sleep the time that I will deliver them, that’s the difference. I said, yes, I said and you thinks, you know, because you know I do that job, so he was also ex-Army fellow, you know what I mean! But yes, you see, I was starting, where did I start, with them, yeah, so you see, I had two jobs. Second job I loved because I had independent job. I used to travel all around the cities and in the end I went to my boss and I said, listen, when I start the job you told me it will be London. Then it was London, then afterwards you said it outside London, it was outside London, [beep] I said now we spreading all over, Scotland, Wales. Ah, he said Jan, but you don't have to hurry, you can stay in hotel, boarding room when you fine to. I said listen, I have wife. I said I didn't marry my wife to stay in Scotland, or somewhere, I said I marry my wife in London! I said no, no, I said. Listen, you know we in business we some time do more, some time less. I said yes, now every year is more and more and nothing less, but in the end he said well we will be changing so, but for time being. So I had lovely job, but it was you know, responsible job, you had to do it: nothing for nothing you see. And when I come back now, what we did war days responsibility and when war ended how we had to be also, you know what I mean, doing the job, you know what, we had nothing given for nothing you see. Now people never satisfied, you know what I mean, yes, lots of changes yes, and that’s why, maybe now, we cannot afford certain things, you know what I mean, to give so much. Like now they, wanting flats in Westminster for thousand pound you know what I mean whatever, you know, weekly, because these days you see time change, yes, you know what I mean. The Chancellor, the present Chancellor, Chancellor cannot do so much, if he cannot afford it he has to do it.
GB: Looking, looking back at your time when you’re in the Polish Air Force, in the RAF, do you look back at it now, I know you have some sad memories, and some, probably memories you prefer to forget, but as a whole thing, what do you, when you look back now, what do you think of your time in the RAF, how do you view it now?
JB: RAF, you see we live, it was days when we never knew what tomorrow’s going to bring; we used to live from day to day. But every day, when you had chance, you enjoy it, because you been catching. I’m glad you ask me that. Sometime when I was stationed in beautiful parts in this country because England have such a beautiful scenery in certain parts. This country is so much, compared with different parts of the world, so nicely preserved, so nicely upkept, you know what I mean. I used to take bicycle, in spring, and sometime go quietly for nice cycle, and I would stop that bike, and see beautiful flowers, beautiful flowering trees and I think to myself: how God made this planet so beautiful. When you some time visit you never look that, you never think that, but then when I find the time and you see that beautiful thing in front of you, those birds singing, you think to yourself I wonder if tomorrow will be such a beautiful day. If I go tonight and never return, you know what I mean. You been thinking that, you know, if you survive that one. Because when you young you something like flower growing, flowering, you don’t want to die, you know what I mean, because you full of life, you know, and see all that thing beautiful round you. So you see when you’re young person you want to live, that remember, and when I used to see that beautiful thing round me, the river, and I used to drive, cycle in those quiet place, beautiful county Lincolnshire and I think that would be shame, you just want to live now [laugh] and you facing that, the worst when some time you going to take off you see, Once you’re airborne you just feel phew, you can breathe, but the take off is always a bit of, you know what you up to: start. The second time when you go on target, when you already been there before, and you know when it’s lots of German guns there, you know, when you have on the briefing, because when you come to briefing, and our briefing officer with his long stick and big map, start pointing and you think to yourself: not that bloody place again! [Laughter] You know.
GB: Were there times when you were in the big briefing room, when they told you about where you’re going to go, so you had good locations, and not so good locations, and bloody awful locations, and was there like a groan round the room and things like that when they told you? I presume the first thing you knew was in the briefing room when the senior officer stood up at the front and told you did you?
JB: Listen, when he’s telling you about that what you already been there, you want him to finish quickly [laugh] without no mentioning them, what they have somewhere back [indecipherable] because they will tell you when, before you reach that place somewhere where you will have obstacles too, you know, so you just, you please will you finish quickly, you know! [Laughter]
GB: Where would you say, remembering back, where was the one [emphasis] place you didn’t want to hear that you were going? Where was that? Was there one place or a couple of places?
JB: Yes, one, one I remember.
GB: What was that?
JB: I remember Gelsenkirchen, that’s in industrial part of Germany. At one time I thought, I thought my plane was, you know what I mean, going down. I said to skipper, I said Jan, what the hell are you doing? I said, I cannot shift in my turret! His name was Jan too, Jan Konarzewski, he was Group Captain and I was Warrant Officer. He said Jan be quiet, I’m frightened, he’s shooting at us and I have to get away, he said, don’t you bloody shout! [Laugh] Because I, feel, listen, they in front, they don’t feel that, but I, in that bloody turret, when they turn and put that [indecipherable] I fucking feel my feet is going down! I said listen, hysterical here, you know what I mean, he say hysterical here too! [Much laughter] But, you know what I mean. In the end I know he’s not doing that on purpose you know what I mean. But I said you did bloody make me nervous, I thought you know that’s it, I said I didn’t know what happened. He said what he saw those flares coming up him and he just couldn’t, wanted to avoid them or something and that’s why he turn. But some time you know, when you try to avoid the desperate moment you do so many funny things, you know, you just don’t care, you know, in those days. And some targets are, Germans, they were, oh they, I must give them that, they had terrific, you know, defence, you know, on certain. I never been over Berlin but the boys who told me once they gone on that, you know, he said they had good drink before, because they knew it was very, very strongly defended place because the Germans, specially wanted Berliners, to show them what, there was nothing to worry about. Because that Goering he told German people what there would be no any planes coming in the sky, you know, he gives them such a surety, you know what I mean, and after our plane on Hendon Museum, it said who made over hundred trips over Germany [laugh], yeah; he was giving Germans to Hitler such assurance, what they don’t you worry, I see them all you know what I mean, yeah.
GB: Have you, we’ve obviously got the Wellington in Hendon, and the one at Brooklands. Have you been inside them, at all? Have you been to see them at all?
JB: Only Lancaster, oh I take lots of people from Poland.
GB: Yes. To Hendon, the museum.
JB: To Hendon, yes, that’s the first. When I have some visitors I tell them to. Listen, I went to Argentine because my sister lived there, and er, [pause] and I went to museum and I saw were Lancasters in Argentine. In Buenos Aires there is one in the city and I thought to myself where did you beautiful things end you see, land yourself here? My sister said to me Jan, I didn’t wanted to call you back because I knew you been something so much attach. I said – my sister called Marcella – I said Marcella, I could stand on that plane and watch him and talk to him. I said what you would probably would be tired waiting for me. I said Marcella, because that plane bring me so much memory. I said for you is probably difficult to understand. I said, when some time we went on operation and it was very, [pause] very, I said, scary. And when we came back, we touch his wings, we kissed him, that’s why we been grateful what he took us there and brought us back, you know what I mean. I said Marcella, you will not understand me why I will stand outside him and I feel sorry what he so far away, yeah. I telling you this story, story from my [emphasis] life, what I felt sorry what that plane was so far away and we have only couple left now.
GB: Indeed.
JB: And those planes helped us so much to win the war. How we got rid of them, you know we been sending them on scrap and these are such historical planes - they helped us to win the war.
GB: It’s the same with the Wellingtons though, isn’t it.
JB: Wellingtons, Spitfires, look now we looking in Burma, those planes what were buried somewhere. You’ve heard that.
GB: Yes, yes.
JB: I mean what they were shipped there all that distance, and it was too expensive for them to bring them back, you know what I mean.
GB: So they buried them.
JB: So they buried them and they looking for them now, and they are somewhere because if they would be sold or something it would been known by now.
GB: They made a lot more Wellingtons than they did Lancasters during the war, and after the war they obviously sold quite a few to different countries but the rest were all scrapped, scrap metal.
JB: Scrap, yes, yes.
GB: What they would give for a flying, a Wellington that was flying now.
JB: Oh yes, oh boy, yes.
GB: Got an alarm that was all.
JB: Yes, you see, I mean those planes to us they were so I mean historical you see, what we flown in them they been to us, what they are part of us, I, when I go now to Hendon museum, you know, some, I like to go some time on my own because when I go on my own, quiet, yes.
GB: Quiet, and your own time, I understand that.
JB: And I, because I know every plane, what type of duty he was doing here and I think those planes helped us to win the war, because without those. You see Poland, what I want to tell you, we were new country after hundred twenty years occupation by those three nasty neighbours, we knew what the Second War will be, the biggest part who will play – Air Force. We train lots of people to be new country born in Eastern Europe, but we had not enough money to build the planes. But we had well trained pilots, been flying. We been producing small planes what was, we were selling to our poorest countries, for training. As the war started we had our own production plane, but very few. What came, just came to beginning of the war, but nothing compare with Great Britain like Spitfire, Hurricane or Wellington.
GB: They were very special.
JB: They were more superior. But the pilots had lots of flying hours in Poland, we train lots of people, we knew the Air Force will play big part. When that war started, you see the Germans attack us unexpectedly; we knew they would attack us sooner or later, with the Russians they made treaty together. They were friends, Hitler and Stalin together, and England said no, you see. And the Russians, when Hitler was fighting England, Stalin was helping Hitler, sending him whatever he needed because he wanted if Hitler attack Britain; he was encouraging Hitler. You’ve got France, England next. Because you know why? Because he was preparing to stab him in the back afterwards, and in the end Hitler knew that. Hitler knew that. That’s why they from beginning as the friends then in the end turned enemies you see, on each other. Well you see -
GB: Sorry, go on, no.
JB: When war ended, England, didn’t know much about the communist because they were separated for the rest of the world, they did wanted people to know how suffering they live, had bad situation because that was communist, you know what I mean, and they not never been friends of our. They became friends because we had to help them. Because we had to help them because we been frightened if we don’t help them the Germans get hold of their essentials what they need, so we had to help them, but the Russians weren’t really our friends, you know what I mean, not like during the monarchy days, like when they were our friends. We sorry what we didn’t help them because probably if we would help them in those days, we would been able to squeeze the Bolshevik, you know what I mean, because those people only went there because they were suffering with hunger, with the condition. But we, we also been so weak, after the First War, what been not able to help them, you see. But I mean the Russians, look now, they now more friendly because they have big enemy – China. Sooner or later Chinese will make move and the one move what they will make is only that big territory, what they want. They don’t want nothing else. Up to now they been doing trade with England, America; they manage to get by, but when the trade start to slow down, the Russian, the Chinese have everything now what they need, and the Russians now not making with us no more trouble, you see, living very quietly, very scared not to touch them, you see. Putin holding here.
GB: Maybe.
JB: But not for very long because people knew in Russia what they want change, because the rest of the world is living better than them you see, and the people will make a change sooner or later and Putin holding, but that empire is not the same what it was, you see, is breaking down. Look like that big part Ukraine, yeah, is broke down, the Eastern Europe what broke down, they just holding, but time come.
Let me just switch the camera off now, cause I think there’s probably not much time on there anyway
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Title
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Interview with Jan Black
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Royal Air Force
Polskie Siły Powietrzne
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
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eng
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Sound
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03:08:22 audio recording
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IBCC Digital Archive
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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SRAFIngham19410620v040001
Description
An account of the resource
Jan Stangrycuik (Black) was born and raised in Poland. His family emigrated for a better life in Argentina when he was a teenager, but when the British Embassy called for volunteers to join the war effort, Jan answered the call and sailed with seven hundred other volunteers to England, where he joined Bomber Command and trained as an air gunner. He was the only surviving member of his crew when, in 1943, his Wellington aircraft crashed, near RAF Cosford, escaping with severe burn injuries.
He recalls his time in the RAF, including his recuperation from his extensive burns under the care of Sir Archibald MacIndoe with whom he became friends. He became one of the founder members of the Guinea Pig Club. He talks about life away from flight operations, of his exploits whilst on leave in London where daily life went on albeit under the threat of bombardment. It was where he met his future wife, an English woman who came to see him regularly at the hospital in East Grinstead, as he made his lengthy and painful recovery back to health. Jan later returned to duty as a gunnery instructor on Lysander aircraft before returning to his squadron and resuming flying operations.
Jan talks about daily life in between flight operations; how one lived day to day, because each day was precious, how crews had their own table in the dining room and wondering if the table next to them would be empty the next day.
He also shares anecdotes about, and pays tribute to, Guy Gibson and Leonard Cheshire who he knew and considered them friends. He recalls his fondness of, and conversations with, Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh and, at the time, President of the Guinea Pig Club.
Jan also reflects on Polish history and the aftermath of the war. After the war he settled in Britain, working all over the country, until he retired.
This item was provided, in digital form, by a third-party organisation which used technical specifications and operational protocols that may differ from those used by the IBCC Digital Archive.
Creator
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Geoff Burton
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Argentina
France
Germany
Great Britain
Russia (Federation)
Poland
England--Lincolnshire
England--Shropshire
England--Yorkshire
England--Blackpool
England--London
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Anne-Marie Watson
Chris Cann
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1939
1941
1943
air gunner
aircrew
bombing
bombing of Dresden (13 - 15 February 1945)
Cheshire, Geoffrey Leonard (1917-1992)
crash
ground personnel
Guinea Pig Club
Harris, Arthur Travers (1892-1984)
Lancaster
love and romance
McIndoe, Archibald (1900-1960)
military service conditions
perception of bombing war
Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh (1921-2021)
RAF Cosford
RAF Faldingworth
RAF Hendon
RAF Ingham
Spitfire
training
Wellington
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1561/34801/SRAFIngham19410620v050001-Audio.1.mp3
92d5b5c5d9c9fb7f27931456435273fa
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
RAF Ingham Heritage Group
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-11-14
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
RAF Ingham
Description
An account of the resource
25 items in six collections. The collection concerns RAF Ingham and contains interviews photographs and documents concerning:
Andrzej Jeziorski - Pilot 304 Squadron
Arthur Hydes - Boy in Ingham
Brian Llewellyn -ATC
Jan Black - Rear Gunner 300 Squadron
Lech Gierak - Armourer 303 Squadron
Marion Clarke - MT Driver RAF Ingham
Mieczyslaw Maryszczak - Armourer
Stanislaw Jozefiak - Air Ops 304 Squadron - Pilot on Spitfires
Wanda Szuwalska - Admin 300 Squadron Faldingworth
Zosia Kowalska - Cook RAF Ingham
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by the RAF Ingham Heritage Group and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
LG: They made like from July 1940 to October end, that was like ten weeks or something, called Battle of Britain, which 303 shoot down hundred forty six planes. The most, nobody else done that.
Int: The highest of any squadron, British or Polish.
LG: That’s why they were famous, you know.
Int: Are we about ready; are we ready to go, are we actually up and running? The camera is on and the recording there is on. So could, we will start with some very basic things. Could you tell us your full name and where you were born and when you were born, please Lech.
LG: Well my name is Lech Gierak and I was born in [indecipherable], Poland, which belongs now to Lithuania, you know. And my mother was schoolteacher, school mistress like, and my dad was bank manager and when the war start, my dad couldn’t, demob, you know, go to the Army and that and then there was only six weeks when Poland was beaten and my father come, and about two months after, the Russian police come and arrest him, and he got twenty five years prison for it, because 1920 he was fighting against the Russians; so he got twenty five years for it and he died there, in a Russian prison camp. Me and my mum was sent to Siberia. That was April 1940, and we were near Omsk and they put us in er, wagons like [sigh] what they called, you see the Jews put in.
Int: Cattle wagons.
LG: Cattle wagons like, cramped up like, you know. Maybe five or six families in them and they wouldn’t, the first thing they let us, when we past [indecipherable] when we stop they let us out to have wee and otherwise we used to have wee there and then, you know, inside the thing.
Int: In the carriage, yeah.
LG: They took us to this town called, near Omsk, anyway, and being I was still young they send me to school, in Russia, and er, they was all, some of them, mostly the young lads like more or less Hitlerjugend. They were like [indecipherable] and when I come there they start, because next day, where they give us shovels, kids, you know, women, to dig and they come and say, oh look at them bourgeois start working at last! You know. But they were more like Hitlerjugend, used to [indecipherable] anyway, and when the war start between Russia and Germany, they let us free and they made a Polish Army and I run, to join, from Omsk down to Tashkent, which is, er, it’s at Kazakhstan. It’s a very big country, it’s about, you can put about five, six England in it, you know. It took me from Omsk down to Tashkent about two days, on and off like, you know what I mean, and then from there we went to oh, [pause], the lorry comes and we went through the mountains from where, [sigh] on the border like, and when we come to the border the lorry stopped and we come out, and we went to the people what look what you are taking and some of them had their rings and that all, they took it off us. Not me, I had nothing but some of them, and said that’s Russian gold, you can’t take it, you know. Anyway, we come to Tehran and from Tehran we went to Iraq, and camp the night there, and from Iraq we went to, I went to the Palestine and then Egypt. They opened the schools and er, to teach us to be what they called Technical Officers, something.
Int: This was at Heliopolis was it?
LG: At Heliopolis, yes, and then I fancied to be a pilot so I volunteered to come to England. I come to Liverpool, they gave us cup of tea, twenty fags, then took us to Blackpool, and there they sort us out, whoever wants to go, you know any trade, anything. I passed for pilot school but had to wait because you know like, there were schools there already, when they finished another one comes.
Int: So you had to wait for a place.
LG: So they end me to Scotland.
Int: Where was 303 Squadron at this point, when you arrived?
LG: Pardon.
Int: When you went to 303 Squadron, where were they based at that point? Where station were they at?
LG: That was Northwood for, I should think about two months, maybe less, and then we went to Framlingham, somewhere, I forgot it, because wasn’t long there, only about six weeks or something and then send us to -
Int: Coltishall.
LG: Yeah, Coltishall.
Int: You mentioned that earlier. Can you tell us a little bit, Lech, about what an average day was like, as an armourer? What did you do? What was your accommodation like, what was your breakfast like? How a normal day went.
LG: Well, the, Coltishall was pre-war station which had a like nice barracks down the bottom, top, and er, it’s all went to, like armoury, and get a, it wasn’t like: ‘oh you got like from nine o’clock till four’, you just carry on and been, you really hate Germans, it made no difference, it didn’t, you was trying to put whatever it is so you could fight the Germans like, know what I mean.
Int: So you worked as long as you had to each day, then.
LG: It wasn’t like eight o’clock till four o’clock, you just, one day it might be ten hours, or twelve hours, or something like that. Because it was, you had to.
Int: What was your main job in the armoury? What was the main thing that you were good at, or that you had to do, for the corporal?
LG: Well we, oh we did what is, put some bullets, because that was like that, it was a cannon, one cannon and four machine guns. You fill that up and the cannon was like a pole thing and they put it in, I think it was about five, six hundred bullets in it, you know, on top, and the rest on a machine thing [cough] and that was it. Once you done it you just wait till they come back.
Int: Did all the bullets and the cannon shells, did they come loose or did you did you have to actually put them in like a chain link?
LG: It was like, yeah, they like already inside, like ball thing and put it on.
Int: Right, you didn’t have to load up the ball thing itself: it came already done.
LG: The other one was like, thing, what do you call them? Like a belt, more or less, you know. I think, don’t remember how many, but it, I think it was over two thousand bullets for each.
Int: For each belt?
LG: For each thing, you know. And then when we come to Coltishall, they put corporal and that, put us to Station Armoury when there, and when they were guns, cause every pilot and that, all the aircrew were issued the guns because from beginning they didn’t and then when they got shot down and then the Germans killed them or something like that, so they had, according to them issued a gun.
Int: Do you remember what kind of guns they had?
LG: It’s, I think it’s those, what you call it, they got a chamber and six, you know, like a cowboy’s got.
Int: Small one, like a pistol. So a revolver.
LG: Revolver, yes.
Int: Revolver.
LG: Everyone had the issue with that, so yes. When they come used to give them like, and put name down and that. Then there used to be rifles for airmen. They used to go on the shooting range and that. Then the Officers, they used to go with the guns and shooting, so I used to put a target and look and they used to write down whoever had a gun and you know, whoever it was. Then I er, they opened this school, because when I was in Heliopolis, I had a like, to go to the top in Poland you had a like gymnasium which was four years and then [indecipherable] two years. I finished the gymnasium in Heliopolis, but to have A levels had to, so I put my name down and had to send it to Faldingworth [cough]. That’s where I met a friend, he was a Warrant Officer, he had sixty eight missions. He had a DFC, DFM, because if you were sergeant, or a flight sergeant, because what it was, if you went as aircrew, the lowest rank was sergeant and if you were a sergeant or flight sergeant and you flew over and er, for bravery they given DFC. But because you were a sergeant or a flight sergeant you, all the other rank had a DFC; they had DFM, you know. So after that he had DFC and DFM because later on he was a Warrant Officer like. He made sixty eight missions and that, so. Did you know there was a, one air gunner, he made hundred twenty five missions, over Germany, and if you had done thirty missions you didn’t have to fly, that’s you, finished, most of them used to carry on. He was air gunner, most missions as air gunner of all the Air Force, [beep] I forget his name, [indecipherable] something like that, but. Then they had a dog; had two dogs: one called Warrant Officer and the other was [indecipherable] that was in 300 Squadron. This dog used to, [cough] because when they were taken by lorries, you know, the aircrew, and this dog used to jump first.
Int: Into the lorry?
LG: No, into the plane.
Int: Oh, jumped into the plane first!
LG: But that one day it didn’t and the crew didn’t come back, you know. So there was lot of -
Int: Lech, you’ve obviously just been talking about Faldingworth.
LG: Pardon?
Int: You’ve just been talking about Faldingworth and your friend who was a Warrant Officer and then he became an officer. How, when, what was the point in the war you were posted, you went to Faldingworth? Cause obviously you’d been with 303 for most of your time and then you moved on to 300 Squadron. [Cough]
LG: To finish my A Levels I went to finish the thing for my A levels to go to university.
Int: So you did that at Faldingworth.
LG: They opened the school, special, at Faldingworth, aye. So I met all the fellows, how it was, like.
Int: I think you may well be aware Faldingworth is only a few miles from RAF Ingham where we’re based and 300 Squadron were obviously at Ingham and when they changed from Wellingtons onto Lancasters, that’s when they moved to RAF Faldingworth. So they didn’t ask you to be an armourer at all at Faldingworth? You were just purely there for the school.
LG: No, I just went to school there. But there was another, there were, then they come, what’s the name, Mosquito squadron, I think it was 309, they come to Faldingworth now, and after that they just finish and they sent us to Skipton on Thwale.
Int: Yes, yes.
LG: Some of them want to go to Poland, whoever and that, you know, and I put my name for Poland and my mother wrote, said don’t come because they’ll arrest you, they used to arrest, not everybody, but arrest might be fifty percent, you know.
Int: These are Polish people who had been in the RAF?
LG: Yeah, when they went to Poland from Army, you know, Army or Air Force. So I didn’t, so they sent me to Church Fenton on a, as armourer there. It’s station, you know off there, and I was there for a bit. Used to go er, you know, like airmen with the rifles on the range, officers with the guns and everything, and then I got demobbed; come to Derby. I start working selling this and that, and the thing was that you had to, [pause] we were treated about, maybe worse than the German prisoners of war, because we had a, you had a little book with the photographs and everything, and you had to, change, if you changed address, in seventy two hours you had to report on the police station, but change, otherwise you get, you know, so, and they say like, some of the factories wouldn’t take Poles and took German prisoners, you know, because they let prisoners out! And when I got married, her father didn’t like me because he was an RAF Squadron Leader and that. He like me after, but from beginning.
Int: No.
LG: [Pause] Some of the factories took the prisoners to work better than, you know, the prisoners, German prisoners got free, so they employed German prisoners; they didn’t want Poles, you know. But I got married and I had three children, and the wife filled the form for a house because I couldn’t afford to pay and the wife went [cough] with the forms and he says is he British? She says no, then can’t have houses, so shove it, and friend of mine says well, they want miners down Stoke on Trent and there’s new houses so I went down mines and I got house in three weeks’ time and I worked for about fifteen years and then I come back to Derby.
Int: What, er, when did you marry your wife? What year was it, do you know?
LG: 1949. July
Int: 1949. A good month to get married, nice and warm and sunny.
LG: Pardon?
Int: Was it warm and sunny?
LG: Yeah. Then I have three children.
Int: Do you ever talk to your children about, about the war years and your family history?
LG: Yes! My younger son he joined ATC and that, you know, but the other, the eldest one, he was a priest, a Catholic priest and my daughter she was the [cough] shorthand typist for office working like, you know,, but after she joined, she went to hospital and on the end she was like a matron, because there was no matron, there was like something officers or something you know, they called them, and that. She lives down Congleton, comes back once in a while, three times, four times a year.
Int: Lech, if we can just go back to your time when you were an armourer, were there any funny things that happened, because in service life, and RAF life, and Polish Air Force life there must have been some funny things that happened at work? Do you, have you got any funny memories of things where people played a prank, or did daft things? Even in the war I’m sure people did play pranks on each other.
LG: Pranks?
Int: Or daft things that happened. Do you remember any things?
LG: Well, I forget now. Yeah, used to have few pranks, but you know, recall now, that long time, you know. But er, I enjoyed my life in RAF you know, and that. I was young and had, I er, I could have signed on a time. When I went on English, you know English station at, down Church Fenton and Commanding Officer called me and says do you want to join, and the smallest was five years, you know. And he says er, but going to, once you’ve joined more or less they’re going to send you overseas, I said nah, I don’t want this, I wasn’t in Poland, you know, my mother was thinking not going that far.
Int: And did you, obviously cause with Poland’s independence a good few years ago now, have you been back to visit Poland?
LHG: Yes, about twenty times. I had a caravette, I went with, I took my two granddaughters for about four weeks and used go round, go all round Poland. Had a caravette to have a cooker and a fridge and that. We used to have breakfast in the morning and dinner at, was very reasonable, cheap and that so we used to have dinner in restaurants and, but, um, you see the thing was, is, that after, I show you, after the war, when the parade was, you know, Victory Parade, then they never invite Poland, Poles, at all: that’s it. Which, I think it was very naughty of them, in a way.
Int: We’ve heard this from quite a few of the veterans that we’ve spoken to.
LG: The problem was that the Labour Party come, which they were really communists, some were, because they were in the Labour Party because the communists didn’t go through, so what they did, they joined the Labour Party but they were really communists, but the Labour Party was in power they done what they wanted like, and, then they were recognised I suppose, or whatever, we were on the same level like a prisoner of war, you know. I survived.
Int: Can you remember, I mean food is always important to all of us, but can you remember what, each day when you went to the airmen’s mess, and you would have breakfast, maybe a lunch and tea, do you remember what the food was like? Can you describe any of the food to us? The kind of things you liked, whether it was good, or bad or?
LG: Well, this being the war, the bread was more or less rationed in a way, you didn’t just have as many, maybe four slices, not that, three slices of bread and that, but otherwise I had pretty good meal like there. Well, I had eggs once a week [chuckle], meat, you know. So I think the chefs, whatever, they tried do the best they could whatever they had that like, you know. I enjoyed it.
Int: Were they English or Polish cooks, in the cookhouse?
LG: Well in 300 they were Polish, because there was whole station.
Int: Was Polish.
LG: Polish station, Polish thing but, and English, there was you know, like English station, you know, good meal, whatever, and if you’re stop, you know, like and that, at night even, they used to come and give you some meal maybe seven, eight o’clock; there was no times exactly during the war like. After the war, yeah, but not during the war like, you know.
Int: You told us earlier on before about the, when you were station armourer at Northolt and then also at um, Coltishall but they were both pre second World War stations so there was good, it wasn’t just wooden huts, it was all solid brick, brick buildings and things, so was your armoury, was that a brick building or was that just wooden buildings, or were you out on the dispersals? Could you tell us a little bit about where you were as an armourer, with 303?
LG: It was what you call, [pause] it was well, like I said, I only, [cough] when we come to Coltishall, me and the corporal, WAAF took us to the armoury thing on the station, wasn’t on a flight, you know what I mean, where the plane was, was on a building where guns was and that, and aircrew used to come, you had to write down.
Int: With the, Lech, with the Spitfires that you had, [beep] you said there were machine guns and cannons, did you, when you did your maintenance on the actual guns and the cannons, did you have to take them out of the aircraft or did you?
LG: On no, no.
Int: Could you explain a little bit about how you did the maintenance of them for us at all?
LG: Oh, you used to clean the barrels and everything like that and in the end put the things on it.
Int: Yes, a cap.
LG: Caps, that’s right, you know, otherwise just quick. They made more or less not too difficult because they want – they was flying they coming back, want, the last hundred bullets, before the last hundred bullets, there used to come about six bullets, used to tell you, white, you could see it, you know.
Int: Tracer, tracer.
LG: Tracer, yeah, so he, the pilot knew I got two hundred, two hundred bullets left, you know.
Int: Oh right. Right, so you had quite a few tracers in, before you got down to the last hundred or two hundred bullets.
LG: That’s right. You know, the belt, the last should I say oh, four hundred fifty, used to put about six tracers and they knew, he knew.
Int: He was down to last ones. [Chuckle]
LG: Had to be careful whatever it is, you know. So, but, on the end, what I heard, that the, well, the, a Spitfire, because the Spitfire only had three and a half hours flying otherwise they run out of gasoline, so they put the special tanks underneath and they start with those tanks first and used to drop ‘em. Because they, they used to guard Americans, plane, you know, and English bombers, you know with our Germans.
Int: They could get further with the bigger fuel tanks.
LG: Through there because German planes was waiting for them like, you know. But on the end, I heard they used to, I wasn’t then, but what I heard they used to have little bombs, twenty five pound bombs, I don’t know what they did with them, I couldn’t tell you, but you know, that’s what I heard. Those Spitfires, according to the books and that, there was about well, twenty nine, you know different Spitfires.
Int: Different Marks of Spitfire, different ones, yes. It’s possible.
LG: Different Marks and that.
Int: It’s possible, Brendan here would probably be a lot more of an expert on that than I am, he’s read many books on the subject.
LG: I think it’s more than twenty nine different, isn’t it?
Int: I believe so, small variations, not just the marks, but the changes in the same one.
LG: After the aircraft too, cannons and that, you know, but from beginning they had six, four machine guns on each side, but after they had like cannon and a four. [Pause] What do you call them?
Int: Sorry, Brendan do you have any questions for Lech at all?
Int: I haven’t really been thinking about it to be honest, checking the screen.
Int: I’m trying to think of something else, some other questions, that we can obviously ask you, because obviously this, the whole tape and everything will be edited, what we are talking about now, will be chopped out of the interview. But it’s really to er, look at your time with the Polish Air Force in Britain at er, Northolt, Coltishall and even the place that you were talking about near Framlington. We’ll have to have a little look and see if we can work out which station that was, and then obviously at Faldingworth. At Faldingworth, apart from doing the teaching did they actually get you doing other duties at all, being an extra airmen there on the station, or were you just purely there for the school, the school side of it?
LG: Where?
Int: At er, Faldingworth.
LG: Just the school.
Int: They didn’t get you doing any extra duties at all, of any kind? No, no, no.
LG: No, oh they, you know, [cough] school for there but then just as finish school it was -
Int: The end of the war.
LG: Well, was past the war like, but.
Int: Yes. So it was training, almost training you for after the war.
LG: I think it was, lot of them want to go back to Poland and that and then, I think it was the pressure from Polish communists, government, that er, you know, to settle down you know, because they took the planes from us and everything like, you know. There was no more flying, or nothing like that.
Int: During, during the war years did the RAF, did they give you much uniform? Did they actually give you many clothes, or did you just have perhaps one set of everything or did you, were you able to get more stuff? Did you have a friend perhaps, in the [laugh] Supply or anything like that?
LG: You just had a tunic and then a battle dress, well battle dress more or less, take it, to work like, you know, I mean. They give you the what you call.
Int: Overalls.
LG: Overalls, that thing, otherwise you had one set, one set of battle dress and another of tunic like, to go out, you know.
Int: How was the cleaning done? Did you have to clean your own clothes or was there a laundry you put your clothes in to?
LG: I had a little, a little thing where used to put your stuff in it, you know. What you call them?
Int: Washing machine? Oh, a little -
LG: No, no, no all your gear and that.
Int: A wardrobe you mean?
LG: Wardrobe like, you know what I mean. But [cough] every week, you could, whatever you want to what you call it, you had to put your name down on shirt, clothes.
Int: On all the clothes and clean them for you.
LG: Clean them for you like, used to collect them every week and that, you know. On all the stations, the same.
Int: Was there anything in the evening? What entertainment did you have in the evenings?
LG: Oh, used to have some, some of the dances used to have and that, is the special when I was in Faldingworth they used to bring the girls from everywhere for a dance, you know, and that.
Int: You didn’t meet any nice pretty girls from Faldingworth then? [Laughter]
LG: No, there was, there were WAAFs there, but they, I don’t think. Well, I wasn’t thinking I was just home to, you know. I used to go like Lincoln on the, have a dance once, once a month, or something like that.
Int: And did the RAF at Faldingworth, did they put a bus on or did you have to use the local busses to Lincoln?
LG: No, the RAF bus used to take you and used to pick us up by the station there, you know, Lincoln, station.
Int: And was there a set time that you had to be back at night for the guardroom to book you in and things, or not?
LG: No, I don’t think there was not that much bullshit [laugh] you know what I mean. We used to, they used to be what they call them, um, [pause] what’s their name, Salvation Army! They used to have a club there, or whatever, and for a, oh forget now, for two shillings you slept there and the next morning they used to give you two toast.
Int: Toast and off again!
LG: And beans on toast and cup of tea and that you know so, we used to stop.
Int: So yeah, if you missed the last bus then you could have the Salvation Army!
LG: Yeah, well, used to have a little minibus from station, used to standing there, by the railway station there, and phew, I forget now what time, eleven o’clock something like that and if you missed it – that’s it! Mind you the, I don’t know, that was about half past ten; the dancing was only ten o’clock in them days. There was no other club! [Laughter]
Int: So plenty of time to get back for the bus. Maybe. Well, is there anything else that you would like to tell us about your time in the Polish Air Force, in the RAF, during the war years, anything you’d like to.
LG: Well I enjoyed them both, Polish Air Force and when I was on the English stations, I was, you know, it was you know, happy, in it, but they, the problem was that you know, more or less to recruits, you know they come like and then they was pressing you whoever to stop, signed on like, know what I mean.
Int: There was one other question I was going to ask you and that was when the Spitfires at Coltishall in Norfolk were going up constantly all the time, was there a lot of pressure from yourselves, the team, your, the corporal and yourself in the armoury to get out, to reload them all up and then they’d fly straight off? Were there days and weeks when that seemed to be the case a lot of the time?
LG: Well I didn’t find, you know, I didn’t think it was a pressure, I was enjoying it, to do it, so they could kill the Germans, you know what I mean, had to do your thing. You know, so whatever I had to do, what hours, you know, I just enjoyed it, you know. If it was twelve hours I was happy to do it, you know, there was no thing ‘oh well it’s only four hours and that’s it,’ you know.
Int: Because it was your bit to getting back at the Germans.
LG: And cook house was flexible, they used to if you want you know, every time you come had a meal for you, they knew you was working and that, you know. But like when the war finished that was different then. But at this stage whatever station I was they were very flexible, you know. So there was nothing we have to go [chuckle].
Int: Did you play sport? Were you a good sportsman of any kind?
LG: Not really no, [laugh] no, not really. I like diving, when I was swimming I liked to go. When I was in, when we come to Blackpool [cough] and I went swimming there and I read after in the paper about it: the highest thing in Blackpool was thirty three feet. And we had this, me and my mate, chat up these two girls so we took them to the swimming. I was swimming, I was diving, was like and one, two and the top one.
Int: The highest board, yeah.
LG: Yes, and on the top one there was these two English lads [groan] their nerves, and me and my mate, was in the middle so, my mate said to me, look there, there, so I went off there, I stand there, look, and the fellow there, when they was diving, they used to whistle so that nobody would come so near. I just wanted for that, so I did come down but my legs went over a bit and the flume was. After I went again, few times, but I read it was thirty three feet up. But I used to like diving. Blackpool [beep] give me lot of memories, know that fun. I liked Blackpool, and when I got married and that, I used to take the children wife to Blackpool. [Laugh]
Int: When you were at Blackpool, I read somewhere that quite a lot of the, because it was the Polish Depot, where everybody started, that quite a lot of people were accommodated not in a big camp, but in some of the guest houses.
LG: It was, the guest house.
Int: Do you remember the name of the street or the house number you were at?
LG: I forgot it! I knew them, the street, but I think was one, Parliament, something like that? But er, I forgot now, the names. I knew I had.
Int: But it was a good time in Blackpool. You enjoyed your time in Blackpool.
LG: I was about two months there, you know, so.
Int: Was that during the summer or the winter? Can you remember what time of year it was?
LG: That was April I come, about June, April, June.
Int: Spring and early summer, that was probably a nice time to go to Blackpool. Yes.
LG: A lot of people used to come and that, even in war time, but that was the most, lot of Poles was there and Americans, I know.
Int: Do you still have a lot of contact, obviously we visited you before Christmas at the Polish church and the Polish club that’s next to it, do you have many other friends from, Polish friends that were in the RAF that are still with us today?
LG: Well I had best friend of mine who went to Australia and I lost his contact. But then I had friend Chicago, he died. He was a bit, couple years, well, about five years older than me and then, er, I had one in, he was in three hundred club, so he was a air gunner, on top; he was from Birmingham. He died and all. And then another one, all of them right, die except me, yet, so I don’t know. But they were good friends, you know, and that. But the only one beats me, I had a, the one I show you the photographs.
Int: Yes. Your friend from the [indecipherable].
LG: He went through Italy lost his leg; he went all through Italy and the week before the war finished, he lost his leg. Anyway, so he went to New Zealand because his brother was there and you know, we used to write and I went to see him in New Zealand and that. His daughter was there, and when he died, she never even wrote and said you know, my dad died. I thought, you know, because I used to phone him [cough] once every two months or something like that, I phoned and nobody answered, so I phone again and he says this phone’s not available.
Int: Not connected any more, yeah.
LG: Another thing, and a friend of mine, we was together, he died, but his wife, she rang, the same. At least, I knew him for, since 1942 like, you know, and when I went to New Zealand, his daughter was there and everything. Well, he had a son but he died, but his daughter, at least she could write and say my dad died, you know. Never. I don’t know, those young people.
INT: It’s er yeah, it’s very kind of, does seem strange but maybe to them they’re thinking of other things. It’s very, very difficult.
LG: Then I had a friend, from Russia he come out, he lived in London, he used to have a printing firm and that, and I rang his house and his daughter answered. I said where’s your dad, oh she says, he’s at the old people’s home. So I says give me the number, so she’s given me the number, so I rang, and he coming, but I think he start having dementia, and I said do you remember me? He used to be godfather to my son, you know, that, so I used to ring him few times and then I didn’t want to disturb him, so about four months after, I rang, this fellow answered and I said can I speak to so and so, Oh he’s not there. I said why, what’s up, is he dead? She said yes, and then she never even.
Int: No. Didn’t even bother to tell you.
LG: You know, didn’t say he died. I would have gone to London to his funeral, you know what I mean. But phew, that’s how they are, youngsters, I think some of them, anyway.
Int: Sometimes. Well, thank you very, very much, unless you can think of anything else Brendan, I mean that was lovely that, I mean you’ve given a bit of an insight into your life. What we’d like to do for you is, we’ll make you a disk, put it on a disc so you can have it for your family, cause obviously in years to come it will be nice for them to see you sitting here chatting about your life as well so we’ll let you have a copy of it, and you can, for future.
LG: Would you like another drink?
Int: We’re okay for a drink, I would love to, well we’d both love to see your medals.
Dublin Core
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Title
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Interview with Lech Gierak
Description
An account of the resource
Lech Gierak was born in Poland and after the death of his father made his way to England and joined the Polish Air Force. He worked as an armourer on a number of stations and after the war moved to Stoke on Trent to become a miner. Lech talks about the way of life on an RAF station at work, and at play, as well as the treatment of Poles after the war.
This item was provided, in digital form, by a third-party organisation which used technical specifications and operational protocols that may differ from those used by the IBCC Digital Archive.
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Polskie Siły Powietrzne
Language
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eng
Type
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Sound
Format
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00:57:01 audio recording
Identifier
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SRAFIngham19410620v050001-Audio
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Pending review
Pending revision of OH transcription
Pending OH summary
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Creator
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Geoff Burton
Temporal Coverage
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1940
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
Poland
Middle East
England--Lincolnshire
England--Blackpool
Russia (Federation)
Russia (Federation)--Omsk
Russia (Federation)--Siberia
Contributor
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Anne-Marie Watson
300 Squadron
303 Squadron
ground personnel
Lancaster
prisoner of war
RAF Faldingworth
RAF Ingham
Spitfire
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1066/32271/BPayneGPayneGv1.1.pdf
56a2f0d01bb4921591ab94fc697c80ee
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Payne, Geoff
Geoffrey Albert Payne
G A Payne
Description
An account of the resource
Two items. An oral history interview with Geoff Payne (b. 1924, 1584931 Royal Air Force) and his memoir. He flew operations as a wireless operator / air gunner with 115 and 514 Squadrons.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Geoff Payne and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-05-28
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Payne, G
Transcribed document
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
AN AIRMAN’S TALE
By Geoff Payne
[514 Squadron Crest]
[115 Squadron Crest]
[RAF Training Command Crest]
[RAF Bomber Command Crest]
[Picture] Artist’s Impression of Bomber Command Memorial in Hyde Park
[page break]
AN AIRMAN’S TALE
By Geoff Payne
Chapter 1
Under Training (U/T)
Chapter 2
Operations RAF Witchford
Chapter 3
Back on Operations RAF Waterbeach
Chapter 4
Grounded
Chapter 5
As Time Goes By
[page break]
Page 1
An Airman’s Tale By Geoff Payne
The Story of His Time in The Royal Air Force
Chapter 1
Under Training (U/T)
Having attended the Aircrew Assessment Board at Viceroy Close in Birmingham, I passed for aircrew training, given my RAF service number and told to return to work and await my call up documents. This was in August 1942 I was seventeen and a half at that time, an Air Cadet and eager to join the service of my choice. Time seemed to drag over the next few months, air raids had virtually ceased, although fire watching duties at my factory were still a priority and was able to pick up five shillings per night doing this chore, a useful supplement to my apprenticeship wages.
The end of March 1943, my travel documents arrived, together with information that I was to report to the Air Crew Reception Centre (ACRC) at Lords Cricket ground, St John’s Wood, London.
A month later, my family and I stood on platform three at New Street Station awaiting the early train to London, fortunately, a trainee school teacher from my school was also going to ACRC so it was nice to have his company. This was the first time I had been away from home by myself and looked forward to the new experience.
London Euston station was all bustle, full of service personnel manoeuvring around the station looking for directions, we eventually got to the tube station and made our way to St Johns Wood and Lords Cricket ground. What a fascinating experience travelling on these tube trains and, from information gathered, all service personnel could travel anywhere by tube, free of charge. Booking in, we were given a pack of sandwiches, told to hang about for an hour so, spending our time, inspecting the wicket, gazing at the pictures of past players in Lords Taveners and in general, soaking in the atmosphere of the home of cricket.
About fifty of us were assembled and given a general talk on what was to happen during the next hour or so and, told to memorise our service number and to mark every piece of our service clothing and equipment when it was issued.
We were then marched into a hall and ordered to stand behind the gym benches that lined the hall and ordered to strip, including socks, this inspection was known in the services as a FFI (free from infection) then two M/O,s [sic] walked down the lines of naked men checking fingers, toes and nether regions. Modesty went out of the window that afternoon.
When clothed, we marched in single file to the stores where we were issued our uniform and kit then assembled outside the hall to board a service bus that took us to our billet, a set of high rise luxury flats facing Regents Park and the Grand Canal, our block was Stoneleigh Court. All the civilian occupants had been decanted, six airmen were allocated to a room. Quite cosy under the circumstances.
After settling in, we assembled in the main road with our enamelled mug, knife fork and spoon (irons) ready to march to our mess, not knowing at the time, we were to be fed in the London Zoo canteen.
Later that evening our time was spent sprucing up our “best blue”, trying to get a shine on our boots, parcelling up our civilian clothes and in general, just getting sorted
[page break]
Page 2
out ready for our first parade in the morning.
The following morning, we deposited our “civies” [sic] to be posted home, after breakfast we paraded in the main road at eight o’clock, inspected by a sergeant, then marched off to the medical centre for our inoculations and whatever. The RAF medical centre, Abbey Lodge was also a high rise block of luxury flats, half a mile away from our billet, which also doubled as a RAF hospital and surrounded by a fence of black architectural iron work. We were organised in a single file that stretched alongside this fence. here we waited for some time before the file began to move along slowly, up stairs into one room where an orderly drew an armful of blood, up more stairs and into another room, a scratch on the arm for small pox, injections for tetanus and whatever, so it went on until finally we emerged into a courtyard to the rumble of expletives. Not finished yet, now for night vision testing which took over an hour to complete before being marched back to our billet and lunch at the zoo.
During the first week at ACRC the air raid alarm sounded and our group were woken up to go to Abbey Lodge.
As we set out the anti aircraft batteries in Regents Park began to open up and falling shrapnel began to scream on its way down, thankful for our tin hats on that occasion. Arriving at the hospital, the lifts were off so we had to manhandle the bed patients down the stairs on stretchers into the car park situated beneath the block. this was by no means an easy task negotiating ones way down the stair wells, manoeuvring around the sharp corners. The raid continued intermittently for three hours before we could take these patients back to their wards then began a slow walk back to Stoneleigh Court for a well earned rest.
Most of the remaining time at ACRC was taken up with rifle drill, physical training and marching everywhere, however, we had plenty of leisure time to take in the London sights, thankful for the free transport on offer.
One amazing coincidence was meeting up with my cousin Jack Stone whilst wandering around London Zoo.
I knew he had enlisted in the RAF as a boy and trained as an armourer, surprisingly, he was also wearing a white flash in his forage cap, the sign of an aircrew cadet. He had re-mustered and was going forward for air gunner training the same as me, sadly that was the last time I saw him, he was lost on his second tour of operations later in the war. His name is recorded on the walls of The Runnymede Air Force Memorial as having no known grave.
Finally, after four weeks of hard training and feeling fit, we received orders to move as a group to ITW (Initial Training Wing) wherever. Destinations were never broadcast because of security, although we knew the next port of call was Kings Cross Station.
14 ITW RAF Bridlington
Arrived at Kings Cross in full marching order, back pack, side pack, water bottle and kit bag plus a pack of sandwiches to sustain us on our journey. A reasonable journey up to York, then changed over to a non corridor train for the final leg of the trip to the seaside resort of Bridlington. Here we were met by transport which took us into the town to be dropped off in a street of vacated terraced houses. Ten cadets, including my two friends, Vic Lodge from Halifax and Nick Alkemade from Loughborough
[page break]
Page 3
were allocated to one of the houses, a sparsely furnished house without running hot water. We had arrived at 14 ITW RAF Bridlington, Yorkshire.
The messing facilities were located in the Spa Ballroom near to the promenade, an art nouveau type of structure where one could imagine the flappers of the twenties and thirties gyrating around the dance floor, soon to be brought back to reality with the greasy food odour permeating the once splendid ballroom.
Our time at Bridlington was spent on drill during the morning, and being an ex corporal in the ATC, the DI (Drill Instructor) often gave me the opportunity of taking the squad on these exercises. The favourite route was along the promenade where there was always an audience to give us a cheer or on occasions, a humorous comment from “Matelots or Squadies [sic] who were out for a stroll.
The afternoon parades were less exhausting, attending classes on aircraft recognition, a very important aspect of an air gunners job, sessions in a gun turret simulator and boring lectures on KR’s (Kings Regulations). We also had regular excursions to the 303 rifle range and to the Butts for pistol and Sten gun practise, surprisingly these visits became very competitive amongst our group with bets being bandied about.
The most enjoyable afternoon sessions was the visit to the local swimming baths where we could partake of a hot shower, get some dinghy drill in and generally play around in the pool.
All this exercise, the bracing sea air, made us healthily fit and always hungry. There was the NAAFI, a few fish and chip shops and cafes around the town but on this occasion, short of cash we decided to make use of our own mess for “supper”. Usually there was bread, margarine, jam and sometimes the left-overs of a sweet. We were lucky this night, there was plenty of trifle available and tour regret. three of our group including myself, were up all night vomiting and feeling very, very sick. The following morning we had no alternative but to report sick, the doctor immediately diagnosed food poisoning and dispatched us off to hospital, a rambling country house on Flamborough Head, I never looked at nor even consumed trifle again for many a long year.
Five days later, having been discharged from hospital, our group of city airmen were scheduled for posting to Gunnery School in two days time, quite excited and looking forward to our first flying experience. Bridlington had been a pleasant town to be posted to, nice beaches for sunbathing and swimming and ample entertainment in the town. Although our billets had been pretty Spartan we were sorry to say goodbye to this friendly seaside resort..
11 AGS RAF Andreas IOM
We boarded our train at Bridlington Station early evening with no idea the route we were taking, it must have been westwards as the sun was just setting ahead of us. After a lot of stopping and starting, we eventually arrived at Piccadilly Station, Manchester to be allowed of the train and told there was an air raid in progress somewhere in the vicinity. We spent an uncomfortable three hours hanging about the station not knowing when we would be on the move again, luckily the tea bar was open.
Back onto the train feeling tired and hungry, our train clattered on until someone shouted that we were coming into Blackpool as theTower could be seen in the
[page break]
Page 4
distance, no such luck, we ended our train journey in the fishing port of Fleetwood alongside the quay. Tethered to the dock was a one funnel steamer, looking like a cross between a cargo ship and a ferry boat, bringing to mind the John Masefield poem, “Cargoes”.
Feeling miserable and weary after our lengthy train journey, we scrambled aboard this ship and looked for a spot to get some sleep during the four hour sea crossing. Very surprised to find a sort of tea and sandwich bar on board, although welcome, we were disgusted at the exorbitant prices. After an uneventful journey we arrived in Douglas, the capital of the Isle of Man, the home of the TT Races and the tailless moggy.
Disembarking, following roll call, we marched off to the train station to board a very unusual and unique style of rolling stock, most of our group including myself were unaware that an efficient railway system served most of the island. The island scenery was quite lush, hilly and dominated by Snae Fell, the only resemblance to a mountain on the island. Travelling on we by-passed the little town of Peel before arriving at the end of the line, the little fishing port of Ramsey to the north east of the island. Transport met us at the station to take us the short journey to RAF Andreas ready for a welcome meal in the airmens mess after our long drawn out journey from Bridlington.
RAF Andreas was a normal wartime airfield, a mixture of wooden and concrete buildings and sporting the usual three runways. With it’s sister airfield RAF Jurby just four miles from our base, these airfields were built primarily to provide cover for our shipping against the long ranging Condors of the Luftwaffe.
Having been split up into groups of ten, our Gunnery Course was set out with lectures and practical work during the mornings with afternoon sessions flying in the worthy Avro “Annie” Anson.
[picture of Wartime Anson in RAF markings]
Avro Anson
A very comprehensive course started with practical work on the reliable air cooled 303 Browning machine gun, getting to memorise the parts, stripping and assembling and eventually being able to do this job blindfolded with flying gloves on. During these exercises, our instructor timed us with a stop watch, here again bets were being laid and even encouraged by our instructor, I think he was a bit of a gambling man.
[page break]
Page 5
These lectures also included the identification of different types of ammunition by the use of colour coding on the base of the cartridge case as to whether it was tracer, incendiary, armour piercing or general purpose, a calculated mix of all these types of rounds were used operationally.
A very important part of this course was the understanding of the hydraulically operated Frazer Nash gun turret currently in use on the Lancaster and Stirling bombers. It became obvious that we were destined to be operating in either the Stirling or Lancaster aircraft as we never had any instruction on the electrically operated Boulton Paul turret currently in use in the Halifax bomber.
Many hours were spent on the workings of these turrets, the causes of stoppages and rectification, how to obtain an aircraft drift reading by using the movement of the turret against a fixed point on the ground or sea, how to synchronise four guns firing 5000 rounds per minute to achieve the optimum bullet spread over a certain distance. Then there were the visits to the special firing range using fast moving aircraft models at 100 yds distance. Firing from a gun turret was quite an experience although only one Browning was operable for obvious reasons.
Our first exercise in the Anson was a simulated attack by a Miles Martinet, three cadets were allocated to our aircraft, each one of us to take turns in the turret using a camera gun. On all our flying exercise, lots were taken in cranking up or cranking down the undercarriage, quite an exhaustive feat especially winding up the landing gear, some chore 140 turns up or down.
Two more flights with camera guns then on to drogue target practise using a single Vickers machine gun in the turret. Each cadet was allowed 200 rounds of identifiable ammunition, meaning that the tip of each round was dipped in a soft colour paint ie; 200 rounds blue, 200 rounds red, 200 rounds green. If a bullet pierced the drouge[sic], the gunner could then be identified. These exercises varied in many ways, with simulated attacks coming from all directions, finally the last few exercises of our course, were air to ground firing.
A enumber[sic] of bulls eye targets were set up on cliffs to the north end of the island, it must have been upsetting for the bird life in that area.
[picture of X Squad 11 AGS RAF Andreas IOM – Standing 3rd from left Geoff Payne, 5th from left Nick Alkemade]
[page break]
Page 6
Looking in my log book recently, I noted that in just the month of July I had clocked up twenty flying details of roughly an hours duration, mostly with Polish pilots.
During our time at 11 AGS, apart from the occasional guard duty, Saturdays and Sundays were non working days which, gave us the opportunity of exploring the island. The weather during our months course was excellent, so we took advantage of swimming off the charming little coves to the North of the island, there was also a small yachting pool alongside Ramsey harbour with the nearby Enemy Aliens Stockade, a series of commandeered boarding houses, bordering on the nearby Enemy Aliens Stockade, a series of commandeered boarding houses, bordering on the pool. We had previously been warned not to fraternise with the inhabitants of any of these camps. Sitting in a Ramsey pub one Saturday, three aircrew sergeants, all sporting navigators brevets, wandered into the bar, what a surprise to see my brother in the party, they were on a Wireless Operators course at nearby RAF Jurby and destined for operations flying in the “Wooden Wonder” the Mosquito. It would be another four years before I met up with my brother again.
The first week in August 1943 saw the end of our course with, a passing out parade and presentation of our AG,s brevet by a high ranking officer whom, if my memory serves me correctly, was then, Wing Commander Leonard Cheshire.
Not much time to celebrate, within two days we were given our seven days leave passes and travel documents. Pity my two friends were posted to RAF Desbourough[sic] whilst I was posted to RAF Chipping Warden by Banbury, only forty miles from my home and on the London to Birmingham main rail line.
I had enjoyed my time in the Isle of Man but very sad that over the years I have been unable to make a return visit to this interesting island.
12 OUT RAF Chipping Warden
Enjoyed my first seven days leave at home, left in civilian clothes and returned three months later in uniform, sporting three stripes on my sleeve with an AG,s brevet above my breast pocket feeling proud of myself. The seven days passed very quickly with time taken up visiting my relatives, ex workmates and of course my girl friend. Standing on Snow Hill Station waiting for my train back to Banbury, my thoughts brough me back to reality that this war is serious and that I could be on operations by the end of the year.
Chipping Warden was a pre war station, two story[sic] barrack buildings, administration blocks and massive hangers with brick built flight offices attached.
After picking up my bedding I enquired where the billets were and was taken aback when I was directed to a wooden hutted compound, complete with a sergeants mess, outside the main camp confines. This posed the question, are the newly promoted NCO aircrew being discriminated against?
Entering my designated hut I found a motley collection of aircrew including Aussies, Canadians and New Zealander’s, it was then that I discovered that aircrew NCO,s under training had there[sic] own messing and accommodation facilities. Meeting up with my fellow bunk mates, pilots, bomb aimers, wireless operators, navigators and gunners, found difficulty in picking up their accents and slang words. Meeting up with thee airmen, created a great feeling of camaraderie which was almost instantaneous.
The following day was spent doing the usual round of signing in and getting kitted out
[page break]
Page 7
with flying clothing, me being a rear gunner I had special issues, electrical heated Irvine Suit, fur lined heated bootees and gloves, fisherman’s sweater and thermal underwear. All this gear required another kit bag issue which I lugged back to the billet, spending the rest of the day getting to know more about these friendly “Colonials”.
Reporting to Flights next day, the various aircrew trades were segregated, we as gunners went to the firing ranges for some rifle and clay pigeon shooting. During the afternoon we were introduced to the type of aircraft that we would be flying.
[picture of The Vickers Wellington (Wimpy)]
At that time all the aircraft at 12 OUT were all ex operational Wellingtons, virtually “clapped out”, the replacement parts being in short supply creating a shortage of serviceable aircraft. A rotational system of aircrew to aircraft had to be adopted, hence a crew could be flying three to four times in one day utilising the same aircraft.
The course began in earnest with a mixture of circuits and landings, fighter affiliation using camera guns, high and low level bombing, the same such exercises applied to night flying, apart from fighter affiliation exercises. After three weeks of intensive activity, the day came when the CO told the assembled aircrew to get moving on to the satellite station RAF Edge Hill some ten miles west of Chipping Warden.
My bunk mates and I had anticipated being crewed up so we had already sorted ourselves out as a crew, two Aussies, one a pilot from Melbourne, the other, a navigator from Sidney, our bomb aimer from Carshalton and wireless operator from Bognor Regis with myself as rear gunner. Over the past three weeks we had really got on well, that was a good start.
RAF Edge Hill
A typical war time airfield, very dispersed with plenty of walking between sections, built right up to the edge of Edge Hill itself. Due to an indecisive battle fought out between the Royalists of King Charles 1st and the Roundhead Parliamentary forces of Oliver Cromwell, the local population believed that the area was haunted by a headless horseman. Will that be a bad omen? Weird!
This part of our course was to develop these newly formed crews into an efficient operating team, an essential commodity in our own survival and for effectively doing the job that we had enlisted for.
[page break]
Page 8
An intensive programme of night and day cross country flights began, usually incorporating high or low level simulated bombing attacks using small smoke or flare bombs. During our daylight flights we were often buzzed by a fighter, all part of the learning process for air gunners.
On one night exercise, we must have gone miles off track when we encountered a Barrage Balloon which stood on it’s tail as it caught our slipstream, we knew we had entered a defended area when a few bursts of anti aircraft fire appeared not far away. This caused a bit of a panic until our wireless operator fired off the Very pistol with the colours of the day, to our relief that gunfire abated. At de briefing, our navigator learned that, due to a false wind forecast we had strayed close to the defences of Bristol.
Time came to return to Chipping Warden for our crew assessment to be met with news that we were to participate in a Nickel, a leaflet drop to Lille in France, however, the operation was scrubbed due to our aircraft being unserviceable. At OUT’s this type of operation was a normal occurrence enabling proficient aircrews to get in some operational experience. I still have one of those leaflets.
20th of August 1943 was the end of our time at 12 OUT and the faithful old Wellington, the next phase of our training schedule was a posting to RAF Feltwell in Norfolk to undergo an Escape and Evasion course.
RAF Feltwell
RAF Feltwell was a typical pre war brick built airfield with grass runways, then in the process of converting to concrete runways. Upon arrival, surprised to find that there was only a skeleton staff in occupation, apart from a unit of RAF Regiment personnel who were to be our instructors to this Escape and Evasion course. We were joined by six other crews, a total of thirty airmen. In the event of being shot down over enemy territory, the object of the course was to impart some skills that would assist downed airmen to escape or to evade capture. It was a prerequisite for airmen to attempt escaping thereby tying down essential enemy manpower.
The first part of the course was training in the rudiments of enarmed combat, no holds barred, using all the dirty tricks available, the Queensbury rules didn’t apply in dangerous situations one may find oneself in.
Following on this exercise we practised the art of concealment, our five crew members would spread out in some scrubby woodland approximately one mile square, then to conceal themselves the best way they could and, using whatever materials came to hand. The Regiment unit were then sent out to locate us if they could and after a number of attempts this exercise proved useful and effective although one escapee got bitten by an Adder whilst hiding in some gorse bushes. Our final exercise was hilarious, we were taken out at midnight in an enclosed vehicle, dropping two of us off at a time some fifteen miles from the camp with only a box of matches and some cigarettes, no money and told to make our own way back to Feltwell. This exercise proved to be a non event as it began to pour with rain. We had been dropped off on a farm track in the middle of a scrubby wheat field where we found a dilapidated corrugated type of shed. A few fairly clean sacks were lying about and some wooden boxes which gave us an ample supply of fuel for a small cosy fire.
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There we stayed until a farmer with his truck arrived to give us an amount of verbal abuse until we explained that we were on an exercise and would wish a lift back to Feltwell. The truck dropped us off about a mile from the rear of the camp, success! The Regiment were out looking for us that night but we got back into the camp unchallenged and in time for a welcome breakfast.
One memorable occasion during the evening playing cards in the billet, we heard a sort of rumbling noise which got louder and louder. We rushed out of our billet and looked up at the sky, a clear night and almost dark. At about ten thousand feet there must have been hundreds of four engine heavy bombers heading eastwards, an amazing sight. Back in our billet, we contemplated that we could be part of that type of air Armada very shortly.
At the end of our weeks course we were given our travel documents to report to RAF Wratting Common, a Stirling conversion unit which caused much consternation among the crew. We had hoped to avoid operating in Stirlings due to the high loss rate attributed to this aircraft.
1651 Heavy Conversion Unit RAF Wratting Common
Wratting Common was a war time aerodrome situated between Cambridge and Newmarket, it had recently been vacated by 90 Squadron who had operated with the Short Stirling Aircraft. A well dispersed cap, miles from anywhere, the nearest rail station being Six Mile Bottom, three miles from the camp. Mud everywhere, I am sure that if you stepped off the concrete paths you would be a goner.
Settled in our Nisson hut and proceeded to scout round for wood and coke to service our lonely stove, an east wind was blowing in over the low lying expanse of East Anglia, cold enough to try out our new thermal underwear.
Reporting to the flights the following day to meet up with two new crew members, Dick Hollis, Mid Upper Gunner and Cyril Bridges, Flight Engineer making, up our seven man crew. Together with two other crews, we were then taken to a hanger[sic] to get to know this massive aircraft, the Short Stirling.
[photograph of the Short Stirling]
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Spent the afternoon scrambling about this aircraft, proudly showing off the various escape hatches and doorways to my crew. As an apprentice, my company was involved in the manufacture of various component parts associated with the Stirling, as was my girl friends[sic] mother being an electrical inspector on this aircraft.
Our first flights in the Stirling consisted of two three hour sessions of circuits and landings, not at all present, no wonder this exercise is known as “Circuits and Bumps”, we certainly had our share of bumps that day. It was a relief when the Gunnery Leader informed us that all the gunners on the course were to undertake an advanced gunnery course at RAF Newmarket as, there was no point in wasting time just sitting in an aircraft doing circuits and landings. Newmarket was some experience, we were billeted in buildings associated with the racecourse, even the Wellington based there took off from the racecourse.
This gunnery course took place over the North Sea and was more realistic using the same type of gun turrets that we would use on operations. Spitfires simulated the attacks and our Wellington would be doing the defensive manoeuvre of corkscrewing.
On the firing exercises we were either in the front or the rear turret firing at a drogue being towed by a Miles Martinet. Our time at Newmarket was very instructive being trained by ex operational air gunners. I am positive that by imparting their experiences gave me confidence for the task ahead.
Back at Wratting Common to find that we had lost our Australian pilot, they had been engaged on circuits and landings at RAF Downham Market when the starboard outer engine failed when coming in to land, the wing dipped and struck the ground causing the aircraft to crash. Our pilot sustained a severe head wound but was dragged to safety by the Flight Engineer. Apart from a few bruises the rest of crew escaped unhurt although the aircraft was a write off. The accident allowed us to take a fortnights leave over Christmas and New Year awaiting the arrival of a new pilot.
Festivities over, back to Wratting Common we met up with our new pilot F/O Bill Martin an experienced pilot on twin engine aircraft, it did not take him long to master this giant of the sky. Just a few day and night exercises of circuits and landings then on to long distance three to four hour cross country flights.
After nearly forty hours flying time converting to Stirlings our course finished abruptly when we were informed that as a crew we would be moving onto RAF Waterbeach to convert on to Lancasters. A quiet feeling of relief when word came that due to the heavy loss rate on German targets, Stirlings were being withdrawn from the main thrust of Bomber Commands activities.
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1678 Heavy Conversion Unit RAF Waterbeach
[photograph of Lancaster Mark II (Note: Flying on one engine)]
What a great feeling to get away from Wratting Common with it’s isolation and mud to arrive at a pre war brick built camp with all the amenities, a regular bus service into Cambridge, three pubs in the village and comfortable billets.
Accordingly to the talk around the camp, we were to convert onto the Lancaster 2 with Bristol Hercules radial air cooled engines as opposed to the Merlin inline liquid cooled engines. According to records, there were only five squadrons allocated this type of aircraft, three Canadian and two British. Just over three hundred were build by the Armstrong Whitley Company in Coventry as a stop gap, due to a shortage of Merlin engines and a surplus of Hercules engines. This Lancaster was a strange looking aircraft, but apart from it’s ceiling, the performance was comparable to the original Lancaster.
Within a week of arriving at Waterbeach, with only seven hours day and six hours night flying exercises under our belt we were considered capable of joining a squadron. Unfortunately, due to the Stirlings being phased out, a bottle neck seemed to have occurred throughout the squadrons of Three Group, consequently, our crew were sent to a holding unit at RAF Stradishall for two weeks before being awarded a seven days leave prior to our operational posting to 115 Squadron at RAF Witchford by Ely.
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Chapter 2
Operations RAF Witchford
After seven days of a very welcome leave, I arrived at Liverpool Street Station, London, early afternoon, joining up with three members of my crew, Sid Longhurst our Wireless Operator, Joe Waple, Bomb Aimer and Cyril Bridges our Flight Engineer. As usual, the train full of servicemen, mainly RAF, stopped at every station en route to Ely, destined for the many aerodromes scattered about East Anglia. Dusk was approaching giving the flat frosty landscape a look of foreboding which added to the apprehension that was building up inside me. Even the idle chatter failed to divert my thoughts away from the task that we had so flamboyantly volunteered for.
Arriving at Ely, the crew bus picked us up with all our gear and drove the short distance to Witchford camp, collected our bedding before being dropped off at our billet. Here we met up with our Mid Upper Gunner Dick Hollis and our Australian Navigator.
RAF Witchford, a Nisson huttet[sic] camp, recently vacated by 196 Stirling Squadron. The domestic site was situated to the rear of the village of Witchford with our billet directly behind The Shoulder of Mutton public house as it was named in those days. The administration area and airfield was situated at the eastern end of the village with the main runway start, close on the borders of Ely itself, a camel trek from our billet.
The following day was very cold, a hoar-frost covered the trees as we went about getting our bearings and doing the usual business of signing in at the various sections of the camp ie medical, transport, parachute section etc eventually arriving at C Flight to be designated a locker for our flying kit. Our Pilot, F/O Bill Martin arrived on the scene and introduced his NCO crew to the C Flight Commander, Sqd Leader George Mackie.
[photograph of the crew] L to R Back Row; Sid Longhurst W/op Cyril Bridges F/eng Dick Hollis M/u Jim Henry Nav
Seated; Geoff Payne R/g Bill Martin Pilot Joe Waple B/a [/photograph of the crew]
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Early next morning February 5th 1944, reporting to the Gunnery Leaders office, I meet up with F/Lt Eric Bilson who casually informed me that I was on the Battle Order for that nights[sic] operation, briefing at 19.45hrs. I would be joining the crew of P/O Speirenberg as their rear gunner for that nights[sic] operation.
During the afternoon, met up in the Sergeants mess, some of the crew with whom I was to fly with that night. Most of the afternoon was spent moping about the Mess trying to allay the nervous tension with a “cat nap” or a lot of idle chatter. This operation was to be the first for P/O Speirenberg and his crew, we were indeed a “sprog” crew.
Time came for our operational meal of bacon, eggs and fried bread, a luxury in those days, then the leisurely stroll to briefing along the ain street of Witchford to the admin site. Here we were directed to a large Nisson hut, on guard at the entrance stood two white capped service police looking very ossicious. Our pilot and navigator had already been briefed and were awaiting us at a large trestle table. Introductions all round, we sat waiting for the formal proceedings to begin. A command from the back of the hall brought us to attention when the squadron hierarchy marched to the front, led by the squadron commander.
[photograph] RAF Witchford Briefing (I am seated forefront left) [/photograph]
Stepping on to the dais, the CO wished us a good evening before withdrawing the curtain covering a blackboard showing a large map of Europe. Starting at Witchford, a red ribbon stretched out, crossing the North sea, meandering across France and finally ending way down in southern Germany. Gentlemen, your target for tonight is Augsberg, announced the CO to gasps from the assembled crews, many had recently operated on some very difficult and long distance sorties, including a number of Berlin raids.
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Following the CO,s briefing on the importance of this target, the M.A.N. works, we were briefed by the section leaders as to fuel and bomb loads, weather conditions, intelligence reports on enemy flack areas and industrial installations etc with a final word from the CO wishing us good luck. My own thought at that moment was, we will need all the good luck we can get.
Our pilot, a South African, gathered his “sprog crew” together, and trundled of[sic] to the flights to change into our flying gear and to pick up a thermos of coffee, flying rations, a few biscuits, barley sugars and “wakey wakey pills” (Benzedrine) plus my lucky Golliwog which my girl friend had made for me. Not too long before our transport arrived with it’s WAAF driver who would take us out to our aircraft dispersal pan.
At dispersal we chatted to our ground crew and chain smoked until it was time to climb aboard our aircraft M for mother. As a crew, we had not air tested our aircraft during the day so, each crew member did his own preliminary checks prior to start up.
A green Very light rose from the control tower then one by one the powerful Hercules engines roared into life, disturbing the roosting bird life and breaking the eerie silence of the darkened evening. Our skipper called up for crew reports if everything was Ok before waving chocks away, a short burst of engine power we began moving forward on to the perimeter track following a long line of Lancaster’s trundling towards the start of the east-west runway. On to the main runway, I was surprised to see a number of airmen and WAAF’s congregating alongside the Control Caravan waving their arms wishing us god speed.
The green Aldis lamp signalled us to go, and with a mighty roar from our four engines we sped down the runway taking off at 21-45 hrs thereon setting course for our turning point on the East Anglian coast. There we would be joining a bomber stream of almost 600 heavies on their seven and a half hours operation into the heart of Germany. The German air defences would already be aware that a heavy air attack was being prepared because they were able to pick up the RT traffic emanating from the large amount of air tests being carried out from the airfields of Eastern England during that morning.
Crossing the North Sea our Bomb Aimer called up to announce enemy coast ahead, a term that I had heard many times while watching such films as “One of Our Aircraft is Missing”. I never thought at the time that I would hear it for real which brought about an awesome feeling of apprehension, we were going into battle from which there was no opt our clause. We were going to war.
Now at our operational height of 18500 ft, above cloud and beginning to feel the intense cold, the condensation from my oxygen mask started to dribble down onto my Irvin suite[sic] where it froze solid.
Apart from a few searchlights and spasmodic flak activity away from our track, the journey across Germany was uneventful until our Bomb Aimer reported target ahead, seeing the Pathfinders red ground markers falling. Approaching the target, our aircraft began to be buffeted about from the slipstream of other aircraft converging on to the aiming point. The Master Bomber happily giving instructions as to what colour markers to bomb on.
Our squadron was in the second wave, the air defences were by now fully alerted with the many searchlights weaving about the sky accompanied by heavy flak, sometimes a
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loud crump as a shell burst close to our aircraft sending the acrid smell of cordite wafting into my turret. Lancasters and Halifaxes seemed to be closing in upon us, our bomb doors came open, and almost spontaneously, the Lancaster flying above us opened it’s bomb doors, my right leg began to jerk uncontrollably wondering if their bombs were going to hit us. Bombs away, bomb doors closed, nose down for a little more speed before setting course for home. By now my leg jerking had ceased and looking down into the target area it was like grazing into a giant cupola of molten metal, heaving and bubbling, a truly awesome site.[sic] Another glance down, I saw six ME109’s flying in formation three and three, well down below us silhouetted against the flow of the fire with their with[sic] navigation lights on. Very weird!
As we cleared the target area, a burst of tracer from the starboard quarter passed over us followed by a ME 109 crossing fast above our aircraft. The Mid Upper gunner and myself managed to get in a short burst but the fighter disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. I think that this 109 had his sights on another aircraft.
Heading for home, I could still see the glow from the destruction that we had caused even after an hours flying time. A few fighter flares, spasmodic bursts of flak and the odd searchlight were seen but way off our track, however ! we still kept our vigilance as these were the occasions with your guard was down, fighter attacks occurred.
Feeling very tired and cold we landed back at Witchford at 05-15hrs after a seven and a half hour flight then transported directly to de-briefing. A welcome cup of tea and a generous swig of rum in a chipped enamelled mug awaited us, served up by one of the cheerful WAAF’s, followed by a welcome breakfast.
Back to my billet, my own crew were away on a cross country exercise that day which left me completely alone thinking of that horrendous nights operation before dropping of[sic] to a very disturbed sleep.
According to records, the Augsberg operation proved successful although 21 heavies were lost on that raid, the equivalent to the loss of a squadron.
Due to adverse weather conditions on the continent Bomber Command was relieved of operations for the next seven days. This respite allowed our squadron to re-group, taking in a series of training flights and air tests. The break also gave us the opportunity of exploring the ancient city of Ely with it’s magnificent Cathedral, the little tea shops or just strolling the banks of the river Cam. There was also the unforgettable boozy evenings in the Lamb and other hostelries entailing a three mile stagger back to Witchford.
The third of March brought us back to reality when the Battle Order was pinned on the mess notice board indicating that operations were on that night and our crew were to participate. At briefing, the usual rigmarole, then naming Stuttgart as our target for the night, another southern Germany flight of six and a half hours. Our take of[sic] time was put back two hours due to the fore-casted weather conditions on our return, new take off time now 23-45 hrs.
An uneventful flight out with lots of thick cloud at various ceilings en-route until we neared our target, then clear skies above and 10/10ths cloud below us, illuminated by the many searchlights and exposing the bomber force to the higher flying German night fighters. The Master Bomber brough us in to bomb on the red sky markers (Wanganui flares) our bomb aimer began his instructions then, bombs away. Our pilot turned away from the target and requested a course for home but received no response
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from the navigator. Our flight engineer went back to find out if we had a casualty but, found the navigator was refusing to do his job. This caused a nasty verbal confrontation between the navigator and pilot who then ordered our bomb aimer to find a temporary course back as there was no possibility of trying to continue on the route set out at briefing.
This serious set back put our aircraft and crew in a very dangerous situation, not on track with the bomber stream, we were liable to being picked off by enemy fighters. Although the cloudy conditions at various levels gave us a modicum of cover, we were virtually alone in the heart of Germany, running tight on fuel and a navigator still refusing to do his job. Thankfully we had a very experienced pilot and our bomb aimer had a good knowledge of navigation. After flying in and out of cloud for some time and diverting occasionally to avoid defended areas the bomb aimer reported coastline and English Channel ahead, well south of our projected route.
Immediately our pilot radioed that we were running low on fuel and requested an emergency. Crossing the English coast, two searchlights lit up indicating a flare path, one circuit and we were down. We had landed at RAF Manston in Kent at 06-30 hrs with just fifteen minutes of fuel in our tanks, a flight of nearly seven hours.
While our pilot was at the officers mess, we tried to reason with our navigator but to no avail. Later in the day we were transported to our refuelled aircraft and took off on the 45 minutes flight back to Witchford, our bomb aimer doing the map reading.
Arriving back at Witchford dispersal awaiting transport, a staff car arrived with two service policemen. After consulting our pilot, the navigator was apparently arrested and taken away in the staff car. That was the last time that we saw our navigator, even after the war, we have been unable to trace him.
According to records this Stuttgart raid was highly successful with 557 heavies participating in the operation and only four heavies lost.
During the next few days, we carried out a series of training flights, including an abortive five and a half hours North Sea rescue search which classed as an operation.
On the 18th of March, with the Navigation Leader on board, our crew was listed on the nights Battle Order, the target Frankfurt, a heavily defended large industrial town with the massive factory complex of the IG Farben Industrie. Take off time 20-30 hrs.
The flight out was uneventful apart from a number of exchanges of tracer fire seen away in distance but, as we approached the target, many fighter flares lit up the sky. The target area was less cloudy than on the trip out and as we went into bomb, masses of searchlights were probing the sky. With the continuous red flashes of bursting shells, light flak tracer coupled with the crump of heavy flak, one wondered how anything could penetrate these defences let alone make it through the target area unscathed. However! We made it through and headed on track for home when a twin engine aircraft appeared astern and below at about 400yds, it was a Me 110 closing in on us. I switched on my mike to alert the crew to be ready to corkscrew but, the mike was dead, frozen up with condensation. Taking off my glove, I attempted to scratch away the ice that had collected in my oxygen mask but to no avail. I then tried to contact the crew using the emergency light button but no response was forthcoming. As the fighter closed underneath our aircraft, I got a good bead on it’s nose area and pressed the trigger. A two second burst and all four guns jammed leaving us completely at the mercy of the Me 110, the rest of the crew being unaware of the desperate situation that was to unfold.
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Suddenly there was a number of loud bangs, our aircraft shook and the strong smell of cordite permeated my oxygen mask. The aircraft began to manoeuvre violently as if out of control and with no information coming through on the intercom, panic set in, thinking that the crew were either dead or wounded. As I could not be of use in my turret, without an communication and my guns out of action, I decided to find out what was happening. Clipping on an emergency oxygen bottle I began to work my way up the fuselage when I noticed the main door flapping open and the M/u gunner gone. A horrible feeling came over me as I thought that the crew had baled out and left me to my fate. Looking up and around the M/u gunners position, there were bullet and cannon shells in the fuselage, an intercom junction box shattered, the gunners helmet hanging on the foot stirrups.
Our aircraft began to level out as I made my way up the fuselage, drawing aside the gangway curtain, to my relief the W/op and the navigator were settling down. Reporting that the M/u gunner had baled out, I went back to sit in my turret contemplating that if we got attacked again, we didn’t have the capability of defending ourselves. However! The rest of the journey was uneventful apart from my turret electrics being out of action which left me at the mercy of the bitter cold.
When we were almost back home, my oxygen mask off, I could smell something burning. I opened the doors of my turret and saw a yellow glow emanating from one of the ammunition panniers and reported to our pilot that we had a fire, he immediately requested a priority landing. After the engines were cut I raked out the belt of ammunition from the pannier and found that an incendiary bullet had penetrated the pannier and lodged in between the rounds of ammunition. Luck seemed to be on our side again, if this incendiary bullet had penetrated a cartridge casing, there would have been an almighty explosion.
After de-briefing I was taken to the sick bay to be checked for frost bite, the ends of two fingers on my left hand were numb due to scratching out the ice in my oxygen mask. After an overnight stay in sick quarters, the MO declared me fit for duty.
According to records this raid was successful with 829 heavies taking part in the attack with the loss of 22 aircraft.
Two days later, on the 22nd of March, we were detailed for operations again to Frankfurt, this announcement caused an air of dismay amongst our crew having lost two of our original crew members over the last two operations. However! we were fortunate in having the Gunnery Leader as our M/u gunner and the Navigation Leader on board again. Take off time 19-00hrs.
Over 800 heavies were detailed for this raid, a well planned diversionary route to the target was detailed which caused problems for the German night fighter force. Nothing of real concern encountered during the flight out but, being in the third wave, the defences were fully deployed by the time we arrived. Around the target area we were met by a terrifying barrage of flak with many searchlights weaving about the sky. We bombed then, flew on through this heavily defended area and, as we turned on to our course for home, a blue master searchlight came on astern of our aircraft.
I reported to our pilot that the searchlight was closing in upon us and coming closer, closer, closer, it’s got us. Immediately, our pilot put the aircraft into an almost vertical dive which caused all four engines to cut, then came the crackling on the intercom “prepare to abandon aircraft”. Opening my turret doors I struggled out and unclipped my parachute from it’s housing before dragging myself into the fuselage. The aircraft
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was still diving and I thought “this is it” there was no way that I could reach the doorway as I was floating about in mid air. Luckily the engines picked up again, with a mighty roar the aircraft began to pull out of its dive pinning me to the fuselage floor by the G forces. When the aircraft levelled out I made my way back into the turret and found that we were flying very low, almost in a valley with a river beneath us and searchlights crossing the valley almost horizontally. The intercom came on “pilot to crew we are going home now chaps” to a muffled response of “hear hear”. or words to that effect.
On the way back I began to have a peculiar sensation of throbbing in my hands, something akin to how chilblain’s feel until I realised that during the scramble to get out of my turret my heated gloves had come detached from my Irvin Suit. I tried desperately to reconnect my gloves but found it impossible, due to the numbness in my hands. My hands didn’t seem unduly cold, I wasn’t even bothered until we landed back at Witchford. After de-briefing the MO examined my hands that had started to blister, a sure sign of frost bite. I was immediately transported to the RAF hospital at Ely and put to bed, both hands being tied up to the bed rail.
Spent a couple of weeks in the ward having my hands dressed three times a day with mentholated spirits then allowed out, dressed in hospital blue. For a few hours each day, along with a couple of other patients, we wandered around Ely sampling the many tea rooms, the pubs were out of bounds to servicemen dressed in hospital blue.
One interesting feature at the time was wandering down by the river Cam and witnessing the actual Oxford and Cambridge Boat Race taking place on the river because London was too dangerous at that time to hold the event.
After another week in hospital, the blisters on my hands disappeared, the top skin had peeled and I was getting plenty of movement in my fingers so the doctor discharged me and gave me a few days sick leave.
Back at Witchford I learned that my friend Sgt Nick Alkemade and his crew had been lost on the previous Berlin raid and also that the squadron had lost two of its aircraft when they were shot down by a ME 410 intruder as they were coming into land after a raid on Rouen.
Reporting to the MO the following day and told that I was posted to 75 New Zealand squadron at RAF Mepal, just four miles down the road from Witchford. Sad to say farewell to the remainder of my crew with whom I had trained and flew with over the past few months, incidentally, that crew completed their tour of operations.
Spent a couple of weeks at Mepal just kicking my heels until the Gunnery Leader told me that I was posted and to report to 514 squadron at RAF Waterbeach awaiting my medical assessment.
In closing this chapter I would like to make reference to my friend Nick Alkemade.
Their aircraft was returning from a raid on Berlin when they were attacked by a JU88, setting the Lancaster on fire. The pilot ordered the crew to bale out but, the rear gunner found that his parachute was ablaze, his oxygen mask began to melt on his face, leaving him no alternative but to jump, better a quick death than being burned alive. He abandoned his aircraft at 18.000 ft and landed in a huge snow drift, high in the Hartz Mountains and eventually to[he] became a prisoner of war.
His story is well documented in the records of 115 Squadron and the RAF
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[photocopy extract] Log Book Copy of the Frankfurt Action
[photocopy extract] Medical Report
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[photocopy extract] [underlined] Combat Report [/underlined]
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[photocopy extract] [underlined] Combat Report [/underlined]
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Chapter 3
Return to Ops RAF Waterbeach
514 Squadron was formed at RAF Foulsham in September 1943 as part of 3 Group and began operations in November 1943 flying Bristol Hercules radial engined Mk2 Lancaster’s before relocating to RAF Waterbeach for the rest of the war until disbanded in August 1945 Arrived at Waterbeach and deposited on the ground floor of one of the H Blocks. RAF Waterbeach was a pre war aerodrome with all the facilities one could wish for. Hot and cold water, baths and showers within the billet and only fifty yards to the Sergeants Mess, Luxury indeed as opposed to the Spartan conditions which prevailed at Witchford. The rest of the inhabitants of my billet were all aircrew awaiting medical assessment prior to being returned to operational duties and were known as the “Odd Bods”. Some were recovering from wounds, frostbite, or illness and would be joining other crews when declared fit. In the meantime, we were all allocated some useful task to keep us fully occupied until we were returned to operational duties.
Together with another air gunner and as senior NCOs we were allocated airfield defence which meant on occasions being in charge of the perimeter guard or of manning the guns at either end of the main runway when the squadron was operating. This duty was necessary due to the frequency of German intruders who followed the bomber stream back to their bases. One night as I was manning the guns on the downwind end of the main runway awaiting the return of the squadron, I saw a twin engined aircraft approaching the runway and got a bead on it. As it came closer I noticed that it had it’s port undercarriage down but to my relief this aircraft turned out to be a Mosquito, obviously, in trouble coming in down wind. It must have landed half way down the runway in a shower of sparks then, a terrific bang and flames lit up the sky. After about five minutes the field phone rang to inform me that I could stand down as the squadron had been diverted. Three days later the station adjutant informed me that as I had recently been promoted to Flight Sergeant, I was to take the funeral parade for the two airmen that had perished in that Mosquito crash.
During my time “convalescing”, there was ample time to get involved with the many recreational activities on the station. One such time was the visit by a dramatic group with Margaret Lockwood taking the lead ni a play by and directed by Terrance Rattigen. On another occasion the RAF film unit arrived on camp to get the feel and film some aspects of an operational squadron. Among the group was the famous American actor Edward G Robinson with a retinue of lowly airmen who were to participate in this documentary/film although in later would become famous, such names as Dickie Attenborough, George Cole, David Tomlinson and a few others. This film became a box office success entitled “Journey Together” a copy of which I now treasure.
Very soon the “honeymoon” would be over, a message came over the Tannoy for me to report to the Medical Officer who told me to pick up transport the following day
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and report to the RAF hospital at Ely for my final medical assessment. A friendly type of third degree took place and, eventually I was passed fit for flying and would return to Waterbeach operational. Back at Waterbeach I reported to the Gunnery Leader and had a pleasant chat with him concerning my interview with the Medical Board. He told me that they were trying to ascertain if I was “swinging the lead” as frostbite was considered, in the first instance a self inflicted wound and that the recipient had to prove otherwise. With that, I was given first option of joining a crew when a vacancy arose and ordered to report at the gunnery office the following day and every day. D Day came and went and as I was now operational I was excused normal station duties so, I spent much of my time flying in the Link Trainer or knocking about in the cricket nets or even swimming in the river Cam. Bomber Command had switched from attacking the industrial cities of Germany to supporting the advancing allied armies by attacking German troop concentrations, communications, flying bomb sites/storage areas as well the many oil plants.
Reporting to the Gunnery Office July the 7/th, to my delight was informed that I would be flying that night with F/sgt Witwood’s crew as M/u gunner, as their own gunner was off sick with a bad stomach Target for the night was Vaires railway marshalling yard Paris and was part of the plan to disrupt the German supply route to the Normandy battlefields. Take off time 22-30 just as darkness was falling.
Flying as a M/u gunner was a new experience for me with great views all around. A fairly direct route to the target, plenty of searchlight activity but the flak was nowhere near as heavy as my experience of German targets. A well concentrated attack without the loss of aircraft possibly due to another attack on a flying bomb storage depot at St-leu-d’esserent north of Paris where enemy fighters claimed thirty aircraft. Landed back at base after a 4hr 45min flight.
On the 10th July I was with F/sgt Witwood’s crew again on my first daylight raid for an attack on a flying bomb dump at Nucourt. Take off time 04-04hrs uneventful trip with light flak at the target area which was covered in cloud. Landed back at base at 07-45hrs F/sgt’s Witwoods crew completed their tour of ops and all survived the war. Five days later I was to join a crew who’s R/gunner had lost a foot from a predicted flak shell which had penetrated his current and continued on to it’s predicted height before exploding. F/O Cossets crew were, navigator F/O Jimmie Gould a Scot from Kilmarnock, F/eng R J Flint from Motherwell, B/a FO Billie Lees Canada, W/op F/O Hayden, M/u Sgt Dennis Young, with myself as rear gunner. As there was four officers in the crew, socialising as a crew never arose, however, the M/upper gunner Dennis Young became firm friends until he passed away in 2008. It will be a mammoth task to describe all the remaining operations in detail so will pick out some of the more interesting ones as I detail all the operations at 514 sad.
15/16th July 44 My first trip with my new crew was a night operation to Chalons sur Marne a railway marshalling yard, a trip of six and a half hours.
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18.th [sic] July 44 Daylight raid to Amieville to attack enemy troop concentrations. Arriving at base at 00-70 [sic] hrs and informed to be ready for operations again that night
18/19th July 44 Night attack on the rail junctions at Auloyen, flak was moderate but in the distance, another attack was taking place at the rail junction at Revigny with fighter rockets seen. Back at base 00-40 [sic] hrs very tired but ready for a seven day leave.
Back from leave, we practised formation flying for a few days in preparation of deep penetration behind the German lines but once again Bomber Harris still wanted to continue his attacks against German industrial towns hence, another night trip into the heart of Germany.
28/29th July 44 Detailed to attack Stuttgart which was to be the third heavy raid by Bomber Command against Stuttgart in seven days.
Fairly clear moonlight night, fighter flares began to illuminate the sky as we approached the French/German border with a number of combats taking place north of our track. It seems as though the German Radar had correctly forecast our target owing to the amount of searchlights waving about the target area. Very heavy flak as we went into bomb with usual buffeting about, turning for home I spotted a number of Me 109’s scurrying about, silhouetted against the fires. The return journey was uneventful although these were the times that a marauding fighter could catch you unawares. After an eight hour flight we landed back at base at 04-00 hrs. Later we were to learn that 39 aircraft had been lost on this raid against the five hundred that had participated.
30th July Daylight raid to Normandy in support of our ground troops who were ready to advance against the stubborn resistance of a German mechanised division. Caen target area B was our aiming point, orange smoke was deployed as the British front line, and we were to bomb east of that line at 4000 ft.
Going in to attack we were met by a lot of light flak which subsided appreciably as the Germans took cover. I don’t know how anyone could have survived such a concentrated battering that I had witnessed.
3rd Aug 44 Daylight operation to Bois de Cassan flying bomb storage sites, four hours flying time.
4th Aug 44 Daylight raid Bec d Ambes oil storage port on the Gironde Estuary (of The Cockleshell Heroes fame) leading into Bordeaux.
Take off time 1330 hrs To avoid being detected by the German RADAR we were detailed to fly out below 4000 ft. Setting course in close formation, we joined up with other squadrons at Falmouth Cornwall then out to sea heading for the Bay of Biscay, an area notorious for patrols of Ju 88’s. Nearing the French coast we climbed to our bombing height then went into bomb. The attack was extremely successful as I could see the storage tanks on fire and a tanker alongside the jetty listing badly. Very strange that there was only light flak in the vicinity, it being obvious that we had caught the defences unawares
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Relative pleasant journey on the way back but it must have been quite a strain for our pilot flying at that low level. A couple of our Mosquito escorts buzzed us on the way home which was gratifying. Back at base after an eight hour flight and ready for a 48 hr pass
8/9th Aug 44 Night operation Forte de Luchieux, munition storage dumps and depots.
12/13 Aug 44 Back to the German industrial towns with a night operation to Russelsheim by Frankfurt on Main. Target, the Opal factories who were manufacturing aircraft and military vehicles. Very apprehensive as, this was my third visit to Frankfurt and held many unpleasant memories. Clear night with heavy flak and many searchlights and fighter flares. Incident free trip but losses were high, losing thirty aircraft, a loss rate of 6.7 percent
16/17th Aug 44 Loud groans from the assembled crews as the target Stettin was revealed, a Polish port away in the Baltic. We were to adopt the same tactics as employed in the successful daylight raid on Bec de Ambes and to fly out below 4000 ft under the RADAR screen. A diversionary raid would also take place against Kiel in an attempt to confuse the German defences.
Take off time 2100 hrs we set out over the North Sea, crossing over the northern tip of Denmark. To the north we could see the lights of Stockholm with one or two searchlights wafting about, accompanied by a few bursts of flak. I think they were warning us to keep clear although, I knew that some of our aircraft had wandered into Swedish neutral airspace.
Continuing on over the Baltic we began to gain height in preparation to attack. Not many searchlights about With [sic] a moderate amount flak we bombed and turned away dropping very quickly down to almost sea level for our flight back home. Uneventful trip back to base after a [sic] eight and a half hours flight.
It seemed as though the tactics employed on that raid were successful, with Stettin being very badly damaged, unfortunately our squadron lost one aircraft crashing in Denmark on the return flight.
Five aircraft were lost on that raid.
19/20th Aug 44 Night operation to Bremen. Very heavily defended and reports indicate that this raid on Bremen was the most devastating of the war. Uneventful trip
21st Aug 44 Converted to Lancaster III s Merlin engines
25th Aug 44 Operations Vincly. Flying Bomb site and storage depot in the Pas de Calais area. Watched a Lancaster spiral into the ground, two parachutes deployed.
26/27 Aug 44 Night attack on Kiel
6th Sept 44 Operations Le Harve. [sic] German fortifications and transport
20th Sept 44 Operations Calais enemy troop concentrations
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[black and white arial photograph of Calais]
[underlined] Attack on Calais [/underlined]
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Picture taken during the R.A.F. attack on Calais in September. Calais was bombed by large forces for two and a half hours.
BRITISH OFFICIAL PHOTOGRAPH NO. CL. 1200. (XP)
(Air Ministry Photograph – Crown Copyright Reserved)
R.A.F. BOMBER COMMAND’S ATTACK ON CALAIS.
Picture shows:- Under the pall of smoke lie heavily defended positions four miles West of Calais. The picture was taken during R.A.F. Bomber Command’s attack on 20.9.44. when large forces of Lancasters and Halifaxes bombarded Calais for nearly two and a half hours. Two aircraft can be seen flying over the target. The craters at the top of the photograph were caused by bombs dropped from aircraft in the opening stages of the attack. (Picture issued September. 1944)
[underlined] Attack on Calais [/underlined]
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23/24 Sep 44 Night attack on Neuss (Ruhr) Heavily defended
25th Sept 44 Operations Calais enemy troop positions
26th Sept 44 Operations Cap Griz Nes enemy troop concentrations.
28th Sept 44 Operations Calais enemy troop concentrations
[copy of a navigation plot chart]
F/Lt Nye Navigation Plot Westkapelle 3-10-44
3rd Oct 44 Daylight operation to Westkapelle. The target shown was the Dutch island of Walcheren at the approaches to the port of Antwerp on the river Scheldt. We were informed that the target was strategically important as the Germans were denying the Allies the use of the port of Antwerp and was required for the supply of material for our advancing armies. The object of the raid was to breach the dyke’s and to flood the island purposely to neutralise the German forces established there.
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I was feeling rather disturbed that we were going to flood vast tracts of land that had taken years to establish and concern for the population who had suffered four years of hardship and deprivation during the German occupation
Take off time 1207 hrs. Reaching our rendezvous point there seemed to be hundreds of four engine aircraft converging before heading out over the North sea. Dropping down to our bombing height we approached our target and dropped our 8000 lb bomb which according to our bomb aimer, got a direct hit on the dyke. Passing over the target I saw that the dyke had been breached with the sea gushing through the gaps. Due to the concentration of German forces on the island there was an enormous amount of light and heavy flak as we turned for home, however it was thankful that no enemy fighters were seen over the target area but we still had to keep a watchful eye open as there were many enemy fighter airfields in Holland. Back at base after a two and a half hours flight, after “interrogation” we repaired to our mess for a meal and a pint to celebrate our M/uppers 20th birthday.
Some time later I was to learn that my best friend, a Marine, was killed during the assault on the island of Walcheren at Westkapelle. They attacked through the breaches that we had made in the dyke.
[black and white arial photograph of the dykes at Westkapelle]
Breaching the Dykes at Westkapelle 3-10-44
5/6th Oct 44 Night operation to Saabrucken to attack marshalling yards and steelwork installations This raid was at the request of General Patton in preparation for the American forces offensive along the Southern front in an attempt to stem the flow of German reinforcements to that front. Heavy flak in the target area, no fighters seen.
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7th Oct 44 Daylight operation to Emmerich a German town on the border with Holland. Synthetic oil installations and German supply were to be attacked.
It was the first time that we had been ordered to fly in formation, our two sister squadrons, 115 ahead and 75 New Zealand squadron behind us. Other groups and squadrons had made similar arrangements. As we neared the German/Dutch border very accurate flak opened up which immediately dispersed the Bomber stream. The lead Lancaster of 75 squadron who was following us took a direct hit and completely disintegrated, the wreckage slowly drifting to earth, a very
[black and white photograph of a Lancaster taking a direct flak hit]
75 New Zealand Squsdron Lancaster taking a direct flak hit.
disconcerting sight. Clear sky’s [sic] over the target which we bombed on the PFF flares accurately but as we closed our bomb door an enormous crump shook our aircraft and shrapnel rattled along the fuselage, putting my turret and M/uppers out of action. The hydraulics had been severed somewhere leaving us to operate our turrets by hand, not a good position to be in, although we were supposed to have an escort of Mosquito’s. [sic] Arriving back at base there was some concern that we would be unable to activate the undercarriage owing to the problem with the hydraulics, however, the undercarriage dropped down perfectly.
We delivered U for uncle to the hanger for repair and said a fond farewell to the lady. That was my 29th operation and keeping my fingers crossed that number 30 would be an easy one ?????
14th Oct 44 Briefing 05-00 hrs Taken aback when the target was revealed, a daylight attack on the Ruhr town of Duisburg one of the most heavily defended areas in
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Germany, dangerous enough at night. This is me going out with a bang one way or another. As we were to have a fighter escort, the flight out was uneventful until we were approaching the target area, there were nearly a thousand heavy bombers converging towards then passing through what seemed to be a black haze intermingled with deep red flashes of exploding flak shells. As we dropped our bombs, I looked down to see the fires and the ground erupting, a truly awesome site. Soon we were out of the Ruhr defences heading back to Waterbeach feeling slightly more relaxed but still scanning the sky’s [sic] for the unexpected fighter to jump us. Landing back at base I felt that the weight of the world had been lifted off my shoulders and what a relief to be looking forward to a fortnights leave in a couple of days [sic] time.
At de-briefing, the C/o said that operations were on again that night and read out the crews who were to participate. All gunners who were not flying that night were to report, to the bomb dump to assist the armourers to bomb up again. That included me.
The following day I learned that our squadron Had followed up on our raid with a night attack on Duisburg in the company of almost a thousand bombers.
Two days later, the crew celebrated the completion of our tour of operations at The Eagle, a well know hostelry in Cambridge.
Off on leave then, as a redundant airman, I was given a posting to the Aircrew Re assessment Centre at RAF Brackla by Nairn, Northern Scotland, jokingly this station was known as Brigadoon. That is another story.
[copy of a log book entry by F/O Cossens]
F/O Cossens Log Book entry at the end of operational tour
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Chapter 4
Grounded
[underlined] RAF Brackla [/underlined]
After a long food less overnight train journey from Peterborough, we eventually arrived at Nairn station late morning. During the journey to Scotland, I teamed up with a F/sgt F/Engineer, Jim Simpson from Walsall who was in the same situation as myself, redundant aircrew both feeling fairly low. Awaiting the crew bus, we became aware of how bitterly cold it was with snow on the hills and a cold east wind blowing in from the Moray Firth.
Eventually the crew bus arrived to transport us to our new home, a dispersed unused airfield with a few wooden buildings as the domestic/administrative site, our Nisson hutted billets a mile away from the main camp, situated on a hillock. With the usual rigmarole of signing in, we eventually made it to the Sergeant’s mess for a late lunch which we ate ravenously. Back to our billet we scoured around to find wood and coke to feed the pot bellied stove, the only means of warming our “tin hut”.
The following morning after breakfast, about fifty aircrew of various ranks, including officers, paraded outside the headquarters hut, many dressed in what one would describe as non regulation dress. Some wearing their Irvine jackets and many with scarves much to the displeasure of the parade Warrant Officer, however! due to the bitter cold wind that was still blowing around the camp, nothing more was said on the subject. Sectioned off, we waited in one of the offices until called individually for interview and assessment.
RAF Brackla was a war time airfield built alongside an ancient distillery, according to the stories from the permanent staff, it was to be used by Wellington aircraft patrolling the North Sea. Because of the peat sodden ground the runways began to sink and distort, making the airfield unserviceable for heavy aircraft.
Called in for my interview by a seemingly disinterested Flying Officer, I addressed him with the usual courtesy, before his questioning routine began. What was my education qualifications, my civilian occupation, and my recreational activities etc;? and so it went on for some time. I had worked in the automobile industry as an apprenticed sheet metal worker so I was offered training as an airframe fitter or a driver/mechanic.
I had given a lot of thought to what sort of peace time occupation I would like to be involved in when demobilised, deciding that factory work with set routines was not for me. As a youngster I had always been keen on all sporting activities, this could be the opportunity I was looking for. I conveyed my thoughts to the interviewing officer that I would like to train as a PTI (physical training instructor) which would give me the opportunity of going on to Loughborough University. With a wry smile, he said he would make a note of my request and that was the end of my interview.
On parade the following morning, the Station Warrant Officer addressed us with the comment that “we looked like a bunch of layabouts and needed to get back to some discipline and fitness”, we were then dismissed and told to report back in an hours [sic] time dressed in “Best Blue” ready for inspection. The inspection was performed by
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the C/O, an ex operational pilot sporting the DFC and Bar, with a bit of tongue in cheek formality he handed over the parade to SWO. The officers were dismissed leaving us in the hands of a F/sgt air gunner who marched us away and continued to march us at regulation pace onto and then around the perimeter track. After about fifteen minutes, the parade began to mutter amongst themselves until one wag in the centre of the file bawled out an order “parade break step”, the whole parade then began to shuffle along to guffaws of laughter until the parade F/sgt brought us to a halt and demanded to know who gave the order and why? The offending airman a F/sgt Engineer put his hand up and said or words to the effect “If we had continued to march in step we would have disappeared into the peat and I wouldn’t like you to be responsible for the catastrophe”.
That was the end of marching at RAF Brackla, to the tour expired airmen, Brackla became known as Brigadoon.
Christmas and new year was nearly upon us although Christmas as such, did not exist in Scotland, the New Year being the prime celebration. Brackla was just a small cluster of cottages, not even a pub or shop. We had absolutely nothing to do on the camp although I took the opportunity of playing rugby for the station which relieved the boredom. At other times we could scrounge a lift into Nairn, although it was a lottery getting return transport.
Nairn was then, a sleepy seaside resort with a couple of hotels and the odd bar. Sunday was a day of rest in Scotland and Nairn was completely shut on the Sabbath. On Saturday nights, there was always the dance at the Pentecostal Church hall. My friend Jim Simpson and I always stuck together on these excursions and invariably we were offered digs for the weekend, we even attended the Pentecostal Church on the Sunday. This weekly event followed the same pattern during our stay at Brackla, friendly people the Nairn folk. Two weeks into the New Year, Jim Simpson and I were summoned to the administration office to be informed of our posting to RAF Weeton near Blackpool to undertake a motor transport course. My hope of becoming a Physical Training Instructor was finally dashed.
[underlined] RAF Weeton [/underlined]
Met up with Jim Simpson at Birmingham New Street Station after a welcome seven day’s leave, en route to Kirkham and RAF Weeton.
RAF Weeton was a sprawling complex of wooden huts with manicured verges, white painted kerbs and edging which typified a multi training establishment, a formidable place. One of it’s [sic] saving graces was the close proximity to Blackpool, sporting a frequent bus and train service to the seaside town with it’s [sic] many entertainment attractions.
We soon settled into one of the wooden huts and made acquaintance with the other inhabitants, all tour expired aircrew, two of them were air gunners with whom I had trained at the Isle of Man, one of them was a fellow named Ward from Hull. His Stirling had been shot down during a French resistance supply-drop and he was the only one to survive, being rescued by a French resistance group. He fought alongside this group, the Maquis and with the assistance of a French escape organisation, he eventually made his way back home via Spain. He proudly sported a German Eagle emblem sewed under his breast pocket flap, he claimed that he had taken it off a German soldier whom he had shot during his association with the Maquis.
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The following day, we assembled in one of the huts, our dozen aircrew plus about twenty airmen recruits (Sprogs) were briefed on the course that we were to undertake, then spent the rest of the morning doing basic drill. Although the aircrew were senior NCOs we were still expected to carry out the same tasks as the recruits during the course, this didn’t unduly worry us. The afternoon was far more interesting, firing 303 rifles on the range.
Then began a very intense and interesting two months course on all aspects of motor transport. The squad was split up into two groups, one group being involved with class work and practical mechanics during the morning and then taking driving lessons during the afternoon, the other group rotating in a similar fashion.
Our first driving lesson was in an Austin 10 saloon under the auspice’s [sic] of The British School of Motoring (BSM) three to a car taking half hour instructional driving in and around the Blackpool area during the morning or afternoon.
After three weeks of driving lessons and intensive course work we were ready to take our driving test around the narrow streets of Blackpool. In those days hand signals were the norm as there was no such modern aids as indicator lights. Jim Simpson and I were delighted that we had passed our driving and theoretical test and were ready to move on to the heavy vehicles, 75 percent of our group were also successful.
Our first introduction to lorries, Bedford’s, Fordsons, Albions and Dennis’s, [sic] took place within the camp precinct getting familiarised with “double declutching”, reversing on mirrors and in general, getting the feel of a heavy vehicle. Out on the road we enjoyed the convoy excursions into the Pennines with it’s [sic] many twisting and turning country lanes, stopping on occasions at village cafe’s [sic] to sample the home baking.
Apart from the extra guard and orderly sergeants [sic] duties, as well as our normal course work, we had ample leisure time to take in the delights of Blackpool. During the war, Blackpool was an extremely busy town, full of service personnel of all nationalities, undertaking various courses or being kitted out prior to postings overseas. Competition for the attention of the ladies of Blackpool was very fierce, however! there was plenty of other diversions such as free entrance to the many shows at the Wintergardens, the Tower and other establishments. One such show remains in my memory was, seeing Sandy Powell doing his ventriloquist act at the Tower, hilarious!
During the final three weeks of our course, we graduated on to lorry with trailer driving, then finally the long articulated “Queen Mary’s” complete with an aircraft fuselage. The achievement of driving and manipulating this lengthy vehicle, made one feel like Mr Lucas or “The King Of The Road”.
Our course ended with notification of our posting and presentation of our RAF driving documents, the equivalent to a full driving licence. This would serve us well when we returned to civilian life. Jim Simpson and I were very lucky to be given home postings to RAF Halfpenny Green, within easy reach of our homes.
On leave, my mother received a letter informing us that my cousin was missing on operations to Harberg 7/8th of March 1944. He was a M/upper gunner with 57 squadron based at East Kirkby in Lincolnshire, lost on his second tour.
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[underlined] RAF Halfpenny Green [/underlined]
RAF Halfpenny Green was a war time aerodrome situated within easy reach of Wolverhampton, Stourbridge and Bridgenorth. It was originally called RAF Bobbington alongside a village of the same name, but the name was changed because of the possibility that the name Bobbington would conflict with an army base in Wiltshire.
Quite a compact camp with a mix of wooden huts and Nisson [sic] huts with all services within easy walking distance. Halfpenny Green was the base of No 3 Air Observer Navigation School using the reliable Avro Ansons and Airspeed Oxfords.
Signing in completed, Jim and I were billeted in a Nisson [sic] hut situated adjacent to the sports ground and, occupied by four Canadian F/sergeant pilots and four F/sergeant navigator instructors. We were in good company.
The following morning we reported to the MT office to be confronted by the MT officer, a surly red faced looking Warrant Officer. When he was told that we were his new drivers and were reporting for duty, he burst out laughing and said “I wonder what this air force is coming to”. or words to that effect. He turned out to be a decent enough fellow and we became firm friends during our time on the camp.
The MT section was overloaded with drivers and my actual driving consisted of driving the ambulance and patients to either, RAF Bridgenorth or to RAF Cosford and on occasions driving the salvage truck around the camp lifting the rubbish to the incinerator. Italian POW’s carried out this task accompanied by their patriotic Neapolitan singing.
Every Thursday evening, I was detailed to transport the Station Education Officer into Dudley to supervise the local Air Training Corps. As I was an ex ATC cadet, we got on famously, I think that is why I was always his driver on these occasions
When I dropped him off, invariably he gave me a free pass to visit either the Palace cinema/Dudley Hippodrome/the dance hall or the roller skating rink. It transpired that he and his family owned these entertainment facilities and is a pity that I cannot recall his name.
On one of these excursions I took in the Dudley Hippodrome to see Vera Lynn who was top of the bill that week, a very enjoyable evening.
Due to the posting away of two of the station drivers, our friendly Transport Officer gave Jim and I the opportunity of manning the Fire Tender, each on a turn about 24 hr on and 24 hr off basis, I think he wanted to get us off his patch as my promotion to Warrant Officer had just been posted on Daily Routine Orders (DRO’s) together with my war medal awards.
This arrangement was ideal, we would have more free time and also avoid the embarrassment to either party in the Transport Section.
The fire station and crash tender building was situated by the main gate and opposite the Headquarters Office Building. Our fire officer was a F/lt Lieutenant and a dead ringer for Arthur Askey, he also played the ukulele and entertained us on many occasion when flying was scrubbed. Some character that fellow.
Each morning, we gave our Fordson fire tender a run round the perimeter track and if flying was on, we would position ourselves on the hard standing at the end of the runway until the flying ceased.
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Fordson Crash Tender
[coloured photograph of a Fordson Crash Tender in front of a Nissen hut]
[black and white full length photograph of Warrant Officer Geoff Payne in uniform]
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My navigator Jim Gould from 514 squadron was the Navigation Leader on the station and was now a F/lt Lieutenant. He arranged for me to get some unofficial flying lessons on Ansons and Oxfords during my down time. We kept in touch over the years but sadly he passed away in 2001.
VE day arrived and I managed to get home for the celebrations, although very short and sweet, everyone let their hair down and danced into the early hours of the morning around the street bonfires. The war in Europe had ended with victory for the Allies, the Japanese conflict was still a major problem. My elder brother was flying in Burma as a Mosquito navigator, would I be seconded to the Tiger Force for a second tour on the other side of the world,?
On duty, sited at the end of the runway one day, our phone rang to tell us that one of our Oxfords had crashed, and we should follow the staff car to the site. When we arrived, it seemed as though the aircraft had dived into the ground, the cockpit area completely crumpled up. We had managed to get into the field with some difficulty and began to play foam onto the engines whilst the ambulance crew began to retrieve the occupants. Sadly there were no survivors and flying was scrubbed for the day.
When our shift finished, I returned to my billet to be met by a strange silence, two of my friends, a Canadian pilot and one of the navigation instructors had died in that crash plus the pupil navigator. During my time at Halfpenny Green, that was the only incident we were called upon to attend.
Arrangements were made for an open day on the camp to which I invited my girl friend and her mother. A lovely summers day wandering around the camp and showing off our station facilities. The highlight of that day was the appearance and aerobatic display by a Gloucester Meteor, the RAF’s first jet powered fighter. This was my first sighting of this amazing aircraft.
The following day, all camp personnel were assembled in one of the hangers to be congratulated on the station performance during the open day, then came the bad news that Halfpenny Green was to close down within the next few weeks. This news came as a big shock, Halfpenny Green was a friendly sort of station, in easy reach of familiar places and my home. Jim and I received our notice of posting quite quickly due to the cessation of the flying programme, both of us being detailed to report to RAF Croughton.
Our final task on the station was to dig a large hole on Bobbington Common and to destroy all the camp pyrotechnics. We literally left Halfpenny Green with a bang.
RAF Halfpenny Green is now Wolverhampton Airport and also home to the RAF Fire Services Museum.
[underlined] RAF Croughton [/underlined]
RAF Croughton is a 1938 airfield, sited on a hillock with grass runways and a concrete perimeter track situated about seven miles southwest of Brackley in Northamptonshire and within easy reach of Banbury, Oxfordshire.
The domestic site, a mix of wooden and Nisson [sic] huts, was a good mile away from the airfield. fortunately [sic] Jim and I managed to get our accommodation in a farm house alongside the airfield which was inhabited by two pilots and two glider pilot instructors, all NCOs. The rooms of the farmhouse were comfortable and had been decorated throughout by a modern day Picasso, very cosy.
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After the usual signing in. we reported to the MT Section and told that we were detailed to report to the airfield tractor section the following day for glider towing. RAF Croughton at that time was Number 1 Glider Training School, training pilots on Hotspur gliders. Our job was to tow the gliders, using small nippy American tractors, on to the runway and to retrieve them upon landing. The Miles Martinet was used as the towing aircraft, a noisy little beast.
With the dropping of the Atomic Bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, VJ day came and went with no celebration on my part as I was detailed for a twenty four hour duty as Orderly Officer. The war was over to great relief and there was no danger of doing a second tour which left me pondering as to how long before demobilisation. Time began to drag as our only serious occupation was tractor driving when the weather was suitable for flying. During my down time there was ample opportunity of getting plenty of unofficial flying lessons in gliders and the Miles Martinet.
[black and white photograph of a group of men carrying a Hotspur glider]
Troop Carrying Hotspur Glider
Christmas and the New Year over, there were rumours that the Gliding School was to be relocated, possibly to RAF Upper Heyford in Oxfordshire. This left me wondering if I would be relocated or posted to some other RAF station. Two weeks later all flying ceased and I was to be posted to RAF South Cerney with immediate effect, my friend Jim was to be posted to RAF Coningsby. With the sale of our jointly owned 600 cc Panther motorbike, there ended a very close friendship.
[underlined] South Cerney [/underlined]
South Cerney is situated on the old roman road A419 three miles east of Cirencester, a pre war brick built aerodrome with a grass airfield and home to No 3 Advanced Pilots Course. Nicely laid out, compact, with all the services within easy walking distance.
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Quite a friendly greeting when I reported for duty at the MT section and was given my
main task of driving the Albion ambulance, based at the station sick quarters.
The camp also housed a German POW compound, the prisoners being employed in work activities around the area or within the station on general duties. I became friendly with one such POW, Ollois Kissel who worked in the station sick quarters. He was with a flak battery in Belgium before he was captured and was a chemist in his home town of Koblenz, we corresponded for many years but sadly he died 1998
On occasions, I was offered the task of delivering the camps dirty linen to the Tyseley laundry in Birmingham, entailing an overnight stay at my home, allowing me time to visit my girl friend. I even managed to get to my cousins wedding on one of these trips, much to the surprise of my cousin and family.
During my time at South Cerney most of my down time was spent either scrounging flights in Tiger Moths or Harvards or getting in some athletics training. At weekends I played football for the station team, the station sports officer being the centre half. After one of the games he asked me if I would like to drive him to RAF Tern Hill as he and another officer were representing the station at the Training Command athletics meeting.
During general conversation on the way up to Tern Hill in Shropshire, I said that I had been involved in athletics with Bromsgrove Athletic Club and I would have been interested in competing for our station. When we arrived at Tern Hill, I was introduced to the other members of the South Cerney team who managed to provide me with a pair of spikes and told that I would be competing in the long jump, high jump and the 120yds hurdles. Pleased to say that I was third in the long jump, and second in the high hurdles, our station coming second in the competition. This achievement gave me the opportunity of competing for Training Command at the RAF Inter Command Athletic Meeting held at White City London gaining fourth in the long jump and a fourth in the high hurdles. My only claim to fame at that meeting was competing in the final against the British Champion and Olympic Hurdler F/Lt Lord Burghley.
[black and white images]
Training Command Championship Medals 1946
[page break]
Page 36
[coloured photograph]
Albion Ambulance
Summer 1946 came and went, the station started to run down and in October rumours began to circulate that No3 Advanced Flying Course was being transferred to RAF Little Rissington
. These rumours became fact when my name appeared on DRO's and I was posted to RAF Little Rissington with immediate effect. Two days later at RAF Little Rissington my name appeared on DRO's stating that, after seven days leave I was to report to RAF Homchurch, Essex in preparation for a posting to a Micro Film Unit in Germany.
Deutschland
RAF Homchurch was one of the original RAF airfields situated some fifteen miles south east of the centre of London. The fighter aircraft based there during the war played a prominent role in the defence of our country during the Battle of Britain.
Our short time on the camp was taken up by lectures governing the rules of occupation upon arrival in Germany. This covered such topics as, non fraternisation with the German population, the Black Market, and medical issues regarding the high prevalence of venereal diseases.
After a medical examination plus inoculations for Typhoid and boosters, we were issued with a . 303 Lee Enfield rifle and five rounds of ammunition. The rest of our time at Homchurch was spent just hanging about waiting for our travel documents.
This waiting time gave us the opportunity of wandering around, sightseeing in London, getting cheap meals in the crypt of St Martins in the Fields or Lyons Cornerhouse in Piccadilly. Sadly this rest period came to an end, our group of airmen were handed travel documents for the following day to train up to Hull for the overnight sea crossing to Cuxhaven, en route to RAF Buckeberg.
[page break]
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Arriving at Hull station, we boarded the waiting transport for the journey to the docks, ahead of us there was this massive all welded American Liberty ship. Proceeding up the gang plank, a typical army RSM confronte.d me, addressing me with the correct term of Mr, assigned me in charge of the Deck Guard, no ifs or buts. However, this arrangement suited me as I was allocated a cabin, shared with two anny sergeants and a naval PO, a far better situation than being squashed in between decks and packed like a tin of sardines. A walk around the deck on occasions, checking on the deck guards was all the official requirements.
The night crossing was horrendous, these Liberty ships didn't cut through the seas, they just rode the heavy swell, sinking and rising, very uncomfortable. There was, the uneasy feeling that somewhere in that expanse of water there may be a rogue mine drifting about in the North Sea. Accompanied by sleet and snow, my first sea voyage, literally turned out to be a nightmare. My cabin companions and I were issued with red arm bands to signify that we had some official status when supervising the decks. Apart from the odd sandwich which the cooks specially made up for us , the food on board was quite unpalatable although a regular supply of coffee kept us warm on our regular strolls around the decks..
Dawn was breaking as we nosed our way into Cuxhaven, cracking the ice that had formed in the harbour overnight. We had arrived in Deutschland feeling miserable and cold, the Air Force party given priority to disembark to the RAF transport waiting on the quayside. A short drive through the cobbled streets of the port, we arrived at what was once a German army barracks for the overnight stay prior to our journey to Buckeburg, a spa town and holiday resort 25 miles east of Hanover. At that time RAF Buckeburg was the Headquarters of the RAF in Germany, and used mainly as a transit camp, although later, it became strategically important during the Berlin Airlift
The following morning, after a well earned rest, we boarded our RAF transport for a seven hour journey. arriving at our destination late afternoon. Most of the town, including hotels and homes had been taken over by the RAF, my group of four senior NCOs being deposited in a Pension a type of boarding house. After settling in I took a walk through the town and was taken with, children and adults begging for chocolate and cigarettes, little realising then, that these commodities were a valuable means of barter due to the German Mark being worthless.
The Messing facilities and Station Headquarters were situated in a large hotel near the town centre. After breakfast I reported to the Orderly Room to discover that I was posted to Frankfurt on Maine that same night to join a Micro Film Unit based at the IG Farben Industrie at Hoechst. My pay and British currency was changed into British Forces paper money, the travel documents made out for me take transport into Hanover and connect with the Bremerhaven to Stuttgart overnight train, little knowing that this train was run by the American Forces.
All my kit had to be packed again in a hurry, humped to the mess for an evening meal and given a travel pack of sandwiches just in time to get my transport to Hanover Bahnhof (station).The train arrived on time full of American service men newly arrived from the States and like myself, were heading for the American Zone.
This overnight journey was the most uncomfortable trip that one can imagine, the carriage that I was allocated had wooden bench seating and was full of coloured American troops, although that situation didn't worry me, I was concerned that the white troops were in the plush seated accommodation. This sort of discrimination
[page break]
Page 38
stayed with me for many years. There were many interruptions to the journey and, time seemed to drag until, eventually we arrived in Frankfurt 10-00hrs, two hours late. Having contacted the American RTO regarding transport to my allotted base, I hung around for a couple of hours before a RAF Sergeant arrived in a 15cwt F ordson. Introductions completed, he was the Sergeant in charge of the Micro Film section and responsible for all the equipment plus a complement of four airmen operators.
I was to take over responsibility of a three ton Fordson van which housed a mobile micro film laboratory and the 15cwt truck.
During the drive to our base I was amazed at the utter destruction of the city of Frankfurt and it's environs, caused by the many concentrated raids by Bomber Command and the US Eighth Air Force. Strange to relate, I felt little sympathy for this destruction or for the German people at that time.
[black and white photograph]
Frankfurt on Main 1944
Our final destination was a small company housing estate which had been occupied by workers from the nearby I G F arben Industrie factory. These workers had now been decanted, the estate now occupied by units of the British Army, RAF and British civilians working for the British Control Commission under the umbrella of The British Army of the Rhine (BAOR).Two of these houses were allocated to the Micro Film Group .. A Board of Trade official was part of our unit who's function was to visit various factory organizations and to confiscate machine tool drawings and important documents as allowed under the War Reparations Agreement. Our unit would then photograph any important documents or drawings onto micro film.
[page break]
Page 39
Another group on the site was a unit of the RAF Investigation Branch, who's sole purpose was to investigate and locate RAF aircrew, declared missing on operations .. This meant exhuming bodies from unmarked graves to ascertain if they had been murdered or otherwise. Many cases of murder had been discovered; the perpetrators being brought to justice.
The Americans had taken over office accommodation blocks within the massive factory complex of the IG Farben factory at Hoechst for their administrative headquarters. The British Control Commission for the area also had use of these office buildings. This arrangement was ideal during our off duty time, we were able to use the iced up tennis courts for skating and attend the many shows and musical concerts that were on offer. We also had the use of the American PX with it's restaurant, serving up real hamburgers and coffee. There was not much restriction on the amount of cigarettes and chocolates that we could purchase, the shop itself was like a miniature Harrods, selling a vast selection of quality goods. The Americans didn't want for much.
[black and white photograph]
Frozen up at Hoechst
There had been rumours circulating around the RAF bases in the UK that, redundant aircrew were going to be demoted At that time. I didn't give much thought to this situation, thinking this would not apply to me as my demobilisation was due
[page break]
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sometime early 194 7. How wrong could I be when I received notification from Bucke burg that, I was to be demoted two ranks to Sergeant, with immediate effect. Christmas 1946 just two weeks away, what a nice Christmas present.! On the same notification was an order to proceed to Triberg in the Black Forest on completion of our task at Hoechst.
Christmas day, along with other senior NCOs we had the pleasure of serving up the Christmas dinner to the OR's (other ranks) followed by our own festive meal in the Sergeants Mess, a small hotel that had been taken over by the anny.
On Boxing day, I played my final game of f football for the base against a select Gennan side. We lost or should I say we were thrashed, losing 7--0 what a
humiliation. This was my first experience of playing against a team, playing a different style of football, this showed up how out of date British football was.
On New years day we set about clearing our house of equipment, loading up our transport with boxes of provisions and a few Jerry Cans of petrol, not knowing what the situation was like in the French Zone.
It was bitterly cold the following morning as, we filled up our radiators with water, no such luxuries as anti freeze. Now ready for the long journey to the Black Forest, our Board of Trade official had already departed in his Volkswagen having left us with all the relevant details regarding the route and our hotel accommodation.
This was my first experience of driving on the autobahn, two lanes of white concrete stretching as far as the eye could see, very quite, no civilian traffic, only military vehicles. We made excellent progress. although the temperature in the cab must have been around the zero mark, no heaters in those days, though a piece of cardboard in front of the radiator kept the ice from forming on the windscreen. At intervals, there were large advertising hoardings along the route, one of which struck me forcibly, a hangman's noose with the message "The Penalty For Rape is Death”, a sobering thought.
During our journey along the autobahn, we passed a few towns which had been visited by Bomber Command during the conflict, the twin towns of Mannheim-Ludwigshafen then on to Karlsruhe and eventually
Stuttgart all showing signs of utter destruction. There would be many an airman who had these names added in their log books.
Turning off the autobahn beyond Stuttgart we eventually entered the Black Forrest Region, along winding roads through valleys, flanked by tall snow covered coniferous trees glinting red in the sunset, what a beautiful sight. Darkness had just fallen as we drove up the main street of Triberg. Stopping to ask directions from a passer by, we eventually arrived at our hotel the Golden Kreuz to be met by a French Officer who questioned us regarding our authorisation documentation. While the unit was involved in setting up the equipment in one of the Hotel rooms, I took the opportunity of wandering around this picturesque town and familiarising myself with what was on offer. Triberg, a Ski Resort, world famous for cuckoo clock manufacture, and is also the home of the largest cuckoo clock in the world.
During the period of our stay, I was able to take in some elementary skiing lessons, having bartered for a pair ski's plus a complete pair of ice skates for a few cigarettes, our Forces money was of no use at all, being in the French Zone. A tin of corned beef was the going price for a large cuckoo clock which I "purchased" and is still hanging in my lounge after sixty three years, pity the cuckoo is croaking some what.
[page break]
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[coloured photograph]
Triberg 1946
We completed our assignment in Triberg after three weeks and were ordered to return to our base at Hoechst for further instructions. After a few days at base, orders came through that I was to be demobilised, a replacement driver would arrive by car from Buckeburg with two officers. The officers were to carry out inspections at the RAF Units in the Frankfurt area then return to Buckeburg with me as their driver. Three days later, the inspections completed, we set off in the Humber Staff car, arriving early evening just in time for an evening meal.
Spent the next couple of days getting clearance and travel documents, selling off my ski's and ice skates, posting home my treasured cuckoo clock and changing my forces money into coin of the realm, I was then ready to take the reciprocal journey back to the UK and to RAF Kirkham for demob.
Date 25th of February 1947, what an anti climax, wondering where do I go from here? civilian life seemed to be a daunting prospect, after almost four years of interesting and sometimes traumatic experiences of war time RAF. During that period many friends were made, many were lost during flying operations ..
Let us hope that their sacrifice was not in vain and that we will always remember them.
[page break]
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Chapter 5
As Time Goes By
During the Second World War, in order to avoid being conscripted into a military service not of your choice, the way was open to enter a choice of service if you signed up at 17½ years of age. This happened in my own particular case when I passed the Aircrew Selection Board in 1942 and was given my service number.
Searching through some of my old documents, I came across this very interesting patronising letter addressed to me from the then Secretary of State for Air, Archibald Sinclair, dated July 21, 1942, and though it would be interesting to reflect on how some of these young men fared during and after the conflict.
AIR MINISTRY
WHITEHALL SW1
MESSAGE FROM THE SECRETARY OF STATE FOR AIR
July 21, 1942
You are now an airman and I am glad to welcome you into the Royal Air Force. To have been selected
for aircrew training is a great distinction, the Royal Air Force demands a high. standard of physical fitness and alertness from its flying crews. Relatively few attain that standard and I congratulate you on passing the stringent tests. You are, of course, impatient to begin and you naturally ask, "When do I start?" Your order on the waiting list is determined
by your age, date of attestation, and so on, and you may be sure that you will not be overlooked when your turn comes. While waiting, go on with your present job, or if you are not in employment, get a job if possible one which helps on the war effort.
You will want to know why you, who are so eager, should have to wait at all. I will tell you. The Royal Air Force is a highly organised service. In the first line are trained and experienced crews whose stirring deeds and dauntless courage daily arouse the admiration of the world. Behind these men and ready to give them immediate support the newly trained crews fresh from the schools. In your turn, you and other accepted candidates stand ready to fill the schools. Unless we had a good reserve of young men like you on which to draw, time might be lost at a critical moment and the vital flow of. reinforcements would be broken. I hope this explanation will help you understand. The waiting period should not be a waste of time. There is much you can do. You are very fit now or you would not have been chosen.
[page break]
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See that you keep fit. Work hard and live temperately. Learn all you can in your spare time about the things you must know if you are to be efficient later on in the air.
The more knowledge you gain now, the easier it will be when you come to do your training.
In wishing you success in the service of you choice I would add this. The honour of the Royal Air Force is in your hands. Our country's safety and the overthrow of the powers of evil depend upon you and your comrades. You will be given the best aircraft and armament that the factories of Britain and America can produce. Learn to use them well. Good luck to you.
Signed ARCHIBALD SINCLAIR
SECRETARY OF STATE FOR AIR
INTO THE STORM
RAF Bridlington ITW
[black and white photograph]
RAF Bridlington was one of the aircrew Initial Training Wings (ITW) and catered mainly for Air Gunners and Flight Engineers. In this photograph are aircrew cadets, the majority of which were barely 18 years of age, marching six abreast after just four weeks of training. Another four weeks of training.
[page break]
Page 44
and then they were off to gunnery schools for the Air Gunners or to RAF St. Athan for
the potential Flight Engineers. Then further training through Operational Training Units, Heavy Conversion Units and, eventually, destined for an operational squadron within
Bomber Command.
Many books have been written about Bomber command during the Second World War by aircrew members and distinguished authors. The media also has been at the
forefront with films, newspaper articles and television programmes, some authentic,
some controversial. The role of Bomber Command has been well documented, so there is no reason for me to add any comments and I will move to the ending of hostilities with Germany and Japan.
VICTORY
The Second World War ended with victory for the allied nations. An estimate of the
deaths accredited to all the nations involved was in the region of 40 to 50 million,
including the civilian populace. Still on the subject of the RAF, and in particular the
aircrew of Bomber Command, losses were in the region of 56,500, which was, in
proportion, far greater than any of the three services, although our Merchant Service
lost more than 30,000 semen/women.
[coloured photograph]
Rheinberg War Cemetery
The above photograph of the Rheinberg Cemetery is one of many such cemeteries in Germany and other locations throughout Europe which contain the remains of RAF
Aircrew, many of whom were from the Dominions, the Commonwealth or from allied
nations. Over 2000 airmen who have no known grave are commemorated by name at
the Runneymede Memorial and could be lying in a watery grave of the North Sea or
buried in unmarked graves after being murdered by the Gestapo or by German civilians. Over 100,000 young men volunteered for aircrew in Bomber Command, over 50 per
cent of them died in flying accidents or from operating in the hostile skies of Europe and the Third Reich.
[page break]
Page 45
THE AFTERMATH
The war in Europe over and a Labour Government elected to govern the country. As bomber Command had a surplus of trained men, tour expired aircrew were made redundant, a new word in my vocabulary, and were sent to re-assessment centres throughout the UK, then on to training establishments for non-aircrew trades within the Royal Air Force, i.e. motor transport/clerical duties, etc.
The war against Japan finally ended on September 2, 1945, after the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Jubilation all round, the country celebrated, then came the recriminations.
[black and white head and shoulders photograph of Air Chief Marshall Arthur “Bomber” Harris] ’Cometh the hour, cometh the man.’ Tough and uncompromising. ‘Bomber’ Harris was the C-in-C that Bomber Command desperately needed, a man who could express himself clearly and who exuded a strong sense of purpose.
A high-ranking Labour government minister, John Strachey, began a vicious campaign to belittle the strategy of area bombing as devised by Air Chief Marshall Arthur Harris. Pre-war, this politician was a sympathiser of Oswald Mosley, the Fascist leader in Britain, and then he changed his allegiance to the Communist Party. He joined the RAF in 1940 and held a ‘grace and favour position’ as public relations officer in the Directorate of Bombing Operations. At that time Harris was becoming very concerned about the possible internal security risks posed to his command and who, following a tip-off from a member of his staf [sic] and, identified this officer as a person with an unstable political background. Harris demanded that the Air Ministry remove him at once, but thanks presumably to friends in high place, this person remained in place for the rest of the war.
After the war Strachey, as a minister in the Atlee government, maliciously continued his attacks on Harris and his command, gathering support from other party members and some high-ranking clergy. As the political pressure grew, even Winston Churchill withdrew his support of the area bombing campaign, although he had backed Harris during the conflict. Sections of the British and German press took up the debate, with some pundits questioning the contribution made by Bomber Command as to the necessity of area bombing, on the outcome of the war.
[black and white headshot of John Strachey]
[page break]
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Peerages and knighthoods were handed out to our war leaders and campaign medals issued to our armed services, except for the aircrew of Bomber Command and its leader Sir Arthur Harris. The aircrew of Bomber Command were not issued with a campaign medal and Harris was ignored when the peerages were handed out. Many aircrew were unfortunate to be shot down and deemed to spend the rest of the conflict as prisoners of war. Some of these airmen did not have the nominal amount of operations or the length of time on a squadron to qualify for either the Aircrew Europe Star or the France Germany Star, and all they were entitled to was the 193 Star and the war Medal that was issued to every serviceman/woman, irrespective of their duties. The reason given for this anomaly was that as POWs, they were unable to take any further part in the war effort, although they were expected to make escape attempts, thereby tying down much-needed German manpower resources.
These aircrew were incarcerated in POW camps throughout Europe and were kept in appalling conditions on starvation rations and suffering severe malnutrition. As the war in Europe was coming to an end, they had to endure The Long March across Europe with many of them dying on the way from starvation and freezing temperatures.
Some time after the war the Ex-Prisoners of War Association made a request to hold a Thanksgiving Service in Coventry Cathedral. This request was refused by the then Provost of the Cathedral, Canon Paul Oestriecher, on the grounds that the Ex-Prisoners of War Association had ex-aircrew of Bomber Command among its member. It seems to have been forgotten that public donations contributed to the re-building of Coventry Cathedral as a centre of reconciliation. Also at that time, this cleric was instrumental in organising a protest at the unveiling of the statue to Air Chief Marshall Sir Arthur Harris by the Queen Mother and he even had the temerity to post an advertisement in the RAF News touting for monetary contributions to replace the Dome of Dresden Cathedral, which had been destroyed by bombing during the conflict. There are many more instances where this so-called cleric and pacifist has castigated the efforts of the aircrew of Bomber Command in the execution of their duties, so these instances can be left for another time.
[coloured headshot photograph of Canon Paul Oestriecher]
THE LAST POINT OF IGNOMINY
These redundant NCO aircrew, now trained in ground duties, were posted off to the many Air Force stations throughout the UK and were allowed to keep their aircrew rank, even though the tasks that they had been trained for only warranted a starting rank of AC2. However, on some stations, the aircrew rank was ordered to be covered during working hours.
[page break]
[black and white photograph of airman in flying kit]
[underlined] RAF Waterbeach 1944 [/underlined]
[page break]
Page 47
At the end of 1946, a directive from the Air Ministry, stating that all these redundant aircrew be demoted by two ranks, I.e. WOs to Sergeants, Flight Sergeants to Corporals, Sergeants to LACs, although the pay would remain the same as was. This was a ruse in case any of these aircrew pursued a claim for a war pension when they returned to civilian life.
Upon demobilisation I was extremely surprised and disgusted to find entered in my discharge papers that my rank was AC2 Driver (Sgt. Air Gunner) and not the rank of Warrant Officer that I had achieved during my operational service with the Royal Air Force.
However, RAF Records graciously forwarded my Warrant Certification sixty four years after my promotion to Warrant Officer.
EPILOGUE
With a lot of back-slapping and encouragement these young men from Britain and the Commonwealth donned their Air Force Blue and went off to war knowing full-well that their chances of survival were very slim. The press and the public supported the efforts of Bomber Command as, at the time, it was the only means of taking the war back to Germany. Yet, just in the matter of a few months of the ending of hostilities the recriminations began. A few left wing politicians and some blinkered clergy crept out of the woodwork and began a vitriolic campaign against Arthur Harris. This campaign eventually permeated through to his airmen who began to suffer the brunt of these biased accusations.
As the political situation in Europe developed into the ‘Cold War’ it was thought prudent to keep Germany and the German people supporting the west, hence ‘The Marshall Plan’, etc, with respective British governments distancing themselves from the controversy of the Bombing Campaign against the Third Reich, a controversy that continues today. These proud young men went to war to preserve our democracy and freedom against two of the most tyrannical regimes in the history of mankind, yet there are still these vociferous groups of politicians/clergy and the media who continue to abuse this privilege of freedom for their own political expediency and personal agenda.
On a point of interest, our previous government recently decided to recognise the war-time achievements of three groups, the veterans of the Arctic Convoys, the ‘Bevin Boys’ and the Land Army, yet we as a country have failed, or are politically reluctant, to recognise the contribution that Bomber Command made during this terrible conflict.
[page break]
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115 SQUADRON FINAL REUNION, HOUSE OF LORDS 2008
[coloured photograph of veterans of 115 Squadron]
Back Row
Not Known Cyril Bridges Lord Mackie Frank Leatherdale Geoff Payne
Front Row
Jim McGillivray Not Known Not Known W Farquharson Not Known
On that note let us recall Philip Nicholson’s “Return”
[underlined] RETURN [/underlined]
We have come home, dropping gratefully through friendly skies,
And though in tired brains the engines thunder on and images of death remain in reddened eyes,
Though nostrils sniff the legacy of oil and sweat and legs must learn to cope with the solid ground,
We have come home and are at least alive, to mourn our friends, indifferent now to sight or smell or sound.
Philip Nicholson
WARNING
Beware the retrospective historians and university-trained politicians who may eventually turn history on its head, whereby Britain could become the aggressor.
G.A.P. 2010
[page break]
[coloured portrait photograph]
[underlined]Geoff Payne[/underlined]
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
An Airmans Tale
By Geoff Payne
Description
An account of the resource
Geoff Payne's autobiography divided into five chapters.
Chapter 1. Under Training.
Having been assessed in Birmingham Geoff sets off to London in August 1942 for training, at Lords. Initial training was at Bridlington then gunnery school at Andreas on the Isle of Man. After a short leave he was posted to an operational training unit at Chipping Warden followed by intensive training at Edge Hill. Finally he went to Feltwell for Escape and Evasion training before joining a Heavy Conversion Unit at Wratting Common then Waterbeach.
Chapter 2. Operations RAF Witchford. After seven days leave he commenced operational flying in a Lancaster. Their first target was Augsburg and he reports being waved off by WAAFs and airmen. On the next operation the navigator had a breakdown and refused to help. He continues with details of several operations.
Chapter 3. Return to Ops RAF Waterbeach. Initially this proved to be a very relaxing posting but after his recovery he was back on operations. After 30 operations he was posted to RAF Brackla, Nairn.
Chapter 4. Grounded. He was unhappy at Brackla which was remote and cold. Next was a transfer south to RAF Weeton where he learned about motor transport and learned to drive. He was then posted to RAF Halfpenny Green, followed by RAF Croughton and South Cerney. He then went to Hornchurch before being sent to Germany where he joined a micro film unit at Frankfurt. On completion of photographing relevant factory installations his unit headed south to Triberg in Bavaria.
Chapter 5. As Time Goes By. He reflects on his letter from the Secretary of State from Air, Bomber Command losses and life after the war. he discusses Labour minister John Strachey, a pre-war fascist then Communist Party , who belittled the work of Bomber Harris. and the refusal to allow a thanksgiving service to honour the ex-Prisoner of War Association at Coventry Cathedral.
Creator
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Geoff Payne
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2010
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
56 page memoir
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
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BPayneGPayneGv1
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Air Force. Training Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Birmingham
England--London
England--York
England--Halifax
England--Loughborough
England--Flamborough Head
England--Manchester
England--Blackpool
England--Fleetwood
Great Britain Miscellaneous Island Dependencies--Douglas (Isle of Man)
England--Banbury (Oxfordshire)
England--London
England--Bognor Regis
France--Lille
England--Cambridge
England--Coventry
England--Ely
Germany--Augsburg
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Stuttgart
France--Rouen
France--Vaires-sur-Marne
France--Normandy
France--Creil
France--Nucourt
France--Caen
France--L'Isle-Adam
France--Gironde Estuary
England--Falmouth
France--Somme
Germany--Rüsselsheim
Germany--Kiel
Sweden--Stockholm
Germany--Bremen
France--Le Havre
France--Calais
Germany--Neuss
Netherlands--Walcheren
Belgium--Antwerp
Germany--Emmerich
Germany--Duisburg
Scotland--Nairn
England--Peterborough
England--Walsall
England--Hull
England--Wolverhampton
England--Dudley
England--Brackley
England--Cirencester
Germany--Cuxhaven
Germany--Bückeburg
Germany--Bremerhaven
Germany--Black Forest
Germany--Triberg
Germany--Rheinberg
Germany--Hannover
Poland--Szczecin
France--Châlons-en-Champagne
France--Pas-de-Calais
Poland
France
Germany
Belgium
Netherlands
Sweden
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
England--Gloucestershire
England--Lancashire
England--Leicestershire
England--Northamptonshire
England--Oxfordshire
England--Staffordshire
England--Suffolk
England--Sussex
England--Worcestershire
England--Yorkshire
England--Warwickshire
England--Newmarket (Suffolk)
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Bloomfield
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
115 Squadron
12 OTU
1651 HCU
1678 HCU
514 Squadron
75 Squadron
90 Squadron
air gunner
Air Gunnery School
aircrew
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
bale out
bomb aimer
bombing
Cheshire, Geoffrey Leonard (1917-1992)
Churchill, Winston (1874-1965)
crewing up
escaping
evading
flight engineer
ground personnel
Harris, Arthur Travers (1892-1984)
Harvard
Heavy Conversion Unit
Initial Training Wing
Ju 88
lack of moral fibre
Lancaster
Lancaster Mk 2
Lancaster Mk 3
Martinet
Me 109
Me 110
Me 410
Meteor
Mosquito
navigator
Navy, Army and Air Force Institute
Nissen hut
Operational Training Unit
Oxford
Pathfinders
pilot
prisoner of war
RAF Andreas
RAF Brackla
RAF Bridgnorth
RAF Bridlington
RAF Chipping Warden
RAF Coningsby
RAF Cosford
RAF Downham Market
RAF East Kirkby
RAF Feltwell
RAF Foulsham
RAF Halfpenny Green
RAF Hornchurch
RAF Jurby
RAF Little Rissington
RAF Mepal
RAF Newmarket
RAF South Cerney
RAF Stradishall
RAF Ternhill
RAF Waterbeach
RAF Witchford
RAF Wratting Common
searchlight
Spitfire
Stirling
target indicator
the long march
Tiger force
training
V-1
V-weapon
Wellington
wireless operator
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1839/33647/EDennisGCDennis[Fam][Date]-01.pdf
73dd35194f173dca4a1e1eca67431db6
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Dennis, George Charles
G C Dennis
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-04-26
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Dennis, GC
Description
An account of the resource
31 items. The collection concerns Sergeant George Charles Dennis (2204350 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book documents and photographs. He flew operations as an air gunner with 550 squadron and was killed 6 December 1944.<br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Lesley McMullin and catalogued by Barry Hunter.<br /><br /><span data-contrast="none" xml:lang="EN-GB" lang="EN-GB" class="TextRun SCXW198580359 BCX0"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW198580359 BCX0">Additional information on<span> George Dennis</span></span><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW198580359 BCX0"><span> </span>is available via the</span></span><span class="EOP SCXW198580359 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":200,"335559740":276}"> <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/106084/">IBCC Losses Database.</a></span>
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
F61286
Sgt. Dennis
Farewell Letter
to N.O.K.
[page break]
[underlined] 1 [/underlined]
2204350 Sgt Dennis GC
Sgts Mess
RAF Station
North Killingholme
Nr Grimsby.
[underlined] Lincs. [/underlined]
To the best Parents in the World, also Sisters.
I only hope this letter never has to be posted, but if it has to be, it is God’s wish.
I have been on opperations [sic] since the 2nd of November, and I am now taking a small part in helping to defeat Germany. Many men women, and children have been killed in this war, and we have not felt any think [sic]
[page break]
[underlined] 2 [/underlined]
much about it, but now it has happened. Please don’t let it worry you to [sic] much. I know it will do, but try to forget. I am very proud of my Family, I hope you are all proud of me.
I am writing this letter with every confidence that I will do my full tour, but when you are in aircrew you know that you may be in England, away from the war in the morning and in the middle of it within the next 4 or 5 hours, but I am doing a job that has to be
[page break]
[underlined] 3 [/underlined]
done.
I am going to enclose all the address’s of our crew, and I want you to drop them a few lines.
I have done two, and I know what it is like over there, what we a [sic] doing, and they are doing to us.
Well I will have to close now, as I can’t think of any thing else to say, but I say again, Please try to carry on as if I am still with you, don’t let it get you down.
I still remain and always will remain your Son, and we are all sure to
[page break]
[underlined] 4 [/underlined]
meet again some fine day in a world where there are no wars. God Bless you all
Your Loving
Son and Brother
[underlined] George [/underlined]
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Mr. & Mrs J W Byrne
Petros
21 Gynn Av.
Blackpool
North Shore
[underlined] Lancs. [/underlined]
WIRELESS OPERATORS FATHER.
[page break]
MR W R BAILEY
40 BRANCKER RD
KENTON
HARROW
MID-X
BOMBAIMERS FATHER.
MR A A HOOPER
78 TY-COCH RD
SKETTY
SWANSEA
SOUTH WALES.
REAR GUNNERS FATHER.
MR FURBER
STUCKTON
FORDINGBRIDGE
HANTS.
ENGINEERS FATHER.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Letter from George Dennis to his Family
Description
An account of the resource
A letter written by George to his family. This is a farewell letter to his next of kin. He includes the addresses of four of his crew.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
George Dennis
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Five handwritten sheets and an envelope
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Correspondence
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
EDennisGCDennis[Fam][Date]-01
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Civilian
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Blackpool
England--Harrow
Wales--Swansea
England--Fordingbridge
England--Hampshire
England--Lancashire
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending text-based transcription. Under review
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Tricia Marshall
aircrew
In the event of my death letter
killed in action
RAF North Killingholme
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1018/11501/EBirnieMWynnK440114-0001.1.jpg
19f67f84bd87c258e0837da11d9c8180
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1018/11501/EBirnieMWynnK440114-0002.1.jpg
3c95755401ac56e2c0f9c87129a47676
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Wynn, Ian Archer
I A Wynn
Description
An account of the resource
146 Items. Collection concerns Pilot Officer Ian Archer Wynn (1908 - 1943, 146838 Royal Air Force). After training as ground crew he remustered as a flight engineer and flew operations with 100 Squadron. He was killed 25 May 1943 on an operation from RAF Grimsby to Düsseldorf. Collection consists of a diary, a memorial book, an official report on what was his final operation, photographs of his crew, his family and the squadron as well as official correspondence from Air Ministry and British Red Cross, letters of condolence and a large number of letters from Ian Wynn to his wife Kathleen. <br /><br />The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Patrick Anthony Wynn and catalogued by Nigel Huckins. <br /><br />Additional information on Ian Archer Wynn is available via the <a href="https://internationalbcc.co.uk/losses/126116/">IBCC Losses Database.</a>
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-07-13
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Wynn, IA
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
MINISTRY OF PENSIONS,
NORCROSS,
BLACKPOOL,
LANCASHIRE.
Reference [underlined] 0/W3/13183 [/underlined]
[underlined] 14 JAN 1944 [/underlined]
DEAR MADAM,
I have to inform you that a gratuity of
[underlined] £100 (One Hundred Pounds and a pension of £130 (One Hundred and Thirty Pounds [/underlined]
a year has been awarded to you as the widow of [underlined] 146838 Pilot Officer Ian Archer Wynn RAF [/underlined], together with an allowance of [underlined] £72 (Seventy Two Pounds [/underlined] a year in respect of [underlined] Two [/underlined] [deleted] child [/deleted] children payable while under the age of 18 years and being maintained by you.
The award is subject to the conditions of the Royal Warrant or corresponding Instruments governing grants in respect of death by service in the
war, and takes effect from [underlined] 1.2.44 [/underlined] Adjustment will be necessary if widow’s pension or children’s allowance has been awarded to you under the Widows’, Orphans’ and Old Age Contributory Pensions Acts, as such payment is not admissible together with an award of widow’s pension or children’s allowance by this Ministry.
Application for payment should be made to His Majesty’s Paymaster General, Somerset House (West Wing), London, W. C. 2, on the enclosed [deleted] form 9/156 [/deleted] forms 9/156 and 9/157.
[deleted] The marriage and ( ) birth certificates forwarded by you are returned with thanks. [/deleted]
Please read the notes overleaf.
[page break]
NOTES.
1. Mode of Payment.
2. Duration and conditions of Award.
3. Children’s Allowances.
4. Education Allowances.
5. Commutation.
6. Correspondence.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Letter from Ministry of Pensions to Mrs K Wynn
Description
An account of the resource
Informs her that a gratuity of £100 and a pension of £130 a year together with allowance of £72 for two children has been awarded her as the widow of Pilot Officer Ian Archer Wynn. Award takes effect from 1 February 1944.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Ministry of Pensions
M Birnie
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1944-01-14
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two page printed form letter filled in
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Correspondence
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
EBirnieMWynnK440114
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
England--Warrington
England--Cheshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-01-14
1944-02-01
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
killed in action
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1895/35783/SGillK1438901v30080-0002.2.jpg
d39e3fc38dbcebeff6eb81f8d3dd5a80
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1895/35783/SGillK1438901v30080-0001.2.jpg
7b62a067ac49c74676b277538423e241
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Gill, Kenneth
K Gill
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-07-09
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Gill, K
Description
An account of the resource
One hundred and sixty-four items plus another one hundred and fifteen in two sub-ciollections. The collection concerns Flying Officer Kenneth Gill DFC (1922 - 1945, 1438901, 155097 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, documents, photographs and family and other correspondence. <br />He flew operations as a navigator with 9 Squadron before starting a second tour with 617 Squadron. He was killed 21 March 1945 having completed 45 operations.<br /><br />The collection also contains two albums. <br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2114">Kenneth Gill. Album One</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2117">Kenneth Gill. Album Two</a><br /><br />Additional information on Kenneth Gill is available via the <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/108654/">IBCC Losses Database.</a><br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Derek Gill and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
MPB 661G
MINISTRY OF PENSIONS,
NORCROSS,
BLACKPOOL,
LANCS.
O/W3/ 21168.
7 NOV 1945
Dear Madam,
I have to inform you that a gratuity of
£150 (one hundred & fifty pounds and a pension of £150 (one hundred & fifty pounds.) a year have been awarded to you as the widow of F./O Kenneth Gill D.F.C. R.A.F. together with an allowance of
£36(Thirty Six Shillings) a year in respect of one child [deleted] children [/deleted].
The above award is subject to the conditions of the Royal Warrant or corresponding authority governing grants in respect of death by service in the war, and takes effect from 1.12.45. An adjustment may be necessary if a pension or child's allowance has been awarded to you under the Widows’, Orphans’ and Old Age Contributory Pensions Acts, as such an award is not payable together with an award of widow's pension or child's allowance by this Ministry.
If you remarry you will cease to be eligible for pension and must notify H.M. Paymaster General immediately.
As regards any allowances awarded in respect of a child you should read note 3 overleaf. If you cease to maintain any child for whom an allowance has been awarded you must notify H.M. Paymaster General at once and state the date from which you ceased to maintain it.
Application for payment should be made to His Majesty's Paymaster General, Somerset House, (West Wing), London, W.C.2, on the enclosed [deleted] form 9/156 [/deleted] forms 9/156 and 9/157.
The notes on the reverse of this letter should be read carefully.
[deleted] The marriage and () birth certificates furnished by you are returned with thanks. [/deleted]
Yours faithfully,
[signature]
For secretary.
Mrs V. Gill
23 Sycamore Avenue.
Halton. Leeds
[page break]
[underlined] ON HIS MAJESTY'S SERVICE [/underlined]
[post mark]
Mrs K. Gill,
23, Sycamore Ave,
Halton,
Leeds
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Letter to Vera Gill from Ministry of Pensions
Description
An account of the resource
Informs her of the value of he pension and child allowance as a widow of Flying Officer Kenneth Gill
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1945-10-07
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1945-10-07
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lancashire
England--Yorkshire
England--Blackpool
England--Leeds
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Royal Air Force
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Correspondence
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One page printed letter with handwritten entries and envelope
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
SGillK1438901v30080
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Ministry of Pensions
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Jayne L Bailey
killed in action
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/124/1251/OCloddLGT1219816-160405-03.2.jpg
e09a4d8c9903bc9a4cba9983128e18d9
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Clodd, Leslie
Leslie Clodd
L Clodd
Description
An account of the resource
Eight items. The collection consists of photographs, medals, national insurance and service documents for Corporal Leslie George Thomas Clodd (b. 1922, 1219816 Royal Air Force). He served in the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve as ground personnel between 19 March 1941 and 27 September 1946. The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Ann Rowlett and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-04-18
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Clodd, LGT
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve. Notice to recruit to rejoin for service
Form 1376
Description
An account of the resource
Notice for Leslie Clodd to join for service on 19 March 1941 at No 9 Reception Centre Blackpool.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1941-03-04
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Service material
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
OCloddLGT1219816-160405-03
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1941-03-19
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One sheet
recruitment