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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/645/8915/PStevensonPD1601.1.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/645/8915/AStevensonP160817.2.mp3
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Title
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Stevenson, Peter
Peter Desmond Stevenson
P D Stevenson
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Stevenson, PD
Description
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Two items. An oral history interview with Peter Stevenson (b. 1923) and his memoir. He grew up in Lincolnshire and while he was working towards an engineering apprenticeship he rose through the ranks to become a Warrant Officer in the Air Training Corps.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Peter Stevenson and catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Date
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2016-08-17
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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.
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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HD: This is Helen Durham on the 17th of August 2016. Here for the International Bomber Command Centre and I’m interviewing Mr Peter Stevenson who was part of ground crew during the years of Bomber Command. Peter -
PDS: Ok.
HD: Thank you ever so much for allowing us to come and interview. I wonder could you just start off by telling me what sort of thing you did before the war? How you started?
PDS: Well the thing I want to stress right from the very beginning is that I was among the people who say, people say, they also served who only stood and waited. I grew up in Grantham at a time when Grantham was very much an RAF town. There were, in addition to the 21 Training Group based on RAF Spitalgate there was also, later on, number 5 Group headquarters down at St Vincent’s and the majority of my school friends were sons of serving officers. The Grantham School collected a fair number of people including, rather surprisingly people whose fathers were serving at Cranwell as well as Grantham. Now, Grantham was one of the three stations that survived the downsizing after the First World War. You’ve got Cranwell of course as the, as the RAF college but in addition to that there were two squad, two stations RAF Digby and RAF Spitalgate. There are various ways of spelling that. It’s either Spittle or alternatively S P I T A L when people were feeling a bit more respectable towards it. Now, the three stations were of course very much in competition with each other and we got to know quite a lot of the people there. As I say my two friends were always up there and we learned an awful lot about the, what was going on at that time. This was of course a time when the youth of Britain was very, very much encouraged to become air minded and one of the things that emerged just after the First World War was an organisation called The Air League of the British Empire. Now, this not only promoted air mindedness in youth and the general population but it also sponsored things like RAF open days at the various stations and they also did a lot to sponsor the prestige activities which were going on at that time. These were either the height records, the speed records or the distance records or whatever. Now, in Lincolnshire of course we went very much in the distance records and I can remember quite a lot of the activities where aircraft were produced specifically for gaining the world distance records and the RAF were justifying, if you like, the tax payers money by spending a lot of time making Britain first in whichever activity it happened to be. Now, the Air League of the British Empire around about 1935 was when they began to realise that war was more or less inevitable. They started a junior section which I joined and received all the information what was going on. Then, which was rather significant, my King’s School at Grantham, it had an OTC. Now in those days OTC was a little bit elite. It meant officer’s training school er Officer’s Training School and so the OTC, it tended to produce or promote leadership and right from the very beginning even when you were twelve years old whenever you learned anything the first thing you had to do was to learn how to teach that. So inevitably by the time you were about fifteen or sixteen you became fairly confident at facing up to all sorts of people. This helped very much because my father, who was sales director of the big Ford dealers in the, in the Lincolnshire area had a lot of contacts. One of the most significant was Sir Arthur Longmore. Now, Sir Arthur Longmore, a bit of a controversial figure because he was number three commandant at Cranwell around about 1923/24 time. He went to become the AOC of the Middle East and when it was a case of finding a scapegoat for the loss of Greece and the Balkans during the, the Nazi invasion down there in the early years of the war when a head had to fall they decided that Sir Arthur had to be the person who got the chop. He came back to Grantham but took a significant part in the formation of the Grantham squadron of the Air Defence Cadet Corps so we got to know him pretty well and through him we gained entry or entrée if you like in to places like the 5 Group headquarters and Spitalgate and so on. Now, one of the other things about this OTC, Officer’s Training Corps was the fact they trained you up to what was called the Certificate A Standard which was the first, if you like it was the 11+ for getting in to Sandhurst. Now, around about 1935 time the RAF rather objected to the war department in general that here were the, here was the army making sure that the majority of the likely lads who were coming up were well injected with khaki in to their blood and they wanted a slice. So what happened was formed an organisation which you can still find on the internet, if you look it up, which was called the Public Schools Air Cadet Wing. Now, this was a fairly, again a fairly elite organisation. There were only about two hundred and fifty of us and they were composed of people who were in the university air squadrons and also a certain number of selected grammar schools across the country. We were allocated eight places on this and of course there was the inevitable selection board to which one appeared in your best and you were interviewed. The other seven went in, all very fit and looking air crew right away and you could tell by the look on their face they were accepted. Then I walked in complete with glasses so there was dead silence, and they said, ‘This is for air crew.’ So I said, ‘Excuse me gentleman but,’ I said, ‘We are now entering a very technical stage of the war. You have accepted seven air crew. You need somebody to keep them in the air.’ I think the sheer effrontery of this caused them to stop dead. They sort of looked at each other, as a grin all over their faces. ‘Alright you’re in.’ Well it was absolutely marvellous because the RAF wherever there was a local, you know they were near to Oundle and some of these other places, there were certainly RAF stations nearby but of course at Grantham we were lucky because we’d got Spitalgate at the top of the hill. What they spent on us I do not know but it must have been by today’s standards millions. They took us everywhere. They opened the stations, we went in, we flew with them, we went with exercises. Although we were khaki clad we were treated as being part of the RAF right from the beginning even though we were only fifteen, sixteen and the net result was of course that the majority of us were absolutely dead set for going into the RAF and one thing that I have to mention about the, the Public Schools Air Cadet Wing was the wonderful camp that they had in July 1939 just before the thing started where we went down to this Selsey Bill which was next door to RAF Tangmere and they took us everywhere. They showed us everything from Bomber Command to Fighter Command to Coastal Command to the Fleet Air Arm and so on and this really was an absolutely marvellous occasion and I can still remember now the final dinner in this huge mess tent that we went in to. We were told to appear in best uniforms and so on. When we were, we moved in our jaws dropped because this thing, this, after being in our mess tent for the week this thing had been converted into an officer’s mess and it was white linen and RAF personnel doing the serving and we stood and then the top brass came in and it really was. There was the head of Bomber Command, there was the head of Fighter Command, there was the head of Coastal Command, Fleet Air Arm and the top table was resplendent including one civilian who we knew by sight and as soon as we took one look at him we sort of looked at each other, ‘Hello. What’s all this about?’ and this was a bloke called Duff Cooper. Now Duff Cooper was one of Churchill’s war mongers, if you like and he was, he had for years been absolutely dead set against the disarmament and so on and he was very largely responsible for the political drive behind making sure that the RAF was equipped as far as possible with new breeds of fighters and so on and of course at that time with, shall we say, the Chamberlain mentality about there was this hope that if we only ignored him far enough, long enough he would probably go away which of course he didn’t and Duff Cooper stood up and said, ‘Right gentleman,’ he said, ‘Within one month we shall be at war.’ There was a sort of, ‘Ahhh,’ like that but he was dead right and so what happened was that I was in this Public Schools Air Cadet Wing. Now, in the meantime sir Arthur Longmore with his friends up in the league of the Air League of the British Empire had caused the formation of the Grantham squadron of the air training er the Air Defence Cadet Corps. When they were looking round for a commanding officer, let me go back a fraction. I said I wanted to go there. My father put his foot down. He said, ‘Look. You’re coming up for your matric examinations, you’re already in the OTC. You’re already in the Public Schools Air Cadet Wing you have not any time for any further organisation.’ So I said, ‘I still want to go.’ He said, ‘Alright, you can go under one condition. That I come with you just to make sure you don’t commit yourself.’ ‘Ok.’ So we turn up and we were addressed by Chamier who was the head of the Air Defence Cadet Corps at that time and all the various people including Sir Arthur Longmore and it came a question. Yes, the mayor of Grantham agreed that the council would, would submit a budget for the, because it was all privately run at that time, the RAF hadn’t actually taken it over and so yes it was agreed that we would form a squadron of the Air Defence Cadet Corps. Then the next question was who was the, to be the commanding officer. Now, my father, in the First World War, he got a blighty one in 1915. When he came back he spent most of the war up at the Ripon Reserve Training Centre which was one of the biggest training organisations for people for the First World War and he eventually ended up as aide de camp to the commanding officer up there so he had quite a lot of administrative experience if you like and so what happened was when it came to the question of the, of the commanding officer Sir Arthur Longmore just pointed straight at my father and said, ‘There is your commanding officer,’ you see. My father’s jaw dropped and there was a certain amount of hear hearing going on and of course we walked out with my father as the new commanding officer of the Grantham squadron of the of the Air Defence Cadet Corps and me not allowed to join. Now, of course when war was declared I was sixteen. There was a possibility that I might go onto the sixth form but things were so unstable at that time that in the majority of cases unless you were, what shall we say, top flight 1-1 students obviously destined for university the general tendency was look we’re in it we might just as well sort of adopt a career strategy and so what happened was I left school, started an engineering apprenticeship which was to last five years as it worked out but of course I never expected to finish that because at the age of eighteen I would be called up anyway to go in to it. At the same time you had to go to technical college and so on to get your, your technical qualifications behind that. By the time I was eighteen I had passed the point of no return. In other words having reached that level I went before various selection boards who said you must stay out to get the necessary Institute of Mechanical Engineers qualifications to go straight in and I was accepted provisionally for a commission in the technical branch of the RAF. So I was sort of hell bent for that particular line expecting to go into the RAF around about ‘43/44 time when I qualified but in the meantime of course we had to be in part of of pre-service organisation. In my case of course it was the Air Defence Cadet Corps and then from 1941 this became the Air Training Corps and because my father was very, very strict about these things whenever we got into uniform we were, he would not allow us to leave the house together. We always had to go separately. We went off to the headquarters and I saluted him very carefully whenever I came, came across him because of course I was saluting the King’s Commission in those days and he said straightway to all the flight commanders, he said, ‘Look. With his experience he probably knows a damned sight more about the RAF and these things than, than you do, but,’ he said, ‘I am not actually accepting any recommendations of promotion until you’re all quite satisfied that he is worthy of promotion. I am not going to have any favouritism in my squadron.’ So I ended up going into, going into the, in to the Air Defence Cadet Corps as a humble cadet and during the war, because I was, if you like, one of the few only cadets who actually stayed in the Air Training Corps for the whole of the war period I rose up from being cadet, corporal, sergeant, flight sergeant and eventually became the second warrant officer for the Grantham squadron and I have still my warrant over in a file here which could be done to prove this. Now, during this time of course we went to an awful lot of specialist courses at various places down at places like Cardington and, and so on and it was also interesting because we had the first warrant officer’s course at Cardington and there were seventeen, eighteen of us I think, all ATC warrant officers and I was in that. That was the first, the first course there. Now, during the war, of course we were essentially civilians during the daytime but in addition to that and apart from the fact that we were probably doing either a whole day’s release or three nights at night school or technical college then of course we had also to be in pre-service training which I was already in as being in the ATC. First of all we were attached to RAF, RAF Spitalgate, Grantham which of course was a training station. By that time it was 12 PAFU Pilot Advanced Flying Training Unit which were training night fighter pilots. But of course as things built up we had a separate wing down at, separate flight down at Colsterworth and it was agreed that we would leave Spitalgate as being the nearest station to the Colsterworth flight and then we would, we ourselves be attached to Bomber Command stations so our first station of contact was RAF Bottesford which was the home of 207 squadron. 207 squadron was noted as being the first squadron to receive, when it was formed or reformed ‘cause 207 that number two hundred indicates that it was originally a Royal Naval Air Service station or squadron in the First World War so 207 was reformed at Cranwell and immediately came down to Bottesford which had only just recently been commissioned as a station and they were the first squadron to receive these Avro Manchesters. Well, of course, anybody who knows anything about the Manchester, if you say, ‘I flew in a Manchester,’ they’d look at you as much as to say, ‘Oh how did you escape,’ [laughs] because of course it was a wonderful aircraft so far as an air frame was concerned but it had these two huge horrible Vulture engines which were virtually a couple of V, V12 engines, one on top of the other which was put in to service before it was properly trained, properly tested. The net result was that these engines would suddenly fail and if it failed on one engine that was it and it came, it would come in and crash and that would be the end of it. Anyway, it was interesting at Bottesford because then it was just at the point when the RAF were beginning to get some very interesting personnel there. There was a certain Joe McCarthy who was at Bottesford at the time and he was already a bit of a name for himself because if there was one thing that Joe liked was low flying and as soon as the blitzes that were being planned for the Tirpitz and the Gneisenau and the other, the other targets this was before, if you like, the RAF had settled down in to, in to an area bombing technique. This was still at the period when there were specific targets. Now, when McCarthy decided that low flying was needed he often used to go down the fens where he could fly along and go around the trees rather than over them and it was quite normal for us to be going along at something in the region of a hundred and fifty, a hundred and eighty miles an hour about fifty feet above the ground which was quite exciting and I can remember one particular time when we were buzzing across and I was, as navigation instructor for the squadron had got a group of ATC cadets in various places and I was talking to them through the intercom. I’d got a couple of them with me up in the top turret of this, of this Lancaster and there was a couple down at the back end and others sort of in various disposal because they never worried about, I mean we never bothered about parachutes because, you know, we never got high enough to use them [laughs] and I can remember panning along and of course the usual thing we did was we kept because we knew the countryside fairly well we would sort of be brash enough to say, ‘Upper gunner to captain.’ ‘Yeah, go ahead’ captain er ‘go ahead gunner.’ ‘HT cables five miles ahead.’ ‘Thank you.’ Not a change in height. Not a change in speed. ‘Top gunner. One mile ahead.’ ‘Thank you.’ Not a change in speed. Not a change in height. And one of the others would say, ‘HT cables in sight.’ ‘Thank you.’ Not a change. Then all of a sudden an American voice said, ‘Alright boys. Shall we go over them or shall we go under them?’ And of course there was absolute dead silence and he said, ‘I take it that means under them,’ and we did [laughs] which was rather exciting. And of course another thing he used to love to do on a Sunday morning when “Dad’s Army” was being marched along with Mainwaring in front one thing about a Lancaster which you don’t really get these days is if you could get a Lancaster down to about fifty feet no sound comes forward. The net result is that you can be going along and he suddenly would go like this and we got ourselves over a typical fenland road with ditches each side of it and there in front was “Dad’s Army” marching along, goes pfffft straight over the top of them. Of course it was very interesting because when you turned around the only person who was still on the road was Captain Mainwaring. All the rest, all the rest of them [laughs]. Oh they were great days. Anyway, the, as I say the Bottesford period was a period when the RAF was still experimenting with low level flight, low level flying, specific targets and so on. What happened was that the amount of damage that was being done because at that time Bottesford was still a grass airfield that they came to the conclusion that the airfield, as a grass airfield was just about worn out. They just couldn’t keep the grass together especially in the winter time and they were definitely getting worried that they would not get airborne with their, with their bomb loads on so they decided to close Bottesford. 207 was first of all sent off to RAF Langar and then eventually it went up to RAF Spilsby and today if you go up you will find that the 207 squadron veterans and their archive and everything are all held up at the Spilsby airfield. Well, Spilsby, but East Kirkby, in the, in the headquarters there so what happened was that we hadn’t got a, we hadn’t got a, an attachment so I think my father managed to twist some arms up at 5 Group headquarters and the next thing is we were attached to 106 squadron at Syerston. Now, Syerston was perhaps the most westerly of the 5 Group airfields and by that time the RAF, the Bomber Command 5 Group in particular had settled down to grim warfare. No more specialist targets. No more panacea targets as Harris used to call them. No. This was, this was Harris warfare in full and it was an entirely different operation. Now, we had got used to, at Bottesford we’d got used to the fact that we would be working on a planes helping to clear up, loading incendiaries and all that sort of thing and we had sort of reached the point where we were in spite of that fact that we were only teenagers basically we were accepting the fact that the bloke we were talking to yesterday afternoon was no longer there and we also, I mean I used to find for example that as a leading NCO I used to bring my, ‘cause they used to collect us from, from Grantham those of us that could get away on a Saturday morning working five day week because the employers realised that we were, that our, what we were doing was valuable they would let us go off. We would be collected, taken to an RAF station. Could be Bottesford, could be Syerston or wherever. As soon as we entered there we were immediately shunted off to the security section and the security officer would say, ‘No communication with the outside whatsoever. Big op tonight. We mustn’t let any loose talk,’ and so we would be fixed in the station or we would go and we’d load incendiaries and we would generally go, and of course the next morning when the aircraft came back then I would collect from our nissen hut, we had a specific nissen hut there, I would collect my, because we marched everywhere. Nowadays, they just walk but we marched everywhere and I would be intercepted by one of the flight sergeants, RAF flight sergeants who said, ‘Keep away from that one. We haven’t had the chance to hose it out yet.’ And, oh yes there were some because they always the tail end gunner out and some of those tail end gunners oh I tell you, it was mess, it really was. So we grew up very rapidly. When we got to Syerston we did find that the RAF frame of mind if you like had changed over from this Harris expression panacea targets to total obliteration and it was grim and as I say we grew up very quickly. So we carried on and you could more or less say that three weekends out of four we were at one station or the another whether it was Bottesford or whether it was Syerston and so on. Well, I dropped a name, Joe McCarthy and quite a lot of the people who were with him of course were head hunted by you know who. By the time we got to Syerston who was the commanding officer there? You know who. Now people are divided. There’s ten percent of the RAF thought that Guy was absolutely marvellous and the other ten percent were not at all sure because -
HD: So he was the commanding officer at -
PDS: Oh Guy Gibson. Yes.
HD: Guy Gibson.
PDS: He was, he was a bighead and he had all sorts of funny ideas because he’d been an ex between wars officer where, at a time social standing was very very important and it was only towards the end of the war would Guy Gibson allow himself to be photographed with his sergeant air crew. Oh no. No. He would separate them out.
HD: So he was quite separate.
PDS: He would only appear in a photograph. If you look at Guy -
HD: Yeah.
PDS: In some of the early periods of the war you don’t see an NCO anywhere there. All commissioned. Guy did not approve of the ATC. He thought we were just a boys club and want keeping clear of the real war so we in general kept clear of him and but for all that the Syerston period was an important period I think for the majority of the young men who went into the RAF from the Grantham squadron and a lot of them sort of ended the war feeling that there but by the grace of God so on and I think what happens is you do tend to find as happens in all branches of all services that survivors begin to get a bit of a guilt complex. Why was I allowed to survive? And the fact that when I eventually got the necessary qualifications for going into the RAF they said well to be perfectly honest we’re so near the end of the war and the vast reconstruction that we’re going to have to do not only in this country but of course particularly in Europe and elsewhere. In view of the fact that I was working on construction machinery and I was, by that time a section leader and design draughtsman and I was producing equipment which gave me no end of trouble actually because I can start looking up on the internet and there is some enthusiast in New Zealand or Australia, particularly Australia who is keeping one of my graders going as being an historical piece and I’m going, ‘No. That was mine. I designed that.’
HD: So what sort of things did you design then?
PDS: Pardon?
HD: What sort of things did you design?
PDS: Well it started off on big dump trucks. You know -
HD: Right.
PDS: That would receive over cast material in coal mines and also in the big quarries and specific mines for specific materials, iron ore and that sort of thing but in addition to that because the the government over here was concerned at the amount of dollars that we were having to spend in buying equipment from the United States which they felt quite rightly that we could produce over here we were, the whole industry was asked to team up with American companies to produce American equipment under licence in this country and by that time I was, as I say a design section leader and I was immediately sent off with a colleague from the welding shops and a colleague from machine shops over to the States to get all the necessary information for getting these graders into production in Grantham which brought me again into contact with airfield construction equipment but coming back quite a bit because I’d already been in that when they said eventually, ‘Well sorry but we’ve ceased recruitment into the technical branch of the RAF but what we can offer you is a commission in the airfield construction service,’ so I thought well I suppose that’s as good as anything you see but even that folded up. They said, ‘Oh no we’ve got enough,’ so eventually about 1945 or the spring of 1945 before either VE or VJ I was more or less sort of hived off to win the peace and so my contact with the RAF more or less ceased at that point. Well, I wasn’t all that pleased. I thought well having spent the whole war doing everything I possibly could to train people up for the RAF through the Air Training Corps and so on and doing so much in contact with the RAF that suddenly to find that here were mere civilian bureaucrats turning around and saying well yeah ok sorry and all that but – so to be perfectly honest around about the spring of 1945 I made rude gestures towards the RAF. I thought right, blow them. And so for fifteen, for a period of about fifteen years I more or less ignored the RAF. I said more or less because by that time my wife and I had got, I’d met up with my wife and we’d got married. We were living on the far side of Grantham and every day when I came into the Aveling Barford company that I worked for I had to go through what was left of RAF Spitalgate and it rather peeved me because that became the headquarters of the RAF, of the ATC gliding set up and you could see all this activity going on and oh blow this for a game and I rather ignored it. But around about, I think it was about 1975 I suddenly got the urge again because during the war, long before you could get plastic kits of aircraft I always used to get the air crew members of the, of the Grantham squadron. I would give them a drawing and some photographs of a specific aircraft and say, ‘Right. Now here’s some bits of balsa. Try and make a model as closely as you could. Here we are. Here are some craft knives and so on and do this,’ because the great thing about it was by the time you’d converted this into a model however rough and inaccurate it would be the fact was that the bloke had reached the point when he could recognise that particular aircraft from any angle and it proved it because eventually we had a wonderful game that we used to do. We got one of these Aldis projector that projected slides and we fitted it up with a camera lens.
HD: Yes.
PDS: Not the lens. The shutter at the front so that we could put a picture in the thing, just click it and it would be on the screen for five seconds.
HD: Right. Yes.
PDS: Right. What was that? Oh that was an ME109. No it isn’t. It’s a Hurricane. Why isn’t it a Hurricane? Because so and so radiators and so on and so forth you see. Then we got it down to one second.
HD: Goodness me.
PDS: And eventually we got it down to the point when these could be recognised at two hundred and fiftieth of a second. It just went like that.
HD: Yes.
PDS: But the mere stick of the aircraft ‘cause I said straight away. That may be the saving of your life. If you can recognise that aircraft as being friend or foe. Your life might still be on. So it was interesting to make aircraft models long before there were kits and everything so that everybody knew the shape of these things and I remember I got, I got into a row up at Spitalgate because one of the instructors up there was doing a lecture and he’d got a whole lot of these slides and he put a slide in, released it, shut it immediately, he said, ‘You’re not supposed to see that.’ So I said, ‘I know you’re not.’ He said, ‘What is it?’ He said. This is the latest, they called it the Typhoon at the time.
HD: It is.
PDS: Well, he said, ‘You’re not supposed to know about that.’ Well [laughs]
HD: So what -
PDS: So the week after I gave him a model of it just from that -
HD: Oh really.
PDS: On that twenty fifth of a second. He took one look at this, he said , ‘Right. I’m confiscating that.’
HD: So what aircraft did you work on during your time?
PDS: Well these were mainly, it started off at, it started off at Grantham.
HD: Yes.
PDS: Now Grantham initially started with biplanes. Hawker Hinds and that sort of thing because at that time during the war the RAF was still mainly army cooperation. We worked on Avro Ansons which of course was notable because the Avro Anson was the first twin engine monoplane that the RAF had. The first one with a, with an enclosed gun turret, retractable undercarriage and so on. Also there were the RAF’s other trainer which was the Airspeed Oxford always known as the Ox Box because it was completely wooden apart from the engines and the other metal bits around it and then as we came over to, to Bottesford of course it was Manchesters and then Lancasters so we got to know those pretty well and I could still go inside the, I could go over to East Kirkby and they could put me blindfolded into the back of a Lancaster and I could walk down, down the Lancaster purely by feel and say right this is a giro compass just as you’re getting through the door. Yes. Now careful this is the point when you’ve got to get over, and so on and we got to know those pretty well. This was another thing of course that they used to do and even as cadets we would go on to a Lancaster which wasn’t doing anything in particular, you would be blindfold and that cadet had to spend ten minutes or a quarter of an hour completely blindfolded inside the Lancaster until he knew exactly where everything was because of course in the pitch dark when the aircraft was at all sorts of different angles you had to recognise where the, what the aircraft was by, by shape or smell because the Lancaster always had a distinctive smell.
HD: Did it?
PDS: When you poke your nose in to the back of the Just Jane or the one at, at oh Coningsby.
HD: Coningsby, yes.
PDS: There’s this distinctive smell. What it is missing of course was the smell which immediately hits you in an old well-worn Lancaster as you came through the door at the back was the fact during certain hair raising manoeuvres the elsan just in front of the spar of the tail plane would inevitably come adrift and it was always an ATC’s job to go and clean out the back of the - [laughs] So we got to know the smell of the Lancaster as well as the feel of it.
HD: The Lancaster. Yes. Yes
PDS: And then of course the blow fell because although we were being taken to Syerston eventually there was a complete reshuffle. They decided that A 5 Group should move further north and so the headquarters of the 5 Group moved up from Grantham up to Bawtrey, the various 5 Group squadrons moved further north so there was not only number 3 Group which was partly Lincolnshire, partly South Yorkshire but also 5 Group up there. Then of course in came in the magic air force. Have you ever, have you ever seen that film “The Magic Army,”?
HD: No. I haven’t.
PDS: This was Leslie Thomas’ skit of the arrival of the first American troops over in to this country and it’s an absolute howler. If you ever get a chance of seeing it you must see it.
HD: Yes.
PDS: It was the impact of what happened when -
HD: The Americans -
PDS: A complete American air force unit which was, because of course they were very heavily segregated in those days and here was this sleepy little south of England town which was suddenly invaded by a whole lot of gum chewing, be-bopping, American negro servicemen who took the local people by surprise.
HD: So what time of, during the war did they come? When was this?
PDS: Oh in ‘43. It was about -
HD: 1943. Yes.
PDS: 1943 when they came.
HD: Yes.
PDS: I mean they had been operating in East Anglia from, sort of ‘42 onwards because we moved out so that the main RAF bomber concentration was definitely Lincolnshire and Yorkshire and so the Americans they came in to the south of that. Then of course it was a question of the invasion and the net result was that Grantham 5 Group headquarters which as I said moved forward, moved up to Bawtry became, became the headquarters of the US Army Air Force 9th Troop Carrying Command and so in to all the stations the ex-bomber stations to the north of Grantham, or to the north east of Grantham became American. The previous one at Syerston became an Operational Training Unit. It was felt that they needed to have Operational Training Units a bit nearer to the, to the action. At the same time they wanted to move the RAF in to the new stations which were being formed in the east of Lincolnshire. Then of course in came the Americans and they had their headquarters in, at Fulbeck, at Fulbeck Hall. It became the headquarters of the American 9th Troop Carrying Command and Fulbeck airfield became the headquarter airfield to which we were attached. Now, that of course was a complete culture change because having been used to the RAF where everything was strictly security and so on to sort of to wander on to one of these airfields. We were collected in the morning, when we got on we were dumped outside. They said, ‘Alright boys, you know where the headquarters are. Make your way there.’ And so we would wander off and oh and, ‘It’s coffee break boys. Go down and, go down to the break,’ so we would go down and enjoy, I mean, after years of the old Camp chicory coffee suddenly being confronted because the Americans brought everything in. Do you know they even brought dustbins in from the States? Oh no they brought everything from toilet rolls to dustbins. I mean can you imagine it during the war when all the pressure on the, on the convoys in the Atlantic that they were bringing in toilet papers and dustbins over. Anyway, of course it was a cultural shock and I’ve written quite a bit about it. Now, what I think I would like to do if, I want to do another copy of this sometime. If you look at this you will see that this is what I call Cadet 1935 to 1945. Now, this starts off with me. I catch the air bug in the 1920s which was, if you like, the first chapter. Then here’s me in the King’s School defence sorry King’s School Grantham Officer’s Training Corps. Then a bit about the Public School’s Air Cadet Wing and particularly the camp at Selsey Bill there. Then there was the formation of the Grantham Air Defence Cadet Corps squadron in 1935. Just for a brief period I became an ARP messenger while I was still at school because my father would not allow me to join the Air Defence Cadet Corps until I was officially left school but in view of the fact the school wasn’t open that was my first job as ARP messenger. Then I joined the Air Defence Cadet Corps which went ‘39 to ‘40. Then this was attachments to RAF Bottesford. The attachment to RAF Syerston. I usually do this because I’ve done a lot of talking to Women’s Institutes and so on and of course until well after the war the ATC was strictly boys only but what many people don’t realise was that the, the women’s services were getting fed up with the fact that all the government assistance seemed to be going into the boys unit and so what was formed was called the Girls Training Corps and of course as soon as they started in Grantham we shared headquarters, much to the delight of all concerned and we trained up their NCOs until they were in a positon to operate separately. So that is a definite chapter, if you like, in my life.
HD: Is that where you met your future wife?
PDS: No. It wasn’t. No. I’ll tell you about that in a few minutes. Anyway, then with the magic air force, the 9 Troop Carrying Command at RAF Fulbeck and then I said anti-climax, and finale and then a little epilogue. Now –
HD: Very good.
PDS: If you would like to take that and dip into it.
HD: That would be lovely. Thank you very much. Thank you.
PDS: Yes.
HD: We’ll sort that out after the interview. Yes.
PDS: Yes.
HD: So tell me then, you’d obviously done all this training and then it got to 1945 and they didn’t need so many engineers.
PDS: That’s it.
HD: To go in to Bomber Command so –
PDS: It was goodbye and thank you.
HD: Yeah. So where did your life take you then?
PDS: Well as I say I was into design engineering but because the Institute of Mechanical Engineers were very strict on getting a broad, as broad as possible experience, I mean, nowadays you can get a qualification by purely being in, in, at university because during the war there was no university. You couldn’t, you couldn’t get that route through to technical qualification and nowadays of course provided you’ve done a certain amount of, if you like between term experience, work experience in engineering companies you would then be accepted as a graduate and then eventually when you got a position of some responsibility and some organisation that they can feel satisfied that you have got the broad spectrum of an engineering in general rather than something of a specific nature so what happened was at the end of the war I came to the conclusion that if I was going to become a qualified engineer I had to get more experience so I packed up this job in Grantham much to their annoyance and when I went I got a handshake from all my colleagues and I got less than a, than a friendly handshake from the firm because they didn’t want me to leave because I’d got quite a few jobs on hand but unfortunately due to the fact that my design experience lacked a certain amount of experience in the design and development of gear boxes and axles and that sort of thing. I was alright on structures but when it came to that it did mean that I was short of experience in the company and what happened was that they recruited what eventually turned out for me to be a cuckoo in the nest. As soon as he got here it was quite obvious he just took one look which said, you are out and so he did everything he could to get rid of me. What happened was that I’d already come to the conclusion that if I was to become generally qualified I’d got to get more general experience so pulled out and for two years I worked with a firm of contractors in Birmingham in their plant depot and eventually family problems meant that I had to come home due to the wife going down with TB and other problems. I had to come back and I joined the firm of Ruston Bucyrus. Now, I didn’t want to go back into production. I’d had enough to know that I was not happy in the works environment. Also the company at Lincoln which seemed to be the best place was not engaged in original design. They took basically stuff that had been designed by their parent company over in Milwaukee which they converted into British practice and so there was not a lot of original design work so I went to them and I said, ‘Well, I’d like to work for you.’ And it was just at the time when they were recruiting. They said, ‘Well, look we’re just in the process of a huge expansion. What we’re interested in is recruiting, if you like, a group of young Turks if you like, who could be the drive behind the new,’ And this was a time when computers were first coming in and so on.
HD: So what year was this?
PDS: This was in 1956. 1956.
HD: Yes.
PDS: So I joined this company Ruston Bucyrus but when I put my CV they said, ‘Well you know, ok we’ll introduce you to all the various directors of the different functions in the company and you choose. If you like a particular aspect. We’ll find a job for you.’ Which I thought was rather surprising and very nice. So, I went ‘Well, don’t hurry. Just think about it.’ Anyway I’d only been home about a week. ‘Would you come up to Lincoln again?’ ‘Yes.’ You know obviously query in my voice. ‘There’s been a development.’ ‘Oh yes’ ‘Yes. Well we’ll tell you about it when you come.’ So surreptitiously I came up to Lincoln. When I get there they said, ‘Well look. We have come to the conclusion that our distributors,’ how are you doing, alright? ‘We we’re finding that the, our distributors who we have been insisting sent their sales representatives to Lincoln to the firm of Ruston Bucyrus for a year’s training and when they get there what happens they are put with the apprentice department and the apprentice department just puts them into the shop.’ What we used to call shop soaking. They were just there. Which of course is not the way that one trains people, you see. Way back in the, way back in the old OTC days it was a case of whenever you had something to talk about you told them what you were going to tell them, then you told them, then you asked them what they’d been told. So I applied that same sort of technique up there and I was able to reduce this, this year-long programme down to something in the region of ten to twelve weeks which of course made a terrific difference and this company gradually developed to the point where I had a whole, I had a new building specifically designed for my use. I had a team of eight. There were five people working on visual aids so I got experience on producing film strips and films and slides and training material and so and then in addition to that I had a sales instructor and a service instructor with me, sort of heading it up and I also spent an awful lot of time round about in the 1960s travelling around Europe and most of the eastern world if you like because the, the North and South America was mainly handled from our Milwaukee head office and we did Europe, Africa, Australia, Australasia and so on. So I headed up this department until unfortunately because we had been making a very acceptable between five and ten percent profit during the years when the British were in command of the company when eventually the Americans got rid of their old guard and brought in a new bloke he said, ‘This is ridiculous. A company like you should be making thirty percent profit.’ So it was a case of downsizing and they literally took the guts out of it so that this company which used to be one of the principal, we employed six thousand people in Lincoln in those days just gradually went out. So eventually I was, I was made redundant from that. After a couple of years of being a gentleman of enforced leisure if you like, which is another story altogether I eventually was headhunted for teaching technical English at a, at a, an ex-teacher training college in Nottinghamshire. These were training overseas people in technical English before they went over to people like British Oxygen and the big fertiliser companies and so on. So it was teaching technical English. Oh we even, we even had people, which was always a very popular job teaching young Omani air force personnel who were on their way to Cranwell, to the college there and we had a whale of a time but it was interesting because I would be teaching probably seven hours a day.
HD: So what year was this?
PDS: This was 1950 sorry 1982 to ‘87. ‘82 to ‘87.
HD: Ok.
PDS: Now, that was very interesting because as I say, I would be teaching probably seven lessons a day and everyone was completely different. One would be the chemistry of combustion for fire service people, the next lesson would be aero dynamics for the people who were going to Cranwell and so on and so forth. An interesting period. Now -
HD: Can you, can we just go back to the war and your family? So were you always with your family? You never had to leave them behind.
PDS: No. That was it. Yes. What happened was that because we were in Grantham, in the middle of Grantham my mother was terribly claustrophobic. Where we lived in Grantham we were surrounded by tall buildings and we were on the direct bombing run for the cannon factory. The twenty five millimetre, twenty millimetre cannon factory British Marcos and time and again the streets just behind us had been caught by short fall bombs. My mother was dead scared she was going to be buried alive and we moved out into a deserted farmhouse in the area between Denton and Moorsalt by Belvoir which was a wonderful period. I must say that. That I have to admit that some of those wartime years for somebody who had been a townie was, some of the most wonderful things because of course in those days with the blackout there was none of this, this light pollution that you’ve got these days. I mean how many people today have seen the Milky Way?
HD: Very few I would imagine.
PDS: Yeah. Very few of them. I mean you have to be out at Kielder Forest or something.
HD: That’s right.
PDS: Where there’s absolutely no light.
HD: Yes.
PDS: Before you could see it.
HD: We had wonderful times up there and we saw an awful lot of the war going on from that area. We certainly enjoyed ourselves when we were living out there but most of the time I’m afraid my mother was by herself because my father as the commanding officer, he had a job in Lincoln and he was with the ATC during the evenings and I was there or I was over at the Newark Technical College and so on and eventually of course when it was obvious that I was not going to go into the RAF then we just settled down to a peacetime existence.
PDS: So where did you meet your wife and how did you meet your wife? Tell me.
HD: Well, this is, this is rather interesting actually because after the war of course there were no cars, no petrol, rationing. Everybody cycled everywhere. Well during the war I’d cycled to and from work. I mean by the time you’d done seven miles each way in the mornings and evenings, you know, you were pretty fit. The end of the war I decided I’d go down to visit my father’s relations down at Southampton which we’d been unable to really visit them due to the, all the, all the closure during the build up for the invasion and so on so I cycled down to Southampton. Then I spent a few days going around in that area. During that time I joined the Youth Hostels organisation like so many of us did at that time. I was coming back, I decided that I would just for the sake of it go over in to South Wales just to see what it looked like because I thought I’d have a holiday down there some time. Went in to the youth hostel at Mitcheldean in the Forest of Dean and couldn’t help noticing across, you know, one enchanted evening and all that sort of business, across the room were a couple of girls who were obviously the centre of attention. There was one particular good looking girl and the other one who was the taller, more gangly one who, I must admit she wasn’t initially as attractive but anyway I thought nothing of it because you see, you start off next morning. They go seventy five miles in that direction, I go seventy miles and that would be the end of it but lo and behold we turn up in Stratford Youth Hostel both booked in for the theatre there. There they were. So we sort of looked at each other. ‘Weren’t you at Mitcheldean? Yes. Knowing perfectly well we were at Mitcheldean because apparently Jean had spotted me as well. So anyway -
HD: Which one was Jean?
PDS: Jean was the older, taller, gangly one. It was only many years later that she admitted that her sister wasn’t going to get a word in [laughs]. Oh it’s so funny because I mean wwe were just kids let’s face it because after the war you see so many people who were twenty two or twenty three they suddenly discovered that they’d not really had a teenage and so many of them sort of turned back the clock and went through the motion of being teenagers again and they sort of did the daft things like cycling all over the place and joining the Youth Hostels Organisation and so on and though they might be departmental managers in the daytime they were kids at weekends.
HD: So how old were you when you met Jean then?
PDS: Well I was twenty three and she was twenty two.
HD: Yeah.
PDS: So what happened was that when we got back yes we went to the theatre together. Unfortunately we had booked in separate seats but that didn’t stop us joining up again for the, for the coffee break during which time we discovered I came from the Grantham area and she came from Spilsby. She and her sister. They were on a tandem. So anyway we got around to how we were going to get back up to, up to Lincolnshire again. They said, oh they were going through Tamworth and Rugby and Leicester and so on. I said, ‘Well that’s not a very nice interesting route.’ I said, ‘I’ll tell you what I’m doing.’ I said are you aware of the fact that there is a position where the Old Ermine Street crosses the old Fosseway and at that point the Fosseway continues up into the Lincoln area and it’s almost a dead straight route like most Roman roads, avoids habitation wherever possible but it was a dead straight road and at times it even went through farmer’s yards but we came all the way up until we met up until we finally decided that they were going on to Spilsby and their father was going to collect her and, and, and just a minute.
[pause]
HD: Mr Stevenson has just gone to find some photographs.
[long pause]
PDS: Being a great one for visual aids.
HD: Yes.
PDS: I did this when we were having a bit of a get together, the family and all the rest of it to sort of celebrate Jean’s death about a fortnight ago.
HD: Yes.
PDS: And if you like there is the significant part. This was Jean. Here we are when we first met.
HD: Yes.
PDS: That was that special day in 1946 when we first met up and this was many years later at the same place at Croxton Kerrial which is rather a special place for us. As you can see we were great, we used that tandem for nearly fifty years.
HD: My goodness. Mr Stevenson is showing me some photographs of Jean and their life and they were obviously keen cyclists.
PDS: And hill walkers.
HD: And hill walkers, yes.
PDS: And anyway we obviously, it clicked and from then onwards it was just a love story that went on for the next seventy years.
HD: Wonderful.
PDS: So -
HD: Well thank you very much and thank you very much for giving all your experiences to us and the interview will now finish and the time is nineteen minutes past eleven. Thank you very much Mr Stevenson.
PDS: Would you like a cup of coffee?
Dublin Core
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Title
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Interview with Peter Stevenson
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Helen Durham
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IBCC Digital Archive
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2016-08-17
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AStevensonP160817
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Pending review
Pending OH transcription
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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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Julie Williams
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Grantham
Temporal Coverage
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1943
1945
Description
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Peter Stevenson was born in Grantham and joined the Air League of the British Empire as well as the Air Defence Cadet Corps, The Officer’s Training Corps and the Public School’s Air Cadet Wing. He rose through the cadet ranks and embarked on training and other airfield duties and witnessed life on Bomber Command stations.
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Civilian
Language
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eng
Format
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01:10:25 audio recording
106 Squadron
207 Squadron
Gibson, Guy Penrose (1918-1944)
ground personnel
home front
Manchester
RAF Bottesford
RAF Grantham
RAF Syerston
sanitation
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/645/11269/BStevensonPDStevensonPDv1.1.pdf
0ca00135d690b4148fa8190b98631354
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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Stevenson, Peter
Peter Desmond Stevenson
P D Stevenson
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Stevenson, PD
Description
An account of the resource
Two items. An oral history interview with Peter Stevenson (b. 1923) and his memoir. He grew up in Lincolnshire and while he was working towards an engineering apprenticeship he rose through the ranks to become a Warrant Officer in the Air Training Corps.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Peter Stevenson and catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-08-17
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
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CADET 1935-1945
Peter D Stevenson
[page break]
Page 1
CADET 1935 – 1945
By Peter Stevenson, a very junior twelve year old schoolboy when this decade started to a somewhat disillusioned twenty two year old young man who, ten years later when it all ended ‘Who had also served who only stood and waited’; came to the conclusion that though it had been a very interesting and formative period of his own life, had to admit that it had not done a great deal to win the war.
For all that it seemed to be a story worth telling, a story which must be dedicated to the many who had suffered that he might live to tell that story and do his bit towards winning the peace that followed.
[page break]
Page 2
[underlined] CONTENTS [/underlined]
Introduction 3
Chapter One I catch the Air Bug 6
Chapter Two Private Stevenson P.D. KSGOTC (1935-39) 13
Chapter Three The Public School’s Air Cadet Wing (January to August 1939) 35
The 1939 Public Schools Air Cadet Wing Camp at Selsea Bill 37
Chapter Four Formation of the Grantham Squadron of the Air Defence Cadet Corps (1939) 45
Chapter Five ARP Messenger P.D.Stevenson. ‘Goes to War’ (1939) 52
Chapter Six I Join No.47(F) Grantham Squadron Air Defence Cadet Corps (1939-40) 58
Chapter Seven 47(F) Sq. Air Training Corps with No. 12(P)AFU at RAF Spittlegate(1941) 66
Chapter Eight 47(F) Sq. ATC with 207 Sq. RAF Bottesford (1941-42) 69
The 1942 Summer Camp at RAF Bottesford 76
Chapter Nine 47(F) Sq. ATC with 106 Sq. RAF Syerston (1942-43) 82
Formation of No. 830 Company Girl’s Training Corps
Chapter 10 47(F) Sq. ATC with The Magic Air Force (9th TCC. USAAF) at RAF Fulbeck 94
(1943-44)
Chapter Eleven Anticlimax and Finale (1944-45)
Epilogue (1945 to 2006)
[page break]
Page 3
[underlined] Introduction [/underlined]
This is the story of an eventful decade in the life of a young man with two ambitions.
He wanted to become a qualified engineer and, as the clouds of war gathered, to serve in the Royal Air Force with a commission in it’s Technical Branch.
It starts in his school days and progresses through his engineering apprenticeship and Technical College studies and eventual maturity. Running right through this is a common thread of service in a succession of Cadet organisations. It ends by looking back over nearly seventy years, with a tribute to the lifelong benefits he derived from the groundwork skills and benefits which such service left him with, as he pursued a post war career in engineering design and the technical training he passed on to others.
He was twelve years old when these two ambitions began to materialise. This was the age when his grammar school allowed its pupils to chose [sic] between ‘The Arts’ and ‘The Sciences’ and at the same time allow him to join the first of his cadet units. He dropped The Arts and joined the school’s ‘OTC’, the pre war somewhat elitist precursor of today’s Combined Cadet Force. However, before his story can begin to take shape, a wider view of overall scene which surrounded him really needs to be expressed in order to add a necessary perspective.
---O---
As everyone knows, the Second World War ended in the summer of 1945, but those of us who grew up between the wars would be the first to admit the seeds of this second conflict were sown in the months immediately following the ending of the first.
The horrors of Flanders had ceased less than five years before I was born. Its bitter memories had bitten deep into the souls of not only my own forebears, but also into those who had survived the war at the front and the bereavements and privations of those on the Home Front. In spite of the annual Armistice Day exhortations that “We will remember them”, civilian attitudes seemed determined to “Forget” as far as possible.
The man in the street and unfortunately, the majority of those in government authority, who still regarded themselves as being in the centre of the British Empire upon which the ‘Sun will never set’ What went on in the Continent was of little interest and was none of our business anyway.
The Treaty of Versailles had left Germany, crippled and bankrupt both economically and politically. A decade of ineffectual governments, each desperately trying to recover from rampant inflation and chronic unemployment, left the hotbed conditions for the rise of Hitlerism. So far as most people in Germany were concerned, any leader was better than none.
In Britain, equally futile governments thrust their heads ever more firmly into the sand. ‘Disarmament’ (at any cost) was the order of the day from the early Nineteen Twenties onwards. All three Services were cut down to mere cadre status, sufficient only to maintain the Empire and police the Dependencies and Protectorates in the Middle East and elsewhere.
With the destruction of Germany, there seemed no point in arming against what was considered to be a nonexistent [sic] European threat.
Luckily, there were a few people in high places who saw more than the ground immediately in front of their noses. Some of these were prepared to fight all forms of governmental apathy and bureaucratic inhibition. For them, the establishment of an effective defence strategy, backed up by small but technically prepared military force which could be rapidly expanded, should the need arise, was still vital for our future.
In all three services, dedicated and far seeing individuals kept each respective flame alight during a decade and a half of budgetary cuts and personnel reductions. Front line, supply and training establishments were cut to the bone. Withdrawing into a few key locations, they were determined to match diminishing quantity with increasing quality of men, equipment and potential.
Until the coming of the Industrial Revolution, my home town had been a typical sleepy country town, centred in a wide expanse of rich farming countryside. In the late 1700s it had been connected to the
[page break]
Page 4
markets of the Midlands and the South by a canal and at the same time received incoming supplies of coal and other commodities. Grantham began the first phase of its expansion. In the 1840s, it received the next boost with north to south mainline railways and important east to west branch lines. Already astride the Great North Road, it now became an important focal point in the country’s communication network. In the remaining decades of the 19th century, heavy engineering industrial expansion gained it an international reputation for the quality and quantity of its products. During World War One, it converted rapidly into a centre for munitions production and an important army training area. In 1917, two nearby hilltops became flying training camps for the Royal Flying Corps.
When the war ended in 1918, Grantham’s industrial capabilities reverted to the peacetime production of diesel engines, farm machinery and the needs of a local agricultural economy. The big army camps were dismantled and the grounds they occupied returned to pre-war parkland status. The erstwhile Territorial Barracks were returned to the care of the weekend soldiery. One of the airfields was also closed down and returned to agriculture. The other went into ‘Care and Maintenance’ for a while.
However, this was not to be the end of Grantham’s military involvement in the post-war scene. April 1918 had seen the Royal Flying Corps and the Royal Naval Air Service merge and become the infant Royal Air Force. During the war both the RFC and the RNAS has found the skies (and the ground) of Lincolnshire ideal for the training of their pilots. Although the majority of the home defence and other operational airfields had been returned to agriculture, it was decided that three of the flying training airfields should be retained. Their levels of activity might very well be reduced but all three were very much in ?Grantham’s hinterland.
The post war reorganisation of the RAF centred very much on the training up of a small but well trained new generation of pilots. Six Flying Training Schools (the ‘FTSs’) would be set up, one in Egypt and five in England, of which three would be in Lincolnshire. The furthest away would be RAF Digby, some sixteen miles to the northeast of Grantham. Next would be RAF Cranwell, ten miles in the same direction. An ex RNAS airfield, it would in time become the first Aviation College in the world, and share its airfields with its own FTS. Finally, Grantham’s airfield would not only have its FTS but would also be the home of the FTS Training Group. {Incidentally, over the next half century, the Air Ministry had great difficulty in making up its mind as to what name this particular airfield should bear. Back in the RFC days it had been called ‘Spit[underlined]tle[/underlined]gate’, the name that not only the locals always used, but also used by most if not all those who served there over the years. At various times, the Air Ministry decided to rename it [underlined] RAF Grantham [/underlined] but after a while decided to go back to the original name. However, this time it was called RAF Spit[underlined]al[/underlined]gate for a while until went back to RAF Grantham again. To avoid confusion, throughout this narrative, it will always be called Spittlegate, the name of the village immediately below the airfield which eventually became incorporated into the borough of Grantham.]
Grantham therefore became very much an RAF town in the 1920s and the decades which followed. The people of Grantham got very used to blue uniforms in the town and aircraft in the blue above. The Grantham shops got trade, RAF families not in the extensive station married quarters, lived in the housing estates, and their sons and daughters went to the local schools.
As already mentioned, the Army was not completely unrepresented in peacetime Grantham. The town was still proud of the fact that it still had a small detachment of Lincolnshire Regiment Territorials. Their members made their way, perhaps a little self consciously, up to the Barracks, and marched much more confidently in the annual Remembrance Day parades, and their annual camp was given much reportage in the local weekly newspaper.
There was however, an ‘Army’ unit which will feature in the second chapter of this account. In it, was much ‘Esprit de Corps’, equal pride in marching behind the Territorials on Remembrance Day, and an equal enthusiasm for its annual camp and ‘field days’.
Grantham had its Grammar School, the King’s School of some six hundred years standing. It was the proud possessor of its ‘OTC’ – the ‘Officer’s Training Corps’. Supported by and largely financed by the War Department, it was hoped by the latter that, following its creation in WW1, it would continue to supply a small but steady stream of ‘officer types’ for its peacetime needs. Few of its boy soldiers ever stood a chance of gaining a permanent commission in the Regular Army but it was felt that the rest would receive enough basic training to make them good ‘rankers’ should the need ever
[page break]
Page 5
arise. In any case, they hoped, this would be a useful recruiting ground for the Territorial Army when they left school.
These OTC units were undoubtedly elitist in their outlooks, closely reflecting the ‘Town and Gown’ mentalities of those pre-WW2 Grammar Schools. After that war, such elitism was anachronistic and the OTCs, became Combined Cadet Force units, reflecting the less class conscious and more technical emphasis of modern warfare.
This then, is the background to this account of a cadet who started his decade of ‘military service’ as a very young ‘boy soldier’ in the Grantham King’s School Officer’s Training Corps.
Ten years later, older and perhaps somewhat wiser, he ended up as a Cadet Warrant Officer in the Air Training Corps in the closing months of the Second World War.
This introduction has been written in general terms with the occasional use of the third person. Something which does not endear me greatly in the few autobiographies I have read is the over use of the first person singular. However, trying to write in the third person often results in something which verges on the pedantic. So, I will do my best to keep the number of ‘Is’ to a minimum and hope the reader will excuse the rest.
I suppose also that I should bow to convention and end this introduction with acknowledgements and apologies. To the many cadets in all the cadet units in which I served I give my heartfelt thanks. From them I learned as much as I gave. To the many servicemen in the units to which we were attached, I also give my heartfelt thanks. To those cadets and servicemen who lost their lives in service, I give my heartfelt gratitude. I shall not forget that famous Kohima tribute ‘For my today, they gave their yesterday’. Mine was not a spectacular or heroic war. I can only take comfort from the other saying that ‘They also served who only stood and waited’.
Apologies too. Memory is a strange beast and after more than sixty years, hindsight is more than a little myopic. Some events are as clear as if they only occurred yesterday but at my age the main problem is “Exactly what was it that I was doing yesterday!” So, if you also lived through those eventful years, bear with me, and if you remember differently, by all means get out your writing sticks, and add your quota of memories to the great memory bank in the skies.
A further apology. Faces I can remember but I have never been able to remember names. If you think that I have not mentioned this person or that, it could well be that to mention this person and not that, could well offend the latter. Better perhaps to be a ‘little economical with the truth’, and this could well apply to events as well.
Oh, and don’t forget. Even if you did have a camera then, you could not get films, and if you did manage to have both, you were not allowed to use them, so the few pictures I do have will be scattered amongst the narrative or may be lurking away in appendices to this account.
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[underlined] Chapter One I Catch the Air Bug [/underlined]
[AIR BUG – Defn. In the 1920s and 1930s the youth of Britain was perpetually being encouraged to become ‘air minded’. If one became thoroughly air minded then one was accused of being bitten by the Air Bug. I admit to have been badly bitten.]
I was not ‘Lincolnshire Born’. My mother’s family was Yorkshire, my father’s was Nottinghamshire, but my grandparents settled in Lincolnshire towards the end of the nineteenth century. I was actually born in Scarborough but I grew up in Grantham. As a result, I consider myself more of a ‘Yellow Bellie’ than a ‘Cuckoo’.
One is often advised to make sure that you choose your parents carefully. In this respect I think I can claim to have chosen well. Although my parents and grandparents (with one exception) could never be regarded as great intellectuals or scholars, I was extremely lucky to find them well endowed with a lively curiosity and interest in local, national and world affairs. Amongst other things, it looks as if I chose to be the grandson of a highly regarded, if provincial, ‘gentleman journalist’ (sadly, an extinct species). His son, in spite of being a reluctant scholar, apparently had dinned into him that type of education which, it is said, is what is left when you have forgotten most of what you have been taught. My maternal grandmother did come from a highly intellectual and talented family and between the lot of them, the genes they passed on to me are much appreciated. I sincerely hope that I have not let them down over the years.
Conversations round the family tables were always lively and I can never remember being talked down to. Even though it was an age when children were not supposed to talk unless asked to do so, I was still expected to have some opinion on most things under discussion.
My father, born in 1895, had a grammar school education and after leaving became a cub reporter under his father’s tuition. Aged nineteen when WW1 broke out, he immediately volunteered. After basic training, his regiment crossed to France where it was involved in the battles of late 1914 and early 1915. Mentioned in Despatches, wounded twice, he was invalided back to England. After eighteen months in army hospitals in Harrogate (where he met my mother) he spent the remainder of the war on the staff of an army training establishment. Demobbed, the best civilian employment he could obtain in his hometown was a dead end clerk’s job in the local police station. Married now and with a son, he came home to start afresh in Grantham.
His time there was not completely wasted. Amongst other things, he had worked for a Ford distributor and had learned a thing or two about selling cars and running a business. Once back home, he got a job as a car salesman with a large garage in Grantham, which he soon managed to get established as the main Ford distributor in Lincolnshire. Above all, he had come back completely ‘Ford Minded’.
Within a few months, the word ‘Ford’ had become magic and anything bearing the word ‘Ford’ was special. I learned all about Henry Ford starting the mess production of the legendary ‘Model T’, the ‘Tin Lizzie’. I also learned that in that Big Country, air travel was becoming big business and that, following the success of the Tin Lizzie, Henry Ford had gone into the aircraft business with the Ford Trimotor which proved a similar success. Promptly christened the ‘Tin Goose’, its reliability, load carrying and ability to work from small rough airfields not only set new standards in travel but was also popular as a freighter. Soon it was being used for travel and freighting in the North of Canada.
At this point, the U.S. Navy came into the picture. If the first decade or so of the 20th Century had been the Golden Age of Polar Exploration on the ground, the 1920s became the Golden Age of the Conquest of the Air. Using a Ford Trimotor, Admiral Byrd and his U.S. Navy expedition, became the first to fly over the North Pole.
Flushed with this success, another much larger expedition under Byrd, was sent to Antarctica in 1928. There they set up ‘Little America’, an air base on the Ross Ice Shelf, from which they laid refuelling bases, which were used to enable a Trimotor to be the first aircraft to fly over the South
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[inserted picture]
In all aeronautical history, it would be difficult to find even one airplane with more drama, more adventure, and more rugged versatility attached to it than the famous Ford Tri-motor.
Affectionately known as the “Tin Goose”, this outstanding airplane, with its corrugated aluminum [sic] skin, was the first all-metal airplane, and the first commercial aviation transport, designed and built in the United States. It was also one of the very first airplanes to carry passengers for the pioneer airlines of this country.
Built by the Ford Motor Company, the first of this most revolutionary aircraft was unveiled at Detroit in 1926. In it, combined for the first time in one airplane were such developments as enclosed pilot cabins, brakes, heaters, full cantilever wings and doughnut tires.
Most of the U.S. airlines bought Ford Tri-motors and many of today’s leading air routes were opened and developed with this versatile airline pioneer. As flown by the airlines, each plane could accommodate 11 passengers in a cabin that had an average width of only 4 1/2 ft.
In 1929 Admiral Richard E. Byrd on one of his Antarctic expeditions, included a Ford Tri-motor, equipped with skis, in his equipment. It was in this Ford that this great explorer made his famous flight – the first time man had flown over the South Pole. This actual airplane is now a part of the aviation exhibit on display at the Henry Ford Museum, Dearborn, Michigan.
Wingspan of the Ford Tri-motor 4-AT is 74 ft. and overall length 49 ft., 10 in. The three engines gave it a cruising speed of 110 m.p.h. and a top speed of 130 m.p.h. Empty weight is only 6500 lbs. Simplicity is the keynote of construction. Control horns and control wires are mounted outside the airplane. Passenger seats are woven reed. Instruments for the side engines are mounted on the strut above the nacelles and viewed from the cockpit. The entire surface of the airplane is constructed of corrugated aluminum [sic].
More than 30 Ford Tri-motors are still being flown commercially today – more than a quarter-century after being built. It is even now, called “the best ship available for carrying heavy loads into tricky fields.”
As proof of the advanced design and efficiency of this famous historical airplane, the Tin Goose will again be produced in quantity. A West Coast company will build 100 Tri-motors from the original Ford blueprints, making only minor changes to take advantage of today’s smaller, more powerful engines. This is a fine tribute to a plane first manufactured 30 years ago and still worthy of being produced again in its original form.
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Pole. In true American enthusiasm for their other passion, the cinema, this expedition was accompanied by a full ’movie’ crew who, on their return, produced an epic film of an epic flight.
Eventually this film was shown on one of Grantham’s cinema screens, and being thoroughly Ford, my father and I went to see it. Now, if I am pressed to name the event which initiated my thoughts towards the air, it would certainly be this film. Subsequently, I went off on my own several times to see it again. Certainly, when it came to aircraft, the Ford Trimotor became my First Love. This film also sparked a lifelong interest in the Antarctic. During the next few years, I read all the Scott and Shackleton Diaries and anything else available in the Grantham Library about Antarctic exploration, but that is another story.
No doubt in the previous seven years, the Spittlegate aircraft had been circling oven the town. It was just that up to that time, they had not registered. Now they were there. Admittedly nothing quite so big and beautiful as my Trimotor, but well worth watching in future.
My grandfather had to report for his paper on the visit of Alan Cobham and his Air Circus. His Press Pass got us both in for free and I had a wonderful afternoon. The flying was certainly thrilling but it was the aircraft on the ground which really fascinated me.
Then I began making my pilgrimage up Cold Harbour Lane, the lane which ran along the north eastern boundary of the Spittlegate airfield. With the wind in the right direction the planes would come sideslipping in, right over my head, engines puttering over and the slipstream whistling though [sic] their rigging. I could wave to the pilots and occasionally they would wave back.
More down to earth, in the autumn of 1932, just after my ninth birthday, I moved school.
This was not in the depth of the Thirties Depression, and my father’s salary, largely based on commission, was pretty low. There were few people around with money to spend on cars. However, my parents had sufficient confidence in me to send me off to the Grammar School.
At the time, the King’s was a fee paying school, although it was possible to pass what was called the County Minor Scholarship exam, which at least paid your fees. Regrettably, I did not pass and since you only had one chance, that meant that my parents were lumbered with my school fees for the next six years. In later years, when I discovered that this took a whole week’s pay every term, I was more than a little ashamed that I had not been a better scholar.
One normally started at the King’s School at the age of eight and for the first four years you were taught to a generally wide syllabus which gave you a good basis on what might be your line of specialisation when you reached the age of twelve. A certain amount of Physics and Chemistry was balanced by four years of simple Latin and ‘The Classics’, while subjects like Maths, History and Geography would continue after specialisation.
Once I was settled in. I quickly discovered that in addition to the usual cross section of boys from the town and the surrounding countryside, there was quite a high proportion of sons of RAF personnel. I quickly became friends with two of these whose parents lived in the town rather than in the married quarters. I had a fair amount of contact with their fathers and was privy to a fair amount of ‘shop talk’, all of which helped to fuel the interest.
Small boys in general are remarkably schizophrenic in their choice of potential careers. My father’s new job had brought me into contact, not only with the Ford car but also the Fordson Tractor. Our family finances had been much helped by us moving into a company house next door to the premises which dealt with tractor sales and repair. In addition to the tractor and implement showroom, there was a replacement parts store and a repair workshop, all of which was accessible to me through a side door in the house. Naturally the presence of a small boy in the showroom was not welcomed when a prospective buyer was there, but this Alladin’s [sic] Cave was open to me at all other times of the day. I soon discovered that tractors were far more interesting than cars. That was probably due to the fact that the car workshop foreman had a short fuse when small boys were around, whereas the tractor fitters were more than willing to show the small boy in question, what went where and why. Also, most of a tractors ‘gubbins’ tended to be on its outside so that you could see what was going on, rather than having to poke around under bonnets and things.
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[underlined] 26 THE GRANTHAMIAN [/underlined]
* * *
Capt E. Elms.
At the end of this Term the School will suffer, in the retirement of Captain E. Elms, the loss of another link with pre war days. Captain Elms came to the School when the new Workshops were built in 1935, and their continued efficiency has been his constant endeavour ever since. Although Captain Elms came to us from the Estate of Mr. Christopher Turnor, he was no stranger to school-mastering, having spent many years as the Head of a London Technical Institute and being concerned during the 1914-18 war with the training of thousands of men and women for war work.
In 1920 he was granted a regular commission with the rank of Captain in the Army Educational Corps and served on the staff of the Royal Military College, Sandhurst, where he did much pioneer work in the early mechanisation of the regular army.
During his stay with us Captain Elms has introduced the spirit of pride in craftsmanship and a keen desire to produce a good job of work, which has stood in good stead the hundreds of boys who have passed through his hands, and it is with real regret that we learn that Captain Elms is giving up his post here on doctor’s orders. It is to be hoped that the rest from his labours will bring him back to full health and strength to enjoy many years of ease and leisure, which he has so justly earned in the service of The King’s School.
* * *
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[photograph]
Capt. E. Elms
Handicraft Master, 1934-1946
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The Main Dealership agreement which my father had negotiated with the Ford Motor Company resulted in him having to go down to Dagenham every few months. Since in those days, cars had always to be collected from the works (there were no such things as car transporters) he would combine such a visit with the collection of a new car. He also discovered that a second hand car in good condition would always fetch a much higher price in the London area. So, he would take an old car down, attend his business meeting, and bring a new car back. Again, in those days, cars had to be ‘run in’. This involved driving it very carefully at no more than thirty miles per hour for the first thousand miles. This was especially important in the first hundred miles of the car’s life. The 110 miles back to Grantham was a four hour journey of utter boredom. So, in the school holiday times, he started taking me along with him and once we arrived at the works he hand me over to the Works Guide team. Here was an even bigger and better Alladin’s [sic] Cave and by the time I had gone round with them several times, I had got a pretty good idea as to how the various parts were made and how they went together to make cars and tractors.
By the time I was ten or eleven, I had made up my mind that when I left school, I would become a Ford Apprentice. Then, my apprenticeship completed, I too would go over to the States where I would apply to join Ford’s Trimotor service organisation. Having qualified as a fitter on the ‘Tin Goose’ I would join the U.S. Navy and go on the next Antarctic Expedition. How’s that for teenage logic? Of course, in the way of such juvenile dreams, nothing ever came of it, except that there remained a growing feeling that I would eventually become an engineer, preferably in the field of aeronautics, and perhaps in the RAF
Having finished my junior schooling, I was now at the great crossroads. ‘The Arts’ were not for me and as I moved up into the upper school, I rapidly dropped Latin (what I had learned, often came in quite useful in later life). Music was also dropped (which perhaps was a pity as I could well have done with some basic music theory also in later life). Hopeless at art, this was also dropped thankfully. The time spent on English Literature, History and like subjects was reduced, and opting for ‘The Sciences’ meant the time spent on Physics and Chemistry was increased.
The biggest, most interesting bonus of entering the upper school happened to coincide with what, at the time, was a rather revolutionary development on this old established grammar school’s curriculum. Grantham’s King’s School had, over the centuries, produced a goodly number of academics and a few notable scientists (including Sir Isaac Newton). These however, had been at the time when it was centred in a largely rural environment. With the coming of industry in the 19th century, Grantham had become a major engineering centre and the origins (and destinations) of it’s pupils changed dramatically. In spite of the fact that it did it’s best to retain its grammar school ethos. In order to progress, it had to accept that a significant proportion of it’s pupils would end up (hopefully) in the more respectable levers of industry and technology.
The present headmaster was a progressive, doing his best to lift the school out of the stuffiness of decades of the Town and Gown mentalities of his predecessors. His Board of Governors was a good mix of local dignitaries, with enough industrialists to reflect their pupil spectrum. His local government Director of Education was also progressive in his outlook. The end result was that basic handicrafts in the working of wood and metal would replace traditional Art subjects such as painting and sculpting for those pupils opting for the Sciences. To bring this about, a well equipped workshop was built and equipped with wood and metal workbenches, simple machine tools, a forge and brazing equipment. A ‘Handicraft Master’ was appointed, who proved to be a lifelong inspiration to all those pupils who thenceforth aspired to become engineers or, failing that, proved in later life to be good handy men about the house!
If I aspired to be an engineer, then this man became my mentor from the day the Workshop opened for business. Before going on to other matters, I really ought to pay tribute to one other mentor of that time. I mentioned earlier that the foreman of the car garage did little to
CADET 1935-45 CH.1.V4.doc
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[photograph]
de Havilland Gipsy Moth [inserted] (MILITARY VERSION) [/inserted]
[photograph]
NOTTS ASSEMBLY. – The Fleet of the Nottinghamshire Flying Club and privately-owned craft at Tollerton. The club-house is standard pattern devised by the ill-fated National Flying Services.
[inserted] WHERE I HAD MY FIRST FEW FLIGHTS WITH TOBY MARTIN (HIS GIPSY MOTH WAS PROBABLY HAVE ONE OF THOSE NEAREST THE CAMERA [/inserted]
[inserted] two postage stamps [/inserted]
[inserted] I HAD ONE OF THESE WHEN THEY FIRST CAME OUT [/inserted]
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encourage me to frequent his workshop. The same could not be said about his superior, the Service Manager. A qualified engineer, an ex Royal Engineers Major, a specialist in recovering First World War tanks from distressing and undignified situations, he had become a close friend of my father. He also took an avuncular interest in my early technical education, and incidentally took me up in my first few flights in his Gypsy Moth, which he flew from the Nottinghamshire Flying Club’s airfield at Tollerton’ near Nottingham. That soon became my Second Love and added another bite from The Bug.
It would be about this time that Meccano brought out their sets of aircraft parts which produced far more authentic looking models than those you could make up from the standard Meccano components. Looking back, this was perhaps the starting point of my aeromodelling career.
Thus, the stage seemed to be set for me to start on a career as an engineer but, you may well ask, is it not time for a start to be made on all this ‘Cadet 1935 to 1945’ business?
True enough. Please turn to Chapter Two.
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[underlined] Chapter Two Private Stevenson P.D. KSGOTC [/underlined]
By 1935, the antics of Hitler and his Nazi friends were beginning to cause grave concern amongst the regrettably few politicians and others whose heads were not so firmly thrust into the sands of Disarmament. They were only too aware how pitifully unprepared Britain was to defend itself against the growing threat of German Nationalism and it’s associated territorial ambitions. In spite of the Pacifists and the still ongoing years of depression, the Services did get slight increases in their budgets, but after much argument in Parliament. These did enable them to make some attempt to replace out of date equipment and to increase their recruitment and training programmes.
In the case of RAF, this was the time when they started to award contracts for new breeds of aircraft which, in time, would win the Battle of Britain and the air offensives which followed. Closer to home, there was a marked if gradual increase in flying activity at Spittlegate, Cranwell and Digby – to say nothing of more boys at the King’s School with fathers in the RAF. In spite of this, the King’s School was not outwardly pro-RAF. It was, of course, pleased to have an increase in it’s fee paying scholars. Particularly so, when fathers were posted elsewhere and in order not to interrupt their son’s education, left them as School Boarders. On the contrary, the King’s School was firmly ‘Army Property’ in that it had it’s Officer’s Training Corps, a unit of some standing.
During the first world war, when the life expectancy of the front line subalterns was little more than three weeks, calling for a constant flow of ‘gun fodder’, the inland Grammar Schools had been drawn into a ‘catch ‘em young’ policy with the creation of the OTCs. These [underlined] Officer’s [/underlined] Training Corps existed at two levels. In the Public and Grammar Schools, these were Junior OTCs in which the boys, between the ages of twelve and eighteen would be trained up to a ‘Certificate A’ level which qualified them for [underlined] consideration [/underlined] for a possible commission in the Territorial Army. If in the relatively rare case of the pupil going on to University, he could then join the University’s Senior OTC, hopefully passing Certificate B, which most probably gave him possible entry to Sandhurst.
In both cases, it was hope, when the time came for them to be called to military service, these boys of potentially officer grade would have been well imbued with Army discipline and traditions, together with the elements of infantry training and leadership. From the point of view of the War Office in the first war, the OTCs did an excellent and worthwhile job.
So much so, the post war War Department decided that the OTCs were still a [sic] valuable sources of potential officer and NCO material for the Regular and Territorial Armies. Besides, they would provide valuable Leadership and Character Training, ‘buzz words’ which were very much in vogue at the time.
At school level, for those with OTCs, it became automatic thinking on the part of both masters and pupils, that most boys would, on entering upper school, join it’s OTC unless their parents were particularly set against such ‘militarisation’ as the Pacifists put it.
However, in spite of the fact that locally based RAF personnel outnumbered that of the Army by something like twenty to one, and that ratio was reflected in the pupil roll, nevertheless the school was still Army orientated in it’s outlook. In the absence of anything resembling the OTC on the part of the RAF, there would be little or no encouragement from the school for any of those boys who had ‘caught the air bug’. There was therefore no real choice but, if one gained a Certificate A, it might be a useful pawn when one appeared before an RAF Selection Board.
My own twelfth birthday was in August 1935. So, on the first Thursday afternoon of the new school year in September, I became Private Stevenson of No.4 Platoon of the King’s School Company, Officer’s Training Corps, attached for training purposes to the Lincolnshire Regiment of the British Army. The individual concerned no doubt felt considerably less imposing than the title above would have you believe. He was, of course, the lowest form of military life, and it was not long before he was reminded of the fact.
The first parade of the Autumn Term was a proud one for all concerned. The four platoons reflected the age and status of their place in the school’s hierarchy. No.1 Platoon was composed of boys who had, as a result of the previous year’s terminal examinations, moved up into the Upper Fifth and Sixth Forms. They were predominantly fifteen year olds since most of the sixteen year olds had left
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[photograph]
Lt.-Col. M. H. Raymond, M.A. (Cantab.), T.D.
Master 1921-52, O/C. The King’s School
Contingent C.C.F., 1924-52.
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school already. The remaining Sixth Formers were those who had not been promoted NCOs for the other Platoons. No.2 Platoon were fourteen year olds, now in the Lower Fifth Forms. No.3 Platoon were thirteen year olds now in the Fourth Form. These three platoons, mostly in full uniform, were ‘Fallen In’ with appropriate ceremony, and were doing their best of look smart.
For the moment, No.4 Platoon was merely a motley mob of twelve year olds who had been herded into a safe corner of the school quadrangle by a stern looking, very grown up Sergeant (so he appeared to us, he must have been all of sixteen!) These ‘recruits’ had, for their sins, moved up into the Upper Third Forms, and had thereby qualified to join the ‘Old Tin Cans’.
Each move up into a new platoon was an immense rise in prestige (and pecking order) No.1 Platoon were now possessors of two uniforms. ‘Bests’ were for special occasions – special parades such as the Annual Inspection, Founder’s Day and the Armistice Day Parades, as well as going to the Annual Summer Camp. ‘Seconds’ were for those parades when the ‘men’ were supposed to look, feel and work like real soldiers. ‘Seconds’ were identical with Bests, but had reached the point where signs of wear and tear, brought about by drill, exercises, field days and annual camp, ruled them out for more formal occasions.
Nos. 2 & 3 Platoons had to make do mostly with Seconds, although a few whose drill was particularly smart could join No.1for [sic] special occasions. These uniforms were basically WW1 infantry. A round hat, khaki serge jacket with high collar (hot and prickly in summer), ‘Plus Four’ type khaki serge trousers with knee length ‘puttees’ and black boots, the latter having to be provided by parents.
For the first parade of the new year, Bests were worn by Nos 1 & 2 where issued. The remainder of No. 2 and No.3 wore their Seconds. No.3 were immensely proud as they were wearing full uniform for the first time, even if they were a bit tatty in places. The parade had been preceded by frenzied activity in the kit stores when outgrown uniforms were exchanged for better(?) fits.
As for No.4 Platoon, on that first parade, one could say that as yet they did not exist as such.
They were merely a loose scrum of small (so they felt) somewhat apprehensive twelve year olds, herded into a corner by an impressive Sergeant ‘in ‘is Bests’ bearing obviously new stripes, and doing his best to look as important as he feels. Still in our normal school uniforms, we had no external signs of having become ‘Privates’ or anything else for that matter.
We had watched as the Company Sergeant Major, scarcely recognisable as our erstwhile Head Boy, strode out from the school cloisters and howled for ‘RIGHT MARKERS’. Three figures had emerged from a conglomerate of khaki elsewhere in the quadrangle and had been positioned to the former’s satisfaction, whereupon, to a drum beat Nos.1, 2 and 3 platoon ‘got Fell in’. Right Dressed and subjected to an initial inspection by their respective Sergeants (more new stripes) the Sergeant Major called the lot to attention. This was the signal for sundry junior officers to emerge in their turn from the cloisters, revealing that they too, on close inspection bore remarkable likenesses to several of our form masters. Having taken command of their respective platoons, the Second in Command emerged to take over the whole parade, each of which takeovers being accompanied by a succession of ‘Attentions’, ‘Stand at Eases’ and mutual saluting. Having taken up a position of importance on the front of the parade, the ‘2 i/c’ was now approached by the COMMANDING OFFICER.
Having assumed command, he proceeded to inspect closely all three platoons, silently (but sometimes less silently) expressing his dissatisfaction at the regrettable loss of smartness and established Good Order and Discipline, he handed the platoons over to their officers and then headed over in our direction, much to our further apprehension.
Captain Raymond was, on the other days of the week, our senior English teacher and even in that role was something of a martinet. In his military guise, he was even more so, tending to strike terror into transgressors both in class and on the parade ground. His determined step in our direction was to say the least of it, unnerving. He stopped in front of our motley group who, by that time had been herded into some semblance of order by the Sergeant. He regarded each of us in turn (as if he had never seen us before) with a cold silent gaze, expressing obvious disgust. After a pregnant pause, he said “Carry on, Sergeant” and stalked away after acknowledging a crashing salute from the latter.
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The Sergeant proceeded to ‘Carry On’ in more ways than one. He announced that although we were not wearing uniform, [underlined] we were now in the Officer’s Training Corps [/underlined], and we were not to forget it. For our first year in No.4 Platoon, our school uniform was also our OTC uniform. From now onwards it must be maintained to a much higher standard of neatness and cleanliness than it had previously been used by mere schoolboys.
In one’s teenage years (term not yet invented) someone who is three or four years older appears to be an adult even if he is only sixteen in actual fact. He has had three or four years of ‘military service’ by then and may also be a School Prefect. With the latter’s authority to inflict punishment which prefects had in those days, plus his now military authority, the utterings of our Sergeant seemed to have the authority of the Law, if not that of God himself!
Anyway, he told us that our shoes were filthy and by next parade he would expect to see his face in them. Our trousers were little better and he would expect them to be pressed with a straight and sharp crease. Our jackets were similarly over due for a good brushing. Our ties were yanked straight and our caps must be worn straight and level, and we all needed a hair cut.
Having got that lot off his chest, the time had come he said, for us to learn a bit of basic foot drill. We were taught to ‘Stand to Attention’, ‘Stand at Ease’ and ‘Stand Easy’. Detail is largely forgotten (it was seventy years ago) but every Thursdays afternoon it was ‘square bashing, so it seemed. We learned to Fall In, Fall Out, Right Dress and Salute, Right Turn, Left Turn and About Turn. We learned to Number, Size and because the Army at that time marched in Columns of Fours, we also learned that interesting manoeuvre ‘Form Fours’.
Drilling at the Halt more or less mastered, we then had to go on to Drilling on the March.
In the process of concentrating on swinging a stiff arm and wrist (thumbs pressed down etc) up to the level of the waist fore and aft, the command “Quick March” presented, in a few cases some immediate problems. Having established that the first step was always with the [underlined] left foot, [/underlined] this was often accompanied by the left arm being swung forward at the same time. The resulting progress would be somewhat reminiscent of that of a camel. That sorted out, we then had to master upon which step an About Turn was started, how many to get round to the opposite direction and when (and how) to step off again. The same applied to Left and Right Turns on the march, together with Right and Left Wheels. It was amazing how difficult the simple process of walking from A to B had become! On the other hand, our parents were having to get used to sons who now seemed to delight in Marching everywhere rather than adopting their previous ambulatory gait.
We had taken turns at being Right marker and had made a reasonably smart exhibition of ourselves at Falling In, Right Dressing, Falling Out and Saluting, and it was felt by our NCOs that we could be trusted to Fall In with the other platoons at the beginning and end of parades. Came the day when the Sergeant Major howled for Right Markers and four of these strode out, and four platoons ‘got Fell In’ without rousing the anger of all in authority about us.
With that, we really felt we were beginning to be soldiers, especially as now we were ‘in uniform’. Admittedly only just, one might say. We had been issued with khaki webbing belt with a brass buckle and a couple of extra brass fittings, the significance of which we would only learn later. Next was our introduction to that wondrous substance ‘Blanco’ which we learned to apply without getting khaki everywhere. ‘Brasso’ for the brasswork, without getting black stains elsewhere. Wearing this, we were now in the third category of uniform – ‘Mufti’.
This was an Arabic word brought back by the army to describe clothing worn by the soldiery when not in uniform. Two thirds of all our parades would be in mufti, i.e. school uniform plus the by now ubiquitous khaki webbing belt, no doubt to spare the Best and Second uniforms from wear and tear. However, we in No.4 Platoon must not be confused with the ‘real soldiers’ in the other platoons. Their belts would include the ‘Frog’, an extra bit of khaki webbing which would carry our bayonet scabbard when we progressed to rifle drill, but that was not for the ‘sprogs’ in No.4
Although it still feels like it, we did not spend the whole of every Thursday afternoon on the parade ground. We also had lectures on various subjects which, as we learned later, were the beginnings of the subjects on which we would be examined for ‘Certificate A’. Ranks and Badges, Army Structure and Organisation, Rules and Regulations, the first elements of First Aid and Hygiene, Map Reading are the ones which I can remember. No doubt there were others.
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‘Officer material’, we were not being trained as mere ‘rankers’. We were being trained as leaders and we were expected to act as leaders. We must not only learn (whatever it was) but we must also learn to teach – or rather ‘instruct’. Every new drill movement or any other subject was not only taught to a high level of competence, but each one of us in turn must expect to be called upon immediately or at a later date to instruct the others in that movement or subject. Of course, at No.4 Platoon level, this usually involved only simple drill movements, but from the very beginning we got used to standing out in front of the Section or Platoon and take command irrespective of whether we wore stripes or not.
This was all heady stuff. Discipline was always strict but there was also no shortage of praise where praise was due. Having received praise, we also learned to look for praiseworthiness and not be afraid to give it. We all became dead keen and looked forward to new subjects, though most of these were mainly symbolic. The Services make great play on the expression ‘Esprit de Corps’ and every man jack of us from twelve years upwards, stood high, marched high and bawled out our commands as good as the rest.
Which was just as well, for the high point of the spring term’s OTC activity was usually the Annual Inspection. For the OTC boys there was no school work that day, but it was no holiday. It was very much a ‘spit and polish’ affair and even closer attention was paid to hair length, trouser creases, shine on footwear and brasswork and general appearance. Drill movements were practised to perfection.
In addition to our usual officers hovering in the cloisters as we went through the initial stages of Falling In, the presence of the Inspecting Officer and his entourage, visibly heightened the tension. When the parade was ceremoniously handed over, he then proceeded to make his initial inspection. This took time as each man in each platoon was examined from head to toe and questions asked. The platoons not being inspected were thankful to be stood At Ease, but as he finished with No.3 Platoon, the command of ‘Attention’ to us, brought heartbeats up to heart attack levels as we stood strictly Eyes Front. The Inspecting Officer, usually a ‘Top Brass’ from Northern Command, cast his eye critically over us. We appeared to pass muster, and, acknowledging an even greatly smashing salute from our Sergeant, moved on to higher things.
The rest of the morning superficially resembled a typical Thursday afternoon’s activity. I was to learn later that it had been carefully orchestrated to show each platoon at it’s best, drilling, learning and instructing in turn to allow the Inspecting Officer to drop in at will to observe and examine. Apart from foot drill, I don’t think much was really expected of No.4 Platoon, but for all that, he watched us carry out a typical routine of movements at the halt and on the march. We had almost reached the point of relaxing when a couple of us were called out to instruct. So far as I can remember, I was not one of the (?) lucky ones. That happened on one of the later Annual Inspections.
The morning successfully over, we were dismissed for lunch. In the afternoon we were marched up to the School Field, preceded by the Band who had gone through their Counter Marching and other gyrations, bugle calls and drumming displays during the morning. Thereafter the senior platoons demonstrated their tactical and ‘battle’ skills with much shouting of commands and firing orders, together with some hopefully impressive bayonet charges. As yet No.4 Platoon was not up to such extremes and I think we spent most of the time watching, as the Inspecting Officer watched on with a critical eye. The programme over,
the Inspecting Officer expressed his satisfaction of all he had seen, congratulated us upon our turnout etc., etc., accepted a ceremonial General Salute from the Band and a final March Past, received and acknowledged a further round of salutes and departed with his entourage.
We marched back to school amidst sighs of relief for another year.
As the spring weather improved, we were introduced to another ‘delight’, the Route March. Pre war, the army did not have much in the way of troop transport. ‘Footsloggers’ were expected to footslog their way from A to B. for those who had them, this was a uniform afternoon and headed by the band, off we would go through the town and into the country lanes, fifty minutes march and ten minutes break. The first route march of the season would be for five or six miles but later this would be increased to ten miles or so. One hundred and thirty paces to the minute, roughly three miles per hour with our length of leg. The ‘adults’ of No.1 Platoon could, if necessary’, manage the regulation thirty three inch pace, but No.4 Platoon found it hard going. Amongst the other commands such as
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‘March to Attention’, ‘Eyes Left’ to a passing RAF Officer, etc., there would be the frequent cry passed forward of ‘Shorten Pace’. The relief was usually short lived as the Band having had a break from blowing, stuck [sic] up a new tune, to which the forward platoons immediately stepped out in response.
We had by now learned a little about ‘tactics’ in our theory lectures. As the better weather of late spring promised the possibility of dry grass, we frequently marched up to the school field to put into practice the principles of Section and Platoon field movements. We spent much time advancing, retreating and taking cover behind what little cover there was. Most of this seemed to be in the prone position, interspersed with mad, but carefully controlled dashes which were officially supposed to be ‘charges’.
This was all a bit theoretical in the case of No.4 Platoon as we did not have rifles. At twelve years old or so, we were mostly too small to handle the 8,1/2lb, 0.303in Lee Enfield without doing ourselves or others some serious damage. However, we had our khaki belt, and in the best Army tradition, we ‘went through the motions’, as much as anything to impress the other non-OTC boys who were condemned to spend their Thursday afternoons ‘gardening’. These pour souls, rarely in the least interested in things horticultural, were being persuaded by seemingly equally unenthusiastic house masters to cultivate the six small plots of land euphemistically called ‘House Gardens’ in which a few long suffering flowers and vegetables strove to survive.
Whatever their motivations, inspirations or inclinations, we ‘soldiers’ despised the ‘gardeners’/ in the years before we could join the OTC, we had done our share of gardening to level and prepare ground for new rugby and cricket pitches and no doubt there were a few in our ranks who had joined the OTC solely to escape further gardening.
As can well be imagined, the average school field does not contain much ‘cover’ from a military point of view. Our field contained the usual pavilion and gardening sheds, plus a captured WW1 German Howitzer which must have been attacked and defended countless times during the Twenties and Thirties before it eventually succumbed to the WW2 scrap metal drive. Finally there were those House Gardens alongside the eastern boundary.
By the middle of the Summer Term, there would be a fair show of vegetation in these and therefore qualified in the eyes of we, the soldiery, as potential cover. As a result, much to the annoyance and frustration of the house masters doing their best to maintain some measure of order and orderly growth, the gardens were bravely defended and resolutely attacked. Eventually, when combat reached the point where actual bodily harm threatened the vegetation and/or its reluctant cultivators, complaints from the house masters resulted in a Standing Order being issued placing the area ‘out of bounds’. This would hold for the rest of the school year but would have been conveniently forgotten by the commencement of the following year’s Spring Offensives. The summer term had two high points for the older platoons, which were denied to those in No.4. These were the Field Day and the Annual Summer Camp. In both cases, the participants had to be old enough, possessors of full uniforms and competent in arms drill. We were none of these and had to watch the departure of the privileged, taking some small comfort in the fact that in time, such delights would come our way. When indeed it did come my way, there would be much to recount. But it was still painful to have to wait.
Schooling in the Thirties was heavily examination orientated. In addition to the end of the year scholastic exams to decide the Movers Up and the Stayers Down, we also had OTC tests and assessments. I don’t think anyone actually stayed down in No.4 Platoon but we were nevertheless closely advised to revise all we had learned in the past year. In the interest of Esprit de Corps and personal pride, these tests had to be passed with the highest possible markings.
The Summer Term ended with much personal satisfaction on the part of Private Stevenson P.D., knowing that he had been not found too wanting scholastically and would be moving up a Form, but he would also be moving up into No.3 Platoon. His last military act was to carefully blanco and polish his belt and hand it into Stores. For the next few weeks he would revert to civvie life, forget school and the Army and catch up with the RAF.
Once again there would be the pilgrimages up Cold Harbour Lane, that green lane bordering the north eastern boundary of Spittlegate airfield, to check up how the pupils of No.3 FTS were
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[map]
RAF GRANTHAM 1938
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Avro 504N
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Armstrong Whitworth Atlas Trainer
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[picture]
Hawker Tomtit
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de Havilland Tiger Moth
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Avro Tutor
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Hawker Hart Trainer
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Avro Anson
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progressing and to find out what, if any, new aircraft were doing their Circuits and Bumps. Although the pattern of flying did not appear to have changed much over the previous year or two, quite a lot had happened to the aircraft. For Elementary Training, the legendary Avro 504N had given way briefly to the Hawker Tomtit. This in turn had been replaced by the first of the de Havilland Tiger Moths, which No.3 FTS were the first to introduce into training service. In their turn, they had been replaced by the new Avro Tutor. There had also been changes in the Advanced Training aircraft. The ageing Armstrong Whitworth Atlas was replaced by the Hawker Hart Trainer which was fast enough to outpace most of the current fighter types. These were all single engine biplane types, but the RAF would soon be introducing two monoplanes into front line service as the rearmament programme slowly gained momentum. Suddenly our sound spectrum had a new sound as the Avro Anson trainers began their circuits. There was much to see and note, and the fathers of my two school friends, one on the FTS staff, the other on the staff of the Training Group H.Q. were quick to transmit their enthusiasms for the new types. To our delight, the three of us were smuggled in to the hangers one day to make first hand contact with them, and for the first time I was able to sit in cockpits and lay hands on controls.
Feet once more on ground, there were two other significant developments that summer. The Air League of the British Empire, had done much to promote the Hendon Air Shows, and had also taken a large hand in the promotion of the RAF Open Days. Spittlegate was one of the first to open its gates to the general public, and in addition to an impressive line up of its own aircraft, hosted a wide variety of new and tried aircraft from the other RAF units. These were great events, both on the ground and in the air displays forming an essential part of the programme. Naturally, I was in the first group to rush in when the station gates opened.
The other event was also an Air League development. As a continuing aspect of its Air Mindedness programme, it had started a Junior Section. For a modest subscription, its monthly magazine kept its readers up to date with all the latest in military and civil aeronautics. Having been one of the first to join, this magazine was to become essential reading, to the detriment of homework assignments on the days following its arrival. Copies were filed away for reading through again and again through the school holidays.
Like all summer holidays, that of 1936 went all too quickly. The last week was a desperate attempt to complete the holiday homework tasks (which of course had got left to the last possible minute). School uniforms were cleaned and the summer’s accumulated grime was carefully removed from shoes. There was also a most important item to be purchased, a pair of black army style boots!
The first parade of September 1936 was typical. Frenzied activity in the area of the Quartermaster’s Stores over the previous days had equipped the new No.1 Platoon with ‘Bests’ (Appropriately larger) together with Seconds. They had also been reissued with ‘Service’ rifles (i.e. capable of being fired with live and blank ammunition, possessing sharp bayonets, and these were being furiously cleaned, oiled and lovingly examined. The new No.2 Platoon were issued with Seconds and most of them had to be content with ‘Demonstration Purposes’ rifles. These ‘DP’ rifles, long past being safely fired, still carried their regulation Bolt but its firing pin had been removed, so that it could still go through the motions of being fired with ‘DP’ rounds, to the general safety of all concerned. To their delight the new No.3 platoon would now in time be issued with Seconds, but until they had mastered the arts of wearing them correctly, they had been reissued with the inevitable khaki belt, but this differed in one vital respect.
This term, No3 Platoon would begin Arms Drill, which involved the wearing of the bayonet (D.P. and therefore blunt), and this called for the addition of the ‘Frog’. To the uninitiated, this small extra piece of webbing, used to hold the bayonet scabbard when worn, hanging down the left thigh of the wearer, would be the one thing which distinguished the seasoned troops of No.3 Platoon from the riff-raff of No.4 Platoon when Mufti was being worn! As before No. 3 would not parade with arms until they had learned to handle them.
Bearing the appropriate accoutrements, the parade Fell In with the exception of No.4 Platoon which once again did not yet exist. In No.3, we Faced Front and ignored the presence of a heap of very young looking humanity herded into one corner by a very new Sergeant who also seemed to be nothing like as old as our Sergeant. Surely, they didn’t expect to make soldiers out of that lot!
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SIR ARTHUR & LADY LONGMORE WITH THEIR FAMILY AT ELSHAM HOUSE.
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[underlined] THE ‘SHORT LEE ENFIELD’ 0.303in RIFLE [/underlined]
[underlined] [which we came to know so know [sic] so very well] [/underlined]
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Following ‘Fall In’, Inspection (usual silent expression of disgust on the part of the Commanding Officer) and ‘Carry On’, our feelings of superiority were instantly deflated by the descent upon us of a new set of newly promoted NCOs. They immediately informed us that our last year’s performance was merely the kindergarten stage, and that we must now set about turning ourselves into real soldiers. Even at the age of thirteen as we now were, to us, the sixteen year old Sergeant appeared to be highly adult, especially as he now had two Annual Camps behind him, in which he had been subject to full Regular Army life and discipline.
However, before we could commence our ‘licking into shape’, we needed to be ‘kitted out’. No old soldier needed to be reminded of that peculiar (in both senses of the work) aroma of the Quartermaster’s Stores, (or in our school, ‘The Armoury’). A mixture of the smells of blanco, webbing, polish on boots, leather, gun oil and above all, uniforms. Well worn and long used heavy serge acquires a lingering scent of mud, rain and sweat, and after prolonged storage in poorly ventilated store rooms, no amount of cleaning, be it the home wash tub or the professional cleaners, can remove it completely.
In spite of the slow beginnings of rearmament, funding at No.3 Platoon level was virtually zero. Our ‘new’ uniforms conceivably many moons ago someone’s Bests, had by the time we were struggling into them, been issued, reissued, worn, patched and washed to the point where it’s khaki was more of a shade than a colour. Its serge had long ago given up the task of retaining a decent crease and defied most attempts at ironing and pressing. Most parents must have been horrified at the garments so proudly brought home later that afternoon. After all, their son, being in the OTC was costing them five whole shillings per term. (Something like £20 in 2006 money!)
For us, the new No.3 Platoon, the afternoon seemed to be spent in being issued with the various bits of uniform and getting them on properly. We were issued with a round service cap bearing the cap badge of the Lincolnshire Regiment. Then a high collared jacket whose brass buttons bore the school emblem. A pair of equally misshaped ‘plus four’ type trousers followed, which had to be held up by a pair of braces. These were fastened by a strap just under the knee. Much to our satisfaction, was the belt, [underlined] complete with Frog. [/underlined] Much less to our subsequent satisfaction was the pair of Puttees. (Magic word from India this time, from.. Hindi ‘patti’ = bandage)
As it’s derivation would indicate, the puttee was a khaki strip some 10cm wide and about two metres long, which would be wound round your carves, starting at the ankle and ending (hopefully) just under the knees on top of the lower end of your trousers, where it is tied with two laces. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? Nothing could be further from the truth. The army puttee is of a standard length intended for six foot plus beefy adults down thirteen year old mini soldiers. The winding of a puttee is both art and science. Having put on your boots, you roll up the puttee into a tight roll, it’s top end in the middle. Two turns are wrapped round the ankle and you start to wind it carefully up the leg, clockwise round the right leg and anticlockwise round the left (and heaven help you if the inspecting officer finds that you have wound both legs round the same way). Now comes the difficult bit. The aim is to end up at the top with two overlapping turns, and the art/science is how to manage the major part of the length in the middle. For a start, each wrap round the leg must advance upwards by [underlined] exactly [/underlined] the same amount. Obviously, the smaller you are, the smaller should be the distance between the lower edges of the wraps. This is a state of perfection which takes weeks to achieve, especially since the next problem is ‘How tight?’. Too tight and your feet freeze ‘cos you have stopped your blood flowing. Too loose, and horror of horrors, following a particularly enthusiastic stamping of the feet, the whole lot unwinds round your feet, bang in the middle of an important parade! It seemed to take the whole of the afternoon (and more practises at home) to get everything sorted out to an acceptable standard on subsequent parades. One final item to complete this initial kit issue – a Button Stick, a wondrous relic of those Brass Button Days. A strip of stiff brass with a slot down the middle, allowed it to be slid under the buttons and Brasso applied without fear of getting black stains on the serge beneath. After further instruction on the care of the uniform (deliberately issued a size or so bigger ‘to allow for growth’), we just about made it in time for the afternoon’s ‘Dismiss’.
As with life in the schoolrooms, the first few parades of the new year were devoted to revision. The school holidays had, as we were once again reminded, allowed us to slip back into sloppy ways. Foot Drill had to be brought back to scratch and theory re-polished, so there was a lot of square bashing and theory revision to be done before we could start on anything new.
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Came the great day when, having completed our afternoon ration of foot drill, we were marched off to the Armoury to collect a rifle apiece. The first impact was, of course it’s weight. Carrying it carefully to a nearby classroom, we began our first lesson – ‘The Naming of Parts’. New to us perhaps, [deleted] by [/deleted] [inserted] BUT [/inserted] not to Kipling and the Indian Army. Like 95% of all previous subjects, the lesson was delivered by one of the senior NCOs, with the usual admonition “Learn these names until you can recite them in your sleep, because when I’m finished, one of you is going to instruct the others and every time I see you lot, someone else is going to have to do the same”
We started at the muzzle and worked down steadily to the butt. We removed the magazine and the bolt and we peered up the bore. We discovered the little flap in the brass plate of the butt to reveal the ‘Pull Through’ with it’s bit of flannelette known as the ‘Four By Two’ and beyond that the brass oil bottle. We examined the Foresight which was fixed (It was years before I gathered that John Galsworthy’s Forsyte Saga had nothing whatsoever to so [sic] with the aiming of a rifle). Then on to the Rear Sight, which was not fixed and had a lot of fiddley bits which we would have to learn to use. The Sergeant then handed each of us five Dummy (D.P.) Rounds which we learned to load into the magazine. Making sure that the muzzles were pointing at the ceiling, we loaded the magazine into the rifle and ‘put one up the spout’. Since these were D.P. Rifles, which had no firing pins, and again making sure our spouts were pointing skywards, we ‘fired’ our first round. Ecstasy!. Loosing off the remaining with gay abandon, we put everything to rights, and with some reluctance, handed them back into the Armoury. We discovered later that these rifles had been formally issued to individuals in No.2 Platoon who were not at all happy that [underlined] their [/underlined] rifles were being used by the ‘rookies’ in No.3.
Having sorted out which end was which, we were now ready to make a start on Arms Drill. Now the Short Lee Enfield Mk.IV or whatever it was (they looked old enough to be Mk.I) was sufficiently long for it’s muzzle to be somewhere around the right ear of some of us when it was standing vertical. It was also heavy enough to seriously threaten the stability of the smaller thirteen year olds if handled too enthusiastically. So, when the day came for us to start, we were stationed sufficiently far apart to ensure mutual safety, and enough NCOs about to assist in individual safety. First, we had to learn new positions of Attention, At Ease and Easy. No great problem and no threat to safety, apart, that is, from someone who managed to drop his rifle. Short lecture on the three grades of army crime – dropping one’s rifle is rated as ‘Major’. The real trouble starts when having had a brisk demonstration of the movement instigated by the command ‘Slope Arms’, accompanied by the shouting of ‘One Stop – Two Stop – Three’ which will become bitten into the souls of all true soldiers, we attempt to do the same. Of course our sixteen year old Sergeant is almost fully grown and from long practice can whip the 8 1/2lb to the first and second movements as if it were mere balsa wood while his body remains virtually motionless. Three years younger and half grown, the 8 1/2lb suddenly becomes 8 1/2kg, requiring major bodily movement to achieve anything like the same effect. Bodies totter and NCOs leap in to restore balance. Miraculously, the rifles are now on our left shoulders but slope in all directions. In the case of an adult, the relative proportions of rifle and body will, given time and practice, achieve a 45 degree slope of the rifle with a horizontal left forearm, with the weight evenly balanced on the shoulder. Unless one is large for one’s age, by No.3 Platoon averages, something has to give if the weight is not to tip the victim backwards. Having more or less straightened us all out, we attempt the ‘Order Arms’ which we achieve without crushing our right toes. We try again with slightly more success. Eventually the lesson ends. Whether it because the Sergeant was satisfied (which perhaps was doubtful) or whether we were exhausted (which was more likely) or indeed, whether one or the other was on the point of tears, which was equally likely.
Subsequent arms drill sessions involved all the normal foot drill movements now with rifles, plus a few extras such as Present Arms, For Inspection Port Arms, Ease Springs, etc. Having more or less mastered these we progressed to Fix Bayonets (“When I says Fix, you don’t Fix, but when I says ‘Bayonets’ you whips ‘em out and you wops ‘em on and you wets a while” (phraseology faithfully passed down from NCO to NCO from pre-Napoleonic days or even earlier). It took months to get it all more or less right and all the time we were being reminded that we were supposed to be in the British Army and not Fred Kano’s (Fred Kano was supposed to be the mythical General of the army of some equally mythical South American Banana Republic state and therefore the most contemptible of military establishments.
The Armistice Day parades came and went with us in full uniform, even if we did have to let No.2 Platoon have their rifles back for the occasion. Our second year in the Corps was aimed at completing our initial training as infantrymen. Background subjects proliferated with field tactics
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playing an increasing part in our training, for this year would be the first in which we could take part in the annual Field Day. Now that we could (more or less) handle a rifle, we had to learn Fire Control and the principles of covering fire and the like. We were presented with posters showing various forms of terrain over which we needed to plan our movements to take advantage of available cover and where to expect enemy fire. The countryside surrounding our school field became suddenly hostile or potentially useful according to whether we were defending or preparing to attack. We now took part in attacks and defensives at both Platoon and Company level which duly impressed this year’s Inspecting Officer, who incidentally, did not appear to be anything like so formidable this year. Maybe it was he was not so formidable, or was it a measure of our growing confidence?
Another annual event which has not been mentioned so far was ‘Founder’s Day’. This was the day when the school opened its gates to all and sundry including fond parents who could see what their little darlings were doing in exchange for their parent’s hard earned school fees. The day would start with a service in the nearby Parish Church in which King Edward, and his merry men, back in the fourteenth century, were praised for their forethought, and other notables including such past pupils as Newton, Lord Burleigh, and Archbishop Wand, were praised for their ghostly presence. After this formality, we trooped back to the school. The OTC in all (or nearly all) their Bests, accompanied by the Band in their Very Bests (Big Drummer in his Tiger Skin etc, [sic]) gave a formidable display of Felling In, being inspected by the Mayor, Foot and Arms Drilling, marching and counter marching, Marching Past and Dismissing all to cries of command ranging from semi bass to semi falsetto.
While the civvies were being suitably diverted, the soldiers suddenly changed into school boys to man impressive displays in school rooms, art rooms, laboratories and workshops.
That out of the way, we prepared for Field Day, No.3 Platoon now qualifying for the first time. In preparation for this we were issued with more kit. This consisted of a haversack which hung from the waist, a backpack which (obviously) went on your back and ammunition pouches which hung down your front, all of which required more in the way of webbing which was fixed to the brass buckle things on the belt that we had spent the last two years assiduously polishing for no apparent reason.
The Field Day was held in the Parklands of a kindly disposed stately home from which his Lordship would observe with interest (and his gamekeepers with apprehension) while the soldiery of six or more local Grammar School OTCs, scared the living daylights out of his wildlife. The various OTCs would be divided into two Brigades, one of which would defend some appropriate strong point while the other attacked. The ground would have been carefully surveyed by the respective Commanding Officers in conjunction with sundry Regulars from Northern Command who would act as umpires for the day, and an approximate battle plan worked out in advance. On the day, the defenders would arrive from one direction and get themselves ‘dug in’ and, suitably camouflaged. Forward ‘O.Ps’ (Observation Posts) would be deployed towards the general direction of the expected attack. Meanwhile, the attackers arrived from another direction, would ‘debus’ and form themselves into something resembling an attack Brigade. Deploying on a wide front, scouting parties would be sent out to probe the enemy’s positions. Much creeping, ducking and crawling, accompanied by soot voce commands would, in due time provoke a volley of blank cartridge fire from one or other of the O.Ps.
Battle was joined. All very confusing at 3 Platoon level, especially as my section’s Corporal managed to get us separated from the main force which resulted in us being declared ‘Wiped Out’, or ‘Captured’ or something before we really got going. Appropriately labelled by an Umpire, we had to sit and listen to the battle raging around us. Those of No.1 Platoon and a few in No.2 who were the proud possessors of Service Rifles had received a ration of blank cartridges and these were being used to most audible effect against an enemy who had apparently been issued with ever more. Very exciting.
The Umpires having inflicted significant casualties on both sides, declared that it was now time for a truce to be declared and emergency rations to be consumed. This was no great help since, although our parents had filled our haversacks with enough emergency rations for several meals, the exertions and the fresh air had caused them to be dipped into long ago and little remained. After lunch, the state of battle had apparently reached the point where the defenders should stage a counter attack. To our delight, another Umpire declared that we had been uncaptured or something and that we could now rejoin the affray. Happily toting our few D.P.SLEs, even if we could not have any blanks to fire, we deployed, worked our bolts, took aim at indicated targets, worked our bolts,
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squeezed our triggers and shouted BANG at the appropriate point. Sometime later we somehow managed to locate a Section of the enemy holed up in an outhouse without them detecting us. We had learned to throw a D.P. Mills Grenade by this time, but these were far too valuable ‘stores’ for them to be carried on manoeuvres. In compensation, we had been issued with a box of matches and a number of ‘penny bangers’. Having discovered that the door to this outhouse had a convenient knot hole which he had used to spy on the occupants, the Corporal lit one and posted it through, to the consternation of those within. The Corporal claimed victory from the observing Umpire.
With some justification, the Umpire ruled that (a) if the Corporal had a Mills Bomb, he would not have been able to post it through the said knot hole, (b) had he opened the door and thrown the banger in, as he would have had to have done had he used a Mills Bomb, his slaughter might have been allowed, but (c) the door had been bolted so he couldn’t have done so anyway. The Umpire then withdrew both us and the ‘enemy’ to a safe distance apart and told us to get on with our war. (It is truly amazing how the memory of such minor incidents remains fresh after so many years when far more important things are lost forever)
However, I think it was about this time that the Head Umpire called for the cessation of hostilities. After much blowing of whistles, shouting and Rendez Vous hand signals, the troops were eventually brought altogether for the Inquest. Unit A was praised for this and Unit B censured for that, but overall the exercise was declared a success (It always was). As for us, we were far too tired and hungry to take much in, and it was a weary mob who ‘embussed’ for the journey home. As was to be expected, someone had lost something, which led to no end of enquiry and recriminations, but in compensation, we had managed to ‘acquire’ several other things of value which was cause for quiet satisfaction and a blind eye.
Field Day over, we settled down to our final term of the year. ‘Settled’ was a misnomer of course. The summer term was always the most hectic term of the year. Masters were desperately trying to complete their curriculum targets. Scholars were desperately trying to make up for lost time and standards and ‘squaddies’ were desperately revising and polishing up their instructional techniques. Behind all this there was an increasing buzz as No.2 Platoon were doing their best to hide their excitement as the time neared for them to go to their first Annual Camp. There was a similar buzz in No.1 Platoon, but this was tempered by the realisation that although it would be their second camp, it would be the last for many.
At No.3 Platoon level, the question of camp was still a matter of biding our time for another year, but that did not remove the feelings of envy. This year it was Northern Command’s turn to stage the Annual Camp, the two thousand or so Senior and Junior OTC cadets would be ‘entertained’ at the big army complex at Strensall in South Yorkshire. Even to those who were unable to go, ‘Strensall’ and 1937 were inseparable. Enviously, during the last week of term, we watched their final kitting up. For some of our NCOs, this would be their swan song. When school opened again in September, not only would we see a new NCO structure with many new stripes on display, the announcement that we had successfully passed all our tests, meant that next year we would be in No.2 Platoon.
We made our final Dismiss of the year, we handed in all our kit. We closed our desks and sang our farewell hymns. We said goodbye to those friends we would not be seeing over the holidays, and went home determined to forget all about school, but not all about the OTC.
For six or seven weeks we were gong [sic] to be civvies, and catch up with the RAF. There was a lot to catch up in 1937. Aircraft which had been mere specifications in the early Thirties, were now coming into service and their successors were well into the prototype and development stages. The biplanes were beginning to go. Sleek monoplanes were increasingly seen.
Much Lincolnshire farmland was being requisitioned for new airfields. New Squadrons were being formed. They might spend a few months ‘working up’ on Hawker Hinds but once their act was together, they converted to single and twin engine replacements. RAF Scampton, just north of Lincoln, reopened and was home briefly to Barnes Wallis’ first geodetic wonderbird, the Vickers Wellesley. It’s long range capability and load capacity was to equip the RAF’s Long Range
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[picture]
Vickers Wellesley
[picture]
Handley Page Hampden
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ST. VINCENT’S
[picture]
Vickers Wellington
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Fairey Battle
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Development Flight at Cranwell and in the following year it gained the World’s Long Distance Record for the RAF.
A new Bomber Command Group was formed and established it’s Headquarters in a large house and grounds in Grantham, just down the hill from Spittlegate. Within a few years, tis Group would become a legend and it’s Commanding Officer equally legendary. It’s staff increased and the sons joined the King’s School. ‘5 Group’ and ‘Harris’ entered our vocabularies and the plane spotters reported Handley Page Hampdens and Vickers Wellingtons in the skies to the north.
Things were also changing on the Flying Training scene. Now that the threat from the air was more likely to be from the east, Lincolnshire airfields were needed for combat squadrons.
No2. FTS left RAF Digby for safer skies in the south west and two fighter squadrons moved in. They were originally equipped with biplanes, but these were soon replaced by Hawker Hurricanes. No.3. FTS also left Spittlegate shortly afterwards. Spittlegate became a bomber station. Two bomber squadrons moved in, both working up with Hind biplanes but soon converted to Fairey Battles. More changes of personnel and new faces at school. New aircraft to land in over our hea[underlined]d[/underlined]s up Cold Harbour Lane.
We must have been getting older. The summer holidays appeared to be getting even shorter!
Only days after my fourteenth birthday, so it seemed, we were on countdown to a new school year. Destined for the Lower Fifth, we were also at an age when we were growing up the fastest, and by the time school started again, we would have grown out of last year’s clothes anyway. This was not the only criterion. As members of this year’s No.2 Platoon, we would be getting [underlined] Bests [/underlined] as well as Seconds and we must look as correspondingly smart in our Mufti.
We had no sooner got kitted up and drawn [underlined] our rifles [/underlined] (for this year each rifle was to be the personal responsibility of the person to whom it was issued), and had carried out our first parade of the year, when we learned that changes were in the air. It would seem that the Army was to be equipped at infantry level with the new Bren Gun, a highly accurate, easily manageable machine gun to replace the clumsy, heavy and temperamental Lewis Gun which had been the Army’s lot since WW1. These were to be issued at the rate of three to the platoon. Numbers and dispositions were going to be reorganised into a Platoon of three Sections, each of seven men. Of course it would be years before D.P. Bren Guns would be available at OTC level, but from now on we would ‘go through the motions’ as riflemen.
New Drill and Field Training Manuals would eventually arrive. The principal change in drilling was that the new compact three rank platoon could move off smartly in columns of threes rather than having to go through the ‘Form Fours’ procedure which now became history. (Pity in a way. A good ‘Form Fours’ executed smartly by a well trained squad could be a joy to watch). Other foot drill movements were also affected by this new platoon formation and this all took time to master, both in execution and from an instructional point of view.
Generally speaking, this 1937-38 year followed it’s usual pattern of drill and theory sessions, major ceremonials and new challenges. Increasingly, as No.2 Platoon, we were called upon to instruct even though we were still a long way off from wearing stripes. By now we had well mastered the use of the mnemonic of the day, PODEIR. Called upon to instruct, the first thing we had to do was to carry out our Preliminaries, i.e. collecting any necessary gear, getting the squad into the necessary place for the instruction to begin, and to prepare yourself for the task. Addressing the squad, you needed to clearly state the Objectives of the unit of instruction. “Today you will learn how to clean your rifle correctly’. Next, you need to give a clear Demonstration of what you are proposing to teach the squad. This is then followed by a clear Explanation, repeated often enough for the subject to be thoroughly understood.
[underlined]I[/underlined]nterrogation of the squad is carried out to find out if the subject is indeed thoroughly understood. Repetition of the movement or whatever, on the part of the squad is then carried out enough times to insure that the instruction has ‘stuck’.
The routine was interspersed by a number of small but memorable events. One significant, but not previously introduced member of the instructional team, was the local Territorial Depot Sergeant. As ex Regular, he lived in the Territorial Barracks on the far side of the town, coming down frequently to keep a fatherly eye upon all our doings. As we progressed to higher things, squads from Nos.1 & 2 Platoons, as a pleasant change from field exercises on the school playing field, would march up to
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the Barracks for sundry training activities under his instruction. One of the most popular of these was firing practice on the Territorial’s indoor range. If I remember rightly, a thing called a Morris Tube or some such name, could be inserted into the bore of the standard 0.303in rifle enabling it to fire 0.22in bullets, with quite reasonable accuracy. Thus armed, we could carry out single shot, groups and rapid fire exercises, as well as learning Range Discipline. On other occasions, we carried out Gas Drill.
This was still within living memory of the gas attack horrors of the Great War and we, as a nation were still apprehensive of another war unleashing even more horrible war gases on both the military and civilian populations. The Barracks therefore had a Gas Room, in which we were first of all introduced to synthesised odours of Mustard and Phosgene gases. We would then don and learn to adjust an army style gas mask and sit there while the room was filled with tear gas. As you begin to perspire as a result of the claustrophobic effect of sitting there in a hot stuffy room, the tear gas settling on your sweat, starts to prickle like mad.
At this point the Sergeant yells at you to pull your masks off and clear the room IN AN ORDERLY MANNER1[sic]. Half blinded and choking, we clear the room in a most disorderly manner while the Sergeant reminds us that until that moment we had been sitting in a room full of tear gas with no apparent effect and to emphasise the point, makes us redon our masks and go in for another ten minutes. Not one of our pleasantest exercises.
There was one seldom expressed advantage of marching up to and back from the Territorial Barracks. As may be gathered from the previous commentaries, the King’s School was strictly boys only. On the opposite side of the town, and directly opposite to the Territorial Barracks, was the Girls High School and it’s extensive playing fields. Now the headmistress of this school ran it with an iron hand and was constantly complaining to our headmaster that his boys were making a point of parading past her school in order to fraternise with her pupils. As a result, the road past her school was, in term time strictly out of bounds to any boys who did not have to pass that way. Somehow, to the delight of all but the headmistress and her all female staff, our marches to and from the Barracks, not only had to pass her school and playing fields, but seemed to do so when her darlings were doing their jolly hockey sticks or whatever. Discipline was difficult to maintain on both sides of the fence, and the command “Eyes Front” tended to be ignored.
On an even lighter note, we were once again in the Route Marching season. When we were marching through the town and therefore in the public eye, we would ‘March To Attention’ either to some stirring tune blared out by the buglers, or to the accompaniment of pace taps from one of the side drummers. Once clear of the town, the command would ring out “March At Ease”. After a brief period of semi relaxation, someone would start whistling. Unlike today, everyone seemed to ‘Whistle While They Worked’ or went about their daily life. Of course, from early childhood, we had learned of the sad fate of those unfortunate Green Bottles which had been overcome by the effects of gravity. Also, though we were yet to discover the location of that elusive Meadow which required so many men to mow it and why the first man always had to bring his dog along, we nevertheless sang along regardless. These we soon realised, were excellent marching tunes which could be hummed, whistled or sung aloud with appropriate gusto. We also marched to, whistled and sang about the considerable distance between the centre of London and Tipperary (wherever that was). At our age, it was perhaps debatable whether we should be so enthusiastically singing the praises of the Barley Mow, that establishment’s staff and it’s wide range of barrels containing it’s liquid refreshments. Straying a little nearer the edge, someone might start whistling the tune of Colonel Bogey or one of the more liberal minded officers, the army’s less respectable lyrics could be heard quietly sung by those in Nos.1 & 2 Platoon who had been to Annual Camp where apparently there were few inhibitions on such ribaldry. On the other hand, if the Commanding Officer was striding along at the column’s head there would be an immediate command to “March To Attention” which put a rapid end to such lack of good order and discipline.
Armistice Day, Annual Inspection, and Founder’s Day passed sufficiently routinely to leave no great mark on my memory for the autumn of 1937 to the late spring of 1938, and so did the Field Day for that year. Some of us in No.2 Platoon were able to take Service Rifles, which meant that we could fire blank cartridges. We got involved in black market transactions for ‘gash’ blanks. Apparently, at Annual Camp the Army would dish out far more blank cartridges than the troops were called upon to fire, which meant that the pouches of the said troops arrived back far from empty. It was ‘not done’ to hand these in, and the blanks were smuggled home and hidden away from nosey parents until the next Field Day. Now the usual official issue of blanks was rarely more than ten, but somehow
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enough blanks had mysteriously changed hands, (to some advantage to the vendors thereof), so that when an NCO or an officers [sic] called for say “Five Rounds Rapid Fire” , the resulting volley seemed to go on for far longer than was expected., [sic] even after “Cease Fire” was commanded.
So, inexorably, the Summer Term of 1938 heralded more terminal examinations and OTC Tests and Assessments, but this year it was different. We were fourteen years [underlined] old [/underlined], reasonably competent in Arms Drill, had fired on the indoor range, had experienced two Field Days, passed most if not all our annual tests and assessments and were therefor eligible to go to our first Annual Camp with the ‘veterans’ of No.1 Platoon.
Behind all the anticipatory excitement of going to the Annual Camp was the sobering thought that proud as we would be at also moving up into No.1 Platoon, the height of achievement, the primary objective of life in No.1 Platoon would be the one and only opportunity for most of us to pass our Certificate A. For several months we had been working through and revising all the various aspects of the ‘Cert A’ syllabus, and once we started again in September, it would be the final count down to the actual tests which would take place either just before or just after Christmas. Since a large proportion of these tests had direct reference to the experience we would gain at Camp, that week’s activity was never to be regarded as a fun holiday.
[underlined] The 1938 Tweezledown OTC Camp [/underlined]
Following the previous year’s Northern Command’s camp at Strensall, it was now Southern Command’s turn to host the OTC Annual Camp, and for the good of our souls, it was decided to give us the full Aldershot treatment.
Accordingly, The Chosen assembled in Good Order and Discipline on the southbound platform of Grantham Station on the Saturday morning following the end of school for that year. Kitbags had been issued and were now bulging with Seconds, spare clothing, towels and toilet kits, knife, fork, spoon and mug and items of ‘tuck’ and recreation. We were in our Bests, with boots and buttons gleaming in the sunshine, webbing blancoed to perfection.
Ammunition pouches were empty apart from a few surreptitious ‘extras’ left over from the last Field Day. On the other hand, we all bore full Service Rifles complete with Firing Pins and sharp bayonets (None of your ‘D.P. stuff for this week!). We awaited the arrival of the specially chartered train to take us and other OTC contingents from the north.
When it eventually arrived, somewhat late, our demeanour and composure was somewhat discomposed by the howls, jeers, cheers and catcalls from the contingents already on board. Our Commanding Officers [sic] was not amused, ordered us aboard our specified carriage, delegated the stowage of our kitbags and other spare gear and stalked forward with his other officers with appropriate dignity to the First Class carriages.
We quickly discovered that our carriage was sealed off from the others, no doubt to prevent an outbreak of civil war. We settled down to await developments. As the train gathered speed, we were somewhat surprised to observe yards and yards of paper flying past our windows. An opened window disclosed the reason thereof. In the forward carriage beyond us, two extended arms held a vertically disposed bayonet which had been threaded though [sic] a toilet roll. The slipstream was doing the rest. Any attempt to copy this in our carriage was rapidly quelled. The train approached Peterborough station. Through trains were required to pass though [sic] at ten miles per hour giving platform dwellers opportunity to gaze with some interest at a train full of what appeared to be very young soldiers. The train contents gaze back. Suddenly a volley of rifle fire erupts from one of the carriages to the rear. Amidst screams and shouts, the crowd on the platform scatters. Someone pulls the communication cord and the train screeches to a stop. Officers appear rapidly from the forward carriage, Railway Police appear rapidly from their den. Platform crowd emerges from cover. More shouting and commands. Our train is shunted onto a siding. We await further developments. Whistles, jerks and shunting noises from the rear of the train. Even more behind time now, the train moves off. NCOs work down carriage, carefully searching for and confiscating any further stocks of ‘gash’ blank cartridges. We explore the contents of our haversacks. We never did discover the identity and fate of the contents of the carriage we left behind. their unit was reported as ‘Missing Presumed Lost’ on arrival at Aldershot Station which was reached without further incident.
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We were met by army lorries, manned by Regular Army personnel who made it quite clear that henceforth, everything had to be done ‘at the double’. Our camp was to be held on the Racecourse at Twezledown (or was it ‘Twezeldown’ or even ‘Tweezledown’ or …….) Anyway, there was nothing ‘twee’ about it, as we soon discovered. It was next door to the big Aldershot Army Training Camps, whose staffs were right here to get us sorted. We were tipped out and marched off with kit and kitbags to a bell-tented city of hundreds of tents and marquees. Our homes for the week were allocated, into which our kitbags were dumped. We were told to change into Seconds at the double and fall in outside our tents. Marched off (at the double, of course) to a large marquee filled with straw, we were issued with canvas ‘Palliasse’ covers which we filled with straw. Enthusiasm led to over filling and almost cylindrical objects defied all attempts to lie comfortably for the first night or two. (God help any tent with any discarded whisps of straw decorating the hallowed grass surrounding it) Having disposed of these round the interior of the tent, feet to the middle, we doubled off to another tent to collect blankets and a pillow apiece, only to find upon our return, that a rival unit had obligingly collapsed our tents. Such, we gathered from those for whom this was their second camp, was ‘Army Life’. More confusion as we re-erected them, double secured the guy lines and made our beds up into some semblance of order.
We had of course, consumed our travelling rations within ten miles or so of leaving Grantham so that by now, we were ravenous. However, around this time a bugle sounded ‘Cookhouse’ and we all trooped off to the Mess Tents for a ‘tea’ which just about half filled our aching voids. On our return to our lines, we found our tents in the process of being once again collapsed by a raiding party, the ensuing free fight being quickly subdued by some patrolling VERY LARGE Military Policemen.
Our first day at camp was rounded off by the whole camp falling in to the Main Parade Ground, a last time, we experience the phenomenal parade ground voice of RSM Britten, the Senior Regimental Sergeant Major of the British Army of that era, the terror of all ranks below that of Colonel.
We began to appreciate the true size of the OTC movement as rank upon rank of us were inspected by the Camp Commandant. We were, after all only the top ends of our respective units. That over, we celebrated the lowering of the Union Flag to the sounds of mass buglers sounding the Last Post. A mass March Past and Dismiss gave us the false impression that things were over for the day. Back at our tents, we collapsed onto our ‘beds’ only to be hauled out again for camp experienced NCOs to demonstrate how beds should be made properly and how kit should be disposed of in an orderly manner. Having made up our own beds to their grudging satisfaction, we collapsed again. Ten minutes later, and we were up on our feet again as fatigue duties were handed out and weary bodies were despatched in all directions. After all it was high summer with British Summer Time still giving us much lovely daylight which the Army could put to good use.
Utterly exhausted (so we thought), we were delighted to hear some poor bugler still on duty,play [sic] ‘Lights Out’. Ten minutes later (so it seemed) the damned fool was sounding ‘Reveille’. NCOs were whacking the sides of our tents with swagger canes, bearing another load of Fatigue Duties. Groans of recovery were not mollified by the one P.B.I with a watch announcing that it was only 06.00.
Cookhouse wallahs disappeared in one direction while the remainder were shocked into consciousness by the impact of ice cold water in the washlines. Luckily most of us were too young to need a shave, otherwise this would have been an even greater assault upon the senses
Next came the loose scrum brought about by the next priority of the morning – preparing the tents for kit inspection. Luckily, it had been a fine night so that we were able to learn the mysteries and mayhem of blanket folding and kit layout. What it would have been like if it had been (a) raining or (b) we had been the regulation fifteen to the tent compared with our ten or so, heaven only knows.
Halfway through the morning (the boy with the watch announcing that it was now 07.30), more bugling announced ‘Cookhouse’ and hundreds of aching voids stampeded their way to the Mess Tents. We knew where they were by now. There was no need for NCOs to shout ‘Double up There’.
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Army Porridge, Army Eggs, Army Bacon, Army Bread and Army Butter topped with Army Jam were dolloped, dumped and poured into Army Plates and Mugs, and all these were hopefully washed down with Army Tea. I hoped the Tweezledown worms liked the Army Tea, it took some time to discover where the Army Drinking Water surfaced.
Having gulped that lot down, we dashed back to our tents to don Best Uniforms. In spite of much preparatory brushing and polishing, they were deemed to require further spit and polish before we ere [sic] ready for kit inspection and the morning parade. Of course in our haste, our puttees refused to wind at just the right tension and spacing. Somehow we managed to achieve some measure of perfection before our Commanding Officer made his inspection of our lines. Then out to the Main Parade Ground for the Raising Of the Flag, the Morning Prayers (we hoped He would approve of our turnout even if the General’s Inspection found us wanting)
After this, we dispersed. The events of the day and the days which followed have merged into a blur of memories. Of incessant activity of which the major component seemed to be doubling to mess, marching to parades, doubling to lectures and demonstrations, cookhouse fatigues, fetching and emptying, digging and filling latrines, picket duties, cleaning and polishing kit, guarding our rifles with our lives, foot drill and arms drill, kit inspection and foot inspection, lectures when you could hardly stay awake, day exercises, night exercises and ‘dawn patrols’. Then, when they thought that you still had a little untapped energy left, they took us for Route Marches when we found Aldershot’s Long Valley truly lived up to its name. Learning to obey instantly one minute and being prepared to take command the next. Constantly being reminded that the letters OTC stood for [underlined] Officer’s [/underlined] Training Corps, and that we were there to learn and instruct, to obey and command.
Of course there were the high moments as well as the low. The first ride on a tank and the time you were given the controls of the new Bren Carrier. The rifle ranges where we had or [sic] first experience of firing live 0.303in ammunition at ranges up to 500 yards. The day when they felt we were safe enough to fire a Lewis Machine Gun, terror or ecstasy to a fifeteen [sic] year old. Even firing the murderous Boyes Anti Tank Rifle, a right bastard of a gun which fired a half inch copper bullet with a massive brass cartridge. When fired, it would leap six inches up in the air, drove you the same distance backwards, dislocated your right shoulder if you were not holding it correctly and took two of you to carry it. The morning when we threw our first live Mills Grenade. The calmness of the instructors who hustled us out of the throwing trench when a terrified cadet dropped one at his feet. The same calmness when they went out to place a small charge against one which had failed to explode.
It was only a week, but it felt like a year. The boy with the watch was forbidden to tell us what the time really was. Then, at the final concert on the Friday night, when we were all wished the best of British Luck by the assembled Brass, we suddenly realised it was all over. It had been a week of sheer hell most of the time but we wouldn’t have missed it for a moment. We said goodbye to new friends and promised to write – which we didn’t of course. We promised to come back for next year’s Camp – but we never did.
Of one thing we were quite sure. We had arrived the previous Saturday as mere schoolboys but we would be leaving the following morning as soldiers and furthermore, however old we actually were, we were quite sure now that we were GROWN UP
I vaguely remember getting on the train at Aldershot, but knew nothing until being shaken awake as the train slowed down for Grantham Station. When I staggered in through our front door, my mother was horrified at my appearance. She reckoned that I had lost a stone in weight – maybe she was right. She said afterwards, that I drank a pint of milk without pausing for breath and immediately asked for another, after which I slept for sixteen hours without a break – I don’t remember a thing. When I finally surfaced, my father, the Old Contemptible and P.B.I. of WW1, just looked at me and grinned. [underlined] He [/underlined] knew what we had been through
Uniforms and kit cleaned, repaired and handed in. rifle bore ‘boiled’ and oiled, its bayonet emeried up to its appropriate gleam, both replaced in their place of honour amongst the other Service Rifles in the Armoury and for the remainder of the summer holidays, school and the army could be resolutely ignored in favour of things less earthbound.
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[picture]
Avro Anson
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Airspeed Oxford
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Bristol Blenheim I
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FAIREY BATTLE TRAINER
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[underlined] A [/underlined]
Form [underlined] M.T. [/underlined]
460
Officer Training Corps.
CERTIFICATE “A”
This is to Certify that
Mr. Peter Desmond Stevenson of the King’s School (Grantham) Contingent, Junior Division, Officers Training Corps, has fulfilled the necessary conditions as to efficient service, and has qualified in the Infantry syllabus of examination, as laid down in the Regulations for the Officers Training Corps. He is, therefore, eligible for consideration for a commission in the Supplementary Reserve, Territorial Army, Territorial Army Reserve of Officers or Active Militia of Canada.
On appointment to a commission he will be entitled to the privileges conferred on holders of this Certificate as set forth in the Regulations concerned, and to any further privileges that may be authorised after the date of this Certificate.
In the event of a national emergency involving the mobilization of the Regular Army and the embodiment of the Territorial Army, he is requested to notify his address immediately to the Under Secretary of State, The War Office, S.W.1, with any offer of service he may wish to make.
THE WAR OFFICE,
Date March 1939.
[signature]
Major-General,
Director of Military Training.
95360) Wt.13585/6884 12,000 5/38 A.& E.W.Ltd. Gp.698 J.4202
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As usual, there was much to catch up. Once more things had changed at Spittlegate. In the preceding twelve months, it had been decided to move No.3 FTS to safer skies elsewhere, and for a brief interval RAF Spittlegate became a bomber station. Into this had moved a succession of bomber squadrons which were in the process of converting from Hawker biplanes to Fairey Battles. Amongst these were 106 Squadron which we will meet again in Chapter Nine. Spittlegate had also become the base for the No.5 Group Communications Flight. Around this time, the airfield itself was considerably enlarged.
In spite of its close proximity to No.5 Group H.Q. down the hill, they then decided that the existing airfield, notwithstanding the extension which moved the Cold Harbour Lane over several hundred yards, would never be big enough to accommodate the heavy bombers which would soon be coming into service. So, the bomber squadrons had left, and Spittlegate once more became a training station. Coming into service in the near future would be a new generation of twin engine fighters requiring an intermediate stage of training between the Flying Training Schools (such as No.3 FTS) and the operational squadrons. These were to be called Service Flying Training Schools and Spittlegate was now home to the new No.12 SFTS. Equipped with many Ansons, Oxfords, Blenheims and Battle trainers, the volume of Grantham’s soundscape was now considerable, especially as the old WW1 training field on the adjacent hill top, once again called RAF Harlaxton, became Spittlegate’s satellite airfield. Added to this, the arrival of the new North American Harvard, smote our ears with its raucous, supersonic prop tip scream and its near fighter performance. Things really were hotting up over Grantham. Frustratingly so.
Behind all this had been the Munich Crisis, the build up of the Civil Defence organisation, the issue of gas masks to the civilian population, practices by the ARP and the first wailings of the air raid sirens. The war clouds were gathering and increasingly it was becoming ‘When’ rather than ‘If’.
The summer holidays of 1938 passed quickly and the autumn term started with a new feeling of urgency. For most of us, this would be our last year at school, with the School’s Certificate Examinations the following June our primary scholastic target. More immediately, however, were the Certificate A Tests and Examinations of the autumn term.
Our first parade was naturally, a notable occasion. As expected, we were now this year’s No.1 Platoon, and we ‘battle hardened’ survivors were now permitted a further visible sign of our maturity. When not ‘bearing arms’ and on general duties, we could now sport a ‘Swagger Cane’ whose silver cap bore the School’s emblem. This gave rise to some further drill movements which we were more than a little proud to show off to the other ranks, as well as to the general public as we strode our way to and from parades. There were sundry promotions amongst those who had stayed on from the previous year, but we had to await the outcome of our ‘Cert A’ before we knew where we stood on the promotion ladder.
Frantic swotting, sweating and general revision, endless practices and brushing up of our drill and its instruction brought us up to the fateful day when we began taking the written papers. Then followed grilling from visiting examining officers from the Regular Army on the more practical aspects. After this, there were generalised interviews, which were obviously aimed at assessing our potential as ‘officer material’. The examining officers left with their sheaves of paper and their non-committal expressions. We were left to stew.
A week or two later, the grapevine announced that the results had arrived. On tenterhooks, we paraded the following Thursday afternoon and awaited our fate. (Oh how frustrating to have a surname so far down the alphabet!) Private Stevenson P.D was at length called out to receive the coveted cloth star to be proudly sewn onto his left sleeve. At the same time he was informed that henceforth he would be Lance Corporal Stevenson in charge of one of the Sections in No3. Platoon, the which duty he commenced with alacrity – but it was not to be for long.
For it was not just the Certificate A results which had been exercising the grapevine of late. Shortly after his promotion, he, plus a number of others were called upon to appear before a Selection Board which had nothing whatsoever to do with His Majesty’s Army.
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[underlined] Chapter Three The Public School’s Air Cadet Wing (January to August 1939) [/underlined]
As can be gathered from the previous chapter, the OTC was pretty extensive in numbers and scope. I have very little idea of how the Royal Navy set about convincing the schoolboy population that a worthwhile career awaited them in that Service, apart from the known existence of certain schools to which families with a strong naval tradition usually sent their sons. There were also the Training Ships who took in boys of school age and trained them up in the manner of the Midshipmen of old. All this was of course, very much of a coastal phenomenon, until the later formation of the Sea Cadets. The Army therefore appeared to have, in the inter war period, a virtual monopoly of military involvement with the inland schools, with a declared aim of ‘creaming off’ the best ‘officer types’ according to its needs.
With the phenomenal rise in the size and effectiveness of the Luftwaffe during and after the Spanish Civil War, and its obvious close support of the Wehrmacht, even our War Department began to admit, albeit somewhat reluctantly, that the RAF should have some access to the schoolboys who would be the fighting men of a future conflict. It should be remembered that even in the late 1930s, aircrew were predominantly commissioned ranks and that therefore the RAF were also looking for potential officers.
It was finally agreed that a small proportion of OTC cadets, [underlined] provided that they had already passed their Certificate A, [/underlined] and who expressed a preference for service in the RAF, should be allowed to join a ‘Public School’s Air Cadet Wing’, for appropriate pre-entry training by the RAF. No doubt the Army, having spent some four years bringing these boys up to Cert A standard, felt that there was enough Army Esprit de Corps in their veins to render them immune to the blandishments of the Men in Blue.
Each interested OTC would be allotted a small number of places which, added to a similar quota from the Senior OTCs, not already in the University Air Squadrons (the RAF having penetrated to Universities much more successfully) would not exceed a total of two hundred and fifty nationwide. These cadets would still continue to wear their OTC uniforms and badges of rank but would also wear a brassard of RAF colours bearing an Officer’s forage cap badge of ‘Crown and Wings’.
In the case of the King’s School OTC, the initial allocation of places would be seven, which was later increased to eight. The rumours came to a head when a notice to this effect appeared on the OTC Notice Board, which produced an instant effect. Names were rapidly added, including my own, but I had doubts as to whether I would qualify. The scheme was undoubtedly aimed at aircrew potential, and I already knew that my eyesight was not up to aircrew standard. Luckily, the list was not over subscribed. The school already knew that my sights were set on the RAF, and that my service in the OTC had been aimed at improving my chances. I suppose that may have been responsible for me not being struck off the list of those due to appear before the promised Selection Board. Naturally, all the other hopefuls were sons of serving officers and were obviously aircrew material and therefore stood an excellent chance of being accepted. In spite of my keenness, I was more than a little doubtful of my own chances.
RAF Spittlegate, to which our section would be attached, had apparently received directives from on high, duly convened a Select Board and sent them down to hear our respective cases. In our very Bests, with Cert A Star prominently displayed, we were called in one by one. The others went in and after some time reappeared with non committal expressions and told to wait. I was called in last. Acknowledging my best salute, I was told to sit.
As I fully expected, the first question was, as a result of seeing my glasses, what was my eyesight standard. I explained that it had been my intention to apply for a commission in the RAF Technical Branch for several years now, and they would obviously need at least one Technical Officer to keep the other six in the air. From their reactions, I gathered that they had not quite expected this answer from a khaki clad figure. I went on to explain that my one purpose of serving in the OTC was to improve my chances of acceptance, that aeronautical matters had been my hobby for several years and showed my Membership Card of the Air League Junior Section to prove it.
After looking at each other once more, one of them started asking questions about the Theory of Flight, Aircraft Construction and general questions on current aircraft types which I managed to answer without batting the proverbial eyelid. I got the further impression that they were not expecting
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all this from a khaki clad fifteen year old. After a few more minutes of this, I was told to leave the room as the others had done.
The others were called in one by one and emerged with appropriate grins. Then I followed, wondering what my fate was to be. I was told that in view of the fact that only the requisite number had applied and that I had put forward a good case and was already well informed, they would accept me on the same grounds.
We were all ‘agog’, the following Thursday afternoon when an RAF truck arrived to whisk us up and away to the Spittlegate airfield. Feeling very superior, from now onwards we would be leaving the ‘Footsloggers’ down in the town to do their footslogging while we:
‘Slipped the surly bonds of earth, and danced the skies on laughter silvered wings, *
Dropped off at the Station H.Q., we were ushered into the Adjutant’s Office, given our appropriate passes, signed the Official Secrets Act and were presented with our PSACW Brassards., to be proudly worn below our stripes – we all had at least one. From then onwards, it became increasingly obvious that those upon high had issued orders to the effect that all concerned were to do all they could to make up for lost time.
Almost immediately, we found ourselves in the Crew Room being kitted up with flying suits and helmets, shown how to don a parachute and what to do should the need arise. Paper work included local air maps and the signing of the inevitable ‘blood chit’. Out on the tarmac, we were loaded into a couple of Ansons. The ‘Annie’ was originally a small passenger carrying civil plane which had been developed into a very useful maritime reconnaissance aircraft. It also became an ideal trainer, in which role it was equipped with dual control, had space for navigation and/or radio desks, an air gunners top turret and even a bomb aimer’s position in it’s nose. Not called upon to fly high, it had a greenhouse of a cabin with large windows on all sides and room enough to move around. It was a perfect plane in which to experience one’s first flight in a service aircraft. We trundled out to the [underlined] other [/underlined] side of that fence along Cold Harbour Lane, turned about and took off. An hour or so later, we came whistling in after a glorious run around the local area. We even thought we could see those poor footsloggers down there in the school quadrangle. The ‘Annie’ may have touched down but I doubt if our feet did for several hours.
Every Thursday afternoon from then onwards, we were shown every possible aspect of a Service Flying Training School’s activities. We were given lectures on the Theory of Flight, Airframe and Aeroengine construction, Meteorology. Air Armament, Air Force History and Law, RAF Command Structure, and the functions of Bomber, Fighter, Coastal and Transport Commands. On the Station Range, we fired Lewis and Vickers Air Guns and learned to strip and reassemble them and clear stoppages. We took over the controls of ‘Annies’ in level flight (mind you, ‘Faithful Annie’ could quite happily fly along in level flight without your help when it was ‘trimmed’ properly) and we did our best to avoid crashing the Link Blind Flying Trainer. We learned to set up the dropping sequence on bomb racks and how to use the current types of bomb sights, how to guide the pilot on a ‘bomb run’ on the AML Bombing Trainers as well as acting as plotter on the Camera Obscura Bombing Trainer.
Although each one of us had been utterly converted to the RAF as a possible career even before we had become Public School’s Air Cadet Wingers, we were determined to show our new friends in Blue that we knew our drill and we ‘Brown Jobs’ could outsmart them anytime. We were of course, something of a curiosity with our khaki and our puttees and the fact that however old and mature we might have felt, we were still outwardly and obviously schoolboys, but we were schoolboys who were being given the VIP treatment.
At the time, we were green enough to take much of this for granted. Later on, as the war escalated, it became a source of wonder how this SFTS, already flat out on desperately needed pilot training, had been able and willing to devote so much time and effort upon who must have appeared to be such mere schoolboys. Much as we would have liked to believe that it had been recognition of our obvious keenness, behind it all must have been some pretty powerful directives from someone or something high up in the Air Ministry.
*From ‘High Flight’ – One of WW2’s best known pieces of poetry, penned by a young fighter pilot learning his trade at RAF Digby.
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Meanwhile the clock had steadily ticked on. It was now early 1939 and for us in the Upper Fifth, the School’s Certificate Examinations were only a few months ahead, and for most of us the end of schooldays perhaps only a month or so after that. Swotting, cramming and mock examination papers ruled our existence. To add to our fears and apprehensions, the clouds of war were also looming ever closer, but at our age, the prospect of war was always a challenge rather than an actual fear.
By the early summer, most people realised that time was running out. In addition to the rearmament programme which now flat out with most of the local factories changing over to munitions and other war essential work, there were quiet moves to call up reservists. The Civil Defence organisation was largely in place and more and more people were to be seen with civilian duty gas masks and tin hats with ‘ARP’, ‘AFS’ and ‘W’ on them, slung over their shoulders. Suitable cellars were being taken over and converted into shelters. There were practices when we all had to don our civilian gas masks and leaflets distributed telling us whereabouts in our homes were the safest places to take cover. Other leaflets and notices in the papers and over the radio told us of the availability of the Anderson Shelters which could be half buried in our gardens, covered over with soil and the turf of the previously cherished lawn. For those without gardens, the Morrison Shelter was also available. This was like a large steel table capable of preventing the family, sheltering beneath it, from being crushed by a collapsing house.
In spite of all this, neither we nor the authorities, local or national, had any clear idea of what to expect if war was declared. Thanks to the appeasement tactics at Munich and the months which followed, Czechoslovakia and then Austria had been occupied by the Nazis, more or less peacefully, thanks to little or no local resistance. Now the Nazi Hate Machine was being directed towards Poland, but it was known that the Poles, however hopeless their resistance might be against the German Blitzkrieg, would not go down without a fight to the death. Both Britain and France finally came to realise that a stand must be made sooner rather than later.
What we could do to help Poland was unknown, but if we did go to their aid, then our fate might well be massive air raids against which we appeared to have little or no significant ability to resist, let alone retaliate.
This then, was the atmosphere in which we came to the end of our last peacetime school term.
We sat our exams and awaited results. To the dismay of the footsloggers, the Army preparations for the 1939 Annual OTC Camp first of all ground to a halt and were then cancelled ‘in the interests of safety’. Not only did the War Office feel that it was unwise to divert the resources of the Regular Army at such a critical time, perhaps the idea of hundreds of schoolboys massed together in a tented camp, might be politically explosive if they were subjected to air attack.
[underlined] The 1939 Public Schools Air Cadet Wing Camp at Selsea Bill [/underlined]
No such disappointment was to be felt by those Lucky Few in the Air Cadet Wing. The RAF, not to be outdone by the Army, had made their plans for an ‘Air Camp’ at the end of July, and much to our glee and anticipation, they had no intention of cancelling [underlined] their camp. [/underlined] Furthermore, it was going to be organised on the basis of ‘Whatever the Army can do, the Air Force can do Bigger and Better’
By now, being very seasoned personnel (or that it [sic] how we viewed ourselves) we were told to kit ourselves out and with RAF Rail Warrants, to make our own way to Portsmouth without an accompanying officer to tell what or what not to do. Compared with our previous year’s journey to Aldershot which was initially, a bit of a ‘rag’, this journey was a much more sober affair. The nearer we got to Portsmouth, the more Service uniforms there seemed to be, and the less of a curiosity we seemed to be.
Although we had been given a very sketchy idea of the week’s programme, we had no real idea of what was in store for us. On the way down we had come into contact with other small parties Portsmouth bound and the mutual sense of anticipation heightened. At Portsmouth Station, RAF transport was awaiting us and we and our kitbags were whisked away to a tented camp at Selsea Bill, a stone’s throw away from the Tangmere RAF Fighter Station.
Here we were met by RAF NCOs who took us to our ‘homes’ for the week. We were no more than four to a tent and in place of the straw filled palliasses we had at Twezledown, we had proper
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Supermarine Southampton
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Saro London
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Short Sunderland
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Gloster Gladiator
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Hawker Fury II
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Boulton Paul Defiant
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Handley Page Heyford
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Armstrong Whitworth Whitley
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Next day (Monday), began the ‘real work’. At Tangmere, our Anson fleet was awaiting us and after kitting up again we took off and in loose formation, flew up towards London to land at RAF Northolt which was the H.Q of Fighter Command at the time. We were lectured on the command structure of Fighter Command, the disposition of the Fighter Groups and their Sector control rooms. We saw the Northolt Operations Room in action against a simulated air attack on London. It was to be some time before we realised that some deliberate vagueness on their part was disguising the exact nature of certain ‘information received’ i.e. our early Radar system. We toured the hangars and examined at close quarters an impressive array of Fighter Command’s aircraft. They ranged from the last of the four gun biplanes such as the Gloster Gladiators and Hawker Furies, to the latest eight gun monoplanes, the Hurricanes and Spitfires, together with the ill fated twin seat Boulton and Paul Defiant with it’s four gun turret, upon which much hopes had been placed, only to find them sitting ducks for the Luftwaffe a year later. We swarmed all over, under and into these and had their details pointed out by enthusiastic pilots and ground crews. Taken round to the firing range we saw a Hurricane, with Merlin engine at full throttle, loose off all it’s eight guns at a target which disappeared most impressively in the blink of an eyelid. After a lunch (fully up to the standard which we now came to expect from the Junior Service) we adjourned to the tarmac. Seated en masse, we were given a thrilling display of formation flying, aerobatics and dogfighting. Being so close to London, the RAF had opened it’s doors to the media, including newsreel cameramen. In 1989, when viewing an episode in the TV series ‘Fifty Years Ago This Week’ there was a short item on this Northolt display under some caption such as ‘Future Fighter Pilots?’ unbeknown to the those [sic] in the foreground, the camera had panned over our massed ranks, and there, a few feet in front of the lens was the King’s School contingent. Frustratingly, it was off the air before I could get my video recorder in action.
It was Bomber Command’s turn the following day. Once again our fleet of ‘Faithful Annies’ were waiting at Tangmere to take us up to Upper Heyford, a bomber station on which a similar display was laid on. Again Bomber Command structure, history and traditions were explained in detail and its aircraft lined up for our inspection. There were the last of the biplanes and the new generation of monoplanes. Many of these were the ones we were beginning to see in the skies over Lincolnshire, but this was the first time we could examine them in detail on the ground. More demonstrations and displays on the ground and for a lucky few a flight in a Wellington, Whitley or a Hampden. I missed out on that one.
Impressive, if not so aerobatically [sic] spectacular was the air display which followed, and with that we ‘emplaned’ for our flight back to Tangmere. This was our last flight in our Ansons.
It was road transport the following morning, through Portsmouth to Southampton. Awaiting us there were RAF Air Sea Rescue boats which took us roaring down Southampton Water, past the Imperial Airways passenger flying boat base to Coastal Command’s seaplane and flying boat base at Calshot. Once again, we were given the full treatment on Coastal’s organisation, duties and aircraft, both land and sea based, (including it’s extensive pigeon lofts) by its air and ground crews. We saw seaplanes and flying boats launched and beached, rescues of ditched crews and plenty of opportunity to examine exteriors and interiors. Of course, since this was the main base for the Schneider Trophy seaplane races which had given Britain three successive World Air Speed Records, we had to learn all about how the Supermarine seaplanes designed by Mitchell, the ‘First of the Few’ had led the way to the design of the Spitfire.
Then, to our delight, we were ferried out in RAF launches to waiting flying boats. Some of us went out to the graceful Sunderlands and the rest to big but still graceful biplane boats, mostly Southamptons, and Londons. Once aboard, moorings were cast and we taxied out into Southampton Water. With engines roaring and impressive bow waves to port and starboard, we were ‘up on the step’and away into the Big Blue Yonder. (It was amazing how well our organisers had got the Met Office to lay on a full week of wonderful weather! – with the exception of one thunderstorm later in the week which caused a slight diversion) These stately beasts, cruising along at one hundred knots or less, enabled us to emerge into the gunners cockpits at the front and rear of their hulls, so that we could look vertically downwards a thousand feet onto the shipping coming up and down Southampton Water and the naval shipping in Portsmouth Harbour. We renewed our aerial acquaintance with the Isle of Wight and the Yachting round Cowes, had another look down to our camp at Selsea, but all too soon, we were ordered to sit ourselves amidships while the monster prepared to land.
When we had taken off, the roar of the four engines and the strangeness of the take off, had largely drowned the hiss of water against the hull. Now with engines throttled back, we were unprepared for
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sound of contact with the sea. For a second or two, we thought we had landed on a shingle beach!
The following morning, only too aware that today was Friday and therefore our last day, we piled aboard our transport again for the short hop across Portsmouth to the Fleet Air Arm base at Lee on Solent. This was at the time when the Navy had not quite completely taken over from the RAF, and the day was to be a kaleidoscope of Fleet Air Arm, RAF and Navy uniforms. One was never quite such at any one point who was exactly running our show, but it was quite obvious that although they were in last wicket, they were certainly not going to be outdone by what we had received at the hands of the RAF over the previous days. Furthermore, they proposed making quite sure that their share of we ‘likely lads’ would, in time, come their way.
Our day was spent looking at Swordfish and Walrus aircraft, together with sessions on ancillary equipment such as torpedoes and airborne mines, catapult gear and aircraft carriers. At nearby Gosport we went round the workshops where the ‘tin fish’ were being serviced and tested and saw divers being trained in the Diving Tanks. Then after a naval lunch we were taken out in navy pinnaces into the Solent to watch a demonstration at fairly close hand, of torpedo dropping. All in place, the first demonstration was to be by a Swordfish (the ‘Stringbag’ to us by now). Down it came with appropriate dignity, and its ‘fish’ was duly launched. According to the experts in charge of our boat, the drop was a perfect one, cleanly entering the water and at the end of its run, floated gently up to the surface ready to be retrieved by one of the other pinnaces.
In distinct contrast to the bumbling Swordfish with its biplane wings, rigging wires, fixed undercarriage and open cockpits, a long sleek monoplane shape came into view from the direction of Southampton Water, with its torpedo neatly slung beneath, looking far more menacing. Our commentator told us that what we were about to see was still on the experimental list. The aircraft was the Vickers Wellesley, the Barnes Wallace predecessor of the Wellington which we had met on the Bomber Command day. Obsolete as a bomber, the Fleet Air Arm has hopes that the Wellesley would be a faster, longer range, shore based torpedo bomber to replace or augment the ageing Swordfish.
It came in fast and low, and down dropped its fish. There was an immediate sharp intake of breath on the part of our matelots as it appeared to enter the water at a queer angle. A second or two later it emerged at an even stranger angle and appeared to do its best to bite the tail off the Wellesley, which departed at high speed. Striking the water tail first, clouds of spray masked what appeared to be two half torpedoes which promptly sank to groans from the navy accompanied by comments generally in the line of “What can you expect from having to use RAF pilots” and “I suppose some poor bugger is going to have to go down tomorrow to fish out the bits”
We were hurriedly returned to shore, bade farewell and transported back to camp. We were told to start packing for our journey home the following morning. We had noticed a lot activity [sic] in the direction of our Mess Tent and were told to keep well clear until called for our evening meal. During the week, the meals in the mornings were generally informal, but we had tended to be more circumspect in the evenings (as befitted our maturity!) Tonight, apparently things would be rather special and we were to appear as smartly turned out as possible. Also, we were to consult a seating plan and when called upon to do so, be prepared to move smartly and without fuss to our allotted places and stand to attention behind our seats.
When the call came, we marched to the Mess Tent by units, where were [sic] met by RAF Mess Waiters who conducted us to our seats where we stood carefully At Ease. The transformation of our mess tent was astonishing. It was now an Officer’s Mess. The tables in front of us had spotless linen tablecloths and serviettes. Precisely positioned cutlery and tableware, was even graced by flowers and in addition to tumblers and carafes of water, each place had a wine glass!
When we were all in place, all two hundred or so, we were called to Attention and the most amazing collection of ‘Top Brass’ from all three Services entered in immaculate Mess Uniforms complete with Medals, Orders and other marks of distinction. They took their places at the top table, and at a nod from the senior officer, we were instructed to take our seats. We were then [underlined] served [/underlined] by mess waiters. It began to dawn upon us that not only had our mess tent been converted into an officer’s mess, but that we were also being treated as at least potential officers, as well as being regarded as guests of the RAF despite our khaki uniforms and obvious immaturity.
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Between courses we were addressed by one or other of the senior officers of the Fighter, Bomber and Coastal Commands and the Fleet Air Arm. They hoped we had enjoyed our week and looked forward to us joining their ranks. Each was respectfully if enthusiastically applauded. We certainly had and we certainly would, if and when.
Finally, the senior officer turned to the ‘civvie’ at his side who was obviously the guest of honour, and announced that he wished to introduce ‘Viscount Norwich’. A whisper had already gone round the table as to his identity. He was better known to the general public as Mr. Duff Cooper,
At this time, perhaps the most controversial political figure apart from Winston Churchill, he hated everything that Hitler and the Nazis stood for and had been at the forefront of the rearmament lobby from the early 1930s. At daggers drawn with the pacifists and the appeasers, he had resigned as First Lord of the Admiralty at the time of the Munich Pact. Detested by Chamberlain and his government, he was sidelined with Churchill and branded by the Conservative Press as a ‘War Monger’, but that never stopped him voicing his vociferous opinions on every available occasion..
His address was brief and to the point. After giving us a brief resume of the current political situation and the apparent build up of troops on the Polish frontiers, he launched into an attack on Nazism, finishing with prophetic words on the line of “Gentlemen, within a month we will again be at war with Germany, and this time the survival of Britain will be decided in the air” (He might have been two weeks out with the beginning of the first, but he was dead right a year later about the second, by which time Churchill was back and Duff Cooper became one of Winston’s principal ministers)
Duff Cooper’s speeches were known to be great rabble rousers and he certainly got us to our feet. Whereas the Service officers had been given restrained applause, Duff Cooper sat down to crescendo of cheering and clapping. However, we were all astonished when a chorus of booing came from one quarter. Later, we were to learn that the Oxford University contingent had included a number of members of the ‘Oxford Movement’. This had emerged following a highly controversial debate in the University Debating Society at the time of Munich which passed a motion ‘That this house will not go to war for King and Country’. How and why such opinion had attended this camp would remain a mystery. Maybe they had come ‘just for the lark’, in which case it was a pretty expensive lark for the British Taxpayer.
Order restored, we returned to our tents. It had been a great evening and we were naturally elated, but at the same time we were somewhat subdued. Tomorrow, we would be returning to ‘civvie life’, but we had the feeling that we had heard the last notes of an Overture to War, and most if not all of us would be inextricably drawn into that war. The majority of those who had attended were unquestionably aircrew potential, and in the years that followed, I often wondered how many of them made the ultimate sacrifice.
The following morning, tents empty except for neatly stacked bedding, kitbags full once more, we had our final parade and dismiss, we saluted and thanked our officers. We said good bye to our new friends and wished them good luck. We threw our kitbags into the waiting transport and followed them in. at Portsmouth Station, we ‘entrained’ and all too soon it seemed, our kitbags were upon our shoulders once more as we left Grantham Station, and scattered to our various homes in which it seems, we never stopped talking.
After a week during which we had been treated as officer cadets and responsible adults, it was not easy to drop back into being a mere schoolboy once more, even if it was school holidays. However, following the usual practice of these who had attended Annual Camp, my uniforms would stay at home until the commencement of the new autumn term. These were carefully cleaned, pressed and hung away, but my Air Cadet Wing Brassard, prominently on display on my bedroom shelf, was there to remind me when: “I joined the tumbling mirth of sun split clouds, and did a hundred things you did not dream of” (another quotation from ‘High Flight’). Thinking back then and in the years to follow, I often wondered how much it has all cost and whether the RAF, felt in due time, that they received value from their investment
Incidentally, I have it on record that the camp was visited and inspected by Air Chief Marshall Sir Arthur Longmore. I cannot remember now the time and circumstances of his visit, whether perhaps he was one of the dignitaries on the top table at our farewell dinner or whether his visit was at some
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other time. In view of the significant part he took in the formation of the Grantham Squadron of the Air Defence Cadet Corps (which is recounted in the next chapter) it could well be that he was equally significant in the setting up of the Air Cadet Wing. I hope someday, that an inspection of Air Ministry Records might throw some further light on this.
I lost touch with the others who had gone to Selsea. They were all aircrew material and as the only ‘groundhog’, I could well be the only survivor. I must also go back to the school records sometime and find out who, if any, survived. As for the Public School’s Air Cadet Wing, the Selsea camp was most probably its swan song. It could well have died a natural death with the outbreak of war.
My own future was far from clear. I was still dead set on becoming an engineer and now that war seemed imminent, I would be into the RAF as soon as I was old enough and further qualified to do so. There was a 50/50 chance that I might stay on at school in the Sixth until the time came for call up, in which case I would also stay on in the OTC. In the event neither of these came to pass. Naturally I hoped that I would be able to maintain my contact with No. 12 SFTS at Spittlegate. This did happen, though not through the OTC and the PSACW. When it did, it was in very different circumstances.
As will appear in a following chapter, the declaration of war delayed the opening of school until well into the autumn. Eventually, I decided to leave school and start an engineering apprenticeship, This left my ground clear to join the Air Defence Cadet Corps, now well and thriving as its Grantham Squadron, attached to RAF Spittlegate to which I marched as a humble cadet, rather than being picked up by RAF transport and treated as a privileged guest, but that was no grounds for regret.
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[underlined] Chapter Four – The Formation of the Grantham Squadron of the Air Defence Cadet Corps [/underlined]
(and the appointment of its first Commanding Officer)
August 1939, with my feet firmly on the ground after the Public Schools Air Cadet Wing camp at Selsea Bill, this was for me, a time of indecision. For a great number of my school friends, there was no choice in the matter. They would have to leave school and find a job as did most schoolboys at that time. My closest friends were all sons of RAF officers and would all go on to the Sixth Form and on to higher thinks, but what was I to do?
By now, I was equally determined to become an engineer and if possible to combine this with a career in the RAF as an Engineering Officer. The international situation had now moved firmly from the ‘If’ and ‘When ‘state into the ‘How Soon’ and as August progressed, war seemed to be matter of sooner rather than later. There was no question of me trying to join up immediately – there were far too many records about me, civil and military to show that I was only just about to celebrate my sixteenth birthday. ‘Call Up’ would be a good two years ahead and the war, if it was declared, could well have been decided, one way or the other long before that. In the end it seemed to be the best policy to sit tight and await developments. It would undoubtedly stretch our family resource4s for my parents to grubstake for another year or so in the Sixth Form. In the meantime, until the immediate future seemed a little clearer, when at the beginning of the new school year in September, I would be staying on at school.
What eventually did happen, I will hold over to the next chapter, for what I want to do now is to turn back the clock six months or so, or for that matter even back to the first decade of the 20th century..
There can be very few people around who have not heard of the epic first flight of a powered aircraft by the Wright brothers. Of course there had been nearly a century of unsuccessful attempts before that and people like Lillienthal were becoming quite proficient at building and flying man carrying gliders and box kites as well as the well established mania for constructing and flying lighter than air craft. The man in the street was becoming well aware of the fact that the air was the next great adventure.
To encourage ‘air mindedness’ not only in the mind of the man in the street but also in the minds of influential policy makers and financiers, the year 1908 saw the formation of the Air League of the British Empire. Throughout the First World War and increasingly in the post war years, the Air League campaigned vigorously for Britain to take the lead in all aspects of aeronautics. They supported the ‘air circuses’ like Alan Cobham, the legendary Hendon Air Displays, the RAF Station Open Days, and the later Empire Air Days, all at a time when the disarmament lobby was doing its best to persuade the Government to reduce all the armed forces to a state of impotence.
As already mentioned, in the mid 1930s the Air League formed a Junior Section aimed at giving the maximum encouragement to Britain’s youth. Amongst its various publications one now learned that the Air League was proposing to form an Air Cadet Corps.
News of the setting up of an organisational structure and appointment of senior officers, the design of an appropriate uniform and training programmes, was followed by the announcement that the first Squadrons of the ‘Air Defence Cadet Corps’ had been formed in the London area, to be followed by the formation of other squadrons in the Home Counties. Was there any chance that an ADCC squadron might be formed in a little town like Grantham, and if it were, would I be able to join it?
I think I need to break off at this point and name a few names who will become significant later. Anyone who knows anything of the history of the RAF will know that Air Marshall Lord Hugh Trenchard will forever be remembered as the ‘Father of the RAF’. In the post WW1 years, he collected round him a number of young officers, some of whom had fighting experience in the latter years of the war and had served with some distinction in the course of the RAF’s involvement in the policing of the troublesome territories which had become Britain’s responsibility in the 1920s and 1930s. By the time the clouds of war were again gathering in the 1930s, many of these officers were occupying high rank in the various commands of the RAF both at home and abroad. Others, equally distinguished, had reached retirement age but had not retired from public duty.
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[underlined] AIR CHIEF MARSHALL SIR ARTHUR LONGMORE [/underlined]
Sir Arthur Longmore was arguably the most influential of the ‘Founding Fathers’ of the Grantham Squadron of the Air Defence Cadet Corps in 1939, which in 1941 became No.47(F) Squadron of the Air Training Corps, the only ‘Founder’ Squadron on Lincolnshire
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One of the latter was Marshal of the Royal Air Force Sir John Salmond who had been appointed Commandant and Chief Executive of the infant Air Defence Cadet Corps. One of the other officers still in active service was Air Chief Marshall Sir Arthur Longmore. Amongst the many ‘cornerstones’ of the early RAF attributable to Lord Trenchard was the setting up of the RAF College at Cranwell and the College’s third Commandant was Arthur Longmore, who on his appointment took up residence in Grantham where he and his wife quickly became involved in Grantham affairs. However by 1938, Sir Arthur Longmore was O.i/c RAF Middle East but that did not prevent him, when on leave, from continuing to interest himself in the wellbeing of Grantham, and when he was not at home, Lady Longmore was just as dedicated.
I now need to introduce another name who was crucial to the formation of the Grantham ADCC Squadron. Stanley Foster was a successful Grantham businessman, young and active and much involved with Grantham affairs. He was soon elected to the Grantham Town Council and in the 1938 to 1939 Mayoral Year was elected Mayor. Over the years he undoubtedly had much contact with the Longmores, and it would appear that Sir Arthur, well aware of the activities of his erstwhile service colleague who was now Commandant of the ADCC, had suggested to Stan Foster that the possible formation of a Cadet Squadron would be a desirable thing for the youth of Grantham.
Today, the Air Training Corps is very much a part of the RAF and as such it is almost completely funded from the RAF budget, but the Air Defence Cadet Corps before it became the ATC in 1941, was entirely a voluntary organisation. True, almost immediately a squadron was formed, the local RAF gave considerable material help, but a new squadron depended almost entirely upon local sponsorship, donations, subscriptions and fundraising to pay for rental and maintenance of its headquarters, administration, provision of uniforms and other running expenses. It was vital therefore that a well publicised inaugural meeting needed to be held to drum up a considerable level of local support. With this in mind, the Grantham Journal reported in its 7th January 1939 edition that such a meeting was to be held on the following Monday, and for those interested, an ADCC uniform would be on display in the Grantham Gas Company’s showroom.
And so it came to pass, as the saying goes, that on the 10th of January 1939 an inaugural meeting was held in Grantham’s Guildhall, and the Grantham Journal on the following Friday gave a lengthy report on its proceedings. Upon the stage in front of considerable audience of local celebrities, townsfolk and would be recruits, sat an impressive array of ‘top brass’. Centre stage was Stan Foster in full Mayoral Insignia and flanking him was Sir Arthur and Lady Longmore, who in their turn had brought along Sir John Salmond, Commandant and Captain Hazelwood, Area Organiser of the ADCC
In turn each spoke of the desirability of forming a Cadet Squadron and gave an outline of its likely aims and aspirations, whereupon the Chair called for a show of hands to approve the proposed formation. (Carried Unanimously). Next Stan Foster called for generous financial support and within a short time £89 was promised (quite a lot of money in those days) enough to get things moving.
The next item on the agenda was the appointment of Squadron Officers and it is at this point that i [sic] must again break off the narrative to record my own personal involvement in this meeting and that of my father. At the time of this meeting I was still in the King’s School OTC. although nominally I was still a ‘P.B. Infantryman’, I had already been seconded to the Public School’s Air Cadet Wing section. Also it was also in my penultimate term before sitting my School’s Certificate/Matriculations examinations. In spite of this I was determined to attend the meeting whether or not I would be allowed to join. However, my hands would be firmly handcuffed in a manner of speaking.
Recently, we had had a change of Headmasters, in place of the previous somewhat liberally minded head, we now had a rather straightlaced, rather narrow minded, disciplinarian who was determined to uphold the King’s Grammar School image. In spite of the fact that the majority of his pupils were sons of ordinary town and country folk, he did his best to establish a ‘Town and Gown’ separation of the activities within the school and those of the world outside. As we have seen it was usual and expected that at the age of twelve the ‘normal’ pupil would join the OTC. However, if a given pupil’s parents objected to the ‘militarisation’ of their son, he was allowed to opt out and join the ‘gardening brigade’ on Thursday afternoons, but they were nevertheless considered ‘second class citizens’. Out of school, a boy might join the Scouts but this again was somewhat discouraged.
When the idea of the formation of the Air Cadet squadron was mooted, he came down with a firm edict – no King’s School pupil was permitted to join the ADCC if he was already in the OTC. This effectively tied one of my hands!
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[photograph]
COUNCILLOR S. FOSTER
Mayor-Elect of Grantham, 1938-9
Councillor ‘Stan’ was one of the most popular and enthusiastic Mayors of Grantham in the 1930s and 1940s, and it was during his time as Mayor in 1938 that he was instrumental in the staging of the inaugural meeting in the January of that year which led to the formation of the Grantham Squadron of the Air Defence Cadet Corps. He not only chaired that meeting, became an enthusiastic member of it’s subsequently appoined [sic] steering committee but also ensured that the Squadron enjoyed the full support of the Borough Council. Accordingly he has every right to be regarded as one of our principal ‘Founding Fathers’.
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My father’s outlook was equally firm. For a number of years matters aeronautical had tended to occupy a higher priority for me than my schooling, in spite of a sudden new found determination to catch up lost ground, I still had a lot of lost ground to catch up. My father’s foot went down firmly – “Your Matric Exams are coming up in a few month’s time and you are already in the Public Schools Air Cadet Wing. No way will you be allowed to join anything else. Subject closed!”
“But I still want to go to the meeting to find out what it is all about”
“All right then, but only if I go along with you to make sure that you don’t do anything silly and get yourself signed up” – And so we both went!
In view of what was to happen next, it would be appropriate to outline my father’s previous history. Philip Stevenson was born in Grantham in 1895 and was educated at the Sedgebrook Grammar School which later merged with the King’s School. After leaving school he spent a year or so as a cub reporter with his father who was a journalist and branch manager of the Nottingham Guardian Group. Aged nineteen at the outbreak of the Great War in August 1914, following the patriotic fervour of the time, he immediately volunteered for the Army, eventually joining the Seaforth Highlanders. After infantry training in Scotland, his Battalion was sent over to France where he took part in the battles during the retreat from Mons during which he was slightly wounded and received his first ‘Mentioned in Dispatches’. Returning to the Front he survived the various skirmishes during the winter of 1914/15, but when the Spring offensives flared up, he was seriously wounded in the battle of Neuve Chappelle. Invalided home with a further ‘Mention in Despatches’, the award of the Meritorious Service Medal and the Mons Star, he spent the next eighteen months in various military and convalescent hospitals in the Harrogate area. Assigned to light duties he was seconded to the Headquarters Staff of the Ripon Reserve Training Establishment, one of the largest Army training setups in the country at the time, responsible for the infantry training of some twenty six thousand recruits per annum. There he quickly made his mark, was promoted Sergeant and became Personal Assistant to the Commanding Officer.
Demobbed, all the ‘Land Fit for Heroes’ could offer him by way of a job was clerk to the Grantham Borough Police Force which in the 1920s boasted a Chief Constable, two Sergeants and ten constables to provide a 24/365 service for the good people of Grantham! A dead end job, he stuck this for several years but by 1927, married with a young son, he decided to try for a better life in the United States. However before he could bring his family over to join him, all his available capital was lost in the Wall Street crash and it took him nearly a year to save enough money to pay for his ticket home. When he eventually arrived back in Grantham, he did have something in his favour. In the States he had become a quite proficient ‘hard sell’ car salesman and it was not long before he managed to get a job as salesman to the local Ford dealer. In spite of the deepening depression of the early 1930s, he was able to make quite a few successful ‘sells’, particularly to the local RAF personnel (who seemed to be the only sector of the community with money to spend on cars!) During the course of these negotiations he got to know quite a few of the RAF officers at RAF Spittlegate/Grantham, the new No.5 Bomber Group Headquarters and at RAF Cranwell. Significantly, these included Sir Arthur Longmore who, succumbing to Philip Stevenson’s powers of persuasion, ‘bought Ford’, and it would appear that during sundry conversations, Sir Arthur learned quite a bit about Philip Stevenson’s past military history and experience.
So, back to the inaugural meeting and the point in the agenda where officers for the new cadet unit were to be appointed. Obviously the first of these would have to be a Commanding Officer. Before anyone else could start to nominate somebody, Sir Arthur, pointing to my father said “Mr Stevenson is our obvious choice. He has all the necessary military administrative experience we need”. (Or words to that effect – this was nearly seventy years ago). Point taken. Carried unanimously. Signs of embarrassment on the part of my father but, since I had noticed that as the previous proceedings had obviously aroused in him more than a little interest, he accepted his nomination with creditable alacrity.
Further nominations and volunteering filled the remaining vacancies for Adjutant and the four flight commanders which our possible cadet roll could justify, and the final item on the agenda was the enrolment of recruits. The audience certainly contained a high proportion of hopefuls and these formed an orderly if excited queue at the desk set aside for the purpose. Prominent amongst these was the first cadet already in uniform. For the purpose of the meeting, the uniform which had been on display in the town had been adorning the body of Tony Teague, who I suppose can be considered as Grantham’s first ADCC cadet.
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As the Grantham Journal reported the following Friday, the evening’s activities resulted in the initial recruitment of 45 cadets. The new squadron’s strength might now be six officers and forty five cadets amongst whom would be found Mr. P.P.L. Stevenson – Commanding Officer, but sadly and frustratingly, not Peter D. Stevenson amongst the enlisted recruits.
My father and I had much talk about on the way home and over the next few days.
The Grantham Journal really took us to heart and practically every issue from the [sic] on contained news of the increasing tempo of the new squadron’s activities. In the January 14th edition they not only reported at length the inaugural meeting but also included a picture of Sir John Salmond, Sir Arthur and Lady Longmore, and Stan Foster. The following week they reported that the subscription list had doubled to £167. On the 28th January there was a report on a meeting at Elsham House, the Longmore’s home, during which a support committee was formed, Messrs Stevenson and Ruxton were officially appointed Commanding Officer and Adjutant respectively.
On the 4th February it was reported that ADCC Headquarters had officially confirmed the setting up of the Grantham Squadron and the official appointment of Cadet Squadron Leader P.P.L. Stevenson as Commanding Officer, Cadet Flight Lieutenants A. Chapman, F.F. Hall, I.G. Smith and G. Widdowson as Flight Commanders. It was also reported that a Headquarters building had been secured. (This was the Victorian town house building on St. Peters Hill next door to the General Post Office which was to be the home of the Grantham Squadron throughout the war years. It had been unoccupied for a number of years and had the advantage of having a useful number of large and small rooms as well as the remains of a large walled garden which, when cleared, made a useful Parade Ground)
On February 11th, the Journal reported that the Squadron had been officially affiliated to No.12 SFTS at RAF Spittlegate. The 25th February edition published a photograph of recruits being medically examined, and that 48 cadets had now been accepted and fully enrolled. The first batch of uniforms had been ordered, the first lectures had taken place, and a first party of cadets had visited No.12 STFS at Spittlegate.
I am not sure now at what point in time another very important personage joined the ranks of the new squadron. Fred Dawson was an ex-Coldstream Guards Sergeant who had a most impressive list of accomplishments of value to our Squadron. In addition to being an excellent drill instructor, he had in his time been a Physical Training Instructor, Army Boxing Champion and coach, a Black Belt Judo Instructor, a born leader with a genuine interest in bringing out the best in boys. For all that, he was not exactly the easiest person to get on with and had a short fuse when it came to suffering fools gladly. Anyway, he very soon made his presence felt, instructing cadets and officers alike in the niceties of foot drill and soon sorted out a short list of cadets who were potential N.C.O. material. Originally titled ‘Sergeant Major’ in the A.D.C.C. days, he became Cadet Warrant Officer when the A.D.C.C. became the Air Training Corps in 1941. Following the age old traditions of Sergeant Majors and Warrant Officers, he soon took upon himself the aura and responsibility of the second most important person after the Commanding Officer (with whom he reserved the right to disagree forcibly if he felt the circumstances warranted). He served with the Squadron until 1943 when he got at cross purposes with the C.O. over something or other, whereupon he thumped in his resignation. However, when the war ended and the Squadron had a new C.O., he once again became ‘S.W.O.’ for a further spell of duty.
On April 22nd 1939, the first picture of the cadets in uniform was published together with one showing the complete squadron on parade on the Grantham Cricket Ground.
By this time, the Squadron had be [sic] officially numbered No.47. At A.D.C.C. Headquarters back in 1938 had decided that all the Squadrons which had come into being in that year would be designated ‘Founder’ Squadrons. In the event, the number of squadrons which had actually been formed before the year’s end just fell short of the magic number ‘50’, so the powers that be relented and awarded coveted (F) to the first fifty, and Grantham at No.47 just scraped in and to this day proudly calls itself No.47(F) – the only (F) Squadron in Lincolnshire.
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The Squadron was now well up and running and all through that last summer before the outbreak of war, squadron progress and achievements was steady and noteworthy.
On June 3rd, the Squadron proudly presented itself in Ceremonial Order for inspection by Sir Arthur Longmore. ‘Father of the Squadron’, no doubt having been kept fully informed by Lady Longmore who had worked tirelessly in the background supporting and encouraging ‘her’ squadron!
Regrettably however I was, during these formative months a watcher from the wings. However at least I had the Commanding Officer across the dinner table who was able to give me a daily running commentary on the way things were shaping up. of course I was as jealous as hell, not being able to join in with all the ‘fun and games’, but my father, with his Commanding Officer’s hat on, was quite adamant that I would not be able to take part in any way in Squadron activities until I was entirely free to join as a normally recruited and enrolled cadet. That of course could not be until I had left school, the O.T.C. (and the Public School’s Air Cadet Wing and passed my terminal examinations – he had a point!
So far as the Squadron was concerned, perhaps the high point of that summer’s activity was when a small and favoured group of cadets went over to Great Hucklow in Derbyshire a [sic] had a week’s gliding camp. Naturally I envied them greatly but was more than compensated by the stupendous time I was having at the same time at the Selsea Bill camp.
It is all a long time ago now and any of those teenage cadets who may be still alive today, are now in their eighties! My great hope is that one day I can locate one of those first A.D.C.C. Cadets who can still remember those early days and fill in the gaps in my narrative.
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[underlined] THE HEADQUARTERS OF No.47(F) Sq. ADCC/ATC on St. Peter’s Hill, Grantham [/underlined]
[photograph]
[underlined] GRANTHAM BOROUGH COAT OF ARMS [/underlined]
[underlined] AIR LEAGUE OF THE BRITISH EMPIRE MOTIF [/underlined]
[picture]
[underlined] THE CAR STICKER I DESIGNED FOR THE 1939 ADCC FUND RAISING CAMPAIGN [/underlined]
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[underlined] Chapter Five – ARP Messenger P.D. Stevenson. ‘Goes to War’ [/underlined]
Several times in previous chapters I have referred to the ‘Phoney War’, that period from the declaration of war by the Allies on September 3rd 1939 and the Spring of 1940 when the ‘Hot War’ started with the invasion of Norway, Denmark, Holland, Belgium and France by the Nazis. How did this affect us down at ground level in Grantham?
Through the dark days of 1938 and early 1939, against a programme of appeasement on our side, Hitler had progressively occupied country after country without serious opposition by means of apparently overwhelming strength of arms. Then, in August 1939, he invaded Poland and for the first time came up against real and fanatically dedicated opposition, in spite of the relative weakness of the Polish Army and Air Force.
Propaganda films from Germany had got us used to seeing superbly equipped and disciplined German troops goosestepping into whichever country he chose. Now we saw in the newsreel and newspaper stills, these troops in action, backed up by dive bombing and ground strafing by the Luftwaffe, and began to realise what ‘Blitzkrieg’ really meant in practice. We saw what the cost was to the Poles, but what we did not know, was the price paid by the Germans.
Many, if not most people in Britain honestly believed that this ‘Blitzkrieg’ would be immediately called down upon us as soon as we declared war in honour of our recent pact with Poland. We felt we had good reason to be worried in Grantham. For a start, it was an important communications centre. The A1 passed right through the centre of the town and at one point it was so narrow that a single bomb could block it completely. At three other points it passed over or under the main east coast railway line and again at these points, a single bomb could block both lines of communication. It was also a principal junction point in the rail network with important branch lines to the east, north and west.
At that time Grantham also had a considerable military significance. Spittlegate Airfield, a mere mile or so from the centre of the town had been an important air base since WW1. It was now the hope of an important flying training school, operating round the clock to train up pilots for future combat and it has a satellite airfield a mile or so away on the opposite hilltop, also flying round the clock. In 1936, a large house and grounds in the south east of the town had become the headquarters of Bomber Command’s No.5 Group which was to become a legend in the bomber offensives later on in the war. All these facts, we felt sure, were well known to the Luftwaffe.
Grantham was still a very important heavy engineering industrial town with a considerable potential for the production of war material to which it had been rapidly changing over the past year or so. The main factories were largely concentrated in the south of the town and were surrounded by large concentrations of their workers houses.
Finally, and perhaps most importantly, a very modern highly equipped factory ‘British Manufacturing and Research Co. Ltd’ (BMARC) or ‘Marcos’ to the locals) had been built to mass produce the Hispanio Suiza 20mm aircraft cannon and it’s ammunition. At this time this was the only cannon factory in the U.K. and would be forever famous for it’s part in the forthcoming Battle of Britain and the subsequent air battles.
Therefore, we were quite sure that Grantham, as a primary strategic target, would receive early attention from the Luftwaffe, and although it did not do so the day war broke out, we did not think that we would have long to wait.
Now that the subject of air raids has been introduced, it might be well to digress a little onto the subject of air raid warnings, since these were to intrude so frequently into both our public and private lives.
In those very early and rudimentary days of Radar, then known as ‘R.D.F.’ or ‘Radio Direction Finding’, a chain of large signals stations along the east and south coasts were set up, each with four huge aerial pylons and associated buildings. One of these pylons still stands at Stenigot on the top of the Lincolnshire Wolds.
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These ‘Chain Home’ stations could relay back warnings of the approach of enemy aircraft to the Fighter Command Group Headquarters who in turn would alert the ARP organisations in the threatened areas. These radar stations could only face out to sea and could not detect aircraft which had passed behind them. The responsibility of keeping a track on them now passed on to the Royal Observers Corps who would similarly keep Fighter Command, and thus the ARP, fully informed.
From the Munich Crisis in 1938 onwards, Civil Defence had been progressively stepped up. starting with the hopefully reassuring issue of gas masks to the setting up of Wardens, Casualty and Rescue, Demolition, Gas Detection and Decontamination, Evacuation, Emergency Shelter and Feeding organisations and teams, ARP had moved on in the last months of peace to the sandbagging of key buildings and the provision of public air raid shelters. The general public were also encouraged to build their own shelters. Many thousands of kits to build the earth covered Anderson Shelters (which could be built in one’s back garden) or the steel table like Morrison Shelters which could replace the dining table indoors if one did not have a suitable garden area.
With the approach of war, the ‘soundscape’ of Grantham had also changed significantly. The starting and stopping times of the shift workers in the various factories had for more than a century, been announced by a great variety of steam or compressed air whistles, horns, hooters and even the occasional bell. (If we were temporarily transmitted back to the Nineteen Thirties, we might well be astonished at the amount of whistling and hooting which went on at certain times of the day!) It might also be remembered that the Great Depression was but a few years back and that in spite of the urgent rearmament programme, we had not yet reached full employment. The shop foreman’s authority was still absolute and he could sack you on the sport [sic] if you were a few minute’s late more than once a week. If you were a factory worker, your life was indeed ruled by the factory’s hooter. For the matter, most of the townsfolk measured the passing of the day by the hearing of the various hooters rather than looking at the Town Hall Clock or looking at your pocket watch.
As Grantham geared up for war, these were all ‘grounded for the duration’ so far as the workers were concerned. ‘Marcos’ had been the first and only factory to have installed a ‘new fangled’ American style electric siren, which is now forever remembered as the wartime ‘Wailing Willie’. Until such time as others were installed elsewhere in the town, this would be our first warning that enemy aircraft had been detected crossing the coast. This ‘General Alert’ state would exist until the Observer Corps reported that the enemy were now within twenty five miles of the town. Then one of the steam hooters in one of the factories would sound off a number of blasts. This was the signal for all and sundry to drop everything and dive for the shelters. These blasts were promptly christened ‘The Pips’ and for the next few years would rule our lives also. So much so that at the end of the war, all factory hooters and sirens were banished from our lives and only the sirens were retained as flood warnings and other civil emergencies.
All this and other ARP procedures had been exercised on quite a number of occasions before war was declared, as well as preparations for a total ‘Blackout’. On that fateful day of Saturday 3th, all street lights and other exterior lighting was extinguished until the threat of air raids ended nearly five years later. Millions of yards of black cloth blackout curtaining had been issued or purchased and blackout screens constructed, so that no chink of light could aid the marauding bomber crews. All car, lorry, bus and even cycle lights had to be fitted with hoods so that the light could not be seen above waist level. If you had a torch, then it could only be shone downwards and the Warden came down on you with a ton of bricks if you lit a cigarette or pipe without a shaded match!
A somewhat lengthy digression perhaps, but appropriate to what is to follow for now we come to that fateful day. One of the corner stones of my career as an engineer was undoubtedly Edward Elms. He had been the head of army apprentice training in WW1 and in the 1920s, during which time he had been Commissioned and had attained the rank of Captain before returning to ‘civvy street’. In the mid 1930s he had joined the teaching staff of the King’s School. Up to that time the Kings had been a typical Grammar School accepting the need to teach Physics and Chemistry and, for the less technical, Biology. Reluctant acknowledging the fact that the majority of it’s pupils would never go on to University and that most likely a goodly proportion of them would go into the town’s industries, it had been decided upon high that the school would break from tradition and build a build a craft workshop in which the (regrettably) technically minded amongst it’s boys could learn the rudiments of wood and metal working and technical drawing.
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Though he was officially referred to as ‘Captain Elms’, having a head of dead white hair, to us he was always ‘Snowy’. He was always a strict disciplinarian while on duty and could have a short fuse at times, but he soon became a hero to those who worked in well with him and measured up to his high standards of workmanship. By 1939 I was his willing slave and allowed great freedom of action in his workshop. As the most practically minded of the masters, he soon became ‘Mr. Fixit’ and we did many extra curricular jobs together. It was not surprising therefore that when Snowy stated that he had bought a set of Anderson Shelter bits and pieces, we were both to be found in his back garden creating havoc on his cherished lawn. We had reached the point where the appropriately shaped hole had been dug, the soil stacked nearby and a start made on the assembly of the corrugated iron pieces, when Mrs. Elms came out to say that Mr. Chamberlain was to [sic] about to make an important announcement on the ‘wireless’. We listened in silence as he made that now famous speech which ended with the fateful words “….and it is my duty to say to you, that a state of war now exists between Great Britain and Germany”. Snowy broke the ensuing silence with “I suppose we had better get it finished”, so back we went into the garden.
We had not been working long before Mrs. Elms came out again to say that her father was on the line and wanted him urgently. Now, it might be said that Snowy’s wife happened to be the daughter of the District Council’s Director of Education. Be that as it may, the fact was that the said Director of Education was also now something high up in the Civil Defence for the area. It would now appear that the Civil Defence people had realised that if the Luftwaffe decided to have a go at Grantham’s industries, the main telephone exchange was well in the line of fire. If it got knocked out of action, communication would be lost between the Civil Defence Headquarters and the various ARP Posts around the town.
The gist of the message was, could Snowy organise ASAP a corps of ‘likely lads’ to act as ARP Messengers who could carry essential messages through Hell and High Water if the phones went dead. He came out into the garden with an urgent expression on his face.
“Drop everything” (or words to that effect) “Get on your bike and find as many boys over sixteen as you can and tell them to report to me. While you are doing that, I will find out how many the HQ and the Posts want messengers. As the boys come in, I will allocate them and arrange for the necessary kit. Oh, and by the way, you are Number One”
There followed a hectic day. I was able to contact a number of erstwhile Fifth Formers who were either waiting for the school to reopen or, having left, had not yet started work. In addition, I was able to contact a number of ADCC Cadets who were over sixteen and would be willing to ‘work nights’ as ARP Messengers. Suffice it to say that by nightfall, we had a messenger in each of the ARP posts and several at the ARP Headquarters, and in the days which followed, we were able to recruit enough to give each Messenger ‘three nights on and one night off’. All that remained was to wait for the action to begin.
We found that a goodly proportion of the ARP Posts were situated either in the outbuildings of pubs or not far away from one (Surprise, surprise!). I was not all that pleased to find that Snowy had allocated me to the Post nearest to his home and that too was in the back building of a pub. In compensation though, Messengers were to be paid, not a great amount, but better than what I got when I started as an engineering apprentice a month or two later.
Although later we were to have armbands and tin hats with ‘M’ upon them, that first night we would have no distinguishing marks, so it was decided that where we had a uniform, we should wear it. At nightfall I made my way across town and up the hill to my allotted post wearing my OTC uniform but now equipped with a tin hat and a civilian duty gas mask, basic rations for the night and feeling very official and ready for the worst. Having reported to the Head Warden of this particular post, an outbuilding more or less unrecognisable under hundreds of sandbags, I was given a quick tour of it’s layout and equipment. Warden’s gear, gas detection and decontamination, search, rescue and demolition gear, first aid gear, stretchers, blackout and gas screens and bunks for those who were not outside on duty.
Following this was a load of information on the organisation of the ARP at Post and Sector Level and communication with the ARP Headquarters in the Guildhall.
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This had all taken some time and we, that is the Head Warden and his No.2 (who was on duty that night) and myself, had no sooner sorted out who was going to be on standby and who could kip down on the bunks for a while, when our first ‘Distant Alert’ was sounded. Marco’s ‘Wailing Willie’ sounded for real for the first time and the heartbeat of Grantham started to flutter.
There have been many stories of the air raid warnings which sounded off in the London area not long after Chamberlain had finished his announcement. In Grantham we missed these, which we blamed on jittery fingers down south, but for all that, we felt sure that Grantham would get a right pasting much sooner than later.
The phone started ringing and we all started putting our gas masks and tin hats ‘at the ready’, trying hard to disguise our own flutters. A few minutes later, breathless figures were heard pushing their was [sic] through the blackout screens. Having reported and collected their gear, they left for their dispersal and patrol areas.
After a brief pause, we were then presented with our first casualty. The curtains parted and a helmeted figure wearing a gas mask, staggered into the room, collided with an equipment stand, collapsed on the ground and passed out cold! We stretched him out, removed his sweat soaked facepiece. Gasping for air, and much to our relief, he began to revive. The face began to resume a normal colour but for all that, the Head Warden did not like the looks of him and called for an ambulance to take him off to the local hospital. It later transpired that he, a fairly corpulent man in his fifties, had immediately donned his gas mask when the siren had sounded and had started to cycle furiously up the steep hill which led up to the ARP Post. Furthermore, he had neglected to soap the inside of his gas mask visor so that within minutes his perspiration had completely fogged his vision. In the blackout, he had collided with the kerb several times and come a cropper each time. a small incident perhaps amongst the thousands of more dramatic ones which would happen in Grantham over the next year or two, but remembered long after we had become inured to shocks and surprises.
On this occasion too, this was a false alarm. The All Clear was sounded shortly afterwards, the Wardens reported back, took off their gear and departed thankfully if uneasily, and we went to our bunks for the rest of the night.
The night flying aircraft from the Flying Training School and the nearby Bomber Command bases which had been hurredly [sic] grounded, were soon aloft again which, in a way was reassuring as the silence before the All Clear had been uncanny. For months now, only very bad weather had given us a night free from aircraft noise. This silence, if only for a short while on an otherwise fine night, had brought up all ears, straining to detect a different engine note.
In the nights and weeks which followed, we had quite a number of General Alerts and a few ‘Pips’ which caused an even greater straining of ears.. [sic] With the urgency upon us to train up every available pilot, the RAF decided to fly on during General Alerts and only ground their aircraft during the most likely of the Local Alerts. With the sky full of circling Ansons, Oxfords, Battles, Harvards Trainers, and Hampden Bombers, it was next to impossible to sort out the odd Ju88, Dornier or Heinkel. Many of these alerts would be merely precautionary but there were quite a few genuine intrusions as ‘Jerry’ probed our defences in the same way as we were probing his. Although there had been by this time, quite a few daylight incidents by and on both sides, as yet the air war at night had not developed into the holocaust we had been led to believe. There had been a tacit reluctance on both sides to accept responsibility for being the first to cause civilian casualties.
As September drifted into October, the ‘Phoney War Blues” began to creep in. as false alarm followed false alarm, sheer inactivity began to erode the initial high morale and dedication of the first few days and destroy the underlying sense of purpose. Some of the Wardens on duty soon discovered that the landlord of the adjacent pub was not averse to leaving his back door open after closing time. On a number of occasions I had to do a quick cover up job when, as being apparently the only one on duty, I had to ‘go fetch from the toilet’ or whatever when some senior ARP man or the police made an unscheduled visit. There were occasions when I wondered if the Wardens were going to be capable of coordinating their own movements let alone those of the sector wardens if the sirens went.
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Sometimes we only just made up our team of Wardens as some of them had drifted off to other jobs. The Messengers too began to drift away. By the beginning of October, there was talk of the schools opening again and the sixteen year olds who had been planning either to go back to their Sixth Form or to find jobs began handing in their notices. I was beginning to feel restless too. On a number of occasions I felt sure that I had been sent off on a fool’s errand just to prove to Headquarters that someone was on duty at the Post.
In the meantime, I had being [sic] doing quite a bit of research. Part of this was into what the RAF expected of me when the time came for me to register for military service and partly into what I could do constructively with the year and a quarter which intervened. When the time came for the school to reopen, I had already decided that, since the University route to engineering qualification was now ‘closed for the duration’, another year or so in the Sixth would serve no useful purpose. It became obvious that making a good start on an engineering apprenticeship combined with the Ordinary and Higher National Certificate in Mechanical Engineering courses which would eventually lead on to Corporate Membership of the Institution of Mechanical Engineers, would be a good bargaining point when it came to my appearance before the appropriate Selection Board.
So, where to start. There was still no sign of the local Technical Institute opening. This would be the bottom rung of the National Certificate course, but at least I could do something about starting and [sic] apprenticeship with one of the local engineering firms.
At that time, Grantham had three major engineering concerns and a number of smaller ones. Of the former, Marcos were out for a start. Flat out, working three shifts, seven days per week, all they wanted were unskilled machine operators and assemblers. If you started with them, you would be put on a machine and once you had mastered it they would clap a ‘Reserved Occupation’ order on you and you would be stuck on that machine for the rest of the war. They didn’t want the bother of apprentices.
The other two big companies were of world fame as fine engineers and had very sound apprenticeship schemes, but by early October their apprentice intake was already full and as soon as they heard of my ambition to go into the RAF as soon as they would have me, they firmly showed me the door.
This left the smaller companies. One of them again had a good apprentice programme but this too was already full.. I began to despair, but at this point my father stepped in to take a hand. A friend of his was the Chief Engineer of a small American firm making coal mining machinery. Admittedly they only had an assembly shop with a few simple machines. They had no facilities for the other manufacturing processes in which practical experience was necessary for eventual qualification. Following a successful interview with him, he agreed to take me on as an apprentice draughtsman for the couple of years or so before my callup. (Of course, as in the case of the First War, there were still a large number of people who blithely believed in the old ‘Over before Christmas’ nonsense, but most people were resigned to the fact that we were most probably facing up to a long hard fight which we had only just started)
At first I was none too enthusiastic. Although by this time, having been taken round the workshops, met the Foreman and seen the product, and had got a fair idea of what the company stood for, I was still ‘Johnny, Head in Air’. Later on in the war in a dramatic semi-documentary film about the RAF and the families involved in it, there featured one of the most famous little poems of the war. It started with the two lines:-
Do not despair for Johnny Head in Air,
He sleeps as sound as Johnny Underground
Now for me, Johnny Head in Air, you could not get anything so Johnny Underground as a Coalcutter. However, it seemed as good a place to start as any, and so a starting date was agreed upon, and I went away to ‘put my affairs in order’
My first job was to hand in my notice as an ARP Messenger. I was not popular and made to work my week out. I was no longer a Messenger.
My next job was to go to my OTC Commanding Officer and tell him that I had decided to leave school and therefore would no longer be one of his NCOs and therefore may I hand over my OTC uniforms and the other equipment. Expressions of regret and offerings of good wishes.
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I then went to Snowy Elms to tell him that I was not only leaving the Messengers but I was also leaving school. Even more expressions of regret and more good wishes.
Next to the school office to say that I would not be coming back to school when they decided to open again. My departure suitably recorded. I was no longer a schoolboy. I was instructed to white to the HQ of the Public School’s Air Cadet Wing to say that, having left school, I was therefore no longer in that organisation. (I never got a reply so I assumed that it had died a natural death with the outbreak of war) I was no longer a PSACW Cadet.
Having done all that, I paused for breath and asked myself what was left? The answer was that I was now a mere sixteen year old ‘civvy’ waiting to start off as an apprentice next Monday morning at 7.30 am sharp. (What happened then is, of course, quite another story)
But, and it was a big but, [underlined] I was now free to free to join the Grantham Squadron of the Air Defence Cadet Corps! [/underlined] And that is a matter for the next chapter.
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[underlined] Chapter Six I Join No.47(F) Grantham Squadron Air Defence Cadet Corps [/underlined]
By the Autumn of 1939, the Squadron had been in existence for some eight months and had become a smart, well disciplined and well organised unit. Basic training was well advanced and the roll count had passed the hundred mark. A few of its cadets had already registered for military service and there had been a few changes in the command structure as one or two officers had been called up. In addition to the officers, the squadron had a number of civilian instructors, notable amongst whom was one of the principal civilian signals instructors from the Radio School at Cranwell. He was to serve us faithfully through all the war years, and the name ‘Betts’ was to be ever associated with the ‘beeping’ of morse buzzers which seemed to be a constant background to our evening parades.
Our association with RAF Spittlegate had, over the months, become very close and practically every parade saw at least of one of their instructors down at our Headquarters holding forth on a wide variety of subjects. Every Sunday morning too, a strong contingent of cadets would be seen marching through the town and up the hill to the airfield. Once there, the various ‘trades’ would disperse to the hangars or instruction rooms and by this time most cadets had had their first flip’, especially those who had opted for and been accepted for aircrew when the time came for their callup. These were taken off to Navigation rooms, the Meteorology section, parachute packing etc., and many of the Ansons, Oxfords and Blenheims, away on navigation exercises would have a cadet on board glued to the windows and their air maps.
At Headquarters, most rooms were now plastered with wall charts and model aircraft hung from the ceilings. Now that war had been declared, most of the windows were painted out of fitted with blackout screens or curtains. However, by the time I joined, most people had got used to gloom and groping around in the semi dark. The Orderly Room buzzed and the neighbours got used to the yells of command from the parade ground to the rear of the building. The Town also got used to seeing the blue of the ADCC uniform both as the cadets made their way to HQ for parades and also marching parties ‘showing the flag’. We were still heavily dependent upon the support of the townspeople’s subscriptions and donations for most of our running expenses. In this respect the support committee, headed tirelessly by Lady Longmore, the Mayor (Stan Foster) and the others who had formed the guiding committee when the Squadron was formed in January, worked away in the background.
It might have been noticed that the possessive ‘our’ had crept into this account. My father, who was of course, the Squadron’s Commanding Officer (and was very proud of how the Squadron had developed), talked much at home of all the doings at ‘Cadets’, Nevertheless he had been quite adamant that I should take no part in its activities until such time as I could join it officially. I suppose we had both known that in time I would join the Squadron, but although as yet I had not done so, we both felt that 47(F) was [underlined] our squadron. [/underlined]
Well, I had sat and passed my Matriculation exam in July and had left school, so there would be no more examinations to sit until the end of the Technical Institute’s terminal examinations next summer, the war permitting of course. I was no longer in the OTC or the Air Cadet Wing for that matter. I had left the Messengers and was now waiting to start my engineering apprenticeship and my night school studies. So, there was apparently no reason why I should not join the Air Defence Cadet Corps. There was, however one problem which had to be thrashed out before there was any talk of me signing up.
The problem was that I was the Commanding Officer’s son. As soon as I made it known that I was now free and keen to join, my father had made a point of discussing it with his officers.
He now made it quite plain to me that I would only be allowed to join on the strict understanding on all sides, and mine in particular, that I did so as an ordinary cadet. I would have no rank and no privileges, given or expected, until such time as I had earned commendation and recommendation for promotion. Furthermore such recommendations must come from other officers than the C.O. and only after such time as I had passed my basic training requirements and there was a vacancy for such a promotion to fill.
By the time I actually presented myself at the Squadron Orderly Room to be enrolled as Cadet No.308 Stevenson P.D., it was well known to the officers and others, what my previous experience in the OTC and the Public Schools Air Cadet Wing had been. I made a point of playing this down and stuck to plain facts on my enrolment form. I cannot remember now whether it had been discussed, but from now on, as soon as we were in uniform, our family relationship was formally and firmly
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dropped, even at home. Henceforth he became my Commanding Officer at all times, to be meticulously saluted and addressed as ‘Sir’. Furthermore, we made a point of never leaving our house, walking along to the H.Q., or leaving the building together, in order to emphasise this ‘no favours’ relationship. This policy was rigidly adhered to throughout the four years he was in command of the Squadron and, henceforth, so far as this commentary is concerned, he will always be referred to as ‘The Commanding Officer’.
Formalities over, measured for uniform, added to the list for the next visit by the Medical Officer, regarded with some curiosity by the existing cadets and sternly by Squadron Warrant Officer Dawson,
I took my place amongst the ‘sprogs’ of No.4 Flight. In the drill session which followed, I did my best to show that there was not much in the ADCC Drill Book that I had not already mastered in the OTC. At the end of the session, I was told by W.O. Dawson to report to his office at the next break. Wondering what I had done wrong on my first night, I duly stood before him, standing stiffly to attention. I can’t remember his exact words now but it was something like ”I know full well that your foot drill is probably as good as or better than most other cadets and could probably instruct the recruits in drill as well as most of my NCOs, but don’t try so damned hard to show it. They are all obviously watching you and it may be misinterpreted as trying to get promotion the moment you arrive. I’m not asking you to act stupid, just pretend to be just average for the moment. Understood?” “Yessir” say’s I somewhat surprised. He then barks “And you should know by now that you don’t address your Warrant Office as ‘Sir’, do you Cadet Stevenson?” “No, er, [underlined] Mister [/underlined] Dawson” says I. “Dismiss” says he, and I do so, just managing to avoid saluting him.
In due time I had the inevitable medical which I passed A1 except for eyesight and eventually got a uniform which more or less fitted me. Having had four years of khaki serge with high collar, apart from the colour change, it did not feel much different. Naturally, it had no stripes or other insignia to indicate that I was anything other than the lowest form of life.
The maximum strength that an ADCC Squadron could hold was two hundred cadets, divided into four flights. If its strength would be likely to exceed this in the long term, then another squadron had to be formed. In those early days of the Squadron, our numbers hovered around the hundred mark on the books, with average parade strength of seventy to eighty.
For us, this was a convenient size at around twenty in each flight. When the weather was bad or when the parade was at night after blackout, we could just about parade the whole squadron in the largest of our rooms. After that, there were enough relatively big rooms to accommodate a flight in each and the walls gave some indication of which flight was using it.
Flights One and Two were, in general, the older more experienced cadets, with No.1 Flight being mostly cadets who would be opting for Aircrew when their time came, having passed their medical examination and had the necessary educational standards. No.2 Flight was mainly Ground Trades. Numbers 3 and 4 Flights were essentially ‘feeder flights’ with reasonably experienced cadets in No.3 who had either not yet made up their minds, or had not yet attained the necessary acceptance levels. No.4 Flight naturally ended up with the ‘sprogs’ and the very youngest cadets. Right from the start, the minimum age for entry had been fourteen, since a very large proportion of the children of this typical industrial town, still left school at fourteen.
Naturally, for my sins, I was dumped in No.4 Flight, and would stay there until such time as I could justifiably deserve to be something better. So, I bided my time, held my tongue and did my best to behave as a new recruit. However, once a recruit had got a uniform and had mastered enough basic foot drill not to disgrace the Squadron, he was permitted to join the Sunday morning contingent up to Spittlegate. Consequently, when I was allowed to join the chosen, I was very ‘chuffed’.
Completely resigned now to the fact that I could never be accepted for aircrew, I joined the Trades Group on their way to the hangars, determined to learn as much as possible about engines and airframes ‘in the flesh’ in manner of speaking.. Of course, this was by no means terra incognita as I had been there quite a few times in the Air Cadet Wing days, now several months back. This time however, the emphasis was more ‘hands on’.
At this point I think there is a need to revert to the subject of my apprenticeship and its associated technical studies. I had made a start in the workshops of the coal mining machinery company and was getting used to making a cold dark start at 7.30am six days a week. (The normal working week in the factories was still a standard 48 hour week, 7.30am to 5pm Mondays to Fridays plus 7.30 to 1pm on Saturdays. These were the hours worked by the apprentices, but the men had their standard week increased ‘for the duration’ by compulsory overtime to a 54 hour week. Sometimes,
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when there was a rush job, the men were called upon to work Sunday mornings also. These working hours took a hefty slice out of one’s week for a start!
Unless one’s ambitions were to be no higher than a shop labourer, then attendance at night school was a conditional part of your apprenticeship. In my case, with my sights being set somewhat higher, this would involve, for the first year, attendance at the local Technical Institute for three nights per week during the Institute’s autumn and spring terms. It was sheer luck that these three school nights did not coincide with either of the two Cadet nights. Thus my new working week involved five and a half working days and every night Monday to Friday at night school or Cadets. Add on Sunday mornings at Cadets plus two or three hours homework and private study and my week was beginning to fill up quite nicely!
There was still another demand upon available time. The Technical Institute had, like many other similar institutions, postponed the beginning of their courses until the air raid threat had receded. Instead of their usual opening at the beginning of September, it was now late October and they had lost five or six teaching weeks. As a result, instead of an evening’s instruction being two one hour sessions, 7pm to 9pm, in order to make up for lost time, the evening would comprise three one hour sessions from 6.30 to 9.30pm.
By late 1939, my life was roughly divided into three existences, my daytime apprentice’s life, my night school life and my evening and Sunday morning’s ADCC life. Time left over (if any) could be spent on non-essentials such as eating, sleeping and the trivialities of ordinary life!
During the three months of ‘Phoney Peace’ we had quite a few intrusions by the Luftwaffe. At first these seemed to be largely exploratory, but having apparently found that the Grantham area was not one with antiaircraft or balloon defences, they must have decided that we were open for attack and we began to get our first bombs. Unlike the ground war, which was to explode into dramatic action the following spring with the invasion of the Low Countries, Grantham’s air war built up slowly.
Their principal target was the 20mm cannon factory and as soon as it was effectively located, the intruders adopted a regular nightly pattern whenever the weather was favourable. In the winter months with daylight ending in the late afternoon, as early as 6pm on some nights, the Distant Warning sirens would start their wailings (There were now several of them at various parts of the town). The Spittlegate and Harlaxton trainers and the local Bomber Command aircraft would still be aloft, but we on the ground would be held in suspense. The intruder, having passed through the radar screen would then fly around until it got amongst our own aircraft circling round our air bases. After a while, with a bit of luck on their part, our Observer Corps would lose track of them with the result that they would not be able to initiate the ‘Pips’ to send us scuttling for the shelters. We would wait for an hour, perhaps two, and nothing seemed to happen. Sometimes the intruder would switch on his own navigation lights and join in with the circling trainers, no doubt making absolutely sure of his position. Then perhaps, with fuel getting low, he might line up behind a trainer starting his landing approach and silhouetted against the airfield’s flare path, he would fire a burst with his forward guns. All too often, his aim was accurate.
Successful or not, he would then circle round to make a low, fast bombing run over the centre of the town and loose off a stick of bombs into the industrial part, hopefully hitting his primary targets but all too often, falling short and hitting the housing areas. With the ‘Pips’ sounding desperately, we would dive for shelter but the horse had flown.
Quite apart from the actual damage and casualties inflicted, the object of these attacks was obviously intended to cause as much disruption as possible to our war work and the training of our pilots, therefore, the timing of these raids would vary considerably, with several intruders keeping the sirens going off and on throughout the night at times. All this was very tiring of course, and nerves began to suffer. In the event, the cannon factory received very few direct hits and was usually back in full production the following day. Various books have been published illustrating the damage inflicted upon the mainly working class housing to the south of the town and on the bombing run in. these dramatically underline the fact that in the early 1940s, per head of population, Grantham was the most heavily blitzed town in the U.K. and suffered the highest casualties.
Even amongst all this death and destruction, these [sic] was perhaps a wee excuse for a little bit of dry humour. One night at Cadets, we were in one of the front rooms having an Aircraft Recognition session under an RAF instructor who had come down from Spittlegate. The room was blacked out as usual with shutters in place and his screen backed onto the window. The Distant Warnings
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sounded but we decided to carry on. Spittlegate’s trainers were still flying around, some of them quite low over the town. In addition to the aircraft silhouettes being projected on the screen, there was a quiet running commentary going on as the various engine notes were identified. “Oxford”, “Anson” “Blenheim” etc.
However, the sound of the engines notes of the Blenheim and the Ju88 were very similar, so that when a particularly low aircraft passed over our heads, a small voice from the audience said “Blenheim”.
A second or two later, there were five enormous explosions as a stick of bombs tore the guts out of part of the factory a quarter of a mile south along the main road (incidentally killing one of the fitters with whom I had been working earlier on in the day} [sic]. The blast, in the way bomb blast tended to go, ricocheted along the road and hit the front of our Headquarters, blasting out several windows including the one in the room where we were sitting. However, by this time we were adept at diving for cover and before the glass hit the floor, had there been light to see, I doubt that a single head would have been above desk level. In the ensuing silence which usually followed a bomb, an equally small but audible shaken voice said “It wasn’t, you know”. Another brief silence was followed by shrieks of equally shaky laughter, after which we decided that we had had enough aircraft recognition for the night. The parade was dismissed and I went along to my own factory which had also lost the majority of its windows. There was not much in the way of coal mining machinery produced during the next few days until we had cleared up the mess, replaced the glass in the windows and restored the blackout.
Running ahead a bit perhaps , but there was another incident which caused quite a bit of amusement in the Squadron and at RAF Spittlegate as well. It was in the tense months following Dunkirk with the threat of invasion hanging over us. There was even more activity at Spittlegate to put every possible pilot into the air. At that time, the RAF Regiment had not been formed and the ground staff had to man station defences in addition to their work in the hangars and elsewhere. Round the clock working, disturbed nights and picket duties were taking their toll and flight commanders were doing their best to arrange 24 and 48 hour passed wherever possible, to reduce the strain.
By this time quite a few of the more senior cadets had become proficient on the station firing range, not only with rifles but also with mounted Lewis and Vickers machine guns. Our C.O. received an urgent phone call from the officer responsible for station defence. Would it be possible for a small selected group of these senior cadets to come up to the station and take over some of the perimeter patrols and act as backup to the defence posts for half a day or so next Saturday. Agreed, rounded up and delivered.
Now there happened to be a gate in the perimeter fence on the eastern boundary of the station, conveniently accessible to the Officers Mess and Married Quarters. Crossing the green lane outside the gate gave access to a footpath leading to the little nine hole golf course which the RAF tended to use as well as the town residents. When Saturday morning’s duties had been appropriately completed, it was the Station Commander’s habit to change into civvies after lunch and partake of a round or two, which this Saturday he proceeded to do.
Some time later, our Commanding Officer was called to the telephone by a somewhat irate Group Captain. It would appear that the said Group Captain had, suitable garbed and kitted with golf gear, left the station by this gate and had been let out by one of the stations ground staff on picket duty. However, while he was enjoying his game, a tall and somewhat burly ADCC Cadet, armed with a pick axe handle, had taken over.
This cadet is approached by a civilian in golf gear who shows every intention of entering the station.
The ensuing conversation goes something as follows:
“I’m sorry sir, civilians are not permitted to pass through this gate”
“But I am the Group Captain ‘X’ in command of this station”
“Very good sir, may I see you [sic] pass?
Too late the Group Captain realises that his pass is still in his uniform pocket, back in the Mess.
Tried bluster and words of authority. Cadet unmoved, sticks to his instructions.
“May I suggest sir, that you make your way round to the Main Gate Guardroom where they will be pleased to check your identity and let you in. I am afraid I am instructed to let no one in without the appropriate pass”
Group Captain realises that he was not going to get past this large and burly figure of authority and by the time he had walked a further half mile around the station perimeter, he is in no mood to accept further frustrations. It seems that the guard on duty recognised his Commanding Officer and let him
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in with appropriate ceremony. The C.O. strode on a further few yards, stopped, turned round and stormed into the Guardroom to demand from the NCO in charge, why he, in civilian clothes, had not been requested to show his pass. Group Captain walks through the camp to the Officer’s Mess and demands a drink to cool his ire. Refreshed, he sees the funny side of it and tells the other officers present how he was denied entry to his own camp by mere [sic] boy who effectively barred his way.
Joke goes round the camp like wildfire and the Group Captain rings up the Cadet C.O. to report what happened. Cadet C.O. extremely apologetic, promises to tear off a strip when the Cadet in question next parades. No, says the G.C.. Pass on my appreciation of his devotion to duty etc., etc.
(I very much regret that the name of the cadet has not remained in my memory bank even if his actions have. He surely should appear upon the Squadron’s unofficial roll of honour!)
Having ‘slaved in the galleys’ for a respectable period, I eventually got my big break, but it came in rather a strange way. Thanks to my previous experience in the OTC, the Air Cadet Wing and my own general knowledge in matters aeronautical, there were quite a few subjects in which I was ‘ahead of the class’. There were of course quite a few new subjects which I attended assiduously, but in those subjects in which I was not exactly wasting my time, there was a tendency to use me as a ‘gopher’ (The later expression for someone who is told to “Go for this” or “Go for that”) The fact that our home was but a stone’s throw from the Cadet HQ also contributed in a way. I soon got into the habit of opening the place up on parade nights, getting the fires going and taking along parcels of uniforms etc., which had been delivered to my father’s business address nearby. This had brought me into contact with the Squadron’s Equipment Officer who was a quiet but likeable Scot and I drifted into giving him a hand from time to time. The fact that I had done a ‘fatigue’ or two in the OTC Armoury and knew my way around the issue and storage of uniforms etc., also helped.
Cadet F/Lt MacKay was also Stores Manager at one of the big engineering firms in the south of the town, now flat out on war work. he was beginning to find it difficult to get to Cadets every parade night and suggested to the other Flight Commanders that when I was not involved in my own personal training, and he was unavoidably absent, I should as his officially appointed assistant, be in charge of the squadron equipment store and be responsible for the receipt, storage and issue of uniforms and other items.
The suggestion was accepted in principle but the Adjutant pointed out that responsibility and authority must go hand in hand. He said that if I was to be in charge of the stores when the Equipment Officer was absent, then I should have at least a couple of stripes to represent the authority required. However, since at the moment the Squadron had a full complement of NCOs, the appointment should be non-substantive. In other words, I would be an Acting Corporal whose authority did not extend beyond the door of the Equipment Stores. I supposed it was a start, even if it was only half a step on the rung of promotion. The C.O. agreed, the existing NCOs were told of my exact standing and I was accepted as not representing a threat to their seniority or authority. I think that the very strict ‘no fraternisation’ policy which the C.O. and I had stuck to so carefully, had paid off in the long run.
There were no real problems at Cadet H.Q., but when we were up at Spittlegate, there were a few occasions when my declining to use my stripes was misunderstood.
Matters came to a head rather suddenly one Saturday afternoon. It would seem that there was some sort of ‘flap’ on at Spittlegate and our C.O. had received a call that morning from the Duty Officer asking if it was possible for a working party of Cadets to go up there and lend a hand. I was asked if I could drum up some volunteers plus a senior NCO to take charge.
When the time came for the main party to move off, there was no sign of the Sergeant who was supposed to march us up. Having waited for ten minutes or so, I left a message asking him to catch us up and assume command. Fully aware that I did not really have the authority to do so, I formed the group up and gave the command to march. Up at the Spittlegate Guard Room we checked in as usual and waited for the Sergeant. After a further ten minutes, I decided to exceed my brief once again and marched the group up to the Duty Officer, where I was told to take them ASAP to the hangars. I tried to explain that I was not really a full NCO, but it fell on deaf ears. In the hangars, the Flight Sergeant told me to find out where help was needed, as help was apparently needed urgently. Again I tried to explain that I was only an acting corporal but all I got was a “Stop arguing and get on with it” sort of look, so I stopped arguing and got on with it, putting the cadets where they were needed. Nobody seemed to object and we spent the rest of the afternoon helping, holding, fetching and taking and generally making ourselves useful. When eventually a halt was called, the Flight
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Sergeant came over, thanked us and said that he had arranged for transport to take us back to the town.
Back home, the C.O. asked how we had got on. Not wanting to ‘shop’ the Sergeant who had not come to take charge, I was deliberately vague as to who was actually in charge, and left it at that. Next morning at our usual Sunday morning parade, I was told to report to the Orderly Room. Rather to my surprise an RAF driver was there, with the C.O. looking hard at me. “Who was in charge of yesterday’s party at Spittlegate?” After a certain amount of havering I was forced to admit that Sergeant X had not turned up, so I had decided to take them up myself rather than wait any longer. “I tried to explain, but they were too busy to listen”. Well, says the C.O., it appears that they want the same party under the same NCO to go back again for the day and they have sent down a truck to take them up. They seem extremely pleased at the way the cadets got stuck in yesterday.
At this point either the Adjutant or one of the Flight Commanders chips in – I can’t remember which. “We will be losing Sergeant Y soon, may I suggest that Corporal Stevenson be promoted Sergeant with immediate effect so that he can take full command of the party” The C.O. looks appropriately non committal until nods from the other officers signify their approval. “Carry on, Sergeant” says he, so there was I, up another rung. “And see me in my office tomorrow night” says Dawson with a look which warns me not to get cocky about it!
Assuming command can be a very individual thing. Around this time an amusing relationship built up. Again, I have unfortunately forgotten names, but it concerns two cadets who became close ‘buddies’ as a result of their experiences on the firing range at Spittlegate. One of these was a tall well built, sixteen year old ‘townie’, the other a diminutive fourteen year old country boy. The former proved that, as soon as he got a rifle in his hands he went completely ‘gun shy’, failing to hit anything, since he firmly shut his eyes the moment he started to squeeze the trigger. We were convinced that the country boy must have been born with a shotgun in his hands. He was completely gun mad, but obviously well trained in the handling of guns by his father. He was determined to fire everything the RAF had to offer. Rifles, Lewis and Vickers air guns and even the vicious 0.5inch Boyes Anti Tank Rifle whose ‘kick’ would drive him backwards a good six inches. (As was to be expected he became an Air Gunner when he joined up) Meanwhile, the range instructors had done everything they could think of to get the big cadet to overcome his gun shyness but to no avail. Then, quietly, the country boy decided to take over.
We never knew how he did it but, taking the pair of them to the far end of the range, he spent the next half hour quietly talking to the big boy. Soon, steady cracks signalled that the big cadet was not only firing away confidently but was also doing some respectable scoring. After that, they were inseparable and were both the first to volunteer for range practice.
It was surprising how many jobs the RAF at Spittlegate could find for us to do. Volunteers were also called for helping out at the Officers Mess. Before I got my ‘Three’ up, I trod very carefully about volunteering. Too little volunteering and I could be accused of shirking, too much and I could be accused of angling for promotion. Somehow, I managed to get ‘wished’ into helping out in the Mess but it was a job I hated. Becoming a Mess Orderly was not on my list of possible careers in the RAF. Maybe it was because I had already found out that alcohol did nothing for me, and so I could be regarded as ‘safe’. Certainly, had I been that way inclined, I could have knocked back many a drop or dram as there were times when the few orderlies were busy elsewhere and I was in sole charge of the bar.
While on the subject of volunteering, this may be the point to introduce another member of our team who would feature frequently in the doings of the Squadron over the next five years. I cannot remember now whether she came to us in the ADCC days or whether we had become ATC by then. Right from our inaugural meeting in January 1939, our weekly local newspaper, the Grantham Journal, had given us excellent publicity. By now, the sub-editor had been calling in at least once a week to see if there was a story, and during these visits, she had come to the conclusion that the secretarial side of our Orderly Room was far from orderly. What was needed was a ‘woman about the place’. Her offer of assistance was enthusiastically accepted, and so we acquired the services of Miss Llwelyn-Owens who became an integral part of the Squadron’s doings over the next five years.
She was short, dumpy and very efficient. She reorganised our filing, straightened out our records, typed or [sic] letters and memos, tidied the place up and became our Squadron Mother. In her early thirties, she was of course middle aged to us, but what she lacked in height and good looks, she more than made up in personality. She broke no hearts amongst the cadets but they became her
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willing slaves. She was ‘interesting’ and naturally well informed, and once she was on the strength, she stepped up our publicity. Much more about our ‘Miss Owens’ later.
Also on the subjects of ‘Mothers’, we must pay further tribute to Lady Longmore. We were still mainly dependent upon public donations and subscriptions for our running costs and our support committee, under the leadership of Lady Longmore worked tirelessly to bring the cash in. whenever Sir Arthur (now Air Chief Marshall) was on leave, she would make sure he added glamour to the occasion. We have already called him the ‘Founding Father’ of the Squadron and by the same token Lady Longmore was surely our ‘Founding Mother’
Meanwhile, we cadets spent our daytimes at our apprenticeships or other jobs, our evenings at night school or at Cadets, and our night times wondering when the Luftwaffe would have yet another go at the cannon factory and the other factories. In spite of the fact that we frequently had to dive for the shelter (the H.Q. building had some useful cellars which had been requisitioned by the ARP) training continued apace, the recruits came in and the first of our older cadets had left for the Forces. The RAF certainly thought we were doing a good job. The Battle of Britain was over and it was London’s turn to feel the effects of their Blitz. The threat of invasion had passed and the country was girding itself for a long hard struggle. 1940 ended and a New Year of uncertainty began. The Air Defence Cadet Corps, (several hundred squadrons strong now) felt, with some justification, that it was a creditable part of the overall war effort.
Rumours had been going around for some time that the RAF was of the same opinion and that the Air Ministry was making active steps to take over the responsibility of the Air Cadet movement. As 1941 began we were told that this was to take place within the month and that the ADCC would now become the ‘Air Training Corps’ with effect from the beginning of January. Our officers would have temporary commissions in the RAF Volunteer Reserve. The Cadets would have new uniforms and retain their ranks. Everything, with the exception of purely welfare expenditure, would be paid for by direct per capita grants from the Air Ministry. From now on, we were to consider ourselves as being an integral part of the RAF.
WE HAD ARRIVED!
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[underlined] Chapter Seven – 47(F) Sq. Air Training Corps 1941 – No. 12 (P)AFU at RAF Spittlegate [/underlined]
1941 was a fairly momentous year for the Squadron. It started with us becoming No.47(F) Grantham Squadron [underlined] Air Training Corps. [/underlined] Our officers were now commissioned in the RAF Volunteer Reserve and would reappear in normal RAF officer’s uniforms. Nominally though, they dropped a rank. Commanding Officers of cadet squadrons were remustered as Flight Lieutenants, Flight Commanders as Flying Officers and so on.
Cadet ranks remained essentially the same. New uniforms would be reissued in a style more or less resembling the standard RAF ‘erks’ outfit although it would still retain the high ‘choker’ collar.
Existing ADCC uniforms would be converted to ATC by new buttons and other insignia.
A new training syllabus was introduced which was intended to match in with the training at the RAF Reception Centres and the Initial Training Wings (the ITWs’). The intention was that an ATC cadet having, passed specified training standards, would be exempted the early stages of RAF training or at least placed on a ‘fast track’ programme.
New training manuals soon arrived. These were now printed by HMSO bearing the age old Air Ministry preface ‘Promulgated by Order of the Air Council for the guidance of all concerned’. Much of it was merely a more official version of the training material which had been issued by the ADCC, which in itself had been modelled on the ‘Square Bashing’ stages of RAF recruit training at the beginning of the war. There were however, a number of new subjects which we had previously introduced on an ad hoc basis after our cadets had more or less passed their initial ADCC training requirements.
The Battle of Britain had seriously depleted the reserve of fighter pilots and Fighter Command was working flat out to build up its strength once more. The Battle of the Atlantic was calling on Coastal Command to increase its patrol and anti-submarine capabilities. Bomber Command, now the only branch of the services capable of carrying the war into the enemy’s camp, was losing many crews on ineffectual bombing and leaflet dropping missions. Soon too, they were expecting a new generation of heavy bombers to enter squadron service, aircraft with several new air crew categories to meet the increased crew sizes. The training of aircrew, especially pilots, had to be stepped up for us to survive
At Spittlegate, the emphasis had changed from general pilot training to a more specific need for night fighter pilots. Airborne radar, though still in its early stages, was beginning to improve our interception success which had not been all that successful to date. Better, heavier and more powerful night fighters were also coming into service. The station ceased to be No.12 Service Flying Training School and now became No.12 (Pilots) Advanced Training Unit. i.e. No.12(P)AFU. There were very few changes in personnel, it was just a case of taking trainee pilots, already up to general ‘Wings’ standard from other SFTSs, and converting them specifically to be night fighter pilots or ‘Intruder’ pilots. In each case there was a greater concentration on blind flying, night flying, long distance navigation and the use of aircraft more similar to the Radar equipped Blemheim, Beaufighter and Mosquito night fighters which would soon be in service
In spite of the increasing tempo at Spittlegate, we were still welcome. As far as possible we ‘earned our keep’ by making ourselves as useful as possible in the hangars and elsewhere, in exchange for opportunities to use the firing range and go for flights when there was a seat going. Since we were only on the station in daylight, much as we would have liked to have gone on night flights, we were unable to do so. Daylight flying usually involved the pilots under training at the beginning of their courses, but as they became more proficient in handling the aircraft, they not only moved over to night flying, the actual flights were of longer duration. They were also more dangerous and a number of crews were lost.
We were lucky in that throughout all the war years, when our cadets flew on countless occasions at the various stations to which we were attached, we never had a single cadet injured. This was in spite of flying with pilots who were still very much learning their trade on the one hand, and in aircraft liable to engine failure (e.g. the Blenheims at Spittlegate and later the Avro Manchesters at RAF Bottesford), The nearest we got to a casualty, was when a young cadet, off on his first flight (in a MkIV Blemheim with its underslung gun pod) had the interesting experience of a wheels up crash landing on the airfield. More or less beneath his feet, the pod was wiped off over a hundred yards of grass and the propellers took up some rather curious shapes. When everything came to a halt, the crew and the cadet lost no time in hopping out to a safe distance. The arrival of the crash and ‘blood wagons’ created more mayhem. While the first enjoyed covering the Blenheim with foam, the latter
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landing on the airfield. More or less beneath his feet, the pod was wiped off over a hundred yards of grass and the propellers took up some rather curious shapes. When everything came to a halt, the crew and the cadet lost no time in hopping out to a safe distance. The arrival of the crash and ‘blood wagons’ created more mayhem. While the first enjoyed covering the Blenheim with foam, the latter [sic] put in some useful practice treating non existent casualties. Now it has always been the RAF tradition that if a crash occurs and the pilot and/or crew are uninjured, to restore nerves and morale, they immediately go up for another flight. In spite of this being his first and somewhat eventful flight, our very young cadet immediately insisted in going up with them again! Certainly one for the Squadron’s records.
In the background to all this, Britain was now on its own. The Battle of France had been lost and the Battle of Britain won the previous year. The war in Europe was in stalemate with armies facing each other across the Channel. Britain was reeling from the Blitz, as most of its major cities received nightly attacks from the Luftwaffe, which it had to be admitted, were a lot better at finding their targets than our Bomber Command was at finding theirs. Until airborne Radar was fitted to ageing Defiant and Blenheim night fighters, there seemed little we could do to stop them. Interception did improve and by the time the first Beaufighters came into service, we were able to fight back, hence the ongoing drive to get night fighter pilots through the Spittlegate courses as quickly as possible. The end result was that although we were still welcome in the hangars and other ground facilities, there were far fewer opportunities for those of our cadets who were opting for aircrew to gain air experience.
Our cadet roll had settled down, it would seem, to around one hundred or so with again around seventy to eighty on parades. In addition to those who lived in and around the town, there had been right from the start, a significant number who were prepared to cycle in from the surrounding countryside. We even had one cadet who cycled down the Great North Road from the outskirts of Newark, some eleven miles each way! (His devotion to duty was not confined to the ATC. He served with distinction in the RAF when his time came, became a ‘Regular’ in the post war RAF and rose to wear ‘Scrambled Egg’ upon his cap). We had a very strong contingent from the large village of Colsterworth, some nine miles south of Grantham, and in time this would lead us to forming a Colsterworth Flight, but more about that later.
It would also be around this time that a new category of ‘cadet’ joined our ranks. Conscription into the service had become the norm. thanks to the excellent and well recognised pre service training contributed by the Sea Cadets, the Army Cadets and the Air Cadets, it had been decided that any young man who ‘Registered’ at seventeen and a quarter and who was not already a member of the Cadet movement, must attend the Cadet unit of the Service into which he had been accepted. Most of those who joined us, saw the advantages of becoming a regular cadet and were soon absorbed into our ranks. Others, who seemed determined to remain ‘civvies’ until the last possible moment, declined our uniforms and remained something of an ‘awkward’ sub-flight, reluctantly parading to the rear of No.4 Flight, when they bothered to attend and were correspondingly treated with some contempt by the other cadets. They were however recipients of the same training programmes.
Thankfully, an increasing flow of well prepared training material was now coming through from ATC Headquarters, together with a much more coordinated training programme. This meant that by now, after some two year’s experience, there was much less for our own officers and other instructors to improvise or ‘swop up’. Unfortunately in a way, none of our offices at this time were ‘technical’. As a result there were a few significant gaps in our coverage of the subjects needed to meet the new emphasis on aircrew on aircrew training. But, as the saying goes, “Its an ill wind that blows nobody any good”
Once I had been promoted to Flight Sergeant, I was able to fetch out those instructional skills which had been so carefully instilled in me back in the OTC days. All the usual introductory subjects for recruit training in the ‘square bashing’ phase presented no difficulty and wherever possible, I did my best to train my Sergeants and Corporals to present them themselves. This gave me time and opportunity to concentrate on subjects which I really liked and derived great satisfaction in presenting. Theory of Flight, Airframe Construction, Meteorology and, increasingly Map Reading and Navigation, all of which were ’technical’ and essential to aircrew aspirants.
It was around this time that the Flight Sergeant rank was introduced. Furthermore, quite a few of our senior NCOs had been called up and in best ‘dead man’s shoes’ tradition I was now more or less the senior Sergeant. As more Corporals were promoted and given more responsibility, so I was able to
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delegate a goodly number of my elementary subject instruction to them and concentrate on my ‘technical’ subjects and thereby became more of a squadron instructor than a mere administrative NCO, awaiting callup.
This new status was reinforced by the fact that by mid 1941, I had passed my Ordinary National Certificate in Mechanical Engineering. Having Registered the previous autumn, I had appeared before the appropriate Selection Board and had been officially accepted for entry into the RAF Technical Branch. This was dependent upon the completion of my engineering apprenticeship, and passing my Higher National Certificate in two year’s time. I was now ‘deferred’, subject to annual appearance before the Selection Board. As a result I could now look forward to at least another two year’s service in the Squadron. A coveted crown had been added to my uniform above my three stripes, and so up I had gone another rung.
My situation was somewhat helped by the various stages of my apprenticeship which involved alternation periods in the works and the drawing offices. Office hours were of course less demanding and at lunch hours, my drawing board could be used to work up diagrams, charts etc., for my ATC lectures. Even my technical studies helped in a way. Once having mastered the theory of vector forces and motions, it was easy to covert [sic] the basic principles into navigation exercises and aerodynamics. Another thing which helped was that once I had passed my second year exams at the Grantham Technical School, instead of attending three evenings per week, I now attended the Newark Technical College’s part time day release National Certificate courses. These involved a four day working week at my factory and a fifth whole day plus one evening at the Newark Technical College.
As mentioned earlier, our attachment to Spittlegate had become somewhat less satisfactory as a result of their new responsibilities and working practices. Our CO had been working away quietly for sometime [sic] getting No.5 Bomber Group H.Q. personnel (from the top downwards) interested in our activities and also in the town’s ‘Wings for Victory’ and other war savings drives. We never got Arthur Harris down before he moved on to become Commander in Chief of Bomber Command, but his successors as O. i/c 5 Group certainly added lustre to 47(F)’s prestige from time to time. While on the subject of ‘name dropping’, we not only had AVMs Bottomly and Cochraine ‘drop in’ from time to time but Sir Arthur and Lady Longmore continued to help us whenever possible. We certainly had friends in high places.
This new relationship with No.5 Group suddenly bore fruit. For the past year there had been frenzied activity on requisitioned farmland just north of the village of Bottesford on the Lincolnshire/Nottinghamshire border, and in the autumn of 1941, RAF Bottesford became operational. Into it moved No. 207 Squadron, a newly reformed 5 Group squadron which was to become famous in a number of very significant ways. Furthermore, No.47(F) was going to be attached to them for the next year.
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[underlined] Chapter Eight 47(F) Sq. Air Training Corps and RAF Bottesford 1941-42 [/underlined]
As already mentioned in earlier chapters, our Commanding Officer had built up connections with members of the staffs of many of the local RAF establishments and these included the headquarters staff of No .5 Bomber Group which was already beginning to gain its legendary reputation. As a result of some gentle arm twisting, 47(F) was now attached to RAF Bottesford, a new bomber station some twelve miles in the opposite direction from Spittlegate.
During the 1930s rearmament period, the ‘Golden Age’ of RAF architecture had given Lincolnshire a number of superbly designed airfields with classic accommodation and mess blocks, hangars and service buildings, such as those to be found at Coningsby, Digby, Scampton and elsewhere. As the war approached, many older fields were given a more hurried facelift. Then, when war was declared, a massive programme of even more temporary airfield construction threw up dozens of ‘hostilities 0nly’ airfields in our and surrounding counties.
Bottesford was typical of these. A grass airfield with only a concrete perimeter track, dispersal sites for aircraft and a minimum of corrugated iron, steel framed maintenance hangars (Most daily maintenance and minor repair work on bomber bases would be done in the open dispersal areas during the war) Dispersed accommodation sites with uninsulated Nissen huts for the ground staff and slightly less uncomfortable wooden huts for aircrew were backed up by a few more permanent brick or concrete structures such as the H.Q., Control Tower, Officer’s and men’s messes, fire and rescue buildings etc.
Into this, with it’s concrete barely dry, had come No.207 Squadron. Formed originally as a Royal Naval Air Service Squadron in WW1, it had been disbanded when that war ended. It was reformed in 1940 at RAF Waddington where it originally worked up with Handley Page Hampdens, the ageing workhorse of No.5 Group in those early WW2 years. Although at the time it was initially intensely proud of the distinction, it had the ill luck to be chosen as the first squadron to fly the ill fated Avro Manchester. Having converted, the whole squadron was moved down to Bottesford where they were now getting to grips with putting this ‘monster’ into operational service.
At this stage of the war, Bomber Command was still thinking in terms of bigger, but still two engine ‘heavies’. Of the four principal manufacturers of bombers for the RAF throughout the war, Vickers would stick to mass production of their two engined ‘Wellington’, the ‘Wimpey’ of everlasting fame. Shorts, who were flat out making Sunderland flying boats for Coastal Command, decided to save valuable time by using the Sutherland wings with their four radial engines, grafting on a new slim fuselage, tail plane and undercarriage. They called it the ‘Stirling’ and in the event, the Stirling was the first ‘heavy’ to go operational. Hurried into service, it proved to be a typical ‘camel designed by a committee’. It was slow, it lacked the ability to carry large bombs and had a low service ceiling. It proved reasonably reliable but was not popular amongst the crews called upon to fly it.
The two other manufacturers (and the Air Ministry) were pinning great hopes on a new super-engine then under development by Rolls Royce. Essentially, it was two earlier (and reliable) vee-form twelve cylinder Kestrel engines, one upright and the other inverted, driving a common crankshaft. Hopefully, this new engine, optimistically named the Vulture, would in the hands of Handley Page and Avros, power two new two engine ‘heavies’ which would be much faster and with greater bomb loads, greater range and service ceiling than the Hampdens, Whitleys and ‘Wimpeys’ of No. 5 and other Bomber Groups. Rushed into service before it was properly developed, the Vulture proved a disaster and the two engine aspirations of Handley Page and Avro were dropped in favour of four engine developments.
The 207 Sq. air crews selected to fly this first of the new generation of aircraft, upon which Bomber Command were pinning even greater hopes, had been carefully gleaned from experienced Hampden crews from other 5 Group squadrons. These included quite a few, who in turn would be poached by Guy Gibson when the time came to form 617 Squadron, the Dam Busters.
By the time 47(F) appeared on their scene, 207 was just about settled in and getting their Manchesters operational. I am not sure how welcome we were when we first arrived, but 5 Group H.Q. in Grantham appeared to have told them that we were coming and could possibly be put to good use on the ground, and please would they give the cadets as much air experience as
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possible. In the case of the ground trades, they too were to be given as much experience of a similar nature.
We were not to know this when the Sunday morning Bottesford party assembled for the first time at Cadet HQ to await the arrival of the truck to take us there. All agog in anticipation of our first visit to a fully operational bomber station, we were not surprised to see an armed guard on the gate. Having passed through the barrier we were told to enter the Guard Room where the Security Officer watched as our Identity Cards were checked and our names recorded, whereupon he gave us a short sharp talk on Station Security. Nothing, repeat nothing, which we would see, hear or learn on this or any other visit, was to be discussed outside the station perimeter, and we were left in no doubt as to the penalties we would suffer should we be found to have done so. Pointing to the ‘Careless Talk Cost Lives’ posters which after eighteen months of war were everywhere, he said “This is for real here and don’t you forget it”
Suitably subdued, we formed up outside and marched as smartly as possible, we were escorted to the Duty Officer’s office. After a similar warning, we were taken on a brief tour of the central service area facilities and then onto the tarmac in front of the hangars where we had our first face to face encounter with the Manchester. At Spittlegate, we were all used to the ‘Faithful Annies’, the ‘Oxboxes’, the Blenheims and the Harvards which were all very much of a size but in comparison, the Manchester seemed ENORMOUS. Propellers which seemed big enough for a windmill, tyres as big as the average cadet, engine nacelles as big as a Harvard’s fuselage, a cockpit canopy twenty feet up in the air and a bomb bay big enough it seemed, to carry a bus. Although, we were to gather later, they were beginning to have grave doubts about the engines, they were immensely proud of the Avro airframe. We were proudly shown around its ‘innards’ and sat for the first time in power operated gun turrets. We had occasionally glimpsed a Manchester in the distance, but since they were instructed to keep well away from Spittlegate and Harlaxton’s training air space we had not seen them close to. During the morning there had been one or two of them doing flight tests and we had stood in wonder as they taxied out and, with savage roars from their huge Vulture engines, they took off circled around, and landed.
After some grub in the airmen’s mess (a distinct improvement on Spittlegate’s NAAFI wagons!) we broke up into ‘trades’. Our aircrew cadets marched off to the navigation and crew rooms where we made sure that they appreciated that we knew all about putting on Sidcot suits and parachutes and knew our flight drill. Since there were some more flight tests scheduled for the afternoon, a lucky few were taken out, installed in upper and rear turrets or in second pilots and navigator’s seats in the ‘office’ and away they went into Bottesford’s air space. Back on terra firma, they were drooling with excitement.
Meanwhile, our ground trades had dispersed into their respective work areas. The Armourers for example, as soon as they could, demonstrated that they too knew how to strip a Vickers or Lewis Air Gun and clear the usual stoppages, but now they needed to learn the same for the Browning air guns which were used in the Manchester turrets. A new piece of gear which they would get to know very well in the ensuing months, was the machine gun belt filling machine. We had seen the long trays which lined almost the whole length of the rear fuselage of the Manchester which guided yard upon yard of rounds into the turret guns. This was no mere demonstration. These rounds if fired, would be for real. Down in the bomb dumps, we looked in awe at hundreds of real live bombs of all sizes, and air drop sea mines. They were also introduced to the chore which the RAF were only too pleased to hand over to the ATC in later visits, the loading of canisters with hundreds of the RAF’s little 4lb hexagonal magnesium incendiary bombs, which we learned to load [underlined] very carefully [/underlined]. Earlier on we were given a demonstration of what would happen if one was dropped on its live end. Very spectacular. We never dropped one! In the hangars, the fitter trades similarly indicated that hangar life was not a closed book to them.
As was to be expected, this was our introductory visit. They got to know us and we got to know them. We definitely wanted to come again and they seemed very willing to have us back. From our point of view, the change in atmosphere had been dramatic. At Spittlegate, we had been used to a more or less round the clock tempo with aircraft flying, at all hours of the day and night, weather permitting. Maintenance had also been an ongoing, more or less regular routine. The only ‘flaps’ had been the result of attempts to bring a course back on time after a spell of bad weather or to urgently complete the training of a given course.
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At Bottesford, all seemed very different. The weather was of course the all deciding factor as to whether the station was on a ‘Stand Down’ or ‘Operations On’ status. On this, our first visit, the station was on ‘Stand Down’. All hands seemed to be working hard but steadily during daylight hours to get all essential maintenance up to date, damage repaired, aircraft air tested and training exercises completed. At nightfall, we were to find that, apart from late working in the hangars, there was an air of relief as air and ground crews collapsed for well earned rest and a chance to catch up with lost sleep. It was to be very different on the day we went to Bottesford when ‘Ops’ were scheduled for the following night, but more on that subject later.
We were a much bemused party which returned to Grantham late that afternoon. There was an overwhelming urge to chatter on about all we had seen and done. However, we NCOs, remembering the admonitions of the Security Officer, jumped down hard on any talk involving ‘sensitive’ matters, and our officer in charge reiterated our security responsibilities when the time came for us to dismiss. There was one thing we could say, we quite sure we had fallen on our feet when it came to our new attachment.
It was not long before our now quite regular visits to Bottesford settled down to a regular routine. Air crew category cadets, on arrival would make their way to the Navigation Section. There, they would go over the exercises which they had done at cadet H.Q. under my supervision and would work through previous ‘plots’ which had been done in recent operational sorties over France and Germany. At this time, many of these sorties involved the dropping of sea mines in areas of the North Seas, Baltic, Channel and Biscay coasts. Such navigation and position fixing had to be very accurate and we learned a lot of how it was done ‘for real’. Once the 207 navigators felt that we could make quite a good job of working out a simple plot, they would get us to work out one for a Manchester which was due for a flight test that day. Then to our delight, they would take us up on the test and the pilot rather than just ‘stooging around’ (as the saying went in those days) would follow our courses as we sang them out. with us glued to our air maps as we map read our progress over the ground, at the end of a half hour triangular flight, if we did actually arrive more or less back over the airfield, we really thought that there was something in this air navigation business, and how we were guiding this huge powerful machine around the skies. However, it should be added that this sort of thing was more characteristic of our visits to Bottesford later in the year.
While this was going on with our air crew cadets, our ground trades were similarly busy in the hangars, armaments sections, and out on dispersals. As it had been at Spittlegate, our cadets who were also engineering fitter apprentices, were soon helping out with maintenance and repair work. Of course the training aircraft at Spittlegate had suffered occasional damage as a result of forced landings, overshoots and ground collisions etc., but now we had our first experience of battle damage. One or two Manchesters had come back from mine laying sorties with the tips of their propellers bent back. Because the mines had to be dropped from a very low level in the dark, the pilots were experiencing the same difficulties of judging their height as the Dam Busters did two years later. Often these same aircraft came back with their bomb doors ripped off and one came back with seaweed in its radiator intake. On one occasion, one came back with a long length of German balloon cable wrapped round one of its propellers. When low flying exercises were on the go, twigs and small branches on one’s wing tips were regarded as great trophies.
These were the lucky ones. Somehow, their pilots had managed to regain control and bring their damaged aircraft back home. Others didn’t and paid the ultimate price. Practically every weekend when we arrived, the ground staff were grooming up replacement aircraft for ones lost on operations or, increasingly, regrettably and disastrously, those which had crashed or failed to return due to engine failures. It was obvious to all now, that the Vulture, rushed into production before it had been properly developed, was a complete failure.
There had been crashes and fatalities at Spittlegate either through aircraft failures, pilot errors or, sadly, through intruder gunfire, but these had rarely been talked about. Whether this was to keep such matters away from our young ears or whether it had been standard practice to keep up the morale of their trainees, I have no idea. At Bottesford, discussion of by now regular losses seemed unavoidable. I do know that certain badly damaged aircraft were ‘out of bounds’ to us until such times as certain rather unpalatable evidences of the less heroic aspects of war had been cleaned away. What they also did their best to hide from us was their undoubted loss of morale and confidence in the Manchester. The general opinion amongst the aircrews was that they were far more likely to lose their lives to a Vulture than a Messerschmidt [sic]. In spite of this, there seemed to be
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no reluctance to taking us up on test flights etc. We, being young and ‘good keen types’ were only too pleased to sign the inevitable ‘blood chit’ before take off, and make sure that little or nothing of this leaked back to our parents!
The replacement Manchesters by this time were all Mk.2 versions. In spite of their loss of faith in its engines, they still considered that the aircraft (with engines running well) was a delight to fly, but then on one bright sunny early summer morning they had something new to show us. There on the tarmac was a Manchester Mk.3. Still the same fuselage and tail plane but the Vultures had gone. The wingspan had been increased by ten feet each side and two new outboard engine nacelles housed sleek ‘vee twelve’ Merlins. This was the prototype of the legend to come.
Both aircrew and ground staff were ecstatic. It was doing the rounds of the Manchester squadrons to get their opinions as to how it handled and what they thought of it. For the first time, we heard in place of the Vulture’s snarls, the gentle purrs of four Merlins ticking over, changing to a purposeful roar as the ‘Mk.3’ took off and shot us up at zero feet.. This was to be the sound of ‘Bomber County’ for the next five years.
Very shortly after we started going to Bottesford, we arrived to find that operations were ‘on’ for the following night. The whole camp was in a very different state and was now working in top gear. We were there to give4 a hand wherever it was needed, irrespective of trade or category. Final checks and adjustments, much running up of engines, bombing up, fuelling up, arming up, frenzied but purposeful activity. Later on in the war, the country would be immensely inspired by Laurence Olivier’s production of Shakespeare’s ‘Henry V’ and the lines in the Prologue to the Battle of Agincourt could never be more apt to the scene on ‘Ops’ night at Bottesford or any other Bomber Command station that night or any other night of the escalating bomber offensive:
“And in the tents, the armourers accomplishing the knights,
With busy hammers closing rivets up,
Gave dreadful note of preparation”
Everywhere was a noisy and ascending crescendo of activity.
This was to be an early evening takeoff and as the crews were called to final briefing there was a palpable increase in tension. This heightened even further as we watched the crews, loaded with parachutes, charts, code books and other gear, climbed up into the lorries which would be taking them out to dispersal. Another pregnant silence and then the noise began.
First one, two, ten, twenty, forty and often more engines coughed into life. Clouds of smoke followed by another pause, then each engine in turn would be run up. Full revs, full boost, mag drop, temperatures, pressures, fuel checks and all the other pre-flight checks were carried out and we knew what was going on now. Then, when all was satisfactory, the whole squadron, with all engines ticking over, formed a slow procession round the perimeter like a great noisy herd of elephants, to the down wind point of the airfield. A red light would appear on the south horizon. This would be the hazard light on top of Bottesford village church, a nasty reminder that the aircraft, loaded to capacity, would have gained little height by the time they passed over it.
By this time, most of the station not directly involved in the take off would have collected near the take off point to cheer and wave them off as the Green from the control trailer gave the clear to go. By this time we had our favourite aircraft or crew and would be shouting as loudly as the rest.
One by one, they would roar off and away to join the other 5 Group aircraft also clawing for height. Bottesford at that time was at the south west edge of 5 Group territory so that we did not see the bulk of their take off, but as happened on so many ‘ops’ nights the noise of hundreds of Rolls Royce engines not only filled the night sky, but nearer to the bases, even went so far as to make the ground shake. We were fighting back now and repaying with interest, and 47(F) were doing their bit. On these ops nights, when we were there, we slaved in the bomb dump loading up the incendiaries, in the ammunition huts we would help loading up the machine gun belts, and everywhere else we would be fetching, carrying, cleaning up and taking messages.
We saw the other side of the coin when we arrived on the station on the morning following a night op. All too often in those Manchester days, the station was subdued. The airmen had grim expressions and quite a few WAAFs had red rimmed eyes. This introduces another difference we had noticed between Bottesford and Spittlegate.
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At Grantham, the WAAFs seemed to us at least, to be ‘motherly’ types who, if we were not careful, would ‘fuss’ around us. However, those in the Parachute Section were somewhat different. The Packing Room was always a haven of peace, where the ‘chutes’ were quietly issued and taken back into store, regularly unpacked and hung up to air, taken down and meticulously repacked. All very calm, caring and impressive. I had noticed that there was no shortage of volunteers amongst the older cadets when a party to the Parachute Section was proposed, and I also gathered that it was not just the parachutes that they were hoping to see. The packing of a parachute is a very precise procedure and calls for the exact placing of the various panels and shroud lines and a cadet invited to ‘have a go’ would invariably have his hand gently guided to the exact spot. To a seventeen year old boy in those far off very inhibited days (compared with today of course) these particular WAAFs who seemed to be cut above the others when it came to charm and good looks, could be quite disturbing in such ‘hands on’ circumstances. The effects were not lost on the other cadets, or the WAAFs either, who seemed quite prepared to join in with the fun!
At Bottesford, the WAAFs were far more tight lipped and serious. Pleasant enough and tolerant to we cadets, but acutely conscious of living in an adult and at times brutal world where death, injuries and bereavement were just round the corner, perhaps that very night.
There would be empty spaces in the dispersals and men busy cleaning up the plane interiors as well as patching flak and bullet damage. The more senior cadets would help wherever possible whilst the more junior cadets were taken to less dramatic chores. We grew up fast, very fast at times.
On the subject of favourite crews, 207 was beginning to create its heroes and its legends. One of these was a Canadian Air Force pilot. In actual fact he was an American who, at the outbreak of war had crossed into Canada and joined the RCAF. He had come to England and was posted to 5 Group and was one of the chosen to form 207 at Waddington. A superb pilot he had built up a first class Manchester crew and was well into his second tour of operations. Around this time, the German Navy was becoming a prime target for the RAF and although daylight raids had proved suicidal, the growing threat of the German battleships such as the Tirpitz and the Bismark on our Atlantic conveys was calling for desperate action. The call was for low level daylight attacks to be practiced, and low level flying was what this American loved. His idea of a pleasant Sunday morning’s jaunt was to do just what the powers that be wanted. If they wanted low flying that would suit him down to the ground (in all senses of the word!) Several cadets had come back telling how he preferred to fly [underlined] round [/underlined] trees rather than lifting up to fly over them. Since I was usually the NCO in charge of the Bottesford parties, I nearly always allowed the other cadets to go up on any available flight tests, navigation or low flying exercises, but eventually my turn came and I was delighted when the American came out and climbed in. Of [sic] we went, hedge hopping our way down to the Fens to the consternation of man and beast. There are few things more mind blowing than having a Manchester, of worse still a Lancaster, suddenly roaring over your head, fifty feet up and doing two hundred mph. The Lanc although quitter at height, gave little or no warning of its approach when ‘down on the deck’.
I had managed to grab the mid upper turret, the best place to be when you are practising map reading but this is not easy when tree tops get in the way of your view! According to my air map there were some H.T. lines ahead. We are still at fifty feet. With some temerity, I decide to warn the pilot. Pilot grunts. Still no change of altitude. Pylons appear ahead. We stay at fifty feet. Generally speaking, breathing stops. H.T. cables pass [underlined] over [/underlined] our heads. Breathing recommences. It was therefore no surprise to me to learn a year or so later that Joe Macarthy and his crew were among the first to be poached by Guy Gibson when the time came for him to form 617 Squadron.
By late spring of 1941, we were not only welcome at Bottesford but, when there was some sort of a ‘flap’ on they actually started to ask us to lend a hand. These were usually ‘ops’ and sometimes, for security reasons, we were not allowed to leave the station until after take off. At other times, they asked us to come on the Saturday and be prepared to stay overnight, in which case we were allocated a Nissen hut in one of the dispersal areas. As senior Sergeant now, I was usually put in charge of such parties and once again my previous experience in the OTC and Air Cadet Wing camps came in useful. Having drawn mattresses, blankets etc, the cadets needed to be introduced into the niceties of blanket and sheet folding, pillow and personal gear arrangement and display. ‘Fatigues’ were allocated, the inevitable Magnet Stove coaxed into reluctant and smoky life, the fire bucket relieved of its fag ends, after which we could get on with the war!
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Once on site, we were treated just like the other airmen and joined parties marching off to the mess halls. (It is interesting to reflect on the fact that in those days one never ‘proceeded’ as an individual, one invariably marched as a group.
After nearly three quarters of a century, certain events stand out in one’s memory as clear as a bell, others are completely lost and many although well remembered, are difficult to pin down as to time and place. Not so the 29th of May that year. This was the night when the RAF made history and 47(F) did their bit to make it so. It started when we received a call for as many cadets to go to Bottesford as possible, prepared to stay overnight. When we arrived it became obvious that the ‘flap beyond all flaps’ was on. Every aircraft capable of flying had to fly. Over at the bomb dumps we loaded the inevitable incendiaries. Machine gun belts were filled in the armament section and as usual we lifted, held, took, carried and cleaned up. Engines roared and meals were snatched. Eventually the aircrews were called to briefing. On arrival were [sic] had been warned that no one must make any contact with the outside world and the reason for the flap would be explained later.
When the time came for 207 to take off, the skies were already filling. In addition to the local 5 Group aircraft, they started climbing up from the west which was Operational Training Unit’s airspace, which was strange.
Tired out, we staggered off to our Nissen hut with the promise that all would be made clear in the morning. We were not to see the headlines in the papers until later on in the day, but at a collective briefing just after breakfast, we were told that the RAF had made its first ‘Thousand Bomber Raid’ on Cologne, and 47(F) had been there to help.
Naturally our visits to Bottesford were the highlights of our ATC weeks, but back at our Grantham H.Q. many other things were going on apace. Following the introduction of the new ATC Training Programme and associated training manuals, came the Proficiency Certificate tests. Having by now become an instructor in quite a few subjects, as I was still technically a cadet, it obviously seemed right that I should pass my Part 1 as soon as possible. There was therefore a lot of swotting up on the part of the NCOs and senior cadets to get their four bladed propeller badges indicating that they were ‘Proficient’. There were a number of categories, Pilot/Observer, Wireless Operator, Flight Mechanic (Engines) etc., as well as those for ground trades.
The pilot/Observer syllabus now included a first introduction into Astronavigation, as well as the usual Dead Reckoning Air Plots, Map Reading Exercises etc.. For the Part 1 Certificate Astronavigation only involved the recognition of the principle constellations and individually important stars.
Being now very much of a ‘county boy’ (our family having moved away from the Luftwaffe’s bombing run in 1940) the night sky had become a great fascination to me. Britain was still a domestic coal burning society with central heating being almost unheard of, and we were often beset with autumnal ‘pea souper’ fogs. At many other times of the year the sky could be crystal clear. With the imposition of the total blackout, there was no [underlined] ‘light pollution’ as we know it today. Also, our night vision was far better than it is today since there were no flashing vehicle headlamps to blind us, since all road users (cyclists included) had to hood their lights so that nothing shone above the horizontal.
It was usually well on into the autumn before we could start on star identification. With the imposition of Double Summer Time in the summer months and ‘single’ Summer Time in the winter months (to help the factory workers enjoy a bit of evening after their overtime) it never became properly dark until after evening parades had dismissed. When we could go out into the parade ground for star identification, it was usually well into the winter months, and here I mean real winter. Not the snow free, late autumn, global warming, cold snaps we chose to regard as winter today. having memorised one or two of our Star Charts we would, on a fine cloud free night, go out and first identify the Plough whose ‘Pointers’ would guide us to the Pole Star. Dependant [sic] upon the month, we would go on to identify the constellation of Cygnus, the Swan whose nose, tail and wing tip stars would be so vital in the astronavigation to follow. The Square of Pegasus, Leo the Lion and when the Orion group came above the eastern horizon, to really show one’s prowess in star identification by identifying the Pleiades and see if you could count more than seven.
Of course this was most important if you were intending to be a Navigator on the first steps to mastering astronavigation. At the same time it was felt vital by the RAF that [underlined] anyone [/underlined] in the aircrew could make the difference between life and death if he could, by the briefest of glimpses through a break in the clouds, identify Month and then West, the way home for a crippled aircraft whose other navigational aids had either failed or had been destroyed by enemy fire.
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[photograph]
A.T.C. Form 3
[crest]
AIR TRAINING CORPS.
Certificate of Proficiency
Part 1
This is to Certify that
Cadet Flight Sergeant Peter Desmond Stevenson of No. 47.F. (Grantham) Squadron is granted a Certificate of Proficiency in that , during his membership of the Air Training Corps, he has fulfilled the necessary conditions as to efficient service and has qualified in the Pilot/Observer syllabus of training, as laid down in the Rules and Regulations of the Air Training Corps.
[signature]
Air Commodore
Commandant, Air Training Corps.
Date 11-2-1942
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[underlined] The 1942 Summer Camp at RAF Bottesford [/underlined]
With the threat of invasion now safely behind us, ATC HQ in conjunction with the Air Ministry decided to hold, wherever possible, summer cadet camps at local RAF stations. Numbers would be limited and there would be much competition for the places. At Bottesford there would be a one week camp for twelve cadets with an officer in charge. In the event none of our officers could get away on the week involved, but in view of our experience in running our own Nissen, they were quite prepared to accept a senior cadet NCO as camp leader.
Eventually a short list was established and the cadet’s employers were persuaded to allow the cadets concerned an extra week’s holiday. (War time holiday allocations were limited to one week ‘for the duration’). My own firm by this time, was a strong supporter of our Squadron and I had no difficulty in making sure that I was on the list, which ended up with me being in charge.
As luck would have it, my written report of the following week’s activities is still in existence and as a result I can give a blow by blow account of a most wonderful week.
On Saturday 16th May, the chosen few assembled at Cadet H.Q. complete with kitbags and gear for the week. A camp lorry took these out, while we cycled out in commendable order befitting the occasion. (We needed our bikes because everything at Bottesford was always a long way from anywhere else). ‘Arriving at the Guard Room at ’13.00 hrs’ (etc., etc.) we assembled before being marched off to our camp site. It would seem that the concept of a summer camp was taken literally. Fully expecting to reoccupy our Nissen on the far side of the ‘drome, we were slightly surprised to find ourselves in a tented camp more or less opposite to the Station Headquarters. Here had been set up a small marquee which became our ‘Orderly Room’ and store for spare kit, four bell tents for our accommodation, and another for our bikes. Bedding was delivered and an attack made on the resulting chaos, since in addition to three barrack room ‘biscuits’, two sheets, a pillow and pillow case apiece, we were issued with no less than six blankets each. They obviously didn’t intend us feeling cold.
Our party comprised three sergeants who occupied the Senior NCOs tent, a corporal and two cadets in No.1 tent, four cadets in No.2 Tent and the other three cadets in No.3 tent, so we had plenty of room. Thanks to my Twezledown and Selsea camp experience, and our overnight stays in the Nissen, we lost no time in telling the airmen who had been detailed to look after us that we were quite capable of running our own camp. Order was ultimately achieved, just in time for ‘tea’ to be declared.
After that, the rest of the day was declared ‘free’. The more energetically disposed went off to the exercise area and the assault course, while the less so, opted for the NAAFI. Sgts Kirk and Rudkin and myself had all passed the Pilot/Observer’s Proficiency Part 1 earlier on in the year and we were getting lined up for the first Proficiency Part 2 examinations. These were going to take place in July, so that any spare time for us this week would be devoted to swotting.
Reveille was ordered for 06.30, but being the first day of camp, it was no great surprise to find all ranks were already exercising themselves on the station assault course by 06.00 (somehow this enthusiasm was not repeated on subsequent mornings!). having set our camp to rights, we made our way over to No.2 Airmen’s Mess which was about half a mile away – Bottesford was well dispersed and most things seemed to be at least half a mile from anywhere else! Back at our camp, we readied ourselves for Kit Inspection, but as our Oi/c Camp was also Duty Officer for the whole station, that duty fell upon myself, so I borrowed the dignity of an inspecting officer and regarded all efforts (including my own) with appropriate severity.
We were expecting to be sent off to the hangars and elsewhere for the usual ‘Fetch and Carry’ duties which normally preceded a chance for a flight, when we were ordered to report to the Station Adjutant in the HQ. He told us to divide into two groups. One group, comprising our Wireless Operator/Air Gunners and other trades, was to report to the Station Signals Section for a morning’s instruction on aircraft wireless equipment. The other group, Pilot/Observer, was again to divide into two smaller groups, one to report to A Flight Commander, the other to B Flight. (By this time, almost all the Mancesters had been replaced by Lancasters)
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Since A Flight was not flying that morning, we were taken to the AML Bomb Trainer where we were instructed on how to use the new Automatic Bomb Sight which was just coming into service. Having dropped ‘three sticks’ apiece, we went over to the Spotlight Trainer for half an hour’s Turret gunnery practice. This was a concrete dome shaped building, in the centre of which was a mid upper turret connected to an external hydraulic power generator. Using a projector, the instructor could flash onto the interior of the dome, either a spot of light or the silhouette of a fighter aircraft. In the case of the latter one had first to decide its identity ([underlined] before it [/underlined] shot [underlined] you [/underlined] down) then follow it with a spotlight projected from the turret gun cluster and ‘fire’, having allowed the appropriate ‘deflection’.
This would all be accompanied by a lot of Merlin engine noise and gunfire as appropriate, according to whether you were shooting at it, or it was shooting at you. The only things missing was the turret being thrown all over the sky as your skipper ‘weaved’, and the smell of cordite from your guns. All very exciting. This was followed by a very interesting session when we ‘assisted’ in the compass swinging procedure for one of the newly delivered Lancs. Stationed in the centre of a circle round which were marked the various ‘True’ headings from True North clockwise round the compass, the aircraft was carefully turned to various key headings and the readings of the on board compasses compared. The errors caused by the various bits of magnetic material in the aircraft were duly noted to produce the Deviation Chart, vital for accurate courses to be calculated by the Navigator. All valuable knowledge for those of us hoping to get a question on Variation and Deviation in our Proficiency Part 2 exam and for me as part of my Navigation Instructors lecturing.
While all this was going on, the cadets attached to B Flight were having an equally exciting time. Bomber Command was hoping that the extra speed, firepower and range of the Lancaster would enable them to mount daylight attacks once more after the disasters of the early war Wellington attacks, had forced the bombing offensive into night operations. It was back to low level flying singly, and in formation. This morning it had been a one and a half hour low flying practice, ending with a low level bombing run over a bombing range.
After lunch two cadets went on a night flying test, and since 207 Sq. was on operations that night some cadets went on the Link Blind Flying Trainer for a while and the rest of us dispersed into the hangers [sic] to make ourselves useful.
All very thrilling, but not quite what we had expected. I never knew whether the week we had at Bottesford was a result of direction from ‘upon high’ or whether it was Bottesford thanking us for services previously rendered. It was probably a bit of both.
The following day there was even more flying for the cadets with formation flying, low level flying and bombing runs over the Clifton Pastures bombing range near Nottingham. Sgts Kirk, Rudkin and myself, anxious to hone up our navigation skills, opted to spend most of the day in the Navigation Section, totally absorbed in plots on air maps of the U.K and the Continent, and working out the routes recorded in the navigator’s logs of some of the old Manchester raids.
The next morning, having drawn overalls, the main party went across to No.4 hangar where a brand new Lancaster was to receive a pre-service checkover. Two cadets joined engine fitters on each of the four Merlins, two to the inside of the fuselage and two more for the exterior. In spite of the fact that the aircraft had been rigorously inspected at the factory before it was test flown and delivered, nothing was taken for granted and its acceptance check took most of the day. At lunch, several cadets remarked on how clean and ‘new’ it smelled. (Everyone who has had contact with Lancasters will agree that they had a special smell, especially when they were new. A combination of new paint, aircraft dope, hydraulic fluid, gun belt lubricant and less identifiable smells, and these will persist through out its life. To these will be added the smells associated with its service life, some of which are far less pleasant. Cordite fumes, the rear end of the fuselage just forward of the tail plain where the Elsan lost its contents during violent manoeuvres, elsewhere other traces of the effects of air sickness, fear and wounding, persist in spite of careful cleaning by ground staff. Even today, one has only to poke one’s nose through the door of ‘Just Jane’, East Kirkby’s taxiable Lanc of the BBMF’s flying Lanc and the mind flashes back)
We three Sergeants reported once more to the Navigation Section where we were to be given a navigation problem to work out. However, plans were changed and we went off on another low flying exercise in the Squadron’s last Manchester, which called for some exciting map reading, made just a little more difficult by nearby trees obscuring the more distant landmarks! The flight finished with us leaving our visiting cards at the Clifton Pastures Range.
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In the afternoon, all the others went of [sic] on yet more low flying exercises. So far as I can remember, these were all part of the Augsburg, Capital Ship Bomb, and the Tirpitz/Scharnhorst/Gneisenau urges and purges at the time. We decided to take our plotting problem back to our ‘Orderly Room’ and work away at that for the afternoon.
Thursday was one of my last ‘day release’ days at my Technical College before the end of the year examinations, and granted leave of absence, I left my two Sergeants in charge. In the morning, all went flying again. Since the Squadron was on ops that night, the afternoon was declared ‘free’ but I understood that they made themselves useful again.
Bad weather on the Friday grounded all flying, so we all adjourned to the Armaments Section for a lecture on the Browning Turret Guns followed by participation in one of the station’s periodic anti-gas exercises. The weather improved after lunch, and most of the cadets got a forty five minute flight in night flying tests after the previous night’s operations. We had hoped, as the week progressed, that we might get at least one night flight, but operations and the weather prevented this. However, in compensation for this, most of us were given the chance to take over the controls. (The Mk.1 Lancs still had dual controls). Thanks to the Link Trainers at Spittlegate and Bottesford, most of us could by now, maintain a reasonably straight course and execute some modest Rate One Turns without dropping the nose. Suddenly holding the same in a twenty ton 4000hp, 100ft wing span monster doing one hundred and fifty mile per hour was a rather different matter to being in the Link Trainer humming away in an otherwise quiet room! However, we did not disgrace ourselves and managed ‘straight and level’, some gentle turns and quite creditable figures of eights.
On the Saturday, our final day, we had a camp inspection by 207’s Commanding Officer, after which we struck camp and got our gear packed away. This was followed by a final flip in flight tests for that night’s operations. We were then told to report to Station H.Q, where the Station Commander, accompanied by the Adjutant, the Station Warrant Officer and the two Flight Commanders, gave us a farewell ‘pep talk’, after which it was back to ‘civvie street’.
What a week it had been! One little statistic from my camp report – The thirteen cadets involved, clocked up a total of one hundred and ten and a half hours flying time between us!
This was now the end of May 1942, and the next priority so far as we three Sergeants were concerned, was the count down to the Proficiency Part 2 examinations in a couple of months time. ATC H.Q. had warned us that the various papers would all be tough ones and that the pass marks would be high. Also, since we would be in the first group of cadets to enter for the examinations, our performances would be regarded as the bench mark for subsequent exams. It therefore behove us to be as prepared as we could be.
There would be papers on the Principles of Flight, Aeroengines and Airframe Construction, Aircraft Recognition, Law and Administration, Anti Gas, Hygiene and two papers on Air Navigation and Meteorology. Failure in any one of these subjects would result in a ‘Fail’ for the whole examination. The examination, lasting two full days, would be held at the RAF’s No.2 I.T.W. at Cambridge and all ATC Squadrons were warned not to submit candidates unless they stood a good chance of passing.
On August 3rd 1942, Sgts Kirk, Rudkin and myself went to Cambridge by train, and by 11.00 we were at the gates of Emmanuel College which was to be our billet for the next three nights. There we met up with eight cadets from No.1045 (Wolverhampton) Squadron, which was the only other Squadron to submit candidates. Having been allocated rooms in the University Student’s Wing, we found our way to the Dining Hall for our midday (and subsequent) meals. The rest of the day was declared free, which I put to good use visiting relatives.
The following morning, a 7am breakfast called for a 6am reveille. Hoping for the best and fearing the worst, we formed up and marched across town to the Cambridge Union Society Examination Rooms (where many a promising academic career has crashed in flames).
Our first paper started at 09.00, Principles of Flight, which went well so far as I was concerned, although I did detect signs of stress elsewhere in the room. Without a break, we went onto the second paper which was ‘Engines’. Every question seemed to be just what was wanted, but again that happened to be my opinion. After a half hour break, we had a one hour paper on Anti Gas. Having marched back to Emmanuel for lunch, and back again to the exams room, a one hour paper on Law and Administration, followed by a half hour paper on Hygiene, which also included some questions on First Aid.
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79
A.T.C. Form 3A.
657
[ATC Crest]
AIR TRAINING CORPS.
Certificate of Proficiency
PART II.
This is to Certify that
Cadet Flight Sergeant Peter Desmond Stevenson of No. 47.F. (Grantham) Squadron/[deleted] Flight [/deleted]
Is granted a Certificate of Proficiency in that during his membership of the Air Training Corps, he:-
(i) has satisfactorily completed the course of Proficiency Part II Training;
(ii) has passed the examinations in the following subjects and obtained the percentage marks as shown:-
(a) Air Navigation and Meteorology 67%
(b) Principles of Flight 85%
(c) Engines 100%
(d) Aircraft Recognition 96%
(e) Law and Administration 80%
(f) Anti-gas 86%
(g) Hygiene 84%
By Command of the Air Council
[signature]
Dated at the Air Ministry
this 4th/5th day of August 1942.
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That was more than enough for one day and amidst groans from the Wolverhampton cadets we staggered back to Emmanuel. The three of us felt that we had done reasonably well, but the main hurdle would be next morning.
True enough, the two hour paper on Air Navigation and Meteorology was a right [***censored][sic]. The questions looked innocent enough but they all seemed to have hidden traps. Faces were long at the mid morning break, and nerves were somewhat shattered for the final paper on Aircraft Recognition. However, we three did well and by that time we had little sympathy for the Wolverhampton group as it was quite obvious that they had been nothing like ready enough. When results were declared, every one of them failed and I understood later that their Squadron got a rocket from ATC H.Q. for entering cadets who, in the majority of cases, were just not up to it, and had therefore wasted a lot of RAF money and time.
Sadly, although the other two did well on all the other papers, they just missed the pass mark for Navigation, and so they too did not get their hoped for pass. My own marks in the two Navigation papers I must admit, were nothing to be proud about, but at least they were a pass. This, coupled with good marks in all my other subjects, meant that 47(F) could at least claim that one of their cadets managed to bring home the very first Air Training Corps Proficiency Part 2 to be awarded.
Although only a partial success, this represented my ‘good news’ for the summer of 1942. Now for the bad news. The Navigation paper was not the only brute of a paper I sat that summer. My engineering studies had been going on all this time, which of course represented what should have been my main priority, and by the summer of 1942 I was coming to the end of my fourth year of the five year Higher National Certificate course.
It was usual practice for the College to frame the questions for the examination at the end of the Spring Term on the basis that this would be a ‘mock’ for the end of year examinations.
I passed the spring exams with good marks in all subjects and hind sight, I suppose this should have been a warning. in the end of year exams, three out of the four papers were comparatively easy and apparently I did well in them, but the fourth was definitely a ‘so and so’, and none of us did well. In that subject, the spring paper had dealt with aspects in which I was able to perform well and I had achieved high marks, but the summer paper seemed aimed at all those aspects I [sic] which I was nothing like so confident. Net result, I missed that subject by [underlined] one [/underlined] mark!
This was unquestionably disaster. The Institute of Mechanical Engineers who were the ultimate authority in the Higher National Certificate and Diploma courses, were at that time, absolutely adamant that their Corporate Membership qualification (i.e. ‘Chartered Mechanical Engineer’) should never be lowered in quality and prestige by the ‘exigencies of war’. At each and every stage, a student [underlined] must pass each and every subject [/underlined] before he is permitted to progress to the next stage, and that [underlined] this edict must apply equally in peace or war [/underlined].
For two years now, I had been ‘Deferred’ by the Joint Selection Board in order to gain the necessary technical qualification, on the strict understanding that I should indeed pass at each stage. Now, this one mark had failed me for the whole ‘4th Year’ and if I wanted to progress to the final year and eventual Corporate Membership status, [underlined] then I must take the whole 4th Year again [/underlined].
As usual, I had to appear before the Selection Board in the early September to report my progress (or lack of it!) They were not pleased. [underlined] They were not at all pleased [/underlined]. Of course, I also had to report on all that had happened in the ATC for which I submitted written reports. They congratulated me on my attaining Proficiency Certificate Part 1 and Part 2 and my appointment as Navigation Instructor etc., but made it very clear that creditable though it all might be, that was not what I was being deferred for. I was told to wait outside while they discussed my fate. I could well imagine the words on my documents which said ‘Recommended for consideration for a Commission in the Technical Branch’ being firmly crossed out and the words ‘Immediate Call Up – A.C.2’ being substituted. They still had hard faces when I was eventually called back in, but to my immense relief they had decided to give me a last chance. My progress in general they said, was acceptable, but I would be allowed to take my fourth year course again, [underlined] provided [/underlined] my technical studies were given absolute priority – in other words [underlined] more study [/underlined] and [underlined] less cadets. [/underlined]
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Suitably chastised, I returned home to pick up the pieces. It was difficult not to feel somewhat bored when one had to go back to the starting point on those subjects in which one had done reasonably well. However, I took their admonishments to heart and on balance, when I did move forward again a year later, I am sure that the repeat of this year was a definite benefit. Trying to look on the bright side, I did console myself with the fact that right at the beginning, my exemption from the first year of the course meant that I had been a year ahead in age terms.
Following the usual August break, cadet parades resumed again in the September with new recruits to ‘break in’ and the usual revision and ‘smartening up’ of the older cadets which characterised the beginning of another year of training. My own setback had no effect upon the fortunes of the Squadron of course, but the bad news so far as the Squadron was concerned was still to come.
As soon as we resumed our visits to Bottesford, we were informed that there were plans afoot to move 207 Squadron to another airfield. Bottesford had been initially constructed around a typical grass airfield which was quite suitable for the likes of the Hampden bombers of the early war years. Following the introduction of the ‘heavies’ with their steadily increasing all up weights, even the construction of a stop gap concrete runway could not disguise the fact that the airfield was breaking up under the strain.
It was quite a body blow when we were told that Bottesford was going to be closed for a complete ‘airfield work over’ for the provision of a full set of ‘heavy duty’ concrete runways and that 207 Squadron was going to move, lock, stock and barrel, over to RAF Langar, just to the east of Nottingham. Langar was however, the ‘property’ of Nottingham’s ATC Squadrons and our attachment could not move over with 207.
They couldn’t do this to us! 207 Squadron belonged to 47(F) Squadron! But war is war and postings are postings, whether we like it or not. So the Autumn of 1942 was the end of one era but it was also the beginning of another.
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[underlined] Chapter Nine 47(F) and RAF Syerston 1942-43 [/underlined]
207 Squadron’s move from Bottesford to Langar had left us without attachment. In the meantime, the number of cadets coming into Grantham from villages to the south had steadily increased and in order to reduce the distance cadets were having to cycle in and back, we had started a Colsterworth Flight. The village of Colsterworth lies some nine miles to the south of Grantham, and the opening of a new flight there would also increase our catchment area. We could now enrol cadets from villages further to the south which were now within cycling distance of Colsterworth. I must admit that I have little or nothing to contribute to the history of the Colsterworth Flight. Its inauguration came at a time when I was up to my neck with my studies, apprenticeship commitments, and affairs at the Grantham HQ. Our CO was a great believer in the delegation of responsibility [underlined] and [/underlined] authority, and apart from the occasional supply of specialist instructors from time to time, he had every confidence in the capability of the Oi/c Colsterworth to run his Flight without unnecessary interference from Grantham HQ. As a result of this policy, I personally had very little contact with them.
RAF Spittlegate were now able to take a few cadets at weekends and they agreed to the attachment of the Colsterworth Flight to them. Even if we had wanted to do so, there was no room for the main Squadron to return to a Spittlegate attachment.
All of which left us somewhat in the air (or on the ground if you prefer) Thanks to the close relationship which our C.O. had maintained with 5 Group H.Q., we were not long before we had a new attachment. This time it was to a newly acquired 5 Group Station, RAF Syerston, between Newark and Nottingham.
At the beginning of the war, Lincolnshire and the more easterly parts of Nottinghamshire, had been the home to two Bomber Groups. In the south had been No.5 Group (Hampdens) with its H.Q in Grantham, and in the north No.1 Group (mainly Wellingtons) with its H.Q. at Bawtry. As Bomber Command expanded, more new squadrons were formed than there were new airfields to accommodate them. By 1942, 1 Group were expanding more in North Lincolnshire and 5 Group, in addition to gaining newly constructed stations (such as Bottesford), were also taking over some of the more southerly stations of 1 Group’s erstwhile territory, and RAF Syerston was one of these.
Syerston had been one of the last ‘Golden Age’ stations, with elegantly designed buildings and hangars. It had come into service in mid 1940 and had been the home of 408 Sq., a Polish squadron which had used Fairey Battles to ‘work up’ into RAF procedures before converting to Wellingtons and moving north in December 1940. (Incidentally, I never knew until years after the war had ended that the Poles had their own ATC Squadrons in which instruction was carried out in both English and Polish) For the next sixteen months Syerston had gone into ‘Care and Maintenance’ while the airfield received a full set of heavy duty runways. In the late Spring of 1942, the station came back into service with the arrival of its first 5 Group Lancaster squadron.
In early 1939, No.61 Squadron, then at RAF Hemswell, had converted from Blenheims to Hampdens. It moved down to South Lincolnshire in 1941, where it converted to Manchesters. Then having converted to Lancasters, it moved into the newly commissioned Syerston.
Three months later, they were joined by No.106 Squadron. Like No.61, they also had WW1 origins. 106 was reformed in 1938 in the south of England,. Briefly, it came back to Cottesmore for a couple of months while it converted to Hampdens. It spent 1940, at Finningley, and most of 1941 at Coningsby where it converted to Manchester, before it replaced these with Lancasters. By this time, it had begun to acquire its reputation as one of 5 Group’s most prestigious and accomplished squadrons. At Coningsby it had also acquired as Commanding Officer, a Wing Commander Guy. P. Gibson (also of later fame!) which may have had something to do with it. In September 1942, 106 Sq. Moved over to Syerston, and shortly afterwards 47(F) started lending them a hand!
The significance of events is rarely obvious at the time of their occurrence. When it was announced that we would be attached to Syerston, I suppose we took it more or less for granted. I am sure at the time we thought it would be a bit of a let down. No one, we felt could possibly match up to ‘our’ 207 Squadron. How wrong we were, and it took a remarkably short time for it to sink in. In the years to follow, I have often pondered on how we came to get this ‘plum’ posting. I know that our CO had a remarkable flair for ‘Cultivating People in High Places’ and no doubt he had a good deal to do with it.
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At the same time, the hand of Sir Arthur Longmore may well have twisted the occasional elbow. Perhaps too, reports to Group H.Q. of our doings at Bottesford had not gone unnoticed. Maybe it was a combination of all three. Certainly, there were nearer stations to which we could have been attached, and certainly there were other ATC Squadrons nearer to Syerston.
There was no question of us being able to cycle from Grantham, so on our first visit there we were waiting expectantly for the arrival of a truck to take us the twenty or so miles across country. We had a good idea of where it was but the wartime travel restrictions (“Is Your Journey Really Necessary” etc) had meant that we had no real idea of how the station had progressed since its construction had started before the war but had not been completed until relatively recently. The station still exists today, even if it is no longer an operational flying station apart from being an ATC Gliding School. From the A46 main road, the woodland which surround it, still give no indication of the station’s size. One can still see the edges of married quarters as you approach from the south, and as you pass through the camp from the north, the Officer’s Mess and married quarters are on the east side and on the west can be seen the Guard Room, a few of the admin buildings and the end of one hangar. The end of one of the runways comes up to the road but the curve of the ground obscures all other view of the airfield proper.
This was more less [sic] the same initial view we got of Syerston when we first rolled into the station back in 1942. We went through the usual formalities at the Guard Room and were guided up to the Adjutant’s Office where we were placed in the hands of the poor soul who had been given the job of looking after us for the day. As with our first visit to Bottesford, we had the feeling that they were not quite sure what to do with us, but we soon got down to business.
We explained what we had done at Bottesford and they proposed that the first step was to take us on a tour of the station. I think perhaps that I should have explain [sic] that the parties which went out to Bottesford and now to Syerston, were nearly always our older, more experienced cadets who had reached the age of Registration and therefore had more or less decided their aircrew or ground trade categories when the time came for their callup. Visits to RAF Stations were always considered as privileges to be earned. From time to time younger cadets would be included partly to make up numbers but principally to give them an idea of what they could look forward to.
We had already realised that the station itself was a much more ‘up market’ affair than Bottesford. Where Bottesford had grass, Syerston had lawns. The buildings were elegant and neatly arranged. The hangars were vast and their workshops designed into them rather than being in ‘add on’ huts. Lancasters were everywhere. Bottesford had been a one squadron station with between twenty and thirty Lancasters at any given time. Syerston, being a two squadron station, had between fifty and sixty. Not that we could see them all at the same time because, like Bottesford, there were dispersal areas all round the perimeter, many of them tucked away in the many surrounding woods. The bomb dumps we [sic] also twice the size and since the RAF were now bigger and better big bangers, their stock of ‘cookies’ were even more impressive.
What became increasingly obvious, was a difference in atmosphere. Our stay at Bottesford had been at a time when targets were varied, calling for equally varied tactics. We had passed though [sic] the leaflets dropping and mine laying eras, the low level preparations for possible daylight raids, and the early exploratory experiments in the use of electronic navigation, target finding and marking aids. Now, in late 1942, a far more single minded approach to air warfare was being entered. This, in time, would lead to the Battles of Hamburg, the Ruhr and Berlin, and Syerston’s job was to ‘take out’ the industrial potential of the Third Reich. The enemy’s potential to strike back had increased proportionately. The Luftwaffe now had radar equipped night fighters and sophisticated radar aided ground control systems and our losses were mounting. Syerston was definitely a station in which ‘kill and/or be killed’ was an every night affair, a station on which flying was no longer fun but all too often a grim reality.
By the end of our second visit, we had more or less dropped into the same routines with the ground trades going into the hangars, armaments sections and the like, while the aircrew candidates went to their equivalents. Wherever possible, we ‘got stuck in’ and made sure we had earned the chance of a back seat in a test flight. Most of these flights were generally short, relatively speaking, as both squadrons were not [underlined] practising [/underlined] for anything, apart from breaking in replacement crews. Inevitably, some of us ended up in the bomb dumps loading incendiaries and other menial chores in the hangars, but we were not there to be entertained.
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Again it was not long before we were welcomed rather than tolerated. For myself, once the routine had been established, I tended to send other Sergeants over in charge of the parties, and only once in a while went over with them to see how things were going. As a result, events at Syerston have remained less clear in my mind. My main reason for doing so was that a visit there was always a full day’s job, and I needed my Sunday afternoons for my technical studies. So, more and more, my Sunday mornings were spent in our Grantham HQ, either instructing or relieving other NCOs to go to Syerston.
[underlined] No.830 Company Girl’s Training Corps [/underlined]
By mid 1942, male conscription had settled down to a steady flow of boys into the three Services. The Sea Cadets, the Army Cadets and the ATC were all feeding their senior services with increasingly capable recruits who knew their basic drill and basic skills. Conscription had also begun for women over the age of eighteen. Most of them would be directed into war work, nursing and the Land Army etc., but a significant proportion were going into the Wrens, ATC and the WAAF. The three Services complained that there seemed to be no pre-service training organisation to give equivalent pre-entry skills to their women entrants. At the same time none seemed prepared to allow girls to enter their Cadet units. This was of course in an age when segregation of the sexes was still considered essential ‘on moral grounds’.
Without further research, I have no idea of when, where and how the idea of a Girls Training Corps came to fruition. It started, and for most of the rest of the war years, existed in a state more or less equivalent to the early days of the Air Defence Cadet Corps i.e. a largely voluntary organisation which the Services assisted, but only nominally supported financially. It depended almost totally on local financial and material fund raising. Its aims were to give girls below conscription age, basis [sic] skills in nursing and general care, first aid, cookery and ‘good citizenship’ (whatever that meant). On top of that, those girls who, upon Registration opted for one of the Services, would be taught basic foot drill and the basics of that role in which they would serve when the time came for their callup.
Once the idea was proposed, the Girls Training Corps quickly blossomed and spread. As with the early days of the ADCC, the first units (called ‘Companies’) were formed in the south. It was some time before the idea spread to Lincolnshire, but in November 1942, the Grantham Journal reported that a Girl’s Training Corps Company was to be formed in Grantham. Now at this point I need to introduce two personalities, one new and another whom we met earlier on in this narrative.
You may remember back in the early days of the Grantham Squadron, the sub-editor of the Grantham Journal had always given us valuable publicity. Not only that, she had volunteered herself into being our Squadron secretary. For the last three years she had kept us, our records and [underlined] her [/underlined] Orderly Room in good order and discipline. Small dumpy and efficient, Miss Llewellyn-Owens had charm and a definite way with things and when she was called upon to report on the proposed formation of a GTC Company in Grantham, she did a lot more than just report. The other personality was in distinct contrast. One often meets people who are large both in personality and stature. Grantham’s Mrs. Brace was both, collecting and ruling her numerous committees with much verve and vigour. Where our Miss Owens persuaded, Mrs Brace commanded. While Mrs Brace drummed up support, Miss Owens proceeded to persuade, and the first person she persuaded was our C.O. who was ‘invited’ to attend an inaugural meeting which took place a few weeks later.
Grantham had no Sea Cadets and the Army Cadets were still finding their feet, so Miss Owen was determined that if there was any serious talk of cooperation, it was going to be with the ATC. It would seem that history had again a tendency to repeat itself. The meeting was held
Mrs Brace was the obvious candidate for Commanding Officer, Miss Owens became Adjutant (and later second in command). The ATC Commanding Officer was invited to comment and he promptly offered the full cooperation of his squadron’s facilities in those fields of instruction where there would be common interest. Furthermore, until such time as the new GTC Company could find a home of their own, they could use the ATC Headquarters on those nights and other times when they were not in use by the ATC.
At this point I would like to step aside to air some recent concern within 47(F)’s command structure. As the age of conscription was raised, we had lost a number of our younger Flight Commanders but over the four years of the Squadron’s existence since its inauguration, the Commanding Officer, the Adjutant, two of the Flight Commanders and the Squadron Warrant Officer had remained the same.
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[underlined] GIRLS TRAINING CORPS COMPANY TO BE FORMED IN GRANTHAM [/underlined]
[indecipherable word]
Registered as a Newspaper 1942 FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 13[inserted]th 1942 [/inserted]
BY-PASS ROAD MYSTERY
Cause Of Soldier’s Death Unknown
BELIEVED TO HAVE “JUMPED” LORRY
The death of L/Bdr. James Edward Moseley, 24, Church-street, Smallthorne, Stoke-on-Trent, who was found lying on the Colsterworth by-pass on the night of October 16-17th, with severe injuries, which proved fatal, is still an unsolved mystery.
The deputy borough coroner, Mr. C.Y.L. Caleraft, at the resumed inquest on Friday, stated death ‘was caused by shock and toxaemia, following injuries’. He was, however, unable to bring in a verdict of how the injuries were caused, though a theory was put forward that deceased had “jumped” a lorry, stunned himself in getting off, and had been run over by another vehicle.
PC Beech said he arrived 300 yards south of the railway bridge on the by-pass at 12.50 a.m. on October 17th. He examined the deceased who had been moved by lorry drivers to the side of the road and found him suffering from extensive injuries. He was conscious and asked if he was off the road saying “Don’t let them run over me again”. In reply to witness’s questioning, Moseley said he had been to Grantham and had returned on a lorry, but did not know how he had met with an accident. His injuries, added witness, suggested that he had been run over. Soldiers were in the habit of taking lifts on passing lorries, sometimes without the drivers knowing.
POLICE EFFORTS UNAVAILING
George Edward Pallister, West Hartlepool, lorry driver, explained that late on the night of October 16th he was driving through Colsterworth and in the light of his headlamps saw an object lying on the road. He skirted it, drew up and found it was a soldier, lying with his head touching the kerb and his feet directly across the road. Two other lorries came up, and together they moved the soldier and covered him with coats, while one driver went for an ambulance and the police.
The efforts made by the police to find anyone who had any knowledge of the accident, were described by Inspector Taylor, who said he telephoned Biggleswade and asked them to stop all vehicles proceeding south, to examine them for bloodstains, etc., and interrogate the drivers. He also requested that the message should be passed further south to the Metropolitan police. Witness then spoke to intermediate stations between Grantham and Biggleswade, so that lorries in cafes could be examined. It was also arranged that the message should be circulated by police wireless and on the following Monday the B.B.C. broadcast a message. Despite this, however, no information about a vehicle or driver who might have been involved had been obtained.
Continued from next column
National Service sent her name to Mrs. Leeke, Grantham Vicarage, by Friday next, November 20th mentioned whether she would like to attend the course at Sleaford? We have been promised most valuable help by the A.T.C. and the Red Cross, and the A.T.S. and W.A.A.F. have cooperated most generously in the work already begun in the county”.
THE G.T.C.
Company To Be Formed At Grantham
At a well-attended meeting in the Guildhall, on Saturday, under the chairmanship of Mrs. G.H. Schwind (chairman of the Kesteven G.T.C. advisory council) it was unanimously decided to form a company of the G.T.C. for Grantham, and later to extend the work to include nearby villages.
Miss Janet Campbell, county commandant of the corps, gave a most inspiring account of its work, which aims at giving a sound basic training to girls up to the age of 18, with optional classes under well-qualified instructors for those who intend to become munition-workers, land girls, nurses or members of the Forces.
The great success of the boys organisation, she said, was due to their keen desire to take their share in winning the war, and in this the girls were no less anxious to do their part. Social activities were included in the programme and a camping site was already in use, thanks to the generosity of Commander J. Cracroft Amcotts. The uniform was simple and applications from would-be cadets in Grantham had already been received. Officers were needed aged 19 and over.
The following committee was appointed: Mrs. Schwind, chairman pro tem., Lady Longmore, Lady Welby, Miss Bellamy, Mrs. L. Bond, Miss Cherry, Miss Frier, Miss Gillies, Miss Hargraves, Miss Jabet, Miss R. Jackson, Miss Law, Mrs. Leeke, Miss E. M. Preston, Mrs. Robinson, Mrs. G. A. C. Shipman, Mrs. Talbot, Miss Townsend and Mrs. Walsh.
Flt.-Lieut. P. P. L. Stevenson representing the Grantham A.T.C., of which he is commanding officer, and promised the active co-operation of the corps.
It was decided to accept cadets over the age of 14 and to invite those willing to become officers to notify Mrs. Leeke.
CHANCE FOR GIRLS, 14-18
Mrs. Schwind writes:-
“the Corps, which is recognised by the board of Education as the pre-service organisation for girls gives the basic training to cadets, aged over 14 up to 18, in drill, fire-fighting, first-aid, handy-women’s jobs, hygiene and physical training, while tuition in other subjects such as aircraft recognition, field cookery, food production, home nursing, shorthand, car maintenance and workshop calculations is provided according to the careers which the girls hope to follow, whether in munitions, land work, nursing or the Forces. Before we enrol cadets (there are already nearly 40 who have expressed a wish to join) we need officers – women and girls over 19 interested in the work and able to give one or two evenings a week. (the more officers, the fewer their hours of duty need be. In addition to the commandant, vice-commandant, adjutant and quartermaster, we need one or two officers for each section of 25 cadets. A week-end course for officers will be held at Sleaford High school on Saturday and Sunday December 5th – 6th. under Miss Janet Campbell, county commandant, at which we hope to have officers from the companies formed or being formed at Sleaford, Stamford and Bourne.
“Will anyone willing to offer herself for this much needed form of
Continued in previous column
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[deleted] Red Cross [/deleted] cadets on parade
[photograph]
THIS contingent of Grantham Red Cross cadets. Led by Susan Brace, was taken outside the Guildhall towards the end of the Second World War. Taking the salute is an American general.
Third from right is town MP Denis Kendall and on top of the bomb-blast wall is Rothwell Lee. In the background is a building later demolished to make way for the JobCentre.
The picture was brought in by Joyce Szewd, of Sixth Avenue, Grantham.
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Cadets were girls of the Training Corps
[photograph]
A RECENT picture described as the Red Cross cadets towards the end of the war was in fact the Grantham 830 Girls Training Corps.
Although the Red Cross wore similar uniforms, they wore caps and aprons on parade.
During the war, all youngsters over 16 had to join a uniformed youth group, such as Red Cross, Army Cadets or ATC.
Winnie Barnes, of Ripon Close, Grantham, rang to say she is the lass on the second row, nearest the camera.
Led by Susan Brace, second in command was Miss Llewellyn-Owens, a Journal reporter who later joined the WRNS.
Beryl Neal, of Robertson Road, on the front row ahead of Miss Barnes, said they met in a room on London Road, which became the Kendall umbrella factory.
She said: “We marched around the streets. There was little traffic in those day [sic].
“We learned Morse code at ATC rooms, St Peter’s Hill, by Mr Betts.”
Margaret Burdon, of Grantham, brought in the photograph above of members of the Grantham 830 Girls Training Corps celebrating the group’s third birthday in 1945 in the grounds of Elsham House (now Grantham College), shortly before it disbanded.
Pictured are from from [sic] left – Joan Ray, Audrey Nickerson, Betty Ward, Betty Goodacre, June Bradley, Winnie Barnes, Margaret Smith, Miss Gardner, Mrs Brace, Miss Hall, Winnie Guilliat, Doris Anderson, Joan Parker, Margaret Wilson, Jean Ranby, Pauline Palmer, Doreen Sellars and Mary Shepherd.
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Now as mentioned much earlier, the difference in rank between a Warrant Officer and his Commanding Officer may be considerable, but it [sic] a matter of respective opinion as to which considers himself to be endowed with the superior responsibility, authority or whatever. Over these four years, each respected their relative rank and apparent authority, but of late there may have been some cooling of regard. I may be wrong, but I have always had the feeling that our Warrant Officer was seeking an appropriate opportunity to tell our CO what he could do with the former’s Warrant. Whether it was simply a case of him just having had enough of the job for a while or whether it was more of a case of personalities in disagreement, I never knew, but our W.O. had been increasingly on the point of handing in his resignation.
However, back to the formation of the GTC Company. As part of the package of cooperation, our CO promised to supply drill and other instructors until the GTC could stand on its own feet with an NCO structure of its own. As with the early days of the ADCC, there had been a rush of girls wanting to join. This called not only for their initial drill instruction generally, but also to train up as quickly as possible, a core structure of recruits with appropriate leadership and instructional skills.
While our CO had obtained immediate offers of help from our officers to assist in the drill and administrative instruction of the GTC Section Commanders, it was a very different matter when it came to the point of who would be in charge of other ranks instruction. Our Warrant Officer chose this point to become the ‘Immovable Object’ and refused point blank to get involved. Our CO, realising that the employment of ‘Irresistible Force’ would achieve little or nothing, turned this force elsewhere.
It will be appreciated from all that transpired in the many previous pages, that all the cadet units in which I had served to date had been ‘boys only’. The King’s School was (and still is) a boys only school. Fraternisation with the girls of the Kesteven and Grantham High School across the town had been actively discouraged and a King’s School boy had to be more than a little careful about the town’s other girls with whom he was seen to be associating. In fact, at that time, prefect power and a regime which permitted a fair measure of ‘ragging’ (not to be confused with bullying), to be openly observed with a girl friend (of the right social order of course) was regarded as being a Sixth Form privilege. To do so under the age of sixteen was to invite merciless ragging and unless one was particularly extrovert, one’s later teen age years left one with a ‘wimmin is trouble’ complex.
There were no girls in our family of my sort of age and both before and during the war our homes had been isolated in terms of neighbours. Until the later years of my apprenticeship, my contact with any girls of my own age was negligible. Both the ADCC and the ATC had (until now) been totally ‘boys only’. As for me, until adolescence, I had only thoughts for model aircraft, Meccano, and the like. After adolescence, all I was interested in was my studies, my cadets and keeping my family together in the very primitive conditions in which were [sic] had evacuated ourselves to escape the bombing in Grantham. On top of this, having by now seen too much distress and despair when loved ones ‘failed to return’ I had in effect’Signed [sic] the Pledge’. Until such time as we could get this war business over and done with, I would leave the chasing of girls to the others who had enough spare time to ‘get involved’. Besides, I had a shrewd idea that I was more of an ‘odd fish’ than I cared to acknowledge. If there was a ‘right girl’ out there somewhere she would not only take quite a lot of finding but she would probably get fed up with waiting for me to get my qualifications/commission or whatever other excuses I had for not spending enough time with her.
If the SWO was not prepared to instruct the GTC girls then, the C.O. decided, there were plenty of NCOs in his Squadron who would jump at the chance. ‘Throwing Rank’, he said (in no uncertain terms), that I would be in charge of GTC drill instruction, and in particular would be in charge of a crash course to train up their NCOs. I immediately protested that I had already got too much on my plate, but he promptly slatted me down by saying that I had said that my studies were going well and that I was delegating the majority of Syerston visit supervision to my other Sergeants. “Besides” he said, “It will do you good” (I was far from sure what he meant by that. Neither was I sure how much Miss Owens’s hand was mixed up in this)
Over the years, there had been quite a few ‘social evenings’ in our H.Q. to which the other cadets had brought their girl friends along. We also had a succession of girls helping out at our mid evening cocoa and tea breaks. In addition, beyond the blackout curtains at our front door and the end of parade, there would usually be a certain amount of whispering and giggling as girl friends awaited the emergence of their boys. The sound of female voices was not unknown in our HQ but had
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always been in the minority, but this was no preparation for the sound effects of the first night upon which No. 830 (Grantham) Company of the Girl’s Training Corps had their first parade. As fully expected, there had been no reluctance on the part of the other Sergeants to undertake drill instruction for the GTC cadets. I had made a point of arriving early so that I could hide myself away in my instructor’s office until the last possible moment. As I buried my nose in my affairs, I became increasingly aware of a crescendo of female voices filling the hallway and other rooms, together with voices of authority attempting to produce a semblance of order out of the apparent chaos.
Eventually, order was established and the next thing I knew was that on the opposite side of my desk was a uniform which was not RAF Blue, and a voice which was not one of my cadets. She informed me that the NCO squad was awaiting my instruction. The dreaded moment had arrived.
Now it has taken me sixty odd years to admit it publicly, but the real reason for my reluctance was that I was in a ‘blue funk’ as they say. Without a qualm, I could face a squad of new ATC recruits with calm and authority. I could perform for, and converse with the Topmost Brass of the RAF and other dignitaries without turning a hair. I could command a parade of several hundred strong without a tremor in my voice, but the idea of facing up to a dozen or more ‘wimmin’ was something approaching nightmare. ‘Wimmin’ were a closed book to me and I didn’t want to ‘get involved’ whichever way you like to interpret it. Section Officer Owens had assured me that they had been carefully selected and that they were ‘all nice girls’, but that was no help.
I faced the group. They appeared to size me up and I did my best to size them up. In the same way as a horse will immediately sense a nervous rider, it was obvious they sensed that in spite of my stripes and apparent age, I was more than a little nervous (Under statement)
Throat cleared, I resorted to my usual preliminary patter. I was “Flight Sergeant Stevenson and over the next few parades I would be instructing you on basic Foot Drill and furthermore instructing you on the basic principles of drill instruction etcetera, etcetara [sic]” Sundry signs of interest, what might have been encouragement, and a few more enigmatic signs which might has [sic] been amusement. I pressed on regardless and relaxed very slightly.
As usual, the first thing was the “Stand to Attention”. The usual patter starts at the feet and works upwards. In those inhibited days, ‘gentlemen’ refrained from regarding anything below the female face with anything further than the briefest of glances. Now I was called upon to considering closely the disposition of a dozen pairs of black shoes, topped with a dozen pairs of female ankles above which were a dozen pairs of female legs. Somehow, I managed to sort that lot out.
The next problem was the rest of the figures above. Although they were unquestionably ‘different’ from the dozens of squads I had previously instructed, there [sic] seemed to possess that same cross section of posture problems. Some of them naturally stood up straight and pulled their shoulders back in the approved manner, but there seemed to be a new spectrum of hunching which of course had to be corrected if smartness on parade was to be established. With boys, the usual practice was to stand behind them and, forcible employ ones thumbs and fingers to haul the back into the correct position. What on earth was I allowed to do? Summoning up courage, I picked on one of the ‘stoopers’ who didn’t look as if she would slap my face. I stood behind her and as gently as possible pulled her shoulders back. At the last moment she let out a slight gasp which the others must have heard as all shoulders visibly straightened – to my relief!
There were constant pitfalls for the unwary male. “Arms straight, fingers clenched, thumbs behind the seam of the . . . . . .” Oh, Christ, they don’t have trousers, do they? Do their skirts have a seam down the side? I flounder. One of the more capable ones who seems to be enjoying herself chirps up “Yes Sergeant, there is a seam down there”. Grins and the odd giggle. I press on. More problems when we get to ‘Right Dress’. Boys, in a manner of speaking, present less of a problem. Get their chests lined up, and the rest drops into place. No [sic] so this lot! After a bit, I give up and line their noses up!
Gaining confidence a little, I yell the usual “Come on, stand up straight, pull your shoulders back and stick your . . . .” I stop dead. I must admit that they responded admirably until the whole group collapsed into helpless laughter at my expression, and at that moment our CO and S/O Owens walked in to see how we are getting on. I get a stern look from our C.O. and what might be called an old fashioned look from S/O Owens. (I did not realise that the cadet who was beginning to wind me
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up was her niece, and that later she had thoroughly enjoyed giving a first hand account of their first drill session)
And so it went on.
Somehow I managed to survive the rest of the evening and I had to admit that they were indeed ‘nice girls’ as promised and they were all dead keen to learn. Whoever had short listed them had done a good job. Afterwards, I was amused and somewhat heartened to learn that the other ATC Sergeants had encountered similar problems but unlike me had thoroughly enjoyed themselves. At first I was a little embarrassed when the NCO group were referred to as ‘[underlined] your [/underlined] girls’, but after a while, they were doing so well, I was getting sufficiently proud of them to catch myself calling them ‘[underlined] my [/underlined] girls’. Luckily for my studies and other commitments, the ones who might be considered ‘my type’ appeared to have their own boy friends so I could retire gracefully into my bachelordom and not ‘get involved’. We all seemed to get on well with each other and that was fine. However, in retrospect, I think the C.O. was most probably right when he said it would “Do you good”
For a while, our H.Q. was busy every night with ATC and GTC on alternate nights, but it was not long before they got an H.Q. of their own. There, they could do their nursing, first aiding and caring skills and their NCOs could carry on the good work so far as drilling was concerned, but the more Service orientated cadets still came to us for things like Signals, Aircraft Recognition (They might not be so good at sorting their ‘Flaps’ from their ‘Slots’ but they were good at recognising the general shape and ‘sit’ of an aircraft)
If I remember rightly, for these subjects we began to parade on the same nights and now the barriers were down, our H.Q. became very much ‘co-ed’. I think for a time at least, the classes were kept separate, but at breaks and at the end of the evening’s activities there was a lot of ‘fraternising’ and a noticeable tendency to ‘pair up’ when the time came to shoo them all out. This then was the pattern which seemed to hold for the next couple of years. We definitely paraded as separate units on formal occasions, but so far as instructional and social activities were concerned, there was always a high degree of cooperation. It was an interesting phase of our Squadron’s history
The GTC did not survive into the post war era. When the time came, in less inhibited times, for the various Cadet units to enrol girls on the same footing as their boys, though difficulties might still arise, it would not be the first time that 47(F) had ‘wimmin’ about the place.
We had a second Annual Camp in 1943, (boys only of course) A tented camp was set up for us next door to the Parachute Section alongside the lane which leads off to Syerston village. Sadly, my camp report for that week has not survived, so I cannot give a day by day account of the doings. Although we did not receive the same V.I.P. treatment we had at Bottesford, I can still remember a lot of flying and a lot of slaving in the hangars and other sections, In retrospect, I suppose in a way, this and our attachment to Syerston could be considered the apogee of 47(F)s wartime involvement with the hot war.
As 1942 moved into 1943, I was now in a somewhat curious situation. The ATC had been created from the Air Defence Cadet Corps to meet a wartime need. I am not aware that at that time there had been any specific maximum age for an ATC cadet. No doubt with a callup age of eighteen, nearly if not all cadets would have left for the Forces by that time, and a maximum age limit was hardly necessary. We had no cadets on our strength who were not liable for military service.
Thanks to my Joint Selection Board deferment to obtain my Higher National Certificate as an entry qualification, I was now not only the Squadron’s senior NCO with all those cadets of the same age having already left for the RAF and elsewhere, within eight months, I would be aged twenty. Looking back, I suppose I was one of the few cadets who had been in the ADCC/ATC for the whole of the war period to date.
As a result, my future in No.47(F) was to say the least of it, a bit uncertain. There was the Selection Board stipulation that I must be in some form of pre-service training, so my having to leave the Squadron on age grounds might well present a problem. I suppose I was just about old enough to apply for a commission within the ATC, but we were up to strength on the unit’s officer count, and the ramifications of applying seemed somewhat complicated. The matter was solved however before
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A.T.C. Form 3
[ATC Crest]
AIR TRAINING CORPS.
Certificate of Proficiency
PART I
This is to Certify that
Cadet Flight Sergeant Peter Desmond Stevenson of No. 47.F. (Grantham) Squadron
is granted a Certificate of Proficiency in that, during his membership of the Air Training Corps, he has fulfilled the necessary conditions as to efficient service and has qualified in the Flight Mech (E) syllabus of training, as laid down in the Rules and Regulations of the Air Training Corps.
[signature]
Air Commodore
Commandant, Air Training Corps.
Date 7 – 8 – 43
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that decision was made. Our Squadron Warrant Officer suddenly decided that enough was enough, and thumped in his resignation.
The CO (naturally) decided that a suggestion replacement should be from his fellow officers. Net result, would I be prepared to resign as a cadet, and apply for consideration as the Warrant Officer. In August 1943, therefore Cadet 308 Flight Sergeant Stevenson P.D. ceased to exist. He handed in his uniform, received a W.Os clothing allowance and was next seen sporting a rather smarter uniform, service shirt and tie and the W.Os ‘Crown on his lower sleeves. As far as duties were concerned, there was not a great deal of difference, as his predecessor, over the previous months had been only too pleased to hand over his more irksome duties to his senior Flight Sergeant.
That was the good news I suppose, but life always seems to balance this with a bit of bad news. The latter affected the Squadron as a whole. Lincolnshire’s air bases were to undergo another, and even more drastic upheaval. No.5 Group was to move to occupy more of the north and east of the county and its Headquarters would also move north. Nearly all their bases to the south and west were to be handed over to the Troop Carrying Command of the U.S. 9th Army Air Force whose headquarters would now be in 5 Group’s erstwhile home in St. Vincent’s in Grantham. Syerston’s two Squadrons would separate to other bases and we could no longer be attached to them. Calamity indeed!
‘The Yanks were Coming, the Yanks were Coming’ – and we were left to make the best of it. The autumn of 1943 was, to say the least of it, the beginning of yet another phase in the 47(F) Story.
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[A.T.C. LEAVING CERTIFICATE OF SERVICE]
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[A.T.C. crest]
[photograph]
WARRANT
To P.D. Stevenson.
As Commandant of the Air Training Corps for the Midlands.
I do hereby appoint you to be a Warrant Officer of No. 47F (Grantham) Squadron, from the Twelfth day of August 1943.
[badge]
You are therefore carefully and diligently to discharge your duties as such as required by regulations and to observe and follow such orders and directions as you shall receive from a superior officer.
[signature]
G/Capt
Eighteenth day of 1943.
93
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[underlined] Chapter Ten – The Magic Air Force 1943-44 [/underlined]
Before I start on this penultimate chapter, a word about its title. Leslie Thomas, the prolific author of highly amusing accounts of WW2 service life, produced a masterpiece in his ‘Magic Army’. This started with an hilarious account of the impact of the invasion of the Dorset countryside and coast by the first elements of the United States ground forces who came ‘over here’ to finish this war of ours for us. It was centred around a small seaside community of local yokels, guarded from the enemy by a more or less forgotten detachment of British artillerymen. Its gun was of dubious reliability and had barely enough ammunition to do more than scare the pants off a ‘tip and run’ German reconnaissance plane. Into this scene had marched the first elements of what would eventually be an overwhelming army of American servicemen. They had come to prepare the ground. They had come from many parts of the United States and some of them had been recruited from the Deep South with complexions which were a distinct contrast to those of the Dorset folk. (In these days of political correctness, one has to be careful with one’s phraseology) Their military bearing and behaviour was also in distinct contrast to that of the Tommies manning their gun. The story ends in tragedy but don’t let that put you off. It will give you another facet to the eight months or so when the Grantham area was host to another American invasion.
These were not by any means the first U.S. units who had come over here to join the fray.
For the past two years, East Anglia had been the Forty Ninth State as the U.S Eighth Army Air Force battled its way with ever increasing strength (and appalling casualties) in its daylight raids over the Continent. As the planning and preparations for D Day progressed, the combined operations of the British and American Airborne Forces resulted in many of the airfields surrounding Grantham being freed from RAF activities to make room for the Troop Carrying Command of the U.S Ninth Air Force. Grantham’s St. Vincent’s, had become their Command Headquarters, and it was their staff personnel who were first seen about the town. Having more or less established themselves, the time had come to ‘call in the Cavalry’ and shortly afterwards the aircraft and their ground personnel began flying into the airfields.
The aircraft were mostly the rugged, reliable and much loved C-47, better known to us as the Douglas Dakota, and the much less reliable and largely hated C-46 Curtis Commando which had a nasty habit of bursting into flames at awkward moments (It was eventually withdrawn from service). Equipped with these, came the various Troop Carrying Groups
Now in the U.S Air Forces, what we know as a Squadron, they know as a ‘Group’ and what we know as a Group, they call a ‘Wing’. Each of their Troop Carrying Groups had about seventy aircraft which were too many to administer as a single unit, so to make it even more complicated, each was made up four sub units (roughly equivalent to what we would call a Flight) which they now called Squadrons, (TCSs) each of which has a different unit number. Get it? – well perhaps not.
O.K let’s start again with a specific example. Together, the 14th TCS, the 15th TCS, the 53rd TCS and the 59th TCS made the 61st TC [underlined] Group [/underlined] which went to RAF Barkston Heath. This TCG with others at RAF’s Folkingham and Fulbeck in Lincolnshire, Saltby (Leics), Cottesmore (Rutland) and Spanhoe (Northants) together made up the 52nd Troop Carrying [underlined] Wing [/underlined]. 52nd TCW plus two other TCWs in the south of England then made up the 9th Troop Carrying [underlined] Command [/underlined] whose H.Q was at Grantham. In each case, these Troop Carrying Wings were stationed close by the various British and American Airborne Divisions who would fly to war with them.
One other thing we need to establish in the way of definition, was the question of the terms of occupancy of the various airfields used by the Americans way back in the early Forties when our overseas investments were all used up, the Lease Lend agreement with the Roosevelt administration ended up with the British Government agreeing to lease British bases f.o.c. to American Forces in exchange for ships, aircraft and other war material. Thus, a British airfield remained the property of the RAF, who would equip and maintain its buildings, runways etc., leaving the Americans free to concentrate on their flying. Thus, even though a given airfield might be known to the Americans as ‘No.683 Base’, it was still RAF Fulbeck with an RAQF Station Commander, with its flying operations under the command of a U.S. Army Colonel.
Having allowed the staff at St. Vincent’s to settle in, our C.O. went to work. Thanks no doubt to the two years he had spent in the U.S. in the late 1920s he was soon on friendly terms with the Troop Carrying Command’s General Beresford. Invited down to our H.Q., he apparently liked what he saw and promised to attach us to Fulbeck which was going to be the 9th TCC headquarter’s airfield. This incidentally, was just down the hill from Fulbeck Hall which was to be the place in which the detailed planning of the Arnhem operation was to take place, and close to Stragglethorpe Hall which was the Headquarters of the British 1st Airborne Division.
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2 [underlined] GENERAL GILES, Commandant 9th TROOP CARRYING COMMAND USAAF INSPECTS NO.47(F) GRANTHAM SQUADRON AIR TRAINING CORPS 6th February 1944 [/underlined]
[underlined] 6th February 1944 [/underlined]: Sunday. The weather was cold and dull, which was rather unfortunate because during the morning there was an inspection of the A.T.C. by an American named General Giles. There was also present at this little function the Mayor and Mayoress and Sir Arthur Longmore. The latter appeared to have aged considerably; or perhaps it was the cold, for the wind was bitter.
[photograph]
[photograph]
GENERAL GILES INSPECTS THE A.T.C.
[photograph]
A familiar sight at North Witham, Barkston Heath, Folkingham and Fulbeck were the C47 Dakotas of the US 9th Troop Carrier Command. These particular aircraft are from the 434th Troop Carrier Group, possibly at Fulbeck.
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When the time came for our first visit to Fulbeck, we awaited the promised truck with both interest and curiosity. Well, we waiting and then waited a little longer, but eventually a large truck bearing the now familiar large white star on its bonnet (sorry ‘hood’), rolled to a halt outside our H.Q. “Sorry” said the gum chewing driver, “I got lost”. We piled in. thankful to hand over the navigation, we set off. We were offered a stick of gum. “Sorry”, we said, “We are not allowed to chew sweets when in uniform”. We get a look of surprise. We eventually arrive. Used to several years of RAF Security, we are now somewhat surprised to roll through the gate with no more than a wave from the driver to the guard who is too busy chatting up a couple of Land Army girls to do more than languidly wave back. (We gathered later that a staff car bearing a General’s flag and stars was about the only thing to warrant a guard turnout) Our driver dumps us somewhere in what appears to be the nerve centre of things and in the best of service traditions, proceeds to ‘get lost’.
Eventually, we find someone who seems to have some idea of who we are, but it becomes quite obvious that they have no idea of what to do with us. They play safe, and while they detail someone to take our cadets on a guided tour, our Flight Commander and I do our best to thrash out something constructive. It takes some time to convince them that we are anything more than a glorified Boy’s Club, there for a bit of fun. Having heard what we had done at Bottesford and Syerston, they agreed to attach our ground trades to the equivalent functions in their hangars and on dispersal, and allow the aircraft cadets access to Navigation and Signals section etc. They also promised to give all our cadets as much air experience as possible. In fact they immediately bundled all of us into a Dakota and gave us a twenty minute flip. I don’t think the flight was for any specific purpose from their point of view. They were just being friendly.
Before this happened, it had been lunch time and we were led (we soon learned that no one ever marched in this Magic Air Force) over to the ‘Enlisted Men’s Canteen’. We dutifully queued up and it was our turn to be surprised (not that we had stopped being surprised from the minute we had arrived) Huge plates were dolloped with huge quantities of food. Naturally, individual meals are long since forgotten, but the general impressions last. Apart from immediate perishables, the Americans had agreed to be responsible for the importation of all their food, and the one thing the Americans had decided upon at the outset, was that they were not going to go hungry. They were still in a state of astonishment at how well we looked on what they considered were the starvation rations we were living on. So, when meat was on the menu, we got the equivalent of a week’s ration on our plate. If it was egg[underlined]s[/underlined], then it was in the plural at a time when our week’s ration was one fresh egg, and only aircrew, who were on ops that night got a fresh egg for their breakfast. Sugar was on the tables in great bowls, and the ‘kawffee’ was real coffee and not the ‘Camp’ chicory extract we had been drinking for the last four years. At this stage of the war, though we were certainly not starving, we were hungry most of the time. This of course showed externally when we compared our bodies with our new friends. We were not exactly skinny but in comparison they did tend to bulge better.. I must admit that our meals and ‘kawffee breaks’ were a highlight of our visits to Fulbeck, but with qualifications. Certainly the quantity was there, but to the more discerning palate, the standard of cooking left much to be desired.
Later on, we discovered a further interesting example of Anglo-American cooperation. By then we had got to know the RAF ‘Care and Maintenance’ staff, and it would appear that to be posted to a USAAF base was initially considered to be the ‘reward’ for not having measured up to the requirements of a General Service Officer. Once there, the ‘perks’ more than balanced any remaining stigma. Quite apart from the generally relaxed atmosphere, with little if any of the usual RAF ‘bull’, the general standard of living was measurably higher. The small RAF team soon dropped Officer and O/R segregation and shared a small communal mess. This received the same per capita rationing level as the USAAF, but used RAF catering staff to do the cooking. As Warrant Officer, I and any other ATC Officer would be invited, indeed advised, to eat with the RAF.
It was interesting to see the considerable expansion of this RAF Mess over the months we were there. Apparently, the USAAF officers, once invited to eat with their RAF colleagues, asked for their ration allocations to be routed (sorry ‘rowted”) to the RAF Mess in order for them to enjoy much higher cuisine standards than pertained in their mess. Not all of these US based ration allowances were consumed on the premises, as can well be imagined. We understood that the Fulbeck RAF officers (and I suppose the same applies to the other 9th TCC stations) became not only very popular with their own families and friends, but also with their colleagues on adjacent RAF stations.
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[underlined] YOUTH DAY PARADE – MAY 4th 1944 [underlined]
[photograph]
[underlined] GENERAL PAUL WILLIAMS 9th TROOP CARRYING COMMAND USAAF – INSPECTING OFFICER [underlined]
[photograph]
No.47[F]GRANTHAM Sq AIR TRAINING CORPS
[photograph]
No.830 Grantham Co. GIRLS TRAINING CORPS
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[underlined] YOUTH DAY PARADE – MAY 4th 1944 [underlined]
[photograph]
KINGS SCHOOL J.T.C.
[photograph]
THE U.S.A. POLICE GAVE EVERY HELP
[photograph]
YOUTH DAY, SUNDAY, MAY 7TH. THE ASSEMBLY IN THE CAR PARK
[photograph]
AN AMERICAN PHOTOGRAPGER
[photograph]
THE ASSEMBLY IN THE CAR PARK.
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This was not the only ‘grey’ market which developed and was quietly turned a further blind eye upon. This one had interesting ramifications. During the week before one of our visits, some of our cadets would ‘accumulate’ a quantity of U.K. currency, for which they found a ready market amongst the GIs who were dating up English girls. Now in possession of dollars and cents, our cadets could look forward to the arrival of the ‘chuck wagons’ which heralded the ‘kawffee breaks’. These treated the cadets the same as the GIs. Available on these were sweets and cigarettes in quantity and, more importantly, [underlined] off ration [/underlined]. Furthermore, the cadets also discovered that, provided they had American currency, they we [sic] free to buy things in the ‘PX Store’ (more or less equivalent to one of our NAAFI Shops). These were fabulous sources of things virtually unheard of unless one was well into the British Black Market. Our next currency transaction was from dollars and cents into the new wartime wonder – Nylon Stockings. Once our poor inhibited, blushing cadets (by now unmoved by a Lancaster turret full of blood and guts) had screwed up their courage to effect the transaction, their popularity rating with the GTC went up by leaps and bounds.
This was not the only forms of negotiable currency. Thanks to the generosity of our new American friends, Grantham and the surrounding district had soon learned that ‘gum’ and the Herschey Bar (for ‘Herschey’ read ‘Cadbury’) were in plentiful supply. We were correspondingly popular on next parade night. This brings me back to the GIs Mess Halls.
When we had first collected our midday meal and taken them back to the mess tables, we were puzzled by the large earthenware jars with big wooden spoons in them. Carefully observing our nearby GIs, we gradually discovered their contents and their use. Thanks to having gone with my father up to London pre war, I had been introduced to the delights of the American Waffle. The latter seemed to be a very popular sweet course at Fulbeck, and Jar No.1 was Maple Syrup ([underlined] Real [/underlined] Maple Syrup not ‘flavoured’) By 1943 the British diet was not only frugal, it was also dull and bland. Our idea of heaven at that time was probably limited to something like a small spoonful of sweetened condensed milk. Maple Syrup was not only unobtainable in wartime Lincolnshire, it was virtually unheard of. Since we were also permitted to go back for more, we certainly went back for more, and in spite of its stickiness, some even migrated back to Grantham..
Jar No.2 was more of a mystery. We observed the thickly spreading of a light brown gooey paste onto waffles or thick slices of bread, [or even onto slices of fried bacon!]. Not to be outdone we did the same. The resulting impact on our wartime taste buds was dramatic to say the least. Some faces immediately registered disgust, while others froze in expressions of gastronomic bliss. Somehow, small quantities again drifted back to the unsuspecting Grantham public and these produced the same effect. I honestly think that at that time, nothing else so divided the British wartime public into two opposing camps. There seemed to be no half way, one either adored or loathed PEANUT BUTTER!
Please don’t get me wrong. In spite of our American friend’s efforts to augment our wartime diet, we were not there just to eat and indulge in a little grey marketing. We soon convinced them that we knew something about aircraft and the flying of them. Our ground trade cadets demonstrated that Douglas airframes and Pratt & Whitney engines held few secrets.
What did surprise the cadets was the quality and quantity of the tools which were issued to the American airframe and engine fitters. Those of our cadets who were engineering apprentices, came back drooling about the tools they had used in comparison to the ‘War Economy’ finish of the tools in our factories and what the RAF had to use. New words came into their engineering vocabulary such as ‘Stilson’ and ‘King Dick’. I don’t think our cadets got involved in another form of East/West trade but it was a little surprising how many American tools managed to drift into Grantham factories during the eight months the 9th were with us.
It was a little different when it came to our flying experience. Again at first we had to convince new USAAF aircrew after new aircrew that we [sic] not just after a joy ride. The Dakota does not have so much room ‘up in the office’ as the Lancaster but it does have a lot more windows along the fuselage. After all it was a military version of a very successful air liner. It also had a huge pair of rear doors, big enough to drive a Jeep through. Since they always seem to fly with these doors wide open, there was always a terrific view of the countryside beneath. The airliner passenger seats had gone, of course, but there were bench seats all along the side. Unless one stood up, there was not much to see out of the windows except for the sky and the wings. However, once they got the message of what we wanted to do in the way of map reading exercises, they fixed us up with boxes we could sit on round the doorway, together with a safety belt anchored back to the parachutist’s trip cables up in the roof just in case in our enthusiasm, we happened to fall out.
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Flight formalities were not minimal, they were non existant [sic]. They had never heard of ‘blood chits’ and considered them quite unnecessary (“Our C47s don’t crash, Chum, unless the pilot does something stooped”) Flying suits? (“We don’t go high enough to get cold, Chum”) Parachutes? “C47s don’t get into difficulties and you would be too low for them to open properly”. All very reassuring. We make our way over to the Dakota indicated and climb up the ladder and enter. The interior is seen to have other occupants, local yokels, Land Army girls, even Italian Prisoners of War who we had seen earlier on [sic] perched on benches outside the flight office hoping for a flip on this bright and sunny Sunday morning. Having been plied with gum and Herschey Bars, we all wait for engines to be started. From the front, one of the crew brings in a bucket which he places in the middle of the cabin. “Aim in it, not at it please” he announces and with that, off we go.
We head off into the blue and the map reading class gets going. We locate this and we identify that we mark our track on our air maps and note our changes of direction. After twenty minutes or so, one of the crew comes back and cheerfully shouts “O.K. boys, where do you reckon we are?”. We ring our present position. “Good” says he and goes back forwards. As he goes through the door, we hear him say “O.K. Skip. We’re on course”. There were apparently, the odd occasions in the early days when the ATC Cadets at the back were the only ones on the plane who were sure of their position and gave the folk up front a course for home.
It was indeed not easy to remain uncritical. There poor navigators had trained in the Mid West where the roads were dead straight and it was a case of “Follow State 66 until it crosses a river, then turn left. About ten miles on, the river will be crossed by a railroad track. Turn right and look for a small town. If you can’t find it, land near a farm and ask them to call us so that we can give you a course for home” (“Geezus, in this goddam country, before you get a chance to identify one town, you have passed over four more”).
We were only there on Sundays to see their activities on the ground. Away from Spittlegate’s airspace, the 9th were flying round the clock, desperately trying to get new crews into close formation flying, then to get squadrons to formate in Groups, and finally to get Groups to formate in Wings. Impressive enough in daylight, but when they got round to night flying, the sight of several hundred troop carriers, sometimes towing gliders, with undimmed navigation lights and master navigators and formations, was mind blowing. When all that passes over your head at six hundred to a thousand feet, the noise was terrific.
Not so impressive was the impact of the invasion on the ground. As D Day approached, the build up of the Paras in the Grantham area increased proportionately. Grantham was a focal point for both the British 1st Airborne and the American 82nd and 101st Airborne. Neither of course had been recruited on the basis of their finer feelings. The latter sadly displayed the usual ‘Over Paid, Over Sexed, and Over Here’ characteristics which led to pitched battles in Grantham’s streets, aggravated by the invasions of Nottingham’s ‘Ladies of Easy Virtue’ who arrived by the car, bus and train loads on pay nights, to be shipped back again by the Grantham and Military Police the following morning, usually the worst for wear. (I often wondered how many ATC/GTC romances started when the ATC Cadets were recruited to escort the GTC Cadets safely home through the blackout when parades ended.
On the 5th of June 1944, the 9th airfields sprang into life carrying the spearhead troops into the early airdrops of the Invasion. They suffered many casualties and returned visibly shaken. This was obviously not the war they had expected. Our honeymoon period with them evaporated. We helped but were not entertained, and as the Normandy battles developed, there were more drops and more losses. For D Day, the 9th only dropped American troops, but as the preparations for Arnhem progressed, it would be the British 1st Airborne who would be travelling with them and Fulbeck became a much greater focal point of Anglo-American cooperation.
Meanwhile, the Allied advances into France and the Low Countries had liberated German airfields closer to the front line and the first of the 9th Airforce units began preparing to move over to the Continent. This would eventually include the Command Headquarters at Grantham. They all began to make farewell noises.
By the mid summer of 1944, The Magic Air Force had flown!
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While we had been ‘enjoying’ ourselves at Fulbeck on Sundays, quite a lot had been happening back in the Squadron in Grantham. Amongst other things, we had , over the previous Syerston and Fulbeck periods, established an attachment with the RAF Regiment. In the First World War, Belton Park just outside Grantham had been the birthplace of the Machine Gun Corps. In World War Two, the same park had been chosen for the birth of the RAF Regiment. Just outside its southern boundary had been established the Regimental Headquarters, Barrack Blocks Parade Ground, and Gymnasia to train up specialist troops for the protection of RAF airfields.
Here, suitable recruits were put through their paces. The RAF had of course been teaching their airmen ditching and sea survival skills since the beginning. Now, with the increasing success of the various Resistance Movements in Occupied Europe to channel our aircrew survivors back to Britain, capture avoidance and other ‘escapology’ skills were being taught to aircrews as part of their normal training, and the RAF Regiment were just the people to teach those skills. When we were not going to Syerston of Fulbeck, we would spend a happy(?) hour of two learning the best way to use the Boche’s coal scuttle helmet to break his neck, or to use a piece of piano wire to remove his head if you think the former is too quick for your liking, as well as quite a few of the less gentle aspects of unarmed combat. Then again, how to jump out of the back of a lorry doing twenty miles per hour and use a parachute roll to prevent you breaking your own neck. Again all very exciting if not exactly pleasant
For my part, the Spring and Summer of 1944 had been the big run up to my Finals for my Higher National Certificate in Mechanical Engineering which I sat in July. The various papers were not exactly easy but I walked away feeling fairly confident. I was now waiting anxiously for the results to come out.
During the spring, ATC Headquarters had announced the staging of a three day, No.1 ATC Warrant Officers Training Course at RAF Cardington. This was to be a fairly intensive work out of RAF Rules and Regulations, Drill Instruction and the administration of big parades, and lots of other subjects which to tell the truth, seemed just a little bit irrelevant if I was leaving the ATC for a technical commission in a month or two. Much of the detail of this course is now forgotten. Perhaps., the most lasting impression I have left of Cardington was spending several hours learning all about the construction and flying of Barrage Balloons. (Balloons and Airstrips have always been a passion of mine)
All that was mostly the good to medium news. Around mid summer, our C.O. had been showing signs of overwork. Right through the previous five years, he had been tireless in running the Squadron, liaising with Spittlegate, 5 Group and the USSAF, taking a major part in the organisation of the various ‘Wings for Victory’, ‘War Weapons Week’ and similar events as well as holding down a rather difficult civilian job. Regrettably too, like so many of his generation, he was a fairly heavy smoker and lately had been putting on too much weight. His doctor read the Riot Act.
Luckily, there had been moves in the higher administration of the ATC, the result of which was the creation of a Lincolnshire Wing to coordinate the activities of the now quite considerable number of ATC Squadrons in the County. This would be a desk job, and as the senior Squadron Commander, he was promoted to Squadron Leader.
Effectively, 47(F) lost its C.O. and the senior Flight Commander was promoted to replace him. Sadly, after a month or two in his new appointment, Squadron Leader P.P.L. Stevenson suffered a massive heart attack and went into intensive care for several weeks. He survived, just, but his ATC days were over.
By the late autumn of 1944, both the Allies and the Russians were hammering at the gates of Germany. The end seemed to be in sight, even though there was still to be much bitter fighting both on the ground and in the air. The bomber offensive was at its peak, but apart from Spittlegate, Cranwell and Digby, the other airfields round Grantham were most quiet, and somehow, apart from the nightly roar of Bomber Command in the skies to the north and the very occasional air raid warning that a suicidal Luftwaffe intruder was about, the war had passed our part of Lincolnshire by.
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[signature] [missing letter] Burges [indecipherable word] (Best Regards)
[symbol] [underlined] No. 1. A.T.C. W.O.’s. Course. [symbol] [/underlined]
[underlined] Cardington. 1944. [/underlined]
[Back Row, left to right]
[underlined] Munass [/underlined] 392
[underlined] Masterson [/underlined] 4071
[underlined] Cook [/underlined] 996
[underlined] Wright [/underlined] 391
[underlined] Gabrad [/underlined] 231
[underlined] Cabboll [/underlined] 220
[underlined] Hirst [/underlined] 1053
[underlined] Andrew [/underlined] 387
[underlined] Harvey [/underlined] 877
[underlined] Bruce [/underlined] 1383
[underlined] Stevenson [/underlined] 478
[underlined] Hodgkinson [/underlined] 124
[Middle Row, left to right]
[underlined] Bishop [/underlined] 1303
[underlined] Guest [/underlined] 1990
[underlined] Lister [/underlined] 1341
[underlined] Dorricott [/underlined] 57
[underlined] Wood [/underlined] 481
[underlined] Jackson [/underlined] 2133
[underlined] Parmenter [/underlined] 1116
[underlined] Austin [/underlined] 1861
[underlined] Major [/underlined] 1456
[underlined] Watts [/underlined] 1904
[underlined] Russell [/underlined] 398
[Front Row, left to right]
[underlined] Munn [/underlined] [indecipherable number]
[underlined] Edwards [/underlined] 1476
[underlined] Powell [/underlined] 1148
[underlined] Butler [/underlined] Wolverhampton Wing.
[underlined] Hearn [/underlined] 79
[underlined] Sgt Pearson [/underlined]
[underlined] Sgt Bridges [/underlined]
[underlined] Dawson [/underlined] 1968
[underlined] Harby [/underlined] 1942
[underlined] Malier [/underlined] 1547
[underlined] Brown [/underlined] Colchester Wing.
[underlined] Bourdoe [/underlined] 38
[photograph]
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10
[photograph]
Barrage balloons being towed by their winch lorries
They can be rapidly deflated, transported to another site, and re-inflated
[photograph]
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[underlined] Chapter Eleven Anticlimax and Finale [/underlined]
August 26th 1944. It should have been a day of celebrations, but in the event, it was a bit of a damp squib.
It was my 21st Birthday and it therefore marked the end of my engineering apprenticeship. I was now a Junior Draughtsman in the Design Office of an internationally renowned company producing construction equipment. I was also the acolyte of its revered Chief Designer and we were engaged in some important and interesting design and development.
I went down to our village Post Office to collect our mail (Our isolated farmhouse home was way off the village postman’s beat). On this very day, in addition to greeting cards from our scattered family, there was one letter for which I had been waiting anxiously for a week or two. Yes, it was my exam results. With bated breath I tore it open. I HAD PASSED!
I shot off home and dashed off a letter to the Joint Selection Board to say that I now had the necessary Higher National Certificate and now awaited their instructions. This posted, I returned to an empty house. My father was now just out of intensive care in one hospital in Nottingham, after his heart attack.. My mother was in another Nottingham hospital awaiting surgery and my brother was in yet another recovering from another operation. I was dreading to think how they are going to manage when the time came for me to go. At present, not one of them was capable of looking after themselves, let alone the others.
Thank goodness it was a sunny day. For the first time in years, I went for a day’s walk in order to have a good think.
Throughout my life September, rather than January, has always been the beginning of my year. The new school year, the new OTC year, the new Air Cadet year and later on in life, the beginning of various forms of technical training programmes. This year, hopefully, it would be the beginning of a completely new life.
For 47(F) it would also be a new year. It had a new Commanding Officer who would undoubtedly want to make some changes in order to ‘make his mark’. One of his first jobs would be to establish a new ‘attachment’, now that the USAAF had gone. Recently promoted Flight Lieutenant, Albert Chapman had been one of the first officers to be appointed at the inaugural meeting of the Grantham Squadron back in January 1939. At that time, he had been a civilian driver in Spittlegate’s Transport Section, and had remained in the Section throughout the intervening years, this being unquestionably a Reserved Occupation. He therefore had a fairly firm ‘foot in the door’ at Spittlegate which he now used to re-establish 47(F)’s attachment to its original parent airfield.
Spittlegate was still a very active training station. No. 12(P)AFU was still churning out night fighter and intruder pilots, but the pressure upon them to do so was beginning to ease slightly and they seemed more than willing to welcome us back.
The overwhelming Allied air supremacy, coupled with the Luftwaffe’s increasing shortages of experienced pilots and aviation fuel, meant that our losses were beginning to fall. In fact, unbeknown to us, the Air Ministry were already beginning to question whether they now had more than enough aircrew trainees to finish the war, now that Allied forces were well established on the Continent once more.
With our usual August break over, Cadet H.Q. opened its doors to a new if uncertain future, welcoming back its old cadets and signing on the usual intake of new recruits
The Joint Selection Board had merely acknowledged my letter informing them of my H.N.C. pass and said that instructions would follow. In the daytime, I continued my Design Office work. In the evenings, on parade nights, I continued to function as S.W.O. and started lecturing again, feeling more than a little restless. On other nights, I rediscovered the delights of doing nothing that didn’t need doing, apart that is, from looking after the family. My father had returned home almost completely disabled and anxious to learn what his Squadron was doing under the new C.O. The rest of my family came home also, but they were far from fit to resume their previous lives (my brother was only twelve and still ‘poorly’). Much as I looked forward to the arrival of my papers, we could only bless the days when they never arrived.
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Eventually, towards the end of September they did arrive with a Rail Warrant to the RAF Reception Centre at Cosford, but also with instructions to stay put until further orders. Thankfully, in a way, the further orders seemed to go into ‘hold’ for most of October.
Then, I was asked once again to go before the Selection Board. There, somewhat apologetically, they informed me that recruitment for commissions in the RAFTechnical [sic] Branch had closed! They had already got enough Engineering Officers to finish the war without my help in effect. Before I had a chance to express my disgust, they started questioning me closely about the work I was doing at Aveling Barford, the construction machinery manufacturers with whom I had just completed my apprenticeship, and some general questioning about what I knew about airfield construction equipment.
Without explaining why, I was told to go back and again wait for further instructions. For another two or three weeks nothing happened, then a letter arrived offering me a commission in the RAF Airfield Construction Service. After due deliberation, I come to the conclusion that this might be useful practical experience towards my eventual membership of the Institution of Mechanical Engineers. I wrote back, accepting. Again nothing happened. Again I am called back to the Board who then questioned me about Aveling Barford’s post war ambitions (as if I would know as a 21 year old junior draughtsman!) Throats were cleared and the Chairman said that even though the war was still unfinished, the Government was giving urgent thought to the question of Britain’s part in the reconstruction of Europe and the revival of the British economy. We will need to ‘Export or Starve’ blah, blah, blah, and in this respect it was obvious to them that my future should lie in the engineering industry. Ye Gods, after nearly ten years of doing my best to get into the RAF, was this the best they could offer!
I went back home and told my parents that they still had a son, to their obvious relief. I went back to my works and told them they still had a Junior Draughtsman, and they welcomed me back. I went back to 47(F) and told them they still had a Warrant Officer and they also welcomed me back.
However the bad news was not yet over. ATC Headquarters then delivered a bombshell. Although in the event, the war in Europe still had another six months to run, the Air Ministry had decided to cut drastically, the funding of the ATC. Future recruitment into the RAF was also to be reduced and acceptance standards drastically raised. In future, Squadrons must be self supporting for all activities except those specifically details for the training of cadets of the required acceptance standards. There was a lot more to it which said in as many words that the future of the ATC was more in the shape of boy’s clubs in which ‘good citizenship’ was to be encouraged and more blah, blah, blah. Out of this, a few selected entrants will be recruited to replace servicemen due to be demobilised.
This called for a lot of hard thinking regarding the future of the Squadron. Although I for one, was far from happy about a new ‘boy’s club’ image for the Squadron, our new CO seemed quite willing to take up this new change of image. In a way, this was not surprising. Right from the start, mas Flight Commander, he had always been a great supporter of any sports and social activities, and having a teenage daughter, was very supportive of our cooperation with the GTC Company. Since their inception, there had been quite a few social events, quite apart from sharing training facilities. Although each unit had its own headquarters and to the outside observer, functioned as two separate units, parades over, apart from uniform differences, that outside observer could hardly be blamed for thinking that they were a single unit.
In view of what is to follow, I think I need to admit that I have always been (and still am) a pretty unsociable cuss. I don’t like loose crowds and I loathe ‘parties’ and I did my best to avoid getting involved in these ‘socials’.
Inevitably, a ‘Funding’ meeting had to be held. This not only included both our officers and cadets, but al [sic] a similar contingent had been invited from the GTC. They of course, having had much less financial help from official sources, had always needed to rely heavily on fund raising. We, on the other hand, had received reasonably generous grants from the Air Ministry. Now that we needed to raise funds, the GTC might give us a few tips.
Ideas were called for. The GTC officers told us that the general public, after five years of whist drives, jumble sales, ‘coffee’ mornings, summer fetes, Warship Weeks, Wings for Victory, comforts for the troops and so on, a further round of such activities was not likely to raise a significant amount of the needful, especially as the general public still believed that the ATC was fully supported financially by the RAF. Silence prevailed.
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During the previous year or so, our Headquarters had acquired a most useful addition. The RAF had offered us a redundant 60ft x 20ft wooden accommodation hut and this had been duly erected to one side of our parade ground. This had proved invaluable since it was large enough to parade the whole Squadron indoors on dark or wet evenings and enabled a certain amount of drill on the march to be carried out. It was in this hut that this combined meeting was being held, in which I was taking a determinedly back seat. Raising money for social and sporting events was definitely not my reasons for joining the ATC.
Fortunately or unfortunately (depends upon the circumstances) I have a habit of observing the existence of a number of ‘twos’ which, by what was later called ‘lateral thinking’, I would then put these together to make a dozen or so. During the foregoing discussion, I observed at the far end of the hut, the various officers sitting behind a large table, doing their best to look helpful or intelligent. To their side is the upright piano of doubtful tonal value which we have recently acquired from somewhere or other. After parades, this frequently formed the focus of a mixed group of cadets, Although never standing a chance at the International Eisteddfod, they frequently sang their intentions to ‘Roll Out the Barrel’ and ‘Hang out the washing on the Siegfried Line’ etc. accompanied by one of our cadets who could thrash out at [sic] tune on this long suffering instrument.
I also recollected that another popular ATC cadet was a great comic, and that one or two of the GTC girls had quite reasonable singing voices. Somehow at this point, William S managed to assure me that ‘All the world’s a stage, etc Much to my later embarrassment, I heard myself saying “If we could make a stage at this end of the hut, do you think we have enough talent in the two units to make up an ATC/GTC Concert Party?” Too late, I realise that I am now the centre of attention. Expressions of interest and approval from the table, hubbubs of interest from the cadets. The redoubtable Miss Owens assumes command, “What an excellent idea”, and within minutes the inevitable committee is formed and before I can protest further, I am press ganged into service. “Good” says I to myself, “If I can supervise the erection of the stage and any props they might need, I can stay well in the background and leave any ‘acts’ to the others”. – so I thought.
The committee, chaired of course by Miss Owens, agreed that the whole programme should be designed to put as many cadets onto the stage as possible from both units. Miss Owens agreed to find and stage manage, a multi character one act play. Audition as many cadets with instrumental skills. Can we think of any songs with multi part singers. Muggins suggests Pedro the Fisherman which is the rage at the moment. Accepted, and ‘on the night’ Muggins has been ‘volunteered’ into the part of Nina’s father – “One day her father said to her etc”. (How old do they think I am?)
Can you think of a finale that brings everyone back onto the stage? You are good at writing, Can you work up a sketch on these lines? I suppose I could. So it went on, but after a bit, I had to admit that I began to enjoy being something other than a technical student or a technocrat cadet. Maybe I’m not so old after all.
There was no doubt that during the two months or so that that it took to work up this Concert Party, training suffered a bit, but now that the pressure was off, no one seemed to mind. It was a long story and if anyone was a success. It brought in several hundred pounds for the two units (which was a lot of money in those days. Afterwards, it was inevitably a bit of an anti-climax. Hopes were expressed that we might stage another one next year, but in the event this proved to be a ‘one off’.
Quite suddenly, I decided that I had had enough. This was no way to finish one’s war. What can one say when your children ask “What did [underlined] you [/underlined] do in the war, Daddy?”
There is little comfort from the saying “They also serve who only stand and wait” I could say “Well, while I was waiting, I probably knocked several hundred hours off the training time of several hundred Cadets and Registered Men before they were called up. I also loaded up several hundred incendiaries, helped service a few Lancasters and swept out a hangar or two. Oh, and I nearly forgot, I probably saved the life of an injured airman”.
It had happened like this. In early January 1945, I was cycling home around midnight after one of the last rehearsals before the concert party was staged. These were the days when we had [underlined] real [/underlined] winters and for more than a week it had been freezing hard. There had been reports that skating was possible on the Grantham Canal. It was a bitterly cold, and no one was about by that time of night.
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[photograph]
[photograph]
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JOURNAL, FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 16th, 1945.
YOUNG PEOPLE’S REVUE
A.T.C. and G.T.C. Show at Grantham
No 47F (Grantham) Squadron A.T.C. and No 830 Coy. G.T.C. made their debut on the stage on Friday and Saturday, when they presented their revue, “Blue, White and R.A.F. Blue.” in the A.T.C. hut and played to packed houses.
A critic who has had nothing to do with the organisation of the show says that there were three features about the revue which placed the entertainment much ahead of the usual run of amateur shows – first the number of original items put over, second the complete absence of prompting, and third, the even run of the production and the lack of irritating delays.
Considering this is the first show staged by the organisers – the producer and arranger was W/O. P.D. Stevenson, and the dramatic section was under the direction of Jun. Commandant J. Llewelyn-Owens – they are to be congratulated on overcoming three most important factors which so often mar amateur efforts.
LOVE BUG v AIR BUG
The chorus opened the programme with their signature tune, “Blue, White and R.A.F. Blue.” which was followed by “Pedro the Fisherman.”
The next item was a sketch, “Love Bug versus Air Bug,” the G.T.C. cadet being taken by C.S.L. M. Shepherd and the A.T.C. cadet by W.O. Stevenson. Then came the theme from “The Warsaw Concerto,” played on the piano by Cpl. Turner, and the chorus returned to sing, “Long ago and Far Away.” “I had a Dream” (first public presentation) and “Swinging on a Star.”
Cdt. Tuckwood, A.T.C., gave a clever dialect rendering of “Albert and the Lion.” and a humorous “Advertisement Drama” was enacted by Cdt. 1st Cl. J. Hook as Rupert Chislethorpe, S/L. Sellors as Mrs. Westerby, Cdt. W. Guilliatt as the maid, Cpl. Bramley as the narrator, and F. Sgt. V. Hutchison as Mr. Westerby.
[deleted] They were followed by Cpl. Bennett and Cdt. Sharp on their harmonicas, aided by Cpl. Howlett on the spoons and then the chorus wound up the first half of the programme with their marches past – “Forty-Seventh Squadron A.T.C..” and “Girls of the G.T.C.” [/deleted]
After the interval came a one act play. “The Batercom Door,” with the following cast: Prima donna, A/S/L. J. Bradley; young man, Cpl. F. Bramley; old gentleman, Cdt. 1st Cl. J. Hook; young lady, S/L. D. Sellors; old lady, A/S/L. P. Palmer; Boots, Cdt. Feneley.
VERY GOOD ACTING
The standard of acting was on the whole quite high. The principles had been chosen with care, and they showed an ease which was really refreshing.
Though all did well, Cdt. Hook deserves special mention. He was undoubtedly the star actor, and with more experience, this young man could create a reputation. Praise must also be given to June Bradley for her changing moods as the prima donna.
It was unusual to find so many original items in an amateur show – songs, a sketch and dramatic poem. These were the work of W/O. Stevenson, and their enthusiastic reception should encourage him to produce more.
The final tableau was a fitting end to a most successful show. While a poem describing the work done by ex-cadets of both A.T.C. and G.T.C. was declaimed, representatives of the different services into which they eventually go (not forgetting the miner !) marched on to the stage, and ended by singing, “There’ll Always Be an England.”
A TRIFLE STIFF
A little criticism may be levelled at the combined chorus of A.T.C. and G.T.C.; they were just a trifle stiff and were far too serious. The voices were well blended, but they need more practice to bring out the volume.
Make-up was by Junior Commandants Mrs. Worth, J. Llewelyn-Owens and M. Gardner.
An appeal was made on the opening night for the two corps’ welfare funds by Mr. W.J. Marshall, chairman of the welfare committee, who said that A.T.C. plus G.T.C. equally X.T.C.
The chorus consisted of: A.T.C. – F./Sgt. V. Hutchison, Cpls. F. Bramley, F. Howlett and Beecham, Cdts. 1st. Cl. J. Hook and Ebb. Cdt. 2nd. Cl. Charity: G.T.C. – Co. C/S/L M. Shepherd, S/L D. Sellors, A/S/L/s J. Bradley and P. Palmer, Cdts. P. Aspland, B. Ward, A. Nickerson, J. Parker, V. Edgley, B. Goodacre, W. Guilliatt, J. Marchall and C. Robinson. The accompanist was Miss R. Chapman.
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[embossed crest]
Royal Air Force Station,
Spitalgate,
GRANTHAM,
Lincs.
Ref: C/49/76/P1 15th January, 1945.
Dear Mr. Stevenson,
re Accident to Blenheim V Aircraft No. AZ.993 near Harlaxton on 5th January, 1945.
I have learned of the invaluable and extremely kind assistance that you rendered to Warrant Officer R.C. Ford, who was one of the two pilots in the above aircraft when it crashed at 23.23 hours on the date stated and I am writing to ask you to accept my most sincere and grateful thanks for all that you did.
I am unable to commend you toohighly [sic] for the initiative you displayed immediately you heard the call for “help” and after you had located Warrant Officer Ford. Your action in covering Warrant Officer Ford with your own greatcoat, having regard to the bitterly cold night, was most thoughtful and kindly.
As you already know the other pilot in the aircraft (Flying Officer G.G. McGolrick) was killed instantly. Warrant Officer Ford was, miraculously, only slightly injured but he had been “wandering about” for one hour when you found him and had you not acted as you did it is most probable that he would have suffered seriously from exposure after the crash. He did develop pneumonia but as far as can be seen at present he is recovering satisfactorily.
Your action in this instance was in keeping with the fundamental principles of the Air Training Corps and, naturally, it is with personal pride that I write this letter to you as you are a member of the Squadron affiliated to this Station. Acts such as yours strengthen the bonds of mutual friendship and understanding between the Royal Air Force and the Air Training Corps.
Yours Sincerely
[signature] (J. COX)
Group Captain, Commanding,
[underlined] R.A.F. Station, SPITALGATE [/underlined]
Warrant Officer P.D.Stevenson,
No. 47 (F) Squadron,
Air Training Corps,
[underlined] High Street, GRANTHAM [/underlined]
[NOTE THAT EVEN THE GROUP CAPTAIN Oi/c RAF SPITALGATE HAD, BY 1945 TO USE [indecipherable words] NOTE PAPER]
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In those days, everybody seemed to whistle the catchy tunes of the day and I was most probably giving ‘Pedro the Fisherman’s’ tune a further airing. As I reached a point where the main road ran parallel to and close to the Grantham to Nottingham canal, I was surprised to hear a faint voice calling “Help, Help”. I naturally assumed that it was some late night skater who had got into difficulties. Dumping my bike, I clambered over the far side. Not risking the ice, I ran back to one of the bridges, crossed over and eventually found him stretched out near the edge and obviously injured. He was in flying gear and he told me that he and his instructor had taken off in a Blenheim trainer from the nearby Harlaxton airfield, when both engines failed and they had crashed some distance away. In spite of damage to his back and one leg, he had tried to find his instructor, but was unable to do so. He had crawled around about for an hour or so, finally crawled along the canal bank until he could go no further, calling for help but no one had heard him until he had heard me whistling.
He was obviously badly shocked and deathly cold, so I made him as comfortable as possible it was obvious that he was in no condition to walk back to the road, so I covered him up with my coat and told him not to move until I could summon help. Luckily there was a nearby house who let me ring Spittlegate sick quarters who sent out an ambulance and a search party. The former got him stretchered up and taken away. The search party admitted that they had no knowledge of the area, so back we went and spent another hour looking for the crash. Eventually, we found enough dead mutton to feed a hundred, (they had apparently crashed into a flock of sheep) Following the blood and gore, we found the remains of the Blenheim but the cockpit area was completely missing. Forty yards or so further on, we found the instructor, still strapped into his seat and who had obviously died on impact. There was nothing else I could do so, frozen to the core, I made my way home in the very small hours.
A few days later, I received a latter [sic] from Spittlegate’s CO thanking me for my “extremely kind assistance blah, blah, blah” and assuring me that my action “was in keeping with the fundamental principles of the Air Training Corps blah, blah, blah”. (As you may have guessed by now, I was getting a bit bitter at the way things had gone). What made it worse, somehow or other the Grantham Journal got hold of the story and the next thing I knew was it being splashed centre front page.
By the end of January, my mind was made up. Removing one of my Warrant Oficer’s [sic] ‘Crowns’ (for old time’s sake) I sent my uniform to the cleaners. Shortly afterwards, when Headquarters were deserted, I hung my uniform behind my office door, put my paperwork, files and training manuals in order. Closing my office door for the last time, I went downstairs, placed a letter of resignation on the Adjutant’s desk. Checking that the place was secure, I dropped the latch on the front door and closed it quietly behind me. I posted my keys through the letterbox. The sound they made as they hit the doormat signified the end of my war. After ten years of being a Cadet, I was now just a plain ‘civvie’.
I supposed it was now my job to do something about ‘winning the peace’.
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The big moment comes when the instructor, waving his bats, signals you to release the tow line and you make a steady, if hardly dignified descent to earth. (The Primary looks pretty fundamental as a flying machine, and its glide angle ensures that there is no risk of you landing in another nearby field). Progressively, you are pulled higher and released later, until the day comes when your log book proudly records that you have stayed up a full minute!
Having done so, you now have to pay more. Your previous flights cost you two shillings and sixpence each. A rough calculation tells us that this was about one fiftieth of a skilled man’s wages in those days,. From now on the price is doubled. By the time you are able to stay up a bit longer, you are introduced to the Club’s next acquisition, a Grunau Baby intermediate glider. This was more or less equivalent to the Slingsby Cadet which the ATC cadets were then using. However, Cadets were taught from scratch in dual control gliders, and never went though [sic] the slide/ low hop/ high hop routine we had to follow on the Primary.
I had reached the point, having stayed aloft for five minutes in the Grunau, and had thereby gained my Second Class Gliding Certificate, when I had to leave the Club. This was a great disappointment as the Club was not only hoping to invest in a high performance sailplane but was also planning to have a week’s camp at the Long Mynd, the Mecca in those days for glider pilots in Central England.
It came about like this. In 1945, I had a week’s cycling holiday in the south of England, my first ‘civvie’ holiday since before the war. In the June of 1946, I decided to do the same, this time exploring the South Wales area a bit. On the way back, I met up with two Lincolnshire lassies who had been doing the same. How one of these became that ‘girl somewhere out there’ who was prepared to put up with this ‘odd fish’ and was prepared to wait until he passed all his technical examinations, is too long a story to be included here. However, within three months we had decided that this was ‘it’, and as soon as my swotting days were over, we would get married. The first priority in the meantime, was to save up enough to do so.
In those days, personal finances were on a very different basis from today. Hire purchase agreements, apart from a mortgage on a house, were only for the impecunious who had not the ‘moral fibre’ to wait until one saved enough to buy something which you needed to pay ‘cash on the nail’. As for daring to go to the Bank Manager (who in those days, you actually knew by sight!), and having grovelled in front of his desk and asked him for a loan, you were definitely ‘guilty until proved innocent’. Something had to go, and amongst our many drastic economies, gliding (which was now getting quite expensive), was one of the first, and to all intents and purposes, that was the last contact I had with aeronautics for the next twenty years or so apart from flights in commercial aircraft.
We got married in 1948. In the next two decades raised two delightful daughters and saw them through school and University, enjoying vicariously their university days denied to us through the intervention of the war years. Our respective DIY skills were used to restore two houses. I had become a Senior Designer with several successful construction equipment designs to my credit. I had left design and put my former instructional skills to good use by becoming Sales and Service Training Manager in another construction, quarrying and mining machinery manufacturer. In the process I had gained the necessary practical experience to be elected a full Member of the Institution of Mechanical Engineers.
I had left Grantham about the time when flying ceased at Spittlegate. Over the years I would see it become a Territorial Army Transport Depot, the former hangars and tarmac, home to hundreds of trucks. RAF Digby too, after a brief period as a satellite training outstation for Cranwell, had also ceased flying and had become a hush hush signals establishment. Waddington and Scampton had become V Bomber bases. Cranwell, still flying, was also into the jet age for their traine4rs, but I was not inspired by jets. Like diesel locomotives, they lacked ‘soul’ I felt.
My work over the years had involved a far [sic] amount of air travel. I had crossed the Atlantic at a time when BOAC commemorated the earliest commercial flights by presenting you with an impressive certificate commemorating the fact that you had successfully and safely crossed the ‘Herring Pond’ and ditto when you crossed the Equator. I had flown in an early flight of the DeHavilland Comet, the world’s first successful jet airliner, together with several other ‘firsts’. However, the higher you flew, the less it appeared to be real flying.
At one period, I had, as one of my departmental instructors, a man who was the chief Instructor of the Trent Valley Gliding Club who did his best to persuade me to join. At the time I had neither the time nor the available funds to finance such indulgence, so I resolutely resisted such temptation.
[page break]
Page 112
I was now fifty, and that is an age when one takes stock, looking forwards to unattained ambitions and thinking back to past achievements and experiences. By now the wounds and the resentments of never getting into the RAF, had, to all intents and purposes, healed over. I got to thinking of the summer days before the war, when we lay in the grass along Cold Harbour Lane and watched the biplanes side slipping their way over our heads to land at Spittlegate. Of ‘Faithful Annies’ taking us over the Solent and circling over Grantham. Of Lancasters over Bottesford and Syerston, Dakotas over Fulbeck.
Deep down, some small ember which had been dormant for thirty years or so, started to glow faintly.
I crept into the local model shop. Yes, Airfix do an Anson kit. I buy it, a tube of styrene cement and some tins of Humbrol enamel, and spend a happy week or two building the Coastal Command version which was placed on a shelf in the spare bedroom. It was surprising how often I needed to go in there for a peep at the finished product. (There’s no fool like an old fool, is there?) Having relived my Public School’s Air Cadet Wing Days with its help, I think it would be nice to convert it to an Anson Trainer, so off comes the turret and pot of Training Yellow is bought. Shortly after that, the Annie is joined by an ‘Oxbox’, and then a Blenheim. Why not a Hawker Hind trainer? Easy enough, they were all Airfix, but when it came to the Avro Tutor and the Armstrong Whitworth Atlas which had been used in the 3FTS days, it was back to ‘build from scratch’.
Now well into my ‘Second Cadetship’, two years later, I had seven cases containing the forty two aircraft which had flown from Spittlegate from its opening in 1917 to when it ceased as an operational airfield in 1948. What now? Between times, I had of course built a Lancaster and a Dakota to bring back old times, but it had been nice to work to a theme.
One day, when listening to Radio Lincolnshire, I heard that the farmer who owned a goodly part of the old RAF Metheringham airfield, together with a group of local enthusiasts, had restored some of the buildings at the former bomber base, to form the basis of a small museum and heritage centre to the memory of the three hundred or so aircrew who had lost their lives on operations from there. When the number of the squadron was mentioned, I sat up sharpish, as they say. It was 106 Squadron. The 106 who had been briefly at Spittlegate in the late Thirties. The 106 which had been ‘our’ Squadron, when 47(F) had been attached to Syerston.
Equally sharpish, I joined the ‘Friends of Metheringham Airfield’. I took over the maintenance and repair of the many aircraft models which they acquired. The next job was to make them some cases with models and captions, covering the aircraft history of 106 from its WW1 formation, its reforming in 1938, though [sic] its days of Hawker Hinds, Fairey Battles, Handley Page Hampdens, a nice job of converting a Lancaster kit into a Manchester, and their last days with the Lancaster itself.
There was no doubt that ‘The Bug’ had bitten once more, and after I had completed a few more displays for Metheringham, the next project materialised. I knew that the owners of Fulbeck Hall had set up, within the actual rooms, a small museum covering the planning and execution of the Market Garden operation, the airdrop at Arnham, which had been carried by the Dakotas of the 9th Troop Carrying Command flying from the airfields at RAF Fulbeck and elsewhere. Attention on this museum was focussed in the early 1980s when our house provided accommodation for the Veterans of No.250 Coy RASC of the 1st Airborne Division who went into Arnham in Horsa Gliders towed by Halifax tugs. Having been stationed in our village during the run up to the drop, for most of the 1980s they had a reunion here which naturally included a visit to Fulbeck Hall. I got involved and made up several cases of models showing the British Halifax/Horsa and U.S. C-47(Dakota)/Waco glider combinations, and other aircraft related incidents. Later, Fulbeck Hall changed hands and sadly the new owners closed the museum. Most of the memorabilia went over to Holland to the Airborne Museum in Arnham, but the models now are on permanent display in the Thorpe Camp museum in East Lincolnshire.
Another announcement on Radio Lincolnshire presented the next challenge. The most active local authority on Lincolnshire has always been the North Kesteven District Council who are also extremely active in supporting and initiating aviation heritage in this, the ‘Home of the RAF’ and an integral part of ‘Bomber County’. In combination with the staff at RAF Digby, the wartime Operations Room was restored and another museum created. Although Lincolnshire has always been referred to as ‘Bomber County’, Fighter Command was by no means absent. Before the war, Digby had changed from being a Flying Training School to a Fighter Station, a Sector Station of No. 12 Fighter Command. Again, between times I had ‘adopted’ RAF Coleby Grange as one of those largely forgotten satellite stations whose night fighters and intruders seemed to lack the aura of the Glamour Boys who were flying the Spitfires at the base station at Digby. Again working to a theme, initially for my own amusement, I had developed a display of
[page break]
[missing letters]NGSBY Type 5 GRUNAU BABY 2
[technical drawing]
A single-seat intermediate sailplane built by Slingsby under licence from Germany. Of conventional wooden construction, the Grunau was built by many people from plans sold by the B.G.A. It was also built post war by [missing letters]iotts of Newbury as the Eon Baby. q.v.
Wing span: 13.57m., 44’ 6’’. Length: 6.10m., 19’ 8’’.
Wing area: 14.21 sq.m., 153 sq.ft. Aspect ratio: 13.
Wing sections: Gottingen 535 at root, symmetrical tip. Braced wing, with no airbrakes or flaps.
Weights: Tare 157 kg., 346 lbs. A.U.W. 250 kg., 550 lbs.
Wing loading: 17.68 kg./sq.m., 3.62 lbs./sq.ft. Max L/D: 17.
Placed into production at Kirkbymoorside in 1935. The price was £137.10.0 in 1939.
CLOUDCRAFT DICKSON PRIMARY
[technical drawing]
A single-seat primary glider of wooden construction, designed by Mr. Roger S. Dickson, and built by the Cloudcraft Glider Co., Southampton, in 1930. Many built by gliding club members.
Wing span: 10.45 m., 34’ 3 1/2’’. Length: 5.28 m., 17’ 4’’.
Wing area: 15.79 sq.m., 170 sq.ft. Aspect ratio: 7.
Wing section: Clark Y-H. Wire braced wings, no airbrakes or flaps.
Undercarriage type: Main skid only.
Weights: Tare 81.65 kg., 180 lbs.
114
[page break]
Page 115
all the aircraft and their Squadrons who had served at Coleby Grange during its brief history. These were offered to the new Digby Operations Room Museum and were quickly accepted. Under the leadership of the then F/Sgt Curry, the museum had both grown and prospered. However, when I became a ‘Friend’, the concentration seemed to be entirely on the memorabilia of the many Squadrons (mostly RCAF) who had served in or passed through the Digby airfield. Little credit seemed to be given to its satellite airfields of RAF Coleby Grange and RAF Wellingore, and almost nothing of Digby’s long history as a Flying Training School in the 1920s and 1930s. I decided to fill in the gaps, and after five years or so, there were models displaying the insignia of every Squadron which served, however shortly, in all three stations, something which apparently delights every visiting veteran who, of course is principally interested in [underlined] his [/underlined] Squadron. The Flying Training School history is similarly represented by models of all the aircraft used, together with a model of the Belfast Hangar, that icon of 1920s airfield architecture.
Until I came to live here in Lincoln, I had always been in the popular misconception that Lincoln’s part in the First World War was principally the Tank Story, plus a load of other munitions. It had been a bit of an eye opener to discover that far more important was its role as the country’s largest manufacturing centre for aircraft production. That too, is a long and interesting story.
For some time I had considered the possibility of modelling a complete set of the twelve aircraft made by the three principal engineering firms in Lincoln at that time. Only two of those were available as kits at 1/72nd scale and only one at 1/48th scales. With the intention of these eventually being on permanent display in one of the museum/heritage centres, and also being used for lecturing purposes. I decided to model these at 1/48th scale, since ‘build from scratch’ is much easier at that scale. I had made the first few of these when a ‘Made in Lincoln’ theme was declared as the city’s Millennium project which naturally gave an impetus. Two year’s work and a display of these went the rounds in a series of exhibitions and lectures. Having served that task, they too are now on permanent display at the Digby Ops Room Museum.
Much contact with North Kesteven District Council’s tourist and heritage unit in the meantime, led to an invitation to display my ‘build from scratch’ techniques at their annual ‘Craft and Modelling Day’ at the Cranwell Aviation Heritage Centre, another joint NKDC/RAF museum project. For quite a few years, this was an enjoyable chance to meet up with other aeromodellers. However, it was noticeable that the museum, though graced with a case full of beautifully crafted models of a general interest, the museum as a whole had few models specifically relating to Cranwell’s long aviation history. The various individual aspects of that history are excellently illustrated by extensive wall displays of photographs and text, but lacked what might be described as ‘three dimensional’ impact. Becoming yet another ‘Friend’, I made a start. Further research saw me beavering away in the College Library. This in turn led on to me making contact with the present day Headquarters of the Air Training Corps which is now based at Cranwell.
Here, I was welcomed back into the fold as a ‘Veteran’. I had previously made contact again with today’s 47(F) and gave talks about the Squadron’s early days. Contact too has been made with the King’s School Combined Cadet Corps unit, today’s descendent of its OTC. This now has two uniforms, Khaki/Camouflage and RAF Blue, in more or less equal numbers, though I doubt today that RAF parentage is represented in the same proportion.
My circle was complete. My back may not be so straight, my knees no longer march, I no longer parade in uniform, but whether I am in one or other of the museums surrounded by the memories invoked or surrounded by cadets (both boys and girls now) my heart is still young and on parade with them. Once a Cadet, always a Cadet? Or is it just Delayed Adolescence?
---O---
In my introduction, I made some acknowledgements and words of thanks, but I think it right that this narrative should end more specifically.
I remember, and ask you to remember, those hundreds of aircrew in 207 and 106 Squadrons RAF and those of the 9th TCC to which we were attached, who unhesitating went out to ‘Give Their Yesterdays’ and in particular, Ken Masters who went with me to the Air Cadet Wing Camp at Selsea. He was just one of the fifty King’s School boys who were killed in the Services in WW2 but he was my best school chum.
Also to all those who served in the various cadet units who, whether or not they joined up or like me, ‘also served’ but nevertheless contributed much to this story, [sic]
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
Cadet 1935-1945 Peter D Stevenson
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BStevensonPDStevensonPDv1
Description
An account of the resource
Peter Stevenson's account of his service in the Officer Training Corps at Grantham and later in the Air Training Corps. Tells of his life in Grantham and the effect of the war on the town. Also his involvement post war in museums and projects to record the wartime activities that took place locally.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Peter Stevenson
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
2006
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
115 typewritten sheets
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Photograph
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
United States Army Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Grantham
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Steve Baldwin
106 Squadron
207 Squadron
5 Group
air sea rescue
animal
Blenheim
bombing
Churchill, Winston (1874-1965)
civil defence
crash
entertainment
ground personnel
home front
Lancaster
Manchester
military service conditions
RAF Barkstone Heath
RAF Bottesford
RAF Cranwell
RAF Grantham
RAF Harlaxton
RAF Northolt
RAF Syerston
sanitation
station headquarters
training
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1009/11270/YMadgettHR1330340v5.1.pdf
558e03680167391f2df8cbb7484d1338
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
Madgett, Hedley Robert
H R Madgett
Description
An account of the resource
250 items. The collection concerns Pilot Officer Hedley Madgett DFM (1922 - 1943, 147519, 1330340 Royal Air Force), a pilot with 61 Squadron. He was killed 18 August 1943 on the last operation of his tour from RAF Syerston to Peenemünde. The collection consists of letters, postcards and telegrams to his parents while he was training in the United Kingdom and Canada. In addition the collection contains memorabilia, documents from the Air Training Corps, artwork, a railway map, diaries, medals as well as his logbook, photographs of people, places and aircraft. Also contains letters of condolence to parents and a sub collection containing a photograph album with 44 items of his time training in Canada'.<br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Joan Madgett and Carol Gibson, and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.<br /><br /><span>Additional information on Hedley Madgett is available via the </span><a href="https://internationalbcc.co.uk/losses/114690/" title="https://internationalbcc.co.uk/losses/madgett-hr/ ">IBCC Losses Database</a><span>.</span>
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
2015-03-17
2019-06-14
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. 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
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Madgett, H
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
DIARY 1943
[Page Break]
DIARY 1943
If found, please return to
H R Madgett
127 Longlands Road, Sidcup, Kent
[Page Break]
January 1943
1 Fri.
Brevet. Shoe laces, tooth brush
2. Sat.
Soap Flakes
3.Sun.
Blank
4. Mon.
Blank
[Page Break]
13 Wed.
[deleted] 0222 0227 0237 0237 [/deleted]
14 Thurs.
[deleted] T.O. 0010 S.U. 23.50 [/deleted]
15 Fri.
Blank
16. Sat.
Blank
[Page Break]
JANUARY 1943
17 SUN.
Winnie’s picture before come back from leave.
18. Mon.
Blank
19 Tues.
Blank
20 Wed.
Blank
[Page Break]
21 Thurs.
6.21 8.5 Grantham
7.20 9.3 Notts
[inserted] Train [/inserted]
22 Fri. Rauceby Hoop 7.15pm
[underline] Bus [/Underline] Grantham to Newark 8.15pm
23. Sat
Grantham to Notts 8.00pm
24 Sun.
Blank
[Page Break]
JANUARY 1943
25 Mon.
Sweet Eloise HMV.
BD 5779 G Miller
26 Tues.
Blank
27 Wed.
Blank
28 Thurs.
Blank
[Page Break]
29 Fri.
New Brunswick
02950 –A & B
A Man this drum Jimmy Dorsey.
30 Sat.
Anvil Chorus
Glen Miller
BD 5671
31 Sun.
DB 5048 Columbia
Wire Brush Stomp.
Gene Krupa
“Tonight”. G Miller
[Page Break]
May 1943
1 Sat.
Winnie 5.15 p.m.
2 Sun.
Blank
3 Mon.
Winnie 6.30 p.m.
4 Tues.
Blank
[Page Break]
5 Wed.
Blank
6 Thurs.
Blank
7 Fri.
Blank
8 Sat.
Blank
[Page Break]
MAY 1943
9 Sun.
Blank
10 Mon.
Blank
11 Tues.
Blank
12 Wed.
Winnie 5.30 to Newark. Only.
[Page Break]
13 Thurs.
Blank
14 Fri.
5.30 to Newark.
9.00 if ops scrubbed.
15 Sat.
Blank
16 Sun.
Blank
December 1943
27 Mon
Crofton Park
London
28 Tues.
Blank
29 Wed.
Blank
30 Thurs.
Blank
[Page Break]
31 Fri.
Blank
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
Hedley Madgett diary 1943
Description
An account of the resource
Entries for January, February and part of May 1943. Entries include shopping list, reminders, addresses, appointments and train times/journeys.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
H Madgett
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1943
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Sixteen page diary with covers
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Diary
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
YMadgettHR1330340v5
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--London
England--Kent
England--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Nottingham
England--London
England--Newark (Nottinghamshire)
England--Sleaford (Lincolnshire)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943-01
1943-02
1943-05
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Claire Monk
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/727/11311/EBrooksHSBrooksWM[Date]-010001.jpg
c3fd071b0e1161f9ac3749ccb67423f9
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/727/11311/EBrooksHSBrooksWM[Date]-010002.jpg
9cab773e7309ea5749a3624c56eb9c46
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, Harry
Brooks, C H S
Brooks, Charles Harry Sidney
Description
An account of the resource
Collection contains 18 items concerning Sergeant Harry Sidney Brooks (1915 - 1942, 1357673, Royal Air Force) who was killed in an aircraft accident 20 December 1942 while serving as a wireless operator with 9 Squadron at RAF Waddington. Collection consists of pages from logbook, letters and telegrams to his wife from Harry Brooks, Brooks' father, official sources and others of condolence as well as photographs of him and family. <br /><br />The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Pamela Tickner and catalogued by Nigel Huckins. <br /><br />Additional information on Harry Sidney Brooks is available via the <a href="https://internationalbcc.co.uk/losses/102784/">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
2015-10-02
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
Brooks, HS
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[RAF Crest}
Sgts Mess.
Waddington
Thursday
My dearest darling,
Just a very hurried line to say that my pass has gone through OK, so you can expect me sometime on the 22nd which is Tuesday dear.
I received a nice letter from Spiros today but he has been moved to a terrible camp so he says near Grantham so I shall not have much chance of seeing him unless I get a day off.
[page break]
[underlined] 2 [/underlined]
How are Pamela & you today sweetheart, I do hope you are OK and I am glad to say I am fine.
I did not receive a letter from you today but hope to hear from you tomorrow dearest
Well I'll close now sweetheart with all my love & may God bless you both & keep you safe for me always.
[underlined] Harry [/underlined]
xxxxxxxxxxxx
For my little cherub bless you from Daddy xxxxxx
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 Harry Brooks to his wife
Description
An account of the resource
Letter from Harry Brooks to his wife telling her that his pass has been approved and he will see here on 22nd. He says that he has received a letter from Spiros who has been moved to 'a terrible camp, so he says' near Grantham. He finishes by sending his love to both his wife and daughter.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
H Brooks
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
EBrooksHSBrooksWM[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
Civilian
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Margaret Carr
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
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IBCC Digital Archive
love and romance
RAF Waddington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/571/11419/PFraserDK1608.2.jpg
866d8286004a902d9137e06841b7b081
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/571/11419/AFraserSM180702.2.mp3
baceab81b63c922e43aef6a50ed7ebba
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Fraser, Donald Keith
D K Fraser
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Fraser, DK
Description
An account of the resource
12 items. Two oral history interviews with Warrant Officer Donald Keith Fraser DFM (1924 - 2022, 1566621 Royal Air Force), a memoir, his log book, photographs and service material. The collection also contains an interview with Sylvia Fraser, his wife. He flew a tour of operations as a flight engineer with 101 Squadron.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Donald Keith Fraser and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-11-04
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CB: My name is Chris Brockbank and today is the 2nd of July 2018 and we’re in Whitchurch in Shropshire speaking with Sylvia Fraser, having spoken already to her husband Donald Fraser. Sylvia, what are you earliest recollections of life?
SF: My earliest recollections are living on the farm in the outskirts of Long Bennington. That’s Nottinghamshire. My father was in farming with my grandfather. He was my mother’s father. And it was a very very long village. That’s why it was called Long Bennington obviously and every British Legion Day which was November the 5th. Was it the 5th? The 11th.
CB: The 11th. Yeah.
SF: Yes. The 11th. There was a very big turn out for people that were in the British Legion and they marched through the village to the church where there was a church service and also the small War Memorial they had. Just a prayer sort of thing there and a salute of course. So that is some of my earliest recollections.
CB: And did you go to school locally?
SF: Yes. I went to school in Long Bennington. I think my school teacher, if I remember right, was a Miss Clark. She was tall. Extremely tall to me of course but I mean she was tall and very slim. Very dark haired. But she was very strict, and so was the head master. The headmaster used to walk with his cane up his sleeve. He never used it that I remember but it was there and you could see it pointing in the top of his shoulder. I think that was enough [laughs] for us small children.
CB: What were your favourite subjects?
SF: I think hand crafts and [pause] Chiefly hand crafts really.
CB: Brothers and sisters?
SF: Yes, I had. There was five of us in the family. My brother was the eldest. Roy. Then Eileen. And there was only, I think something just over a year between them but then I didn’t come along ‘til five years later. And then I had a young sister which was three years younger than me and the baby of the family was Brenda and she was another three years younger than Gert. So that was our family.
CB: And mother was busy running the family but did she have any particular interests?
SF: Well, we had a Mrs Mayfield. She, as mum was confined at home for her children she was a nurse and she stayed, oh probably two to three months at least because previously dad was away from home quite a bit because of his coaches and of course he couldn’t have mum on her own with children. The doctor was in the village, a Dr Wilkie, and he was a very nice fellow.
CB: And when did you leave school?
SF: I left school at the age of fifteen and, but by this time we had moved from Long Bennington to Marston in Lincolnshire.
CB: That’s near Grantham.
SF: Yes. Seven miles from Grantham.
DF: The Thorold Arms.
SF: Pardon?
DF: Thorold Arms.
SF: Yes. We went to the Thorold Arms. My father was a proprieter at the Thorold Arms but he also ran his bus on Mondays, Wednesdays, Saturdays.
CB: For what reason?
SF: Through the villages to take people to market and to do their shopping because there wasn’t much in the villages.
CB: So, you talked about earlier grandfather’s farm. Was there a link between that and the coach arrangements?
SF: No. No.
CB: Quite separate.
SF: Quite separate.
CB: So, he worked on the farm but he also worked with the coach.
SF: Yes. But at that time it wasn’t called a coach. It was a charabanc.
CB: Oh yes.
SF: Which was, they could take the seats out and they could put milk churns in.
CB: Ah.
SF: So, he collected milk from the farms, took them to, to Newark and then he thought well why should I just give somebody the easy work and me do the harder work? So he employed someone that would deliver milk from door to door in Newark and that went on, I don’t know for a couple of years I suppose. At that time I think we had three buses. My dad was lucky in the sense that he had been out in Canada and he was in the Canadian cavalry.
DF: During World War One.
SF: Pardon?
CB: In the First War.
SF: In the First War. And —
DF: Went back there to be demobbed.
SF: Oh, he said to mum, ‘Well, I’d like to go back to Canada to get my release because I don’t think I’ll be going back there again.’ Because mum did not want to emigrate to Canada. So that was agreed and [pause] I should have said in the first place that my grandfather, dad’s father, he was a lay preacher. Wesleyan, and he was very domineering and the family had to kneel as he sat and they had to say their prayers to him every night and every morning. And I think [pause] John, his eldest son, and dad, and his eldest sister they all went to Canada at the same time.
CB: To get away from him.
SF: Yes. Dad never said that but I think it was pretty obvious. My Uncle John, he married out there. He wanted to come back to the UK but his wife didn’t want to so he came back for some time and then dad said, you know he would give him half the business if he would stay. But being as his wife wouldn’t come he said no he would stay here for, I think it was several years hoping his wife Bertha would decide to come but no. She didn’t. So he went back.
CB: So, how did your father get in to running coaches?
[pause]
SF: I don’t really know. I think he decided with the cash that he got sort of redundancies as it were. It wasn’t redundancies because, I mean he came out of the Army on his own accord.
CB: Canadian Army.
SF: Yes.
CB: Yes. And then returned to Britain.
SF: Yes. But he had made quite a lot of money because he’d been in the log camps before that.
DF: And they had horses.
SF: Pardon?
DF: They had horses and ploughs during the winter.
SF: Oh yes. The farmer who he was working with he said, ‘George, if you want to take a team of horses,’ he said, ‘You can do that and work on your own in the winter.’ So that’s what he did. And he did acquire quite a lot of money but I think it was stolen.
CB: How did he come to meet your mother?
SF: Well, he met mother long before that.
CB: Because with the teams of horses I gather from what you were saying he was working those on the farms.
SF: Yes, but that was when he went to Canada and he met mum before.
CB: Oh right.
DF: Heckington, she came from.
SF: My mother came from Heckington which is just outside Lincoln. And her father [pause] he was born in, in a pub and that pub was mentioned in the Domesday Book.
CB: Really?
SF: So, it’s strange really.
DF: She was, her name.
SF: Oh, mum’s name was [Southan]
CB: [Southan]
SF: Yes.
CB: Right. We’ll just pause there for a mo because you need a break on some of these things when we, so the point of the questioning here in a way is how dad got in to the distribution bit.
[recording paused]
CB: So just quickly going back we talked about the charabanc. Which is really a French word, of course but what was the vehicle like because it was adaptable? What did it look like? It had open sides and seats that were removeable, was it?
SF: Yes. Could you just stop it?
CB: Yes.
[recording paused]
CB: It sounds as though it was quite an adaptable vehicle.
SF: Yes, it was. Very much so. And I think at times he would bring various sizes of wood from the woodyard in Newark which was just on the outskirts of Newark for people. So, he was a very busy man.
CB: Yeah. And then socially how did it, how was it used?
DF: For the wedding.
CB: So, the lady who worked for him when she married.
DF: When she went to the wedding in it.
CB: Did you say she went to the, to her wedding in the charabanc?
SF: Yes. She did. And that was in Long Bennington.
CB: Right.
SF: There was an unfortunate incident which occurred when the Lincolnshire Roadcar Company started a bus service. They took dad’s colours and of course it was very difficult in the winter to see what bus was coming so he had a little blue light put on the roof. But it’s all a little bit hazy, I’m afraid.
CB: So he was quite enterprising, wasn’t he?
SF: He was. He was very enterprising but he, he was taken off the road.
DF: And he went to court about it.
SF: He went to court about it and his solicitor said to him, ‘Oh George, you’re very able to defend yourself.’ And dad thought about it and, ‘Well, I can speak for myself.’ And when he got to court who did he meet was his solicitor working for the other side.
CB: Good lord.
SF: And dad said to him in the court, ‘When you can do this to a man with family you will never prosper.’ And he didn’t. He lost both of his children. They died. I don’t know how. You know. It was just a normal sort of death. It wasn’t accidents or anything but he didn’t. And the people in Long Bennington and all around signed petitions to get him back on the road. I don’t know how many.
CB: Did that work?
SF: It did. So he got back on the road and he did excursions then with the buses to the seaside which was all around Lincolnshire. Mablethorpe. Cleethorpes.
CB: Skegness.
SF: Skegness. Chiefly Skegness because that was, well it was the biggest beach wasn’t it? But, and also school trips when we were living in Marston. He was asked to arrange coaches to take the school children. So at this time I think just, we had just two coaches and dad organised with a Mr Searson who used to run through the village at a different time for him to take his vehicle and also a Mr Palfrey from Gonerby which was just outside Grantham to take his small bus and that was the three that took the school children on their summer outing.
DF: And he used to, at the weekend take the air, Air Force people to their stations.
SF: Oh, at [pause] on a Friday he used to pick up airmen from Cranwell and take them to Grantham Station for their weekend leave and he picked them up on Monday morning and took them back to the station. Oh, sometimes it was just on a Sunday night though.
DF: Ok.
CB: So how did he come to get hold of a pub?
SF: Because his route was through Marston he would occasionally call at this pub and I suppose have a glass of beer I would think and [pause] and the, the owner of the pub at that time was a Mr Bristow. His, he had the farm and the pub and he was keen to get rid of the pub and so dad decided to buy it because he could still run his bus in the normal way from there.
CB: And he employed people to run it.
SF: Yes. Only in, only in the evening, on a Saturday. He wanted Roy to become a driver when he was old enough but Roy didn’t want to do anything about it.
CB: Your brother, Roy.
SF: Yes.
DF: Your mum ran the pub during the day.
SF: So mum ran the pub during the day because I mean, it wasn’t terribly busy.
CB: Did the family live in the pub then?
SF: Yes. It was one, two, three [pause] I think there was five bedrooms plus a sitting room upstairs which was quite a large room. And the furniture —
CB: So, he bought this before the war then, did he?
SF: Yes.
DF: 1934 or ’35.
SF: Pardon?
DF: Around about 1934/35.
CB: We’ll just pause there again.
[recording paused]
CB: So, we’ve established you moved. The pub was bought in 1934. You moved school then to Marston where the pub was. What was that like?
SF: I was very happy there but the idea was when I was twelve I would be going to Grantham so I would have to [pause] there was no buses as such that would be suitable for going to school so I’d have to cycle. Which was no trouble to me because I loved cycling. But the war had broken out as I’ve said and Grantham had quite a few factories in it. One was Ruston and Hornsby’s where my brother worked and —
DF: Marcos.
SF: Marcos was the ammunition people. And Eileen, my sister, she worked there on crack detection. And —
DF: Cracked shells.
SF: She finally became —
DF: An inspector.
SF: Pardon?
DF: An inspector.
SF: An inspector.
CB: This is cracks on shell cases.
SF: Yes. She used to have very very sore fingers until she became the one that was the overseer to see that the girls were doing a good job.
CB: So they were feeling for the cracks were they?
SF: I think [pause] they had some liquid or something that they put the shells in and of course with turning them around and around.
CB: Oh, I see. Right.
SF: They would be very sore. Well, when I should have been going to Grantham, to the Secondary School there of course the bombing had started hadn’t it and dad said he didn’t want me to be in Grantham at that time. So —
CB: We’re talking about 1940.
SF: Yes. So that was really the end of my education. But I’d always wanted to be in fashion.
DF: A buyer.
SF: A buyer for a large store.
DF: That was your first job.
SF: And that was my first job in Grantham which was a drapers by the name of Sharpley. And he was a JP, one of the brothers. There was two brothers. Harold and Henry and there was a sister and they owned that and ran it.
CB: In Grantham.
SF: In Grantham.
CB: So your father’s concern, can I just recap there was that if you were working in the munitions or the engineering factories then you might get bombed but in fashion that wasn’t a concern. Was that it?
SF: Yes. The thing is that the, those factories was at the top end of Grantham and the marketing place was a bit, quite a bit lower down. Mind you I don’t suppose that would make a great lot of difference [laughs] because the bombing wasn’t as good as that, was it? But —
DF: You didn’t stay there long anyway and [you went home] [unclear]
SF: No. My wages were seven and six pence a week. And you can imagine what my father thought of that. He wanted me to come home and to help at home and to just go on the bus to take tickets and such like. But I didn’t want that and I said no. And I saw an advert for a sales assistant in a very nice little shop on the High Street in Grantham. It was hosiery and lingerie and the name of it was B&M which was owned, I think by [Blindle and Mead]. Now, [Blindle’s] was known for shoe shops weren’t they? And when I told Harold that I would be leaving he said, ‘You can’t.’ And I said, ‘And why not?’ He said, ‘Because you are apprenticed here.’ And I said, ‘I’m not an apprentice here. Show me where I signed to say I was an apprenticed here.’ And of course, he couldn’t. I was a bit belligerent [laughs] those days, I think. At least I could stand up for myself. And I got the job at this lovely little shop. It was very small. It had two Lloyd Loom wicker chairs and a beautiful walnut table. You know, a small round one. And that’s all there was. The sides was where all the stock was in boxes and the lingerie was in larger cases. The, there was three chandeliers. I don’t mean the glass type. I mean just the bowls and the — [pause]
DF: [unclear]
CB: Pardon?
DF: Not’s much. That’s when all the rationing things came out.
CB: So, materials were rationed in those days as part of the rationing programme, weren’t they?
SF: Yes. They were.
CB: How did that affect the shop and people’s purchases?
SF: Well, we did quite well and the airmen used to come in and the WAAFs. And they had clothing coupons. And sometimes you’d say, ‘Oh, how lovely to see all these coupons.’ You know. And they’d probably give you two, three. So that was great. We had to bank the coupons at the bank. We got little plastic, well cellophane bags and we were allowed to put ninety eight in each which was counted at the bank as a hundred.
DF: Of course, you had all that in the shop. You could then barter with your neighbours.
SF: Oh yes. That was very good. We were never short of food or anything because one side of us was Lipton’s and we knew the manageress very well there and the other side was a gent’s [pause] but they weren’t hairdressers but there was, they sold all the things that men would require. You know, shaving things and [pause] and I used to get Brylcreem. It was a way of bartering in a way.
CB: So, who did you sell the Brylcreem to? The Air Force people, was it?
SF: No. I didn’t sell. I just gave it. There wasn’t all that much about to get anyway so you used to have it, didn’t you?
DF: That’s why I’ve still got hair.
CB: So, the key I think, the thing about rationing is that it covered food and more or less everything you bought.
SF: Yes.
CB: And so for us to understand the importance of it I wonder if you could describe why, first of all why would the Air Force people be coming in to buy clothing. What sort of things did they buy and why did they have ration cards because they were always in uniform weren’t they when they were out and about?
SF: Yes, but the WAAFs used to buy stockings.
CB: What were the stockings made of?
SF: Rayon.
CB: Man-made fibre.
SF: Yes.
CB: Not silk in other words.
SF: Not silk.
CB: Did you sell silk stockings?
SF: No. They weren’t available. The pure silk ones, oh when did they come in? [pause]
CB: You didn’t have the Americans nearby so they weren’t supplying the girls with silk stockings.
SF: Well, there were quite a few Americans about but [pause] well, they were somewhat [pause] paratroopers, weren’t they?
CB: Were they? Right.
SF: And they were, they were horrible in every way.
CB: Oh.
SF: The airmen themselves was fine but well somebody said that if you could suck as hard as you can blow then there would soon be no water in the sea.
CB: Do you want to enlarge on that a bit?
SF: Well, everything in America was great. In England it was very little use. But there was quite a number of girls who would go out with them for the pure silk stockings when they were available. But there was one incident. We used to go across to the Red Lion. This was the manageress and I, on a Saturday for our lunch. We closed for an hour and we could get our lunch in that time because the Red Lion was just across the road. And there was a a man there that was very inquisitive. Wanting to know all about things really we thought a spy would want to know. You know, where was the airfields and such like, and we weren’t prepared to tell him. The, the outcome of that we didn’t know really how it happened but he was a spy and he was picked up but before they could interrogate him he bit on a lethal thing. Now, that was very hush hush. It wasn’t known by a great many people around.
CB: What had he been doing then? Had he been in the shop a lot? Or how did you come to meet him and get this interrogation?
SF: We only met him when we went over to the Red Lion for our lunch.
CB: Right.
SF: And we thought he was too inquisitive and wanting to know too much. And it wasn’t until, it was only about a week or two after we’d met him though that this happened. He was picked up.
CB: Had you reported the incident? Or —
SF: No. We had nothing to do with it.
CB: How do you think he was rumbled?
SF: We never found out and I really couldn’t say. Not unless it was the police in Grantham.
CB: Where did he bite on the pill? In the town somewhere or, what happened there?
SF: Yes. When the police took him.
DF: Arrested.
SF: Pardon?
DF: Arrested.
SF: When they arrested him. He did it immediately.
CB: Oh. Now, in the background you’ve got all these Air Force people around. How did you come to meet Donald Fraser, who became your husband?
SF: Well, he came to the pub. The Thorold Arms. I I just remember him coming in. I thought actually there was a group of you but you said there was only two, didn’t you? Or four. There was four of them came in then and [pause] I served them. I don’t know how many times I served them because there was just dad and myself. I wouldn’t have been able to have done this if my father hadn’t have owned a pub because you weren’t allowed I think until you were seventeen.
DF: Christmas 1944 you are talking about now.
SF: Yes.
CB: This is 1944.
DF: Yeah.
SF: Ahum.
DF: I could butt in here but if you were stopping I could give you —
CB: We’ll just stop for a mo.
[recording paused]
CB: So clearly there are two sides of this story because we’ve got Donald in the room and you wouldn’t have known what he was doing there but he was at Bottesford and they’d been doing various tasks there and came to Grantham which is how you met. So, Donald what was the background of this?
DF: The background to that was we had just finished operations and been posted to [Lindholme] first of all. Then I went on an instructor’s course and then we were moved to Bottesford. And Bottesford was such a mess we had to clean it up. And this was our first time the 24th of August 1944. My 21st birthday so I remember it. So, we went down to the main road and as I say Newark was to the left. Grantham was to the right. So most people used to go on to Newark. We decided we would go on the Grantham Road. About three or four miles down the road was the A1 at that time. Still is. But we turned off down a small road for about a mile and here was a crossroads and on the side of it was the Thorold Arms, Marston. The Thorold Arms. We didn’t know what it was at that time so we decided we’d stay there and have my first beer. The rest of them had a bit more than me I think, even that night. We were cycling so we stayed there for two or three hours and then we went back to, to base.
CB: Oh, you cycled did you?
DF: Yes.
CB: Oh right.
DF: And from then on we decided that was our pub and we went there and somehow I got caught up with Sylvia.
CB: Right. We’ll stop there for a mo.
[recording paused]
CB: So, let me just restart. So here you’ve got some lads who are energetic and needing a bit of a change. And how much beer can you allow them to have because there’s rationing going on?
SF: Well [pause] dad used to just open. We got our beer in on a Wednesday so we had beer Wednesday night. He would sell so much and then it was just minerals.
CB: Oh.
SF: And we used to have some beautiful real grapefruit mineral and it would only keep for something like I think a fortnight. So if we hadn’t sold a great lot of that because there was no refrigeration in those days but of course your cellar was very cool. As children you used to drink it up, you see. And our pals.
CB: Of course. So in 1944 here you are aged seventeen. These chaps come in. What can they do? What are the activities in the pub?
SF: Oh, play darts. And I was quite a good dart player at that time and we used to have dart matches with a pub at Barkston. They’d play one week in Barkston, one in Marston. But dad used to transport these people free of charge in the bus.
CB: For the matches.
SF: Yes. For the matches and Mr, Mr Dodd was our captain and once or twice he would make a team up within the people that was in the, in the bar at the time and once or twice he would say, ‘Oh, Sylvia, I need an extra. You can be on this side or that side.’ You know. So I got to be quite good at darts. And then when it came to this dart match at Barkston we’d already played them in Marston, in the Thorold Arms so we had to go to Barkston. Well, when my mum heard that they wanted me to go to Barkston to play darts, ‘No daughter of mine was going to do that.’ I said, ‘What’s the difference mum?’ I wanted to go. I said, ‘My dad will be there. Mr Dodd will be there.’ No. So, anyway, Mr Dodd had to really talk and say, ‘We really need her.’ So I was allowed to go. So it seemed that mum was so strict in one sense but not all the way through, you know.
CB: Had she met Donald by at time? Because he’d been in the pub.
SF: Oh yes.
CB: So she thought he was a likely lad for you?
SF: Oh yes. She knew you very well, didn’t she? And your friend, Jack Boulton.
DF: Yeah, we met him also at Bottesford. He was one of the ones at Bottesford. There was also another chap from Glasgow. A bit older than us. He was, that was the three of us kept going to the pub afterwards. But on a Saturday night there used to be a good singsong going in the, in the pub.
CB: So, what entertainments did the pub run?
SF: Well, there was a piano and there was a singsong could break out anytime really.
DF: Her dad used to keep so much beer for the weekend so that locals also had a share of it.
SF: Yes. Well, there was that paratrooper. He was in the Signals, wasn’t he? He was, he could play anything by ear.
CB: American?
SF: You know.
CB: American paratrooper?
SF: No.
CB: No. British. Right.
SF: British. He was in the Signals, wasn’t he?
CB: So how did you, your father control the beer because you said that deliveries were on Wednesdays? Were there other deliveries or only the Wednesday one?
SF: No. There was only the Wednesday delivery.
CB: So how did he spread it out? Or did you run dry fairly quickly?
SF: No. He used to keep some for the weekend, didn’t he?
DF: He probably had to close down Thursday and Friday.
SF: Thursdays and Fridays we were closed.
CB: Because you didn’t have beer.
SF: Well, we were closed only in as much as we didn’t sell beer. Lemonade and the grapefruit as I said was sold.
DF: But also, at one time when you wanted more, some of the Army people in the area wanted to have a night out before they were going abroad.
SF: Oh, no.
DF: You went to the —
SF: Oh, that’s a different story. The [pause] we had airmen from, oh gosh [pause]
DF: It doesn’t matter. Nearby.
SF: Nearby then, and airmen as you know from the Bottesford end but these were ground staff.
CB: You had Spitalgate on the doorstep.
SF: No [laughs] it wasn’t on the doorstep really [laughs] It was —
CB: Barkston Heath.
SF: Yes. There was Barkston Heath which was where the paratroopers came from. The Signals Division. They came from Barkston Heath and they used to cycle down so it must have been a pretty good pub for them to all congregate there. But they wanted to, to have a final get together and so they said to dad could they do it. He said, ‘Well, no. I’m sorry but I’ve got to think of my locals.’ So, I worked in a small —
DF: You’ve said that.
SF: Ah, but that’s not the same one. Shop, at the top of the town and that was lady’s fashions and all the things that goes with that and across the road was the brewery.
CB: Oh.
SF: Marston’s.
CB: From the shop.
SF: Yes.
CB: Nice.
SF: Marstons Brewery. And I said to dad, ‘Look, I could pop across and see if I could get a little extra.’ And he said, ‘You’ve no hope of that.’ And I said, ‘Well, let me try.’ So, he said, ‘Oh well. You can. But don’t be surprised if the manager won’t even speak to you knowing what you would want.’ So I went across and in to reception, said, ‘Could I see the manager?’ ‘For what reason?’ So I said, ‘Well, I would like to see if I could get more beer for a special occasion.’ And she said, ‘You can try but I don’t think you’ll succeed.’ So, there was this great big, it was an extra wide door about like that I would think but it was covered in green baize and you know, the brass studs and actually my heart did sink into my boots for a minute or two [laughs] But anyway, I went in and I said the reason I was there. So as these airmen could have a last drink together and he said, ‘Well, supposing I could find a small amount. How would I get it to you?’ I said, ‘Well that would be no problem at all.’ I said, ‘Mowbray’s beer lorry comes past our pub, the Thorold Arms in Marston,’ I said, ‘Every Wednesday and every Thursday delivering to other villages around abouts.’ ‘Oh.’ So, in the end I got my small barrel of beer. I think it was something like, was it nine gallons?
DF: Or fifteen gallons.
SF: Oh, that was a big ones. No. I didn’t get a big one.
CB: Well, a firkin is seventy two pints.
DF: That would be it.
SF: That would be what I would get I would think. Anyway, I came out really very happy that I was able to tell my dad I’d got some beer after all [laughs]
CB: So, how did your relationship with Donald progress because you were busy in the bar and he was busy in the RAF?
SF: Well, we just —
CB: Were there parties around that you could go to? Dances in Grantham because there were lots of people about?
SF: Yes, but I wouldn’t go to the dances in in in Grantham. They were a bit wild. In fact, you said if I’d ever gone with my manageress he wouldn’t have gone out with me. But I didn’t know that at the time. It was only later that you said that wasn’t it?
CB: You said that the pub had to think about its own regulars. Did you get, did the pub get many, a lot of local people there and who were they?
SF: Well, there was the farm workers, there was the farm owners and we had a very big corporation farm and the manager was a Mr Kerr.
CB: They were farm people but did you get people from the manufacturing activities in Grantham or did they not come out your way?
SF: No. They wouldn’t come that distance because you see the only way they could come out really was on cycles. Well, they weren’t going to do that when it was on their doorstep.
CB: Yeah.
DF: We became regulars.
CB: Yes.
DF: Just as if we were one of the, there for a long time you know.
CB: I’m wondering what the balance between local people and RAF people was in the pub as clientele.
DF: There wasn’t many more RAF than what we were. Occasionally there would be an extra one but we were about the only RAF that came at certain times, weren’t we?
SF: Yes. We also had a lot of paratroopers, didn’t we?
DF: Yes, but they weren’t regulars. They were just passing through, weren’t they?
SF: Well, I don’t know. There was [pause] there was the two dispatch riders. One from the artillery and one from the signals and they were pretty regular, weren’t they? One of them came from Spalding.
CB: Right.
SF: His name was Johnny [Pick]. Do you remember him? And another one came from London and he was Pete [Augustine] I think his name was. So, they were fairly regular.
CB: Yes. Just changing the subject now. All these airfields dotted around created a lot of flying activity. Coming with that is noise. So, what was the effect of that?
SF: We didn’t notice the noise so much but it was the planes. They were circling around and around and around. I couldn’t understand this until I spoke to Donald about it but you see there was twenty eight, was it airfields?
DF: In Lincolnshire.
SF: In Lincolnshire. So they were all needing to gain height before going over the coast.
CB: Bomber Command airfields. Yes.
SF: Yes. And [pause] and that’s why they were circling.
DF: There must have been a bit of noise because if they were putting up twenty planes, they were all spiralling up. Four engines in each plane.
CB: Well, up to thirty on airfield wasn’t there? Well, more sometimes.
SF: I don’t remember the noise somehow.
CB: Don’t you?
SF: No. There must have been noise right enough.
CB: Then Donald was posted away so how did you keep in touch?
SF: Well, I had also moved before you moved away. I took up a position in Stamford.
CB: So that’s twenty miles south.
SF: Yes. So I would only be home at weekends but —
CB: What did you do in Stamford?
SF: I [pause] I was at Parish’s which was —
CB: Ah yes. In the High Street.
SF: That’s right. You knew them, did you?
CB: I know them well. Yes.
SF: Well, I stayed with a Mrs Franklin who, her husband had died some, I think about two years or three years before I went there and [pause] what was the secretary’s name in Sharpleys? Oh, she was a Plymouth Brethren.
CB: Oh, was she? Right.
SF: Yes. But she was awfully nice and she said, ‘I know someone who would look after you, Sylvia.’ So she took me to see Mrs Franklin and that’s where I left. It was just a small terraced house. Two bedrooms.
CB: She was a war widow, was she?
SF: No.
CB: Just getting on a bit.
SF: Yes. She was.
CB: And what, you were getting more money there. Is that why you went?
SF: Yes.
CB: So how much more did you earn when you went there?
SF: I think it was one twenty five or one seventy five. One seventy five I think to begin with and then you got commission on selling various things.
CB: How was it —
So, I used to see Donald then.
DF: At weekends.
SF: Hmmn?
DF: Just at weekends.
SF: Just at the weekends.
DF: Until we moved from Bottesford to Cottesmore. And that was the same. It was just weekends because I could travel.
CB: That was closer.
DF: Yes.
CB: Really.
DF: I used to get lifts on on the main roads across.
CB: Down the A1.
DF: Yeah. Just down —
CB: Straight down to Stamford.
DF: Stamford.
CB: Yeah.
DF: That’s right.
CB: What did it cost you to have digs with Mrs Franklin if you weren’t [pause] you ended up with more money in the end did you?
SF: Yes, I did. But not very much [pause] because by the time you’d paid for your train fare.
CB: Oh yeah.
SF: To get back to Grantham where your father picked you up. Well, as he said I’d be better if I’d stayed at home but I didn’t want to stay at home.
CB: You’d had enough of the pub life had you?
SF: No. I quite enjoyed that really and meeting people but I really, my aim was to be a fashion buyer. Even if it meant moving further south.
CB: And you wanted independence.
SF: Yes. I wanted independence too.
CB: We’ll just pause there for a mo.
[recording paused]
SF: You used to bring some and give to dad from time to time. Or mum. Whoever was at the bar at the time, you know.
CB: Yes.
SF: Oh, I —
CB: And the Americans had the resources, the money and the food.
SF: They did. They did.
Other: I can remember orange juice. Can you? Chris.
CB: Hmmn?
Other: I can remember that orange juice.
CB: Can you?
Other: Yeah.
CB: I can’t remember. Just going back to Donald a mo. At Bottesford they were Airborne Division. 81st Airborne Division were they? Rather than gliders. Troop carrying aircraft in other words.
DF: The Americans used it as a holding base.
CB: Oh, it was a holding base was it?
DF: Just, just for D-Day.
CB: Yes.
DF: All came in probably a fortnight before and were held there.
CB: Oh, I see.
DF: And then went over to the south coast before they went over.
CB: But they got a bit over exuberant about their —
DF: Yeah.
CB: Method of leaving.
DF: That’s true. Before that it was a Bomber Command station flying Lancs.
CB: And then it reverted to that when you went there.
DF: Yes. It came back in to a unit coming from the light aircraft to heavy aircraft training unit. Yeah. And we came and opened it up again.
CB: Yeah.
DF: But it was still not a very good accommodation. It was, it wasn’t as bad as Ludford but it was still huts.
CB: Yeah, because it had been, just been knocked up in the war.
DF: Yeah. It was a wartime base the same as Ludford but it was made of wood instead of Nissen huts.
CB: Oh, they were wooden huts were they?
DF: Yeah.
CB: Yeah.
DF: And Ludford was Nissen huts and we used to get, in the winter drops from the condensation dropping on the bed.
SF: Yeah. Horrid [laughs]
DF: Around the summer it was so hot we used to have the field mice coming in and the earwigs coming in. It wasn’t very nice. And in the winter one, one fire for the whole unit.
CB: Yeah. A coke fire in the middle.
DF: In the middle.
CB: With a chimney straight up.
SF: That was it.
DF: That was all the —
DF: Yeah. All the heating. And if you think of coming back there at night.
SF: Freezing cold.
DF: Freezing cold. I joined, one of the reasons I joined the Force, the Air Force was because I thought well I’ll always have —
SF: A fry up.
DF: A good unit to come back. Clean sheets and that. Well, we always had clean sheets but that was about it [laughs] because on Ludford there wasn’t any paths or anything made.
CB: Right.
DF: The unit was built in six weeks by Wimpey.
CB: Was it really?
DF: And then that was the flying side of it.
CB: Yes.
DF: But they forgot about the personnel needed to get from A to B and it was called Mudford. Not Ludford.
CB: Yes. Yes.
DF: Because of the mud. Rubber boots was—
SF: Horrible.
DF: The only thing you could —
CB: What you had to have.
DF: If you were going, say in to Louth in the evening you had your rubber boots on and you hid them in the hedge side before you put on your shoes to, to go on the bus to Louth.
CB: How often were you allowed out?
DF: Well, there was two sides of it. You were flying usually when it was dark.
CB: Yeah.
DF: So you had a fortnight on and a fortnight off, you know. The dark side of it. The moonlight side you weren’t very often flying when it was a full moon or anything like that.
CB: No.
DF: So you had more or less then a month. Two weeks on, two weeks off of flying. I think that’s what it was but you never never knew when something was just going to come. I mean, like going to, across the Alps. We went in full moonlight and everybody was taken by surprise because doing a moonlight flight against the normal dark was a surprise. So a lot of the crews weren’t fit to because they were having a good time in the pubs thinking there was no flying tonight.
CB: No. Quite. No. But taking the other side of the question to Sylvia about the rationing of beer to what extent did you need to move between pubs simply because the pubs were short of beer?
DF: I suppose they did. I was never in a pub during my flying time.
CB: No.
DF: On the station I was never in a pub. There was two pubs in Ludford. There’s one now. There’s one closed. But I was never inside either but listening to the, well two or three of the crew didn’t drink either but the wireless operator liked his drink and so did the mid-upper gunner and they used to say many times there was no, no beer in the one and they had to go to the other, you know. But I think they did very well. The ground crew used to complain about them having to pay the same amount of money as the flying ones for their beer. I think it was put up by a penny in those days for the flying crews and they decided they weren’t going to have that and they took all the, all the chairs and tables outside and put them in the canal next door until the landlord said, ‘Oh, well we’ll take the penny off again.’ [laughs]
SF: [laughs] Oh dear.
CB: Would you call it sort of destructive inc — [laughs]
DF: As I say I wasn’t involved with these things.
[recording paused]
CB: Well, Sylvia we’ve been talking about a wide variety of things. We’ve talked about you being at in Stamford and at Parish’s.
SF: Yes.
CB: So at that stage we’re talking about the end of the war you’re seventeen coming up eighteen. What did you do next? Because technically at eighteen you could be called up.
SF: Well, I wasn’t called up.
DF: The war would be over by then.
SF: It would be over, wouldn’t it?
DF: It was over in May 1945. Yes. Oh, you were still at home because we went to Buckingham Palace on VE Day. I did.
CB: Did you? You both went.
SF: No. Just Donald.
CB: So, VE Day was the 8th of May 1945.
DF: That’s right.
CB: What did you both do then?
DF: Well, I was still at Bottesford at that time.
CB: Yeah.
SF: But your mum and your auntie, that was his mum’s sister, they were travelling down.
DF: This was to collect the DFM.
CB: Ah.
DF: Of course, we didn’t know it was VE Day at the time.
CB: No.
DF: When it was all arranged.
CB: Of course.
DF: But VE, that was the day we went to London and my mother and her sister travelled down from Edinburgh and I caught the train in Grantham about 5 o’clock in the morning. So we got in to London about the time, I think it was 11 o’clock, eleven fifteen we had to be there. It was the King at that time, of course.
CB: Yes. Of course.
DF: And then spent a couple of hours there or so and then [unclear] at the hotel because they were staying in London overnight and I made my way back to Bottesford. Well, to Sylvia and she —
SF: To Grantham.
DF: To Grantham.
CB: What were, what were you doing on VE day? Or what did you do? Were you still in Stamford?
SF: No. No. I was back home and I was, I don’t actually know what I was doing on VE Day.
CB: Some people had huge celebrations. Other people didn’t do anything.
Other: Huge in London, weren’t they?
SF: Well, I had said that I would meet Donald with a bicycle somewhere outside Grantham because I was quite comfortable riding a bike and pushing the other one. And someone that lived at the petrol station on the M1 —
CB: A1.
SF: A1 that was. His name was Ronald [Ebert] and he used to go to the Kings School in Grantham and I saw him on his way home. He was on his bike and I said, ‘Have you passed an airmen walking?’ And he said, ‘No.’ I said, ‘But you’ve just come back from school haven’t you?’ ‘Yes, that’s right.’ Well, there had been a lorry full of airmen that had passed me going towards Bottesford. Well, you know what they were all like. Whistling and all the rest of it. I stopped and turned around and there was one lad in particular was waving like this and I thought that must be Donald. So as Ronald said there was no airmen that he had seen I decided I’d go back to the end of the road and see if he had got off there. Well, no. There was nobody there. And I waited around a little while and I thought well, its stupid waiting here. You know. He’s not walking all the way from Grantham.
DF: Grantham Station.
SF: And he’s not got off the lorry here. So, I don’t know what he’s decided to do and in the end I cycled home. My next sister Gertrude she was an awful tease. Always a tease. And she was looking out the window and she said, ‘Oh, Sylv, Jock’s walking down the road now.’ I thought that was another tease. However, she turned. She said, ‘It is. Come and have a look for yourself.’ And I did. I felt about that big because he’d walked all the way from Grantham station.
DF: Seven miles.
SF: All the way home.
CB: Good thing he was a fit man.
SF: Yes, he was a fit man. There’s no doubt about that. And [pause] anyway, the cycle was still there the next morning. Did dad take you back?
DF: No. I don’t think so. I stayed there anyway. But you had a good evening. It was one of those jolly nights where there was plenty to drink wasn’t there?
SF: Oh yes.
DF: One of the things they were doing was cutting the ends off people’s ties.
SF: Yes. You know the short end, the narrow end. They were cutting anything from about two inches to five inches.
DF: Until they came to one couple and she had just bought him this new tie for his birthday that day and that caused a bit of an uproar.
CB: Could have been injured by the scissors for doing that.
SF: He could really. I don’t know how you got hold of the scissors either.
CB: So, after VE Day then what because you’re working in Grantham again now.
SF: Yes [pause] Oh, yes. We got married.
DF: Yeah. That was ’48.
CB: 1948.
DF: You must have stayed in Stamford. You didn’t come back to —
SF: No. I did stay in Stamford.
DF: You stayed in Stamford.
SF: For quite a time.
DF: At the time. You were still in Stamford when I went north in ’47.
CB: Right.
DF: And then 1948 I travelled down to Marston to get married there and you were still in Stamford at that time. In fact, you were still in Stamford the year after. In 1947 was when it was a very bad winter.
CB: Yes. Extremely.
SF: Oh, it was.
DF: All the roads were closed.
CB: Yeah.
DF: And I had decided to come from Scotland for a few days to Stamford and then we would come back to Marston but all the traffic on the roads were blocked up and I got off and I got transport down and got off in Stamford and I was going to see Sylvia where she stayed with Mrs Franklin. But this was 1 o’clock in the morning and of course I couldn’t make them hear. I went in a cell.
SF: Well actually Mrs Franklin did hear you and she said to me, ‘Sylvia, I think there’s somebody at the door. Would you get up and see if you can see anyone?’ Because I was at the front of the house. And I looked and couldn’t see anyone and the knocking had stopped.
DF: I had thrown, thrown a few snowballs at the window.
SF: But he had been throwing snowballs at the window.
CB: Disgraceful [laughs]
SF: Yes, it was, wasn’t it? [laughs]
DF: As you know I ended up in the police station.
CB: Yes, I can imagine. Yes.
DF: I got in a cell for the night.
CB: It was warm, wasn’t it?
DF: It was warm.
SF: I bet you were frozen, weren’t you?
DF: It wasn’t so bad inside the police station. It was warm in there.
CB: So you got married in ’48. Just pass backwards to that or forwards to that. Then what? Because where did you actually settle down in your married life.
DF: About a year after that.
SF: Oh.
CB: Were you still, did you stay with your parents, Sylvia?
SF: Yes.
CB: When you were married.
SF: Yes. I stayed with my parents for a time.
CB: After you were married. Yeah.
SF: Because you went to the Botanics, didn’t you?
DF: Yes. I went to the Botanic Gardens in Edinburgh. Did a course there and then I joined the Forestry Research Branch and was travelling the country for two years looking at plantations and taking records of the trees and all that for making the tables for the cubic feet and the, each tree after that, you know. So I was travelling a fortnight here a, month there visiting many places. And then after we got married we decided that we should try and get a place to have a base. So we got married in the autumn and I think by the next spring they said, ‘Well, if you want a base to be at there’s a base at Tulliallan, which was one of the large nurseries and what I was interested in was research on small trees anyway so that sounded right unbeknowning that where I was born was on Tulliallan Estate in one of the cottages just next to this large nursery. And the manager of the nursery who had been in the First World War and came through it and then took a a course on nurseries to do that. He was still there. That was twenty five years later. He was still there at the nursery as in charge of it. And I don’t know. It’s going to be funny coming there. Anyway, when we, when we got there Mr Simpson was his name. He didn’t like the people in —
SF: Research.
DF: Researchers coming in to research because they were all usually people who hadn’t been through the war. They’d been on, obviously forestry was a restricted —
CB: Yeah. A Reserved Occupation.
DF: A Reserved Occupation.
CB: Yes.
DF: So, he didn’t like them and we found out later the reason why. His son was a conscientious objector so that caused problems.
CB: Yes.
DF: So, when I got there and met the research people there right enough none of them had been in the war you, know and we had a discussion and said, ‘Well, what are you going to do?’ And I said what I wanted to do and they said, ‘Well, you’ll have to get permission from Mr Simpson, and he won’t give us anything.’ I said, ‘Well, I’ve never found that in anybody yet.’ So the next morning I went down to his office to see him. I went in there and he said, ‘Who are you?’ I said, ‘Oh, I’m a new research person coming in the top there.’ ‘I suppose you’re another one of these that’s never been in the war.’ I said, ‘No, I’m not.’ I said, ‘I’ve been in the war.’ You know. ‘What were you doing?’ I said, ‘I was flying on Lancasters.’ He said, ‘When?’ I said, ‘From ’43.’ And he was up off his chair. He had lost an arm in [unclear] got off his chair, shook our hand and that, you know and he said, ‘What was your name?’ I said, ‘Fraser.’ He said, ‘Oh, about twenty years ago,’ he said, ‘I bought, there used to be a Fraser staying in the lodge down there. I bought his chickens when he left.’ I said, ‘Yeah. That was my dad.’
SF: Strange, isn’t it?
DF: So, after that he hadn’t been on a holiday for a long time but a month or two months after that he came and said, ‘Are you doing anything the next week or two?’ I said, ‘Not a lot. I’m just doing the work here.’ He said, ‘Would you look, and Sylvia, would you look after our house for three weeks. We want to go and see our son.’ I said, ‘We’ll do that alright for you.’ So we stayed there three weeks and the people in the nursery were entirely, didn’t know what to say because none of the staff got on with him because, I think mainly it was because his son was a conscientious objector.
CB: Yeah.
DF: And we had broken that down for him and we became very good friends.
CB: Amazing.
SF: Yes, and in the end he wouldn’t have anything to do with his son.
CB: Wouldn’t he?
SF: It was just his mother.
CB: Yeah. Terrible embarrassment.
Other: Yeah.
SF: Yes, and in the end we did get them together.
DF: In the end I told him —
SF: We said, ‘It’s silly you know. You losing your son just because of your principals and your son losing his mum and dad.’ I mean she used to speak to him on the phone but not very often because well, there weren’t that many phones about was there?
CB: No.
DF: We used to go up and our, my family stayed in [Aberdour] and used to go across to see them at the weekend and if there was a high gales and that because at that time there was no road bridge it was just a ferry. So coming across on the ferry you had to around by Kincardine and back again we used to call and see him. And this weekend when we called in we didn’t know we were going but the weather was such that we had to go round that way. He’d just had a heart attack a few hours before that.
CB: Oh, my goodness.
DF: And he wouldn’t let his wife phone the doctor. And she said, ‘I knew you were coming tonight. So, I wasn’t very worried about Arthur.’ That was his name. ‘I knew you would come tonight so’ —
SF: Oh, but it was a shock though to see him lying on the settee.
CB: Unattended.
SF: Yes. And you could see he was very ill.
DF: But he wouldn’t get further, the office was where the phone was. It wasn’t in his house it was just ten yards away from there but he wouldn’t give us the key or tell her where the key was for the office so she could go and phone. We got there and we we got the key from him and —
CB: Sylvia, when you after you got married how soon did you give up work?
SF: I didn’t give it up until I went to Scotland. So —
DF: About two, two years after.
SF: Two years I suppose. And then we went in to a friend’s house. We had rooms there. We had the run of the kitchen. We could do what we liked. They had a parlour and we could use that for our breakfast or whatever. Then we had another small room which was really the library. It was covered in books.
DF: It was —
SF: And —
DF: It was two sisters who had it. [they were leasing it] they stayed there. They were two schoolteachers weren’t they?
SF: Yes. And their brother stayed there.
DF: Yes. Their brother. He was in the headquarters of Scotland during the war or something like that you know. Government.
CB: We’ve covered lots of things. Can we go fast backwards to your earliest days when you were in the farm and the pub as well? We have a lot of links in the countryside with farms. So you controlled, your diet is controlled by a number of things. One is the rationing but actually the farmers were able to supplement that. How did they do it?
SF: Well, my mother always bought her butter pre-war and during the war from a farmer. Mrs Wright wasn’t it? She used to make the butter and sell it and mum always bought that from her. So she continued to do that. She had to give her butter coupons up but that didn’t matter and we got more than what we should have done. The, there was a small shop in the village which was run by two sisters, Miss [unclear] I can’t remember the names.
DF: [unclear]
SF: It doesn’t matter really. And they knew that we used to buy a lot of cheese from them. Well, we couldn’t buy a lot of cheese from them because it was rationed but anybody that didn’t take their full amount of cheese they sold it to mum.
DF: They used to have it in the pub then.
SF: So on a darts match we used to hand round the bread and cheese and that was it but there was bread and cheese and they were all you know got a piece of two or four. Whatever was there because it went round once and then what else was left. In fact, I’ve still got the plate because well it’s worth a little bit of money. Not a lot. But its, its one about that size. And well —
DF: And you had the pigs.
SF: Pardon?
DF: And you had the pigs.
SF: Oh. We had. Dad had a sow and he used to breed from her. And the last time I suppose we’d had two or three sows during that time but the last time he decided he was going to finish and he would have her killed for our own purposes. Well, she’d had what they call a sort of, they called it the purples but I think it was like a pig flu.
CB: Oh.
SF: And she wouldn’t eat. And I started washing an apple and feeding her that. And she came and she was ok. But there was a butcher that used to kill pigs because in in those days the cottages often had a small pig pen at the end of the gardens.
CB: For slaughtering.
SF: Yes. and Mr [Rodding] used to come down and do the necessary for them but —
DF: You used to chop it up and then pass round the neighbours and when they had —
SF: Oh yes.
DF: A month later. Whatever it was they were using.
SF: You know, the liver and the small piece of the pork and that. Whenever anyone had a pig killed they would just hand it to one or two friends and they would reciprocate. So that was fine.
CB: What about the wild animals in the countryside? What did you do about those?
SF: Oh gosh.
CB: There was a bit of shooting going on.
SF: There was.
CB: Rabbits and hares.
SF: Not so much hares. I don’t think there were so many hares about but rabbits, dad used to go up to a friend’s farm. There was two brothers by the name of Tindall. They he used to go up there shooting what once a month or so.
DF: He needed cartridges.
SF: Oh yes. He needed cartridges and of course they were in short supply but there again I was able to get a few cartridges for him because I could get fashion stockings. And if I got fashion stockings for the man that had the gun shop, for his wife then I would get a box of cartridges. Paid for them obviously but that’s what happened. Well, somewhere along the line there was a searchlight station not far from us. In the next village actually and rather strange because it was on the[pause] no. The searchlight station was in our village at the end of the village and —
DF: You used to take them there on your bike.
SF: No. Then —
CB: Did you deliver them yourself?
SF: I I took rabbits because the cook came in and was talking to dad and saying they were very short of meat and it was difficult to know what to feed the lads on. So, dad once, when he’d had been shooting he decided he would send some rabbits up to them. Well, he would gut them and slit the flesh there and, you know put one in to another so as they hung together. And I was dispatched this day to go to this camp and there was nobody on sentry duty and I didn’t know how to attract their attention because I was up here which was the railway bridge and they were down below. So, I was quite a good whistler at that time and my grandma used to say, ‘Stop whistling. A whistling woman and a crowing hen was never fit for man or beast.’ [laughs] Well [pause] I whistled and I attracted someone’s attention. But in the meantime, cycling with [pause] I don’t know.
DF: Six or eight rabbits.
SF: Pardon?
DF: Six or eight rabbits.
SF: Yeah. Yeah. There would be six on one side and six on the other I suppose but I came off my bike didn’t I because one rabbit, one lot of rabbits slipped slightly and of course it caught in the wheel and it got in between the forks of the bike that held the wheel so I came off. Didn’t hurt myself. Picked myself up and got there. But that’s how I attracted their attention and they were very very pleased with their rabbits.
CB: I think we’ll just stop there for a mo.
[recording paused]
CB: I think we’ve done extremely well.
SF: Yes.
CB: So when the family settled down and your son was born when was that?
SF: That was —
DF: 1955 ‘56.
SF: It was [pause] Oh come on Sylvia. It was in Edinburgh.
CB: And you moved there in 1950 did you? Roughly.
DF: We moved from Tulliallan to Bush Estate which is seven miles south of Edinburgh.
CB: Yes.
SF: In 1953.
CB: Right.
DF: The spring of 1953. So it was after that. So it was ’65 then because —
CB: 1955.
Df: ’65.
SF: ’65 when Brian was born.
CB: Oh, ’65, yeah.
DF: ’65 he was born.
CB: Right.
SF: Oh yes, because —
DF: I was about forty or forty two. Something like that.
SF: Because I was in the Scottish Women’s Institute and I was on the committee. I was treasurer for it and it was such a small group that we had to do various things to get money to spend. So we thought we would put on a concert and [pause] and that was just at the time I became I pregnant. And I was the person that was to open it, you know be on the stage in my dressing gown and I said to the doctor that we had known, he was a Yorkshireman actually because he used to say, ‘There’s not many Yorkshire doctors in Scotland but you found one.’ And I said to him, ‘Oh, when the district nurse comes will you tell her not to come to visit me until —’ Because I didn’t want other people to know I was pregnant at the time I was going to do the sketch to get money for the Institute. So he thought that was funny. So we had a laugh about that. He was lovely. And he decided I should go in to the Nursing Home previously. I think I’d just gone over my time and he said, ‘Because you are an elderly person we need to take good care of you and your baby.’ So I went in and they started things moving. In fact, you came to seem me didn’t you?
DF: The night before I went away?
SF: Yes.
DF: When Brian was born I was in Lanarkshire or something.
SF: Yes. He went and left me you see [laughs] terrible. He —
DF: That was the 23rd of September.
SF: Yes. It was the 23rd of September. It would be the 22nd that I went in and I, well I’d had pains and then after you left that evening you went home and you said you wouldn’t come in the next morning because you were going to Lanark and the pain stopped. I don’t know. Never felt any more for ages. In fact, they decided that they would break the waters themselves and they did a Caesarean section. And Brian came in to the world, I think it was about 3 o’clock. And you couldn’t come in that night, could you?
DF: No.
SF: So it was the next day before he saw his son.
CB: And time went on and he decided to follow his father into the same sort of business.
DF: That’s right. Yes.
SF: Yes. Yes, he did.
CB: Well, we’ve covered so many things. Thank you, Sylvia. Absolutely fascinating.
DF: When he was at school he was a very good, he was captain of the rugby team
CB: Oh was he?
DF: Captain of the cricket.
CB: Yeah.
DF: Captain of the riverboat team.
CB: Right.
DF: And he used to run.
CB: Talented man.
DF: Yes. He was on county running.
SF: Yes, because for Paul’s wedding —
DF: He’d rather run than go to it.
SF: He rang his cousin did he mind if he didn’t come to his wedding because he wanted to run for the county.
CB: Right.
SF: And he never finished that run because he pulled —
CB: Oh.
SF: A tendon. Oh, he was so disappointed. He said, ‘I missed my cousin’s wedding. I missed what I wanted to finish and do, you know.’
CB: Yes. Yeah.
SF: But however, that’s, that’s life, isn’t it?
CB: Yes. All spoiled. Yes. Thank you very much indeed.
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 Sylvia Fraser
Description
An account of the resource
Discusses her father's pre-war charabanc business and the pub he ran during the war. Also mentions her work in a factory in Grantham and the occasion when a possible spy took his own life when he was arrested. One day an airman and his friends decided with his friends to celebrate his twenty first birthday in the pub and he met Sylvia and became a regular visitor. Donald and Sylvia married in 1948. There are occasional interjections by her husband Donald Fraser and they also discuss their post war life.
Creator
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Chris Brockbank
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
2018-07-02
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.
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AFraserSM180702, PFraserDK1608
Conforms To
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Pending review
Pending revision of OH transcription
Format
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02:10:59 audio recording
Temporal Coverage
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1940
1944
1947
1948
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
England--Stamford
Coverage
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Civilian
Royal Air Force
Language
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eng
Contributor
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Julie Williams
home front
love and romance
RAF Barkstone Heath
RAF Bottesford
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1197/11770/PWiddowsonFE1801.2.jpg
7aa5a49f8a57f0aa46b301fea31ba807
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1197/11770/AWiddowsonFE180731.1.mp3
2a989177d4b38c12f0c5bc2e992b9be8
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
Widdowson, Eileen
Frances Eileen Widdowson
F E Widdowson
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Eileen Widdowson (b. 1932). She grew up in Peterborough and remembers being bombed.
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
2018-07-31
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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Widdowson, FE
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
DK: So, this is David Kavanagh for the International Bomber Command Centre interviewing Mrs Eileen Widdowson on the 31st of July 2018 at her home. It is 2018, isn’t it?
EW: It is 2018. Yes.
DK: I was going to stop. I was going to say nineteen. Anyway, I’ll leave that on there.
EW: On there. Ok. So I’ll just talk to you.
DK: Just talk normally.
EW: Yeah.
DK: It’s catching you there. So if I keep looking over I’m just making sure it’s —
EW: It’s still going.
DK: It’s still going. Yeah. So —
EW: Well, I was born —
DK: Yeah.
EW: In 1932. In Peterborough actually. I have a sister who is two years older than me which makes her eighty eight and we’re both still going strong at the moment.
DK: Good.
EW: And so of course living at Peterborough my father was, he died when I was seventeen months old.
DK: Oh no.
EW: And so my mother came to live in Grantham because she had an older brother here who had a shop and I think she, she didn’t get on with my aunt over there so I think she escaped really more than anything. And of course my grandmother had a bungalow at Snettisham. On the beach in Norfolk. On the day that the war was declared we were there and panic set in I think. I mean I wasn’t really aware what was going on then but in hindsight it was panic because I think everyone thought it’s going to start now.
DK: Yeah.
EW: You know. And so everybody packed up and we all came home and I can remember walking up our road and a lot of the people were out on the outside on the front. You know, talking about what was going to happen.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And all the rest of it. And I can remember people talking about bombs and things to my mother and I thought well I don’t know what a bomb is, you know so I suppose it’s nothing really. You know. It’s just something. And I just forgot about it. I don’t remember being scared or anything because obviously I didn’t know what a bomb was going to do.
DK: Yeah.
EW: However, we soon found out because my mother lived right almost one street away from the railway station here which is of course is the main line north to south. And so, and my school was at the top of our road which was, you went down some steps to the, to the station so it was very close to, to the station. And the first thing I can remember about going to school after the war was declared was that the teachers said we had to ask our parents if they had any net curtains. Old net curtains. And I thought well I wonder what they want old net curtains for. You know. But I soon found out because we had to cut them into squares and they pasted them on the windows.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: Of the school.
DK: Yeah.
EW: To stop the blast.
DK: Yeah.
EW: But of course then of course what happens to the kids when there’s a raid because there were no shelters. Nothing like that at the time. So when, the teacher said, ‘When the siren goes you will have to get under your desks.’ And we thought oh great. That’s really safe. You know. We never thought about how ridiculous it was.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: You know, you just didn’t.
DK: It was, did it seem looking back on it as a child a bit of an adventure then?
EW: Well, it did then.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Because we hadn’t really had any sign of bombing or anything in the first year because it was just you know —
DK: The Phoney War.
EW: Phoney War. Yes. And then she said that when the siren used to go and then you had time to get, hopefully to get to a shelter but then the three pips would go and that meant that the planes were overhead.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And you just had to hope that they weren’t going to hit you.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Because it was too late then to run for a shelter.
DK: Just for the recording can you remember the name of your school?
EW: Yes. It was Spitalgate School.
DK: Spitalgate School. Right.
EW: And it was up near St John’s Church, which —
DK: Ok.
EW: Is dead opposite, almost opposite the railway station.
DK: Yeah.
EW: You just went down some steps.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And the first sort of thing that I can remember about doing all this was that eventually the siren did go and unfortunately [laughs] it was a raid and so she said we all had to go into the cloakroom and put coats over our heads. And I mean it isn’t until you grow up when you realise how ridiculous these things were.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: Because all that you wouldn’t see was the bullets coming through the roof.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And he, so that was my first experience of what was going to happen. And fortunately they, they didn’t hit the school.
DK: Can you, do you remember seeing the aircraft themselves?
EW: Oh yes. Yes.
DK: Yeah.
EW: This was the story that I told this young lady. That’s why she —
DK: Yeah.
EW: She thought you’d like to know. Because of the raids, the severity of some of the raids because as you know Grantham was surrounded by airfields.
DK: Yes. Yes.
EW: And also we had a big munition factory at Marcos. British Marcos. And they were making ammunition and guns and all sorts of things.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And it, obviously it was a good place to get rid of, if you like.
DK: Yeah.
EW: As far as the Germans were concerned. But having said that we, the teachers had said to the parents if there is a raid and it’s a real, real one, you know.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Not just a make believe one. They said, ‘Would you come to the school and fetch your children if you live near enough to get there.’ Kind of before the three pips went, you know. Well, of course we lived, we had to come up my street here and go through another street called Fletcher Street and then turn and go up Norton Street to the school. But what had happened was that in the old days they used to deliver beer at the pubs on a horse and dray. Well, the horses were big shire horses and so what they used to do they used to tether the Shire horse at the back of the cart so it couldn’t bolt. But the horse was dancing around with the noise and pulled the cart across the street. So my mother in the meantime had come to fetch me and we were running down and that’s what scared me really. My mother never ran anywhere —
DK: Yeah.
EW: Because she was forty four before she had me so she was quite an elderly mother and I thought I wonder why she’s running. And of course then I turned around and I looked at this plane and it was dive bombing down Norton Street. And I could see him. I looked into his eyes. He’d got goggles and a leather helmet and it was one of the black planes with the white, you know.
DK: Swastikas.
EW: Thing on. Yeah.
DK: Yeah. The iron cross.
EW: Well. The iron cross. Yeah.
DK: Yeah. Yeah. The black cross.
EW: And I sort of looked up at him and I don’t, I can’t remember being terrified but I thought, I wonder why he’s coming down here you know. It was a child’s perception.
DK: Yes.
EW: Of not knowing what could happen to you. But in, after this.
DK: I don’t suppose you —
EW: I realised.
DK: I don’t suppose you realised at the time as a child the real danger you were in.
EW: No. No. Because afterwards, you know many years afterwards I heard that some of the more Nazi orientated pilots would shoot people running in —
DK: Yeah.
EW: Especially in London, to the, to the shelters. And so I suppose basically my mum and I were very lucky but it was, so he came dive bombing down and of course we couldn’t get through the small street that we had to go through to get home because this horse had pulled the cart across.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And so my mother pulled me up and she pushed me into a, as we, ginnels or what passageways to somebody’s house and she went and knocked on the door and this lady let us in.
DK: Yeah.
EW: But after that I’m not sure quite where he went but I think he had, he had machine gunned the school roof.
DK: Right.
EW: And why I don’t know because he could have seen there were playgrounds laid out. So why he didn’t shoot me and my mum I don’t know.
DK: Yeah.
EW: But he could have done if he’d wanted to. And it was, it was all sort of over in a flash, you know and he went up to bomb Marcos I think as well because he did drop a bomb in the station goods yard. The Germans never actually hit the target here.
DK: Right.
EW: They always missed. Fortunately for some people but unfortunate for others. And once he’d gone my mum waited until they’d untethered this horse because I think I’d rather face a German plane than a horse’s hoof like that size.
DK: No.
EW: Because they’re very, very big.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Those horses. And anyhow, we managed to get home and afterwards you know I’ve thought about it so many times and I’ve thought well at least I was lucky that I’m still here.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And I said to all my children if it hadn’t have been that that pilot had probably got a conscience I wouldn’t have been here and neither would any of my children.
DK: Could you hear his guns firing at all? Or —
EW: We heard them in the school when we were in school.
DK: Yeah.
EW: But you see my mother came to fetch me.
DK: Yeah. But not during this incident then.
EW: Not. No.
DK: No.
EW: Because he was dive bombing down the street. It all happened in a moment really.
DK: In a flash. Yeah.
EW: And I just turned. I don’t know whether it’s because I looked at him I don’t know.
DK: He just didn’t. Didn’t fire.
EW: He just didn’t and so he went up to Marcos. Now, I can’t —
DK: So Marcos is the armaments —
EW: Marcos is the armaments factory.
DK: Do you know whereabouts that was?
EW: Yes. It’s on Springfield Road.
Dk: Springfield Road, right.
EW: But it’s all be knocked down now.
DK: Ok.
EW: It’s a housing estate.
DK: Right. Ok.
EW: As all. But it was strange because you always knew when they were testing the guns they’d made.
DK: Right.
EW: Because they had gun tunnels.
DK: Oh right.
EW: Underneath the ground. And every day you could hear this rat a tat, rat a tat and they were testing the guns under there.
DK: Right.
EW: Now, whether the underground things are still there I don’t know but it’s definitely all gone.
DK: Yeah. A housing estate now.
EW: Yes. It’s all gone. Well, the reason it’s gone is because Steel World took it, which was a Swedish firm.
DK: Right.
EW: And unfortunately when we had the Argentinian War for the Falklands.
DK: Yeah.
EW: They found out that that firm had been selling arms to Argentina.
DK: Argentina. Right.
EW: So it was our guns made in Grantham that was killing our soldiers. Our people. Yes.
DK: The Argentines were using — yes.
EW: So that was closed down and you know finished. So that was the end of that sort of thing.
DK: So the housing estate then is, is fairly recent. Since the eighties.
EW: Yes. Yes. Oh absolutely.
DK: Yes.
EW: Yes. Very. I should think the houses there are about eight or nine years old.
DK: Oh right. Right. So, fairly recent.
EW: Yeah. They’re not. Yes, fairly recent.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And, because Marcos was a place where all the women met their husbands.
DK: Right.
EW: Because there was a huge dance hall there and everybody, all the kids went from here. The youngsters you know they met their husbands and a lot of the girls married in to the American side of things.
DK: Yeah.
EW: When they came over.
DK: So Marcos then was a big employer here.
EW: Yes.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Absolutely.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Yes. And Dennis Kendall who was a member of parliament he owned it but as I say he sold it. Well, he left and of course after the war it was sold but it was just sad that these guns were killing our RAF lads.
DK: Yeah.
EW: But as I say that was one incident and —
DK: Just going back to that incident then with this plane flying down the street.
EW: Yeah.
DK: Can you remember anything that your mother said when you got home? Was it, was there anything?
EW: Well —
DK: Was she a bit shaken?
EW: Very shaken. But my mother was a Victorian lady. She was born in 1888 believe it or not.
DK: Right.
EW: And she was always I didn’t realise she was an old lady until I grew a bit older and I realised that you know my mother wasn’t the same age as the mum’s meeting the children from the school at the same time.
EW: Right.
DK: But having said that you know she, but she did have a really bad nervous breakdown after the war ended.
DK: Really.
EW: Because, partly because you if you had a spare bedroom or you could all bunk in to one bed you had to let the room go because they were bringing people in.
DK: Yeah.
EW: To the munition factory from all over the country. To work in the munition factory at Marcos. And of course auxiliary firemen. They were brought in as well to, you know. And so because my mother had to, we all had to sleep three of us to a bed because she had to give up her front bedroom.
DK: Yeah.
EW: For, and we had two or three girls came from up north. Newcastle way. They were working at British Marcos. And then after they left we had a gentleman from Nottingham. He was in the Auxiliary Fire Service.
DK: Right.
EW: And then he got posted somewhere else. And then we had two soldiers billeted for a short time. One was a Scottish lad and the other one was for Newcastle. And I don’t know what health and safety would have felt about all this because as children they had to muster at St Johns Church Hall which was at the top of the steps down to the railway station just where our school was. And that’s where they had to muster. And of course they all had guns and things. They were going off to France or somewhere.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And they used to let us carry their guns for them [laughs] I can, I can always remember trudging up the road with this gun on my shoulder, you know. And I think, you know health and safety would have a fit now wouldn’t they?
DK: They probably would.
EW: And they gave us sixpence each you see.
DK: Yeah.
EW: For carrying the guns.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: But sadly, after the war ended Mac, who was the chappie from Newcastle he became a long distance lorry driver and he called in on us one day to tell us that Mac, not Mac the other lad. I can’t remember his name.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: But he didn’t make it.
DK: Oh.
EW: He never came back so —
DK: He was killed in Europe then.
EW: Yes.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Yes. And so that was one thing. But another point was that we used to go out collecting ‘hips. Rosehips. Picking rosehips because you could take them to a central point and they’d give you so much a pint for these. And they used to make rosehip syrup for the babies.
DK: Right.
EW: Because orange juice was unobtainable and of course they needed vitamin C.
DK: Right.
EW: So that was the only way they could do it. So we used to collect those and we also, my sister and I it’s hard to believe now because I don’t think there are any streams around here that are healthy.
DK: Yeah.
EW: But there was one that was kind of. It was up Harlaxton Road which is on the road to Melton Mowbray. And they, there was a stream there and there was watercress growing in it. And my sister and I used to go and pick it and bunch it and sell it for the Red Cross.
DK: Right.
EW: And of course we were all saving for aeroplanes and all sorts. You know. There were big target things on the Guildhall with the picture of a Spitfire. You know, you were making money to buy them.
DK: This was the Spitfire Fund.
EW: Yeah.
DK: The Spitfire Fund. Yeah.
EW: And so those sort of things we did. And collect newspapers. And another thing I remember, I think the worst thing I remember about saving stuff was that we had pigswill bins at the top of the street.
DK: Right.
EW: Well, the stench sometimes was disgusting and they used to come and collect it about every other day you know. And all this waste food went off. I felt sorry for the pigs actually. But I suppose they boiled it down.
DK: Yeah.
EW: But that, that and when the pig swill lorry had been oh God it’s, the smell lingered forever you know in the street. And they did, when the war first started they came around collecting any old aluminium saucepans you’d got or —
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: And they, I mean St Wulfram’s Church, the big church you know that was all railings all around it and of course they cut all those down. Everybody’s metal gates went.
DK: Yes. Yeah.
EW: All the fences. Everything was melted down, you know.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Because really —
DK: Allegedly.
EW: We were totally, yes. Supposedly.
DK: Because they said it was the wrong type of metal apparently. So —
EW: Oh. Did they?
DK: Allegedly, it’s gone, it’s down a mine in Wales.
EW: Oh, is it. Oh, my God.
DK: All the saucepans and things.
EW: What a shame.
DK: Tell the story again.
EW: Yeah. Well, I don’t know about that, I suppose that’s —
DK: I don’t know if it’s true or not.
EW: Well, lots don’t know a lot of things happen like that because they didn’t really know.
DK: Yeah. It was a propaganda thing, wasn’t it?
EW: Yes.
DK: To make you feel involved.
EW: That’s right. Yeah.
DK: Yeah.
EW: I can remember the man coming around and teaching you how to work at a stirrup pump.
DK: Right.
EW: You know they used to put one end in the bucket of water.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And you sort of pump this thing up and down and it was supposed to, I don’t think it would have put anything out but —
DK: No. Can you remember much of the damage around Grantham?
EW: Oh, I can, I’ve got a book actually.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Which you can see.
DK: Oh right. That’s Grantham’s war years.
EW: It’s very difficult to get it now. It’s out of print.
DK: So, just for the recording it’s, “Grantham. The War Years. 1939 -45.”
EW: That’s right.
DK: “A pictorial insight.” by Malcolm G Knapp.
EW: Yes.
DK: Right.
EW: If I see another one I’ll buy one and —
DK: Yeah.
EW: Donate it to them. Yeah.
DK: I’d like a copy of that. I’ll look out for it myself.
EW: Yes.
DK: See if I can get a hold, get a hold of a copy.
EW: You mostly find them in charity shops.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Because when people die, people take all their belongings in.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And that’s [pause] but as I say oh and I can, another thing I remember is Gracie Fields came —
DK: Oh yeah.
EW: To Grantham. And she was, there was on the High Street we had a huge water tank which was a reserve water tank in case they hit the water mains and that was on one side of the town green and we, I used to have to go that way to go to school.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Well, my friend and I we knew that she was coming and she, she put her head out of a hairdresser’s window across the road from the Guildhall and she was singing out of the window. And of course my friend and I, we were enthralled you know because Gracie Field was famous then you know. And we stopped and listened and of course when we got to school we were very late so we got detention. But it was worth it. And also —
DK: So there’s a Wings for Victory.
EW: That’s the one. Yes. Yes. That’s —
DK: Yeah [a picture there] Yes.
EW: Yes. That’s and that’s the Guildhall there. Yeah.
DK: So there’s quite, quite a few pictures of the damage here, isn’t there?
EW: Oh yes.
DK: The railway line in particular.
EW: Yes. Now that was another thing. The railway line. When this bomb, this plane dropped a bomb he was trying to hit the railway lines but he missed and hit the station goods yard. The bomb didn’t go off. Which is probably as well for our school otherwise —
DK: Yeah.
EW: I think it would have been very badly damaged. And needless to say they moved the school out later on. Somewhere a bit more safe.
DK: Yeah. Horses there.
EW: Yes. Yeah. Yeah. I know. Yes. They used to deliver everything with horse and dray.
DK: Yeah. Sorry. You were saying.
EW: Yes. When he dropped the bomb in this good yard as I say it didn’t go off and the next day at school, oh the chappie went in. That’s right. The chappie went in to, bomb disposal chappie went in to detonate, you know to take the —
DK: To defuse it.
EW: Defuse it.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: And sadly it did go off and killed him. And so of course the next time around at school in the playground the boys had all got, you know the little match boxes you used to get? The Bryant and May match boxes. They cut a hole through the bottom and the tray and they put a piece of cotton wool inside it and they pricked their finger to get some blood. And then they would put their finger, their thumb through this hole in to this cotton wool.
DK: Right.
EW: And then they were going around the playground saying, ‘Do you want to have a look what we found?’ You know. And it was pretty grim but I mean that’s what we did.
DK: A thumb.
EW: And I said, you know, ‘Where did you find that?’ ‘Oh, in the station goods yard.’ You know. And I mean it was a bit macabre but that’s how you lived. I mean —
DK: Yeah.
EW: As you got older, as I got older I got I was more scared because I knew what was happening. And sadly they tried to bomb St Vincent’s. I expect you’ve heard of St Vincent’s.
DK: Yes. The 5 Group Headquarters.
EW: Yes. That’s right. Well, they, they missed. Which is perhaps a good thing for for that but they hit Stuart Street and they brought most of Stuart Street down.
DK: Right.
EW: And also they hit a shelter dead on and all of the people in the shelter were killed.
DK: Oh dear.
EW: That was awful.
DK: Can you remember, you mentioned that Grantham was a centre of the RAF bases. Can you remember much about that RAF activity over and around Grantham?
EW: Yes. The RAF have always sort of been a bit more special I always think because people respect the RAF.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Quite a lot. Because it’s difficult even now to get into the Royal Air Force. You’ve got to be a bit more intelligent than most.
DK: Yeah.
EW: But having said that it was basically more the Americans that caused the bother.
DK: Right. Right.
EW: Than, than the RAF. I mean we used to see a lot of the RAF but they were never around for that long because they were on airfields outside of Grantham.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: You know.
DK: Yeah.
EW: But having said that I think the Americans did cause a lot of trouble, because they came over here and they still had this apartheid attitude.
DK: Yes.
EW: To the black Americans.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And I’m afraid a lot of the pubs in Grantham had masses of fights and things going on between the black and the white Americans.
DK: Really?
EW: Yeah. And the white Americans were horrible to them.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Even in a war they were horrible to them. And I mean if a girl in Grantham went out with a black American well it was terrible you know. These, the white Americans called them sluts and all sorts.
DK: Oh dear.
EW: But quite a lot of, of Grantham girls married American.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Airmen and soldiers.
DK: Did you personally know any that married Americans?
EW: I didn’t know them. No.
DK: No.
EW: Because I was too, really too young —
DK: Too young. Yeah.
EW: To fraternise with them.
DK: Yeah.
EW: You know.
DK: You didn’t have any neighbours that that were —
EW: Oh yeah. There was a lady. A girl, a girl called, I think her name was Eileen Dawson. She married a GI.
DK: Right.
EW: And went to America.
DK: And went to America. As a GI bride.
EW: Yes, and another, well another friend of mine, her, she was, she was, she was slightly older than me and what used to happen with some of the young girls in Grantham the young eighteen, nineteen, twenty, they had, laid buses on to take them on a Saturday night to Alconbury which was an American air base.
DK: Yes.
EW: And so this friend of mine, Jean she married a GI chappie. Well, I didn’t know at the time that he was a native Indian.
DK: Oh right.
EW: And she had a daughter with him and afterwards when the war was over she went over there to live. Presumably to live with him and when she got over to America he lived on a Reservation.
DK: Oh.
EW: And of course you can imagine that life on a Reservation was not very good.
DK: Yes. That must have been a bit of a cultural shock.
EW: Absolutely.
DK: Yeah.
EW: So of course she came back again and they were divorced. And her daughter was born stone deaf.
DK: Right.
EW: And, but she looks exactly like an Indian squaw. She does honestly. She’s a lovely girl but she does look exactly like an Indian squaw. But having said that —
DK: And is she still alive?
EW: Yes.
DK: Still here?
EW: Yes. She’s still alive. Yeah. They’re both still alive. Yes.
DK: And still living in Grantham, are they?
EW: Yes.
DK: Oh right.
EW: Well, they live, I think they lived in Gonerby which is just a little village at the top of the hill.
DK: Yes. Yeah.
EW: It’s not far away and, but do you remember when Cilla Black used to do that, “Surprise. Surprise” show.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: Well, this girl this daughter was on it.
DK: Oh right.
EW: And they arranged for her because she’d never met her father, you see. She arranged, they arranged for her to go to America to meet her father.
DK: Right.
EW: However, she only stayed about a week instead of a fortnight because she didn’t like him.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And she didn’t like the, she didn’t like where he lived.
DK: Yeah.
EW: So she came back again to Grantham but that was a shame really because you know they thought they were doing a really good thing sending her there.
DK: It’s often the way though isn’t it?
EW: It is. Very often. Yes.
DK: No doubt she had a picture of her father and it just wasn’t the same.
EW: Absolutely. And it wasn’t the same.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Well, of course it was a few years afterwards because she was, she must have been in her twenties when she went over.
DK: Right.
EW: But I don’t think she’s ever married. The girl. The daughter. But yes, I mean, and a lot and another girl who lived up near to my school she married a GI. But not all of them found it what it, what they, I mean because the lads used to embroider stories about they came from this, you know.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And they had that, and their parents were rich. And when they got their it was a different story. So a lot of them did come back but I mean some of them couldn’t afford to come back.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Because obviously they went very cheaply over there and, you know once they were married they used to get married here but a lot of the American lads used to spend time with Sheardowns, the farmers. They are sort of, well Peter Sheardown, they had a big farm sort of around the Bottesford area and they used to have, entertain these Americans and give them Sunday lunches and things you know. And even when, sometimes even now some of the American soldiers, oh they’re getting scarce now.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Because they’re all dying off but the ones that can come over and they visit them. Because I work for Cancer Research, I have done for thirty years and Mrs Sheardown works with me. So you know she was telling me all about the, her mother in law used to have all these Americans there.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: And feed them up because a lot of them were lonely obviously and they sort of came to England. It must have been a culture shock for some of them.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Because England didn’t have what they’d got. And we were short of food.
DK: Yes.
EW: Yeah.
DK: Yes.
EW: But I know sort of talking about food I, before the war I used to love pineapples. Pineapple chunks. And of course you couldn’t get them because they were bombing the, or submarining you know torpedoing the ships. And I went to this birthday party and I saw on the table this bowl which I thought was pineapple chunks. And so I took a really big bowl full because I thought oh I haven’t seen any pineapple chunks for years. And I took this big lot. Well, it was disgusting. She’d cut a marrow into cubes and put yellow colouring and pineapple flavouring in it.
DK: Oh dear. Oh dear.
EW: And it was absolutely ghastly. And that taught me a lesson I’ll tell you. Not to, not to be deceived about what you were eating in the war. It was very difficult because things weren’t quite what they seemed.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And it I had to eat it because I daren’t leave it because I’d been so greedy. Served me right. Taught me a lesson. Just check what you’re eating. But —
DK: Can you remember, going back to the Air Force again about the bombing raids of our planes going out on —
EW: Oh yes. I, I because we used to go to bed obviously and in the middle of the night mostly the siren would go and my mum used get us to go in the shelter because they built all the brick shelters down the side of, one side of the road.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And they went because our street was a hill.
DK: Right.
EW: And so they went down in you know rotation. One a bit higher than the other. And they all smelled of wet concrete and whatever else.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Somebody had been in there. And they weren’t, and they weren’t very pleasant. But I don’t know why looking back now and knowing what happened to that other shelter with all the people in it I think you were safer staying in your own house really.
DK: Yeah. Yeah. And can you remember our planes at all when they were flying out to Germany?
EW: Oh yes. Oh definitely.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And we always recognised the German planes.
DK: Right.
EW: Because I, they used to, they didn’t sound like our planes.
DK: Right.
EW: They used to chug chug chug.
DK: Yeah.
EW: That was the sort of noise they made. And you always knew when it was a German plane and when they were our planes, and I, we used to watch them sometimes going over and you’d sort of, ‘Please go over. Please don’t turn around and come back,’ you know, because you knew they were one a, they had a specific target.
DK: Target. Yeah. Yeah.
EW: You know. To hit.
DK: Yeah.
EW: But there was another story that I was told. My cousin lived in London and next door to her was a Jewish couple. And when my two oldest girl were little I used to go and stay with my cousin and the children used to go around and see who they used to call Auntie Ackerman. And her name, her husband’s name was Ackerman.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And he was obviously a Jewish man. But he was with I don’t know whether it was MI6 or MI5. Something.
DK: Oh right.
EW: The ones that used to do the spy catching.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And he said that he caught loads of spies in Grantham.
DK: Really?
EW: Because there was so much going on here with all the airfields and they knew that that raid was being planned at St Vincent’s.
DK: Yeah.
EW: So that’s how they tried. You know, they tried but unfortunately they missed. Well, fortunately for the pilots.
DK: Yeah.
EW: They missed St Vincent’s and hit Stuart Street and brought it down. It was dreadful. And killed all the people in the shelter.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And as I say they never managed to hit the railway lines.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Although they tried. But of course after this particular incident in the school, the school was moved to I think they went to a sort of an old house that was a big house.
DK: Right.
EW: That was —
DK: Requisitioned.
EW: Yes. Requisitioned for them in Grantham. But when, after we had, one night we had a terrible raid and we didn’t have time to get into the shelter because the three pips had gone. And my mother lived in a terraced house on Grantley Street which is as I say was near the station. And we used to, it was before the days when, ordinary people didn’t have refrigerators.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: And she used to have a cellar and on the, as you walked down the steps of the cellar there was a long slab. A cold slab.
DK: Yes.
EW: As they used to call it. But it was solid brick until you got to the bottom and then there was a kind of alcove like that taken out of the wall and my mum used to keep the saucepans in there originally. And so she put some blankets in there and some pillows and she shoved us in there. And when I think about it now I think we could have been a sandwich of bricks.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: But you don’t think about that until afterwards, you know.
DK: So just moving on then can you remember the war coming to an end and —
EW: Yes.
DK: And the big changes around that.
EW: Absolutely.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Yes. I was hoping that the war was going to end on the 4th of May because that was my birthday.
DK: Right.
EW: But it didn’t. It didn’t end until the 8th I think it was, wasn’t it?
DK: Yeah.
EW: When it had finished.
DK: VE Day.
EW: And I can remember sort of being out in the street with friends and we were all excited but we didn’t really know what was going to happen next because obviously they were still fighting in Japan.
DK: Yes. Yeah.
EW: And it was [pause] I was of course thirteen. Well, with my mum being quite a Victorian lady I wasn’t allowed to go with all the girls.
DK: No.
EW: To have a knees up in town, you know. But that’s what happened. Everybody went barmy because all the lights came on and —
DK: Yeah.
EW: People hadn’t, I mean children who were born before, when the war started had never seen lights in the street.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: And, and what have you but it was I think everybody went barmy really.
DK: Yeah.
EW: I think it was such a relief but thinking back I think I must have been a bit of a child who was, who looked at what was happening to other people.
DK: Yes.
EW: Not the people that were enjoying themselves but those people that had lost sons and husbands that were never going to come back.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And I can remember feeling sadness because they weren’t. They wouldn’t be able to go out and celebrate.
DK: They couldn’t join. Join the celebrations. No. No.
EW: Join. No. And as I say it was, it was a time when everybody stuck together. Everybody helped everybody else.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And its, it doesn’t happen anymore. Not, not most of the time. I mean, no, no way in that period of the war time would anybody be lying dead in a house and nobody notice.
DK: No. No.
EW: Which is what happens today.
DK: It does unfortunately, doesn’t it?
EW: So I think, but living through a war like that taught you to appreciate everything you had after that because it was a deprived time. And I mean the dentist is quite happy because I’ve still got my own teeth. And I said, ‘Well, that was because we didn’t have any sweets,’ because —
DK: Right.
EW: You know, sweets were on ration.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And when I went to school we used to go to the little shop next to the school and buy penny carrots and the lady used to peel them for us and we used to eat those instead of sweets. Yeah. And we did have another visitor, quite an important visitor to Grantham and we all had to go out in the street with flags and things and it was General Montgomery.
DK: Oh right.
EW: He came here.
DK: Do you remember seeing him?
EW: Yes. Oh yes. He came up the street in his, you know he had sort of like a vehicle that was specific to him.
DK: Right.
EW: I’ve see that vehicle. It was in a caravan show in the NEC once.
DK: Yeah. it’s a big green thing.
EW: A green van.
DK: Yes. I think —
EW: Yeah.
DK: Yes. I think I know what you mean.
EW: Yeah.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And I can remember we were all waving like mad because Monty was really a hero in a way.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Because he was a very, he didn’t please everybody.
DK: No.
EW: Especially the old generals that were making a mess of everything. He was, he was a man who knew what he wanted to do. And I think him and Rommel respected each other.
DK: Yes. Yeah.
EW: In a way.
DK: Yeah.
EW: So, but Grantham really was in the midst of it because of all the airfields.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And —
DK: Do you, do you remember, did you visit any of the airfields at all or do you remember going past them?
EW: Well, we’d go past them.
DK: Going past them.
EW: Yeah. Because you weren’t allowed on.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Civilians weren’t allowed to go on but Spitalgate was, we used to, it sounds daft really because Spitalgate Aerodrome is on Somerby Hill.
DK: Yes. Yes.
EW: And Spitalgate Hill is the other one next door.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: So we, my mum used to take us because we did go for walks in those days, and we went up there and we used to pass the aerodrome and we used to see all the planes and everything but it was just —
DK: Yeah.
EW: Normal for us to see all this stuff, you know.
DK: It’s just an army barracks now, isn’t it?
EW: Yes. But it’s closing down.
DK: Closing down. And going to be another housing estate.
EW: Yeah. Absolutely. Yeah. Absolutely disgusting, isn’t it?
DK: Yeah.
EW: And I mean that place was, it was for the RAF to start with.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Then it was, went to the WAAFs. The WAAFs were there because that’s where I went as a Guider.
DK: Right.
EW: To see Lady Baden Powell.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: On that airfield. And then of course it turned into [pause] I can’t remember what the people are that’s there now? It’s the —
DK: It’s the Duke of Gloucester barracks now isn’t it? I think.
EW: Yes. It is. Yeah. Prince William of Gloucester.
DK: Oh, Prince William of Gloucester, is it? Yeah.
EW: Yes. Yeah.
DK: But not for much longer. As you say there’s a —
EW: No. It’s going.
DK: Going to be a housing estate.
EW: Yeah. So that’s sad.
DK: More houses.
EW: Its, oh I can’t remember what they call it. It’, it’s s got a name now.
DK: Yeah.
EW: It’s for a specific kind of soldier. I don’t know quite —
DK: It’s not the Engineers is it?
EW: No. No. My husband was in the Royal Engineers.
DK: Right.
EW: And he, he was, he went in for his National Service just after the war finished. But of course then he had to stay much longer because as an engineer, a Royal Engineer, he was on the Berlin Airlift.
DK: Oh right. Ok.
EW: Because the Russians had blockaded.
DK: Yeah. Berlin. Yeah.
EW: Berlin. And they wanted the lot and everybody said you’re not having it, you know. And so of course he was, as an engineer he was helping with the airlift but he was also digging up the airfields in Berlin to stop the Russian planes landing.
DK: Right.
EW: You see, that’s what they had to do. They decimated a lot of —
DK: Yeah.
EW: The runways.
DK: Make it, make it difficult.
EW: To make it difficult for them to come. Yes.
DK: If the Russians had invaded.
EW: Yes. Absolutely and —
DK: So was he out there for the whole of the Berlin Airlift then?
EW: Yes.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Yes. So he had to stay in longer because they used to do two years or something like that.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And he got, had to stay longer until it was all finished.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Because the people were starving. I mean, they had nothing. Nothing could get in so we were dropping it from here which we —
DK: Yeah.
EW: We hadn’t got that much.
DK: Yeah.
EW: But we were giving what we could and other countries the same. And they were bringing them in by plane and dropping them in to Berlin because I know that the Germans started the war but they were like the civilians were like us. They just had to put up with what was happening.
DK: The enemy now was the Soviet Union, wasn’t it?
EW: Absolutely.
DK: That was the point. Yeah.
EW: That’s when all this Cold War started.
DK: The Cold War started.
EW: And strangely enough when my husband and I went over to East Germany —
DK: Right.
EW: After they’d just, they brought, I think they started taking the Wall down in November and we went in April. And I bought a piece of the Berlin Wall.
DK: Oh right.
EW: And I had the last one of the last leaflet stamp for Checkpoint Charlie.
DK: Right. So that was ‘89 1990 was it?
EW: ’90. Yes.
DK: ’89. ’90.
EW: Yeah 1990.
DK: 1990.
EW: My husband was stationed in Germany. He was stationed in Hamelin because that’s where the Royal Engineers base was.
DK: Right. Right.
EW: And when we went over in 1990 it was still there. The Royal Engineers were still there.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Because of course there was such a lot of work to do. I mean, you saw when I was in East Germany it was horrible. It was. Especially I went to a place called, I think it was called Erfurt. Erfurt or something like that.
DK: Yes. Yeah.
EW: And that’s where all of these horrible prisons were where they tortured people. And they still had the Kaiser’s train.
DK: Right.
EW: With his initials on it and everything.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And Hitler had made people plant fruit trees all along the grass verges so that when his troops marched through they could have something to eat. And, and they were still there.
DK: Yeah.
EW: But it was a terribly black. Everything was black and polluted.
DK: Yeah.
EW: It was awful.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And those silly little cars they used to have.
DK: Oh, the Trabants.
EW: That’s it. They used to have them on poles with advertisements on.
DK: Yeah. Yes. I’ve seen them in Berlin. Yes.
EW: Yeah. And of course you see in the Potsdamer Platz which is the centre of Berlin where all the big embassies used to be that was flat. Absolutely flat.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: But I think they have rebuilt since.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And —
DK: Berlin is a lovely city now.
EW: It is. Yes.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: I’m sure. I’ve not been back since. And my husband had never seen the other side of the Brandenburg Gate.
DK: Right.
EW: And so —
DK: You can just walk straight through now.
EW: Absolutely.
DK: Yes. Yes.
EW: And but it was very, very badly polluted. Everything had been neglected and they had no paint. They couldn’t paint their windows or anything so they had to keep, as they rotted they had to take them out and make a new window frame. But they could never buy any paint.
DK: Paint. Yeah.
EW: To paint it with. And we stayed at a hotel which was where the Eastern Bloc leader used to stay.
DK: Yes.
EW: And it was supposed to be a five star.
DK: Eric. Eric Honecker.
EW: That’s it. Honecker. Yeah.
DK: Yeah.
EW: But no way was it. No way was it a five star. But you had to accept the fact that it was only just, the Wall had only just come down and in fact all of it wasn’t down.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And we walked along it on the eastern side and some of the slogans and the paintings were very provocative. It’s a wonder they didn’t all get shot. You know. But you know that’s how it was.
DK: Yeah.
EW: But it was sad because you’d walk up a street and there would have been a bridge. A railway bridge across the street.
DK: Yes.
EW: And they just chopped them off.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And no man’s land, you know.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And people’s houses that happened to be on the borderline. They had to have all their windows blocked up.
DK: Yeah. Because you could get through to the other side.
EW: Yeah. Yeah. It was awful.
DK: I’ve seen film. There’s film. People escaping, isn’t it? They’re climbing out the window.
EW: That’s right.
DK: Because they’re pointing to the west.
EW: Yeah. That’s right.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And of course as soon as they found out what people were doing.
DK: They bricked the windows up.
EW: They put the windows up. Yeah. But it must have been a horrible place to live because we did a little tour of, of Germany and they said. ‘Oh, this is the place where a little, a boy a young boy was trying to escape and he got tangled in the barbed wire.’
DK: Yeah.
EW: And they killed him.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And then they showed us the place where the officers who tried to shoot Hitler or blow him up.
DK: Yes. Yeah.
EW: They were executed.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And they showed us the place where that was done. You know.
DK: It’s an interesting city. Berlin.
EW: It is.
DK: It’s got so much history.
EW: And of course while, when we were there in that Potsdamer Platz we said, the man said to us, ‘Oh, that is the bunker over there.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Where Hitler was. So I said, ‘What, what will you to do with it? I said, ‘I hope you don’t leave it there.’ He said, ‘No. We won’t.’ He said, ‘It’s going to be destroyed.’
DK: Yeah.
EW: ‘Because,’ he said, ‘We still got a lot of neo-Nazis in Germany.’
DK: There’s the Jewish Memorial on top of it now.
EW: Is there?
DK: On the site. Yes. Yeah.
EW: Oh, well that’s wonderful.
DK: Yes.
EW: Yeah. That’s wonderful. Yeah. We had a chappie came to talk us at Chapel Guild not long ago and he was, he was a Polish man and he was a Polish Jew. And him and his mother and his brother and sisters all got dragged out of their beds in the middle of the night and put on a train. A cattle wagon.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And his father he never saw again ever. And his mother survived and he survived but the rest of his family were —
DK: All killed.
EW: Yeah. And they just walked out of their house. They had to leave everything.
DK: Yeah.
EW: They were allowed to pack one small suitcase about like that.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And I mean he’s, he wrote a book about it.
DK: Right.
EW: And he, a wonderful man you know. Doesn’t, he doesn’t look for sympathy.
DK: No. No. No.
EW: At all.
DK: It’s just but it’s important he’s, he’s telling this story isn’t it?
EW: Absolutely. That’s why, yeah. That’s why we had him.
DK: Some people don’t believe it, do they?
EW: No. Well, they don’t choose to believe it.
DK: Yeah. Exactly. Yes. Yes.
EW: Yeah. But as I say, I mean I can remember. I can always remember saying to my mother when the siren went in the middle of the night, ‘I hate that Hitler.’ You know.
DK: Yes.
EW: Because I hated getting out of bed because it was —
DK: Yeah. It becomes quite personal then, doesn’t it?
EW: Oh absolutely.
DK: You’ve got a figure of hatred then. Yes.
EW: That’s right. Yeah. Well we used to, we used to draw derogatory pictures of him and all sorts you know. I mean if ever they we would have to have got rid of them otherwise we would all be shot. You know. And the sad thing was that one of my aunties had the name of Cohen and of course that is a Jewish name.
DK: Yes. Yeah.
EW: Now why she had that name I don’t know because we’ve never gone back into her history. But I think we’d all have got the chop straightaway because we were related to her.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And —
DK: Just going on to your daughters. You said both of your daughters joined the Air Force then.
EW: Yes. Yes. They did.
DK: Was that anything to do, do you think with the stories you told them when they were younger or is it a choice they made?
EW: It’s the choice they made. I think basically they’ve always, the girls have always been, they’ve always known what they wanted to do. My eldest daughter she was, went to college and did business studies.
DK: Right.
EW: And things like that and she’s been working for Grantham Council for years and years because she’s sixty two now. My eldest daughter. And my second daughter, Karen she’s a state registered nurse and she wanted to go in the RAF.
DK: Right.
EW: But if she’d have gone in the RAF she would have gone in as an officer because she was state registered.
DK: Right. Yes.
EW: And David her husband he was in the RAF but at that time he was only a corporal.
DK: Oh, right. Yeah.
EW: And you couldn’t marry.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Beneath your rank. I think it’s changed now.
DK: Yes. Yeah.
EW: Yeah. But at that time. So she didn’t go in because obviously she wanted to marry David so he went in the RAF and he’s, he’s been all over the place and he was with Number 1 Fighter Squadron to start with.
DK: Right. Right.
EW: But as I say he, he’s out now but he’s working for this firm of surveillance.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: And he’s got people going all over the world you know and sometimes they have a bit of a rough ride, you know. If somebody doesn’t like the look of them they take their passport and say there’s something not right in it and —
DK: Yeah.
EW: They have to sort it out otherwise those folks would be incarcerated forever, you know.
DK: So your two daughters that did join the RAF.
EW: Yes.
DK: What did they, what were they doing?
EW: Well, my that daughter there. That’s Louise. She’s number three daughter I call her.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: She went into the dental trade.
DK: Oh ok.
EW: And she ran dental units in the places that she —
DK: Right.
EW: Was posted to.
DK: And the picture there is her in the Falklands then.
EW: Yes.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Yeah. That’s she getting an award. And so, but she loved it. I mean I thought they’d chuck her out after the first week because she’s terribly untidy. And when I spoke to one of the officers in, she was, she was based in Cyprus for three years.
DK: Right. Right.
EW: At Akrotiri. And I said to this officer, I said, ‘I thought you might have thrown her out by now.’ She said, ‘No way,’ she said, ‘She’s brilliant at her job.’
DK: Yeah.
EW: And I thought they were talking about somebody else. And of course —
DK: How many years was she in for then?
EW: Twenty two.
DK: Right.
EW: Yeah. And she’s out now but she’s running a big dental unit in Nottingham which is a seven dentist practice. I think there’s going to be more now because they’ve just built a big extension. And it deals with the students at the university.
DK: Oh ok.
EW: So she’s, she runs that. She’s the dental manager there.
DK: So daughter four. She was also in the air force as well then was she?
EW: Yes.
DK: Yeah. And what —
EW: She was my youngest one.
DK: Right. And her name was?
EW: Helena.
DK: Helen. Right.
EW: Helena.
DK: Helena.
EW: And that was Louise.
DK: Right. And what was she doing then?
EW: Well, she went down. Now, where did she go first? I can remember where Louise went first. She went to RAF Valley.
DK: Right.
EW: Because the girls in her flight gave her some cardboard sheet with cotton wool because they said all you’ve got down in Anglesey is sheep.
DK: Yes.
EW: But we did go down quite a lot to see her.
DK: Yeah.
EW: They had a big air show down there.
DK: Right.
EW: And then she, where did Helen, Louise go next? I think they wanted somebody to go to the, to the Shetland islands.
DK: Oh.
EW: And so she offered to go because nobody wanted to go there.
DK: No.
EW: Because it’s a bit sort of bleak and however it was all changed and she ended up in Cyprus for three years.
DK: Right. Very nice.
EW: Yes. And then her husband came back and said that, ‘We haven’t had a holiday for ages.’ I said, ‘You’ve just had a three year holiday on the government,’ you know.
DK: Yeah.
EW: But they don’t look at it like that.
DK: No. So daughter number four then. What did she, she wasn’t a dentist?
EW: No. She went in as, she was going to go in, they wanted her to go in as air traffic control.
DK: Right. Ok.
EW: And when she was at the Grantham and Kesteven Girl’s High School they used to send the girls in sixth year down to do you know whatever they wanted to do they could go and see what was involved.
DK: Yeah.
EW: Well, they sent Helena down to Chivenor.
DK: Right.
EW: I don’t know whether you’ve heard of Chivenor but it was a —
DK: It’s Devon isn’t it?
EW: It’s a training area.
DK: Yeah.
EW: For air traffic control.
DK: I think it’s Devon. Isn’t it?
EW: I don’t know. I’m not sure where she went.
DK: I think it’s that way.
EW: I can’t remember. But I think it sounds like.
DK: Yeah.
EW: You know. So, anyway she went down there and she came back and she said, ‘Mum, I cannot do that job.’ She said, ‘You’re stuck in this little room and it’s dark and you’ve got all these blips on the screen.’
DK: Yeah.
EW: She said, ‘It would drive me mad.’ So anyway in the end she went in as a medic.
DK: Oh right.
EW: And she, she did the, she was in the department at Biggin Hill where these pilots used to go down for their medical.
DK: Right.
EW: Before they had the interview at Cranwell.
DK: Right. Yeah.
EW: Which is why they decided a long time after that it would be cheaper if they had the medical unit.
DK: In Cranwell.
EW: In Cranwell, you know.
DK: Yeah.
EW: It’s a bit like —
DK: Save all the trouble then.
EW: Shutting the stable door after the horse has gone you know. And so anyway that’s what happened. They made a unit in, in so of course she came down and of course she was living quite close to home but she, she did get married and she had a married quarter there.
DK: Right.
EW: But this one. She, well where was she? Where’s that? There’s a hospital somewhere. An RAF hospital. Where’s? I’m trying to think where it was.
DK: Yeah.
EW: This is the trouble when you get old. Your memory goes, you know. Over things that happened recently. I can remember what happened years ago.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: But she had to come out of the RAF because she got married and she was expecting a baby.
DK: Right.
EW: And of course they wouldn’t have married women then in the RAF with children.
DK: Oh right. Ok.
EW: So after about, I don’t know how many years she was in but she came out. She had to come out. Well, you’ve heard of the Underwood brothers have you.
DK: Yeah
EW: Yeah. They were big rugby players.
DK: Oh yes. Yeah. Yeah.
EW: Well, Rory Underwood was a pilot.
DK: Yes. Yes.
EW: And his wife was an officer in the RAF. Well, they chucked her out as well because she’d got a child. So she took the case to —
DK: Court.
EW: Court.
DK: Yeah.
EW: I presume it was the European Court.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And they said that the RAF had no right.
DK: Oh right.
EW: To throw out women when they’d got children because all they had to do was build a creche.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And the mothers would pay for the children to go in the creche. And of course there were schools for English children because in Cyprus Louise’s children went to school there.
DK: Yeah.
EW: But as I say, so of course after, she had another child after that when she was still out.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And eventually Rory Underwood’s wife took as I say took them to the court.
DK: Court. Yeah. Yeah.
EW: And it was ruled that they couldn’t chuck women out. So she went back in.
DK: Oh right.
EW: And she had to do another seven weeks basic training which was a bit of a shock and of course since then they’d moved the WAAFs down to Halton.
DK: Yeah.
EW: So she went down to Halton because she was at Swinderby the first time.
DK: Yeah.
EW: But of course they closed that down now. That’s all gone.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: Both of my girls passed out at Swinderby.
DK: Right.
EW: And then of course she had to come back and she had to pass out at Honington but they did get the flight award and there was an older chappie in there as well and he was called dad and because she’d been in before these young girls called her mum. So they had a mum and dad in their flight.
DK: Yeah. Dear.
EW: So we went to see her pass out again.
DK: So she did twenty two years then.
EW: Yes.
DK: And your other daughter. How many years did she do?
EW: She did nine.
DK: Nine.
EW: She did nine really because she got married and her husband was training as a structural engineer and of course he couldn’t move.
DK: Right.
EW: Because he was doing his chartership.
DK: Right.
EW: And so she said to them, ‘Can you, can I be based in Lincolnshire?’
DK: Yeah.
EW: And of course you know what the RAF’s like. You know, if you ask for something they send you the furthest away.
DK: The exact opposite. Yeah.
EW: Yeah. So they said no. So she said , ‘Well, I have to come out then because,’ she said, ‘My husband is, he can’t move.’
DK: Yeah.
EW: And I’m not moving without him. So that was it. so she said well I’m coming out because she had to decide because she was, she was getting promoted and once your promotion comes in you’ve got to be posted.
DK: Yeah.
EW: And so of course it was either or. And I mean she could have been sent to Lossiemouth or anywhere miles away.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
EW: And so she came out but since then she’s worked in a bank and she’s now working for, well she runs a business that they look into the debt, people’s —
DK: Yeah.
EW: Bank accounts if they’re letting houses.
DK: Right.
EW: You know. The rents. To make sure that they’ve got enough money to pay. She’s doing that now but I think she regretted coming out.
DK: Yeah.
EW: But she really didn’t have a choice because —
DK: No.
EW: But funnily enough those two girls married two brothers.
DK: Oh right.
EW: So we have two brothers and two sisters married. Yeah. But —
DK: Ok then. That’s, that’s an hour been recording here so we’ve moved on a bit from the wartime years.
EW: Yes. We have.
DK: I’ll stop it there.
EW: Yes.
DK: But thanks very much for your, your contribution there. I’ll —
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 Eileen Widdowson
Creator
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David Kavanagh
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2018-07-31
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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Sound
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AWiddowsonFE180731, PWiddowsonFE1801
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00:58:55 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Civilian
Royal Air Force
United States Army Air Force
Wehrmacht. Luftwaffe
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Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
Description
An account of the resource
Born in Peterborough, Eileen Widdowson’s father died when she was quite young, which resulted in the family moving to Grantham. With the East Coast main railway line and also a munitions factory, Grantham was a regular target for the Luftwaffe. Eileen recalls life at school, describes being told to sit under desks or sitting in the cloakroom with her coat over her head during air raids. On one occasion she had been collected from school by her mother and they had become trapped in a street when a brewers dray horse had bolted, blocking their exit. She recalls looking up at the diving aircraft, and being close enough to be be able to see the pilot’s eyes through his goggles. Workers from all over the country came to work at the munitions factory, and Eileen remembers sleeping three to a bed, to allow workers to be billeted in the spare bedroom. She collected rose hips and watercress to be sold, with profits being donated to the Red Cross. Grantham was a social destination for the many nearby airfields, and although there was little trouble with personnel, she does recall how white and black Americans would often fight, her first experience of racial discrimination. Before marrying, her husband had enlisted in the Royal Engineers after the war and was stationed in Berlin during the Berlin Airlift, working on the airfields. Two of her daughters later joined the RAF. Eileen gives accounts of the experiences of all three, including one of her daughter’s rejoining the RAF after a change in legislation, initially being forced to leave when becoming pregnant.
Contributor
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Ian Whapplington
Julie Williams
Conforms To
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Pending revision of OH transcription
African heritage
bombing
childhood in wartime
entertainment
home front
Red Cross
shelter
-
Dublin Core
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England--Grantham
Title
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Grantham [place]
Description
An account of the resource
This page is an entry point for a place. Please use the links below to see all relevant documents available in the Archive.
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1058/18690/LPackhamG1214349v1.1.jpg
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Dublin Core
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Title
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Packham, Geoff
G Packham
Description
An account of the resource
Nine items. An oral history interview with Pilot Officer Geoff Packham (b. 1922, 161076, 1214349 Royal Air Force), photographs and documents. He flew operations as a pilot with 550 Squadron from RAF North Killingholme and became a prisoner of war after being shot down in June 1944.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Geoff Packham and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-08-25
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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Packham, G
Transcribed document
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Transcription
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RECORD OF SERVICE
UNIT DATES FROM TO
[Unit] REC. CENTRE CARDINGTON [From] 18.1.41 [To] 20.1.41
[Unit] BRIDGNORTH [From] 21.1.41 [To] 4.3.41
[Unit] ACKLINGTON [From] 4.3.41 [To] 31.5.41
[Unit] BABBACOMBE [From] 31.5.41 [To] 14.6.41
[Unit] TORQUAY. 3. I.T.W [From] 14.6.41 [To] 1.8.41
[Unit] WILMSLOW [From] 1.8.41 [To] 20.8.41
[Unit] 31 E.F.T.S. CALGARY [From] 20.8.41 [To] 16.10.41
[Unit] 31 E.F.T.S. DE WINTON [From] 16.10.41 [To] 24.10.41
[Unit] 34 S.F.T.S MEDICINE HAT [From] 24.10.41 [To] 30.1.42
[Unit] NO 1 "Y" DEPÔT. HALIFAX . [From] 10.2.42 [To] 28.2.42
[Unit] BOURNEMOUTH. 3 PRC. [From] 10.3.42 [To] 25.4.42
[Unit] HARROGATE. 3 PRC. [From] 25.4.42 [To] 4.5.42
[Unit] 12 AF.U. GRANTHAM. [From] 4.5.42 [To] 29.6.42
[Unit] [deleted] 297 Squadron. [/deleted] AFU HURN [From] 30/.6/42 [To] 7/8/42
[Unit] HGCU. Brize Norton [From] 7/8/42 [To] 12/8/42
[Unit] LONG NEWTON. GLOS. [From] 12/8/42 [To] 20/9/42
[Unit] HGCU. BRIZE NORTON [From] 21/9/42 [To] 13.10.42
[Unit] C.G.S. SUTTON BRIDGE [From] 13.10.42 [To] 31.10.42
[Unit] 7 AG.S. STORMY DOWN. S.WALES [From] 1/11/42 [To] 20/11/43
[Unit] 18 O.T.U. FINNINGLEY [From] 23/11/43 [To] 26/12/43.
[Unit] RAF. WORKSOP. [From] 26/12/43 [To] 29/3/44.
[Unit] RAF. LINDHOLME. [From] 29/3/44 [To] 8/4/44
[Unit] 1667 CON. SANDTOFT. [From] 8/4/44 [To] 13/5/44
[Unit] L.F.S. RAF. HEMSWELL [From] 13/5/44 [To] 24/5/44
[Unit] 550 Squadron. Killingholme [From] 24/5/44
[Unit] No 61 RESERVE CENTRE DONCASTER [From] 29/10/51
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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Geoff Packham's Record of Service
Description
An account of the resource
A list, taken from Geoff's logbook, of RAF stations where he served or was trained.
Creator
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Geoff Packham
Format
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One printed sheet with handwritten annotations
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Log book and record book
Identifier
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LPackhamG1214349v1
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Acklington
England--Torquay
Canada
Alberta--Calgary
Alberta--De Winton
Alberta--Medicine Hat
England--Halifax
England--Grantham
England--Doncaster
Alberta
England--Devon
England--Northumberland
England--Yorkshire
England--Lincolnshire
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
Angela Gaffney
1667 HCU
18 OTU
550 Squadron
Advanced Flying Unit
Air Gunnery School
Flying Training School
Heavy Conversion Unit
Initial Training Wing
Lancaster Finishing School
Operational Training Unit
RAF Bridgnorth
RAF Brize Norton
RAF Cardington
RAF Finningley
RAF Hemswell
RAF Hurn
RAF Lindholme
RAF North Killingholme
RAF Sandtoft
RAF Stormy Down
RAF Sutton Bridge
RAF Torquay
RAF Wilmslow
RAF Worksop
training
-
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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
A name given to the resource
Valentine, John
John Ross Mckenzie Valentine
J R M Valentine
Description
An account of the resource
674 Items. Collection concerns navigator Warrant Officer J R McKenzie Valentine (1251404 Royal Air Force). The collection contains over 600 letters between JRM Valentine and his wife Ursula. It also contains his log book, family/official documents, a book of violin music studies and other correspondence. Sub-collections contain family photographs, prisoner of war photographs and a scrapbook of newspaper cuttings of events from 1942 to 1945.
He joined 49 Squadron in April 1942 and flew 10 operations on Hampdens. The squadron converted to Manchester in May when he completed two further operations. His aircraft was shot down on the Thousand Bomber raid of 30/31 May 1942. Five crew, including him bailed out successfully and became prisoners of war. The pilot and one air gunner were killed when the aircraft rolled over and crashed.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Frances Zagni 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
2018-09-06
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
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Valentine, JRM
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
Start of transcription
1251404 AC2 Valentine
Squad 25 Hut 40
E. Flight
2 Squadron 2 Wing
R.A.F. Station
Bridgnorth.
[underlined] Tuesday 26/11/40 [/underlined]
Dearest Ursula,
I shan’t send this off tonight but I have a few minutes to spare and I can’t think of a better way of employing them than is writing to my own darling wife.
Today has been another gorgeous one – just like those lovely days we had together last week end. The weather has infact, [sic] been really good since last Friday and it does make life so much more pleasant. This morning we had practice AR warning. We had to dress in our anti gas clothing – smelly oil skin capes & hoods – and run out into the fields because the shelters aren’t finished yet. Then we had to lie flat on our stomachs so that our massed white faces wouldn’t be seen from the air and stay with our noses buried in the damp wet grass for thirty minutes Fortunately, the sun being in a genial mood, it wasn’t too nasty and one or two fellows boasted that they even slept.
After lunch we had 30 minutes to shave for the second time today. Change into our best pants, polish our boots (ordinary ones) for about the sixth time & our buttons for the second time – all this for an inspection by our C.O. in preparation for the real show on Thursday. Either I was up to standard or I am rather insignificant because the old blighter hardly even looked at me. After that we were all told to have a hair cut irrespective of the length of our whiskers and so my scalp has been shaved again. I haven’t been in the R.A.F. for six weeks yet but already I have been shorn four times. Three of them here. However, this last one is for Thursdays display and therafter [sic] I ought to be allowed to grow a little more wool to keep the draughts out. This evening I had a lovely shower a real warm soaker in which I had twenty minutes of pure joy.
There are rumours of a minor catastrophe. Our washing is sent to a laundry at Birmingham and gossip has it that the laundry has suffered a fate
[page break]
similar to our furniture. This hasn’t been confirmed yet so that we don’t know what they will do about replacing our losses, if any. If the “usual channels” are employed to produce fresh issues of pants, shirts etc. we shall positively “stink” before they arrive. I myself sent shirt, towel, pants & vest and as we have only two of each and my existing ones have been in service for over a week already I shall soon be unable to go anywhere without advertising my presence. [deleted] [indecipherable word] [/deleted]
Have you done your four “fatigues” yet? You know what I mean – the consequences of being my wife – shelter, Beehive, nurse, book keeping. Do let me know what progress you make in each direction.
We are all quite excited about our next station. The Sergeant refused to tell us if we had been posted for the week end let alone drop any hint as to our destination. He said that the information has to be kept secret until the last moment to prevent the enemy from learning any troop movements & deducing theories therefrom. However, there have been fairly broad hints that we shall be leaving here before or at the end of the week. I shall be overjoyed when the time for departure comes for although I am fairly contented now especially since the delightful break which last week end provided. I shall always remember this camp as the place which has, at times, made me more miserable than ever before in my life.
It is amazing how different I have felt since I saw you. It seems to have altered my whole outlook and although it was a great wrench to have to say goodbye to you, I have come back here in a much more cheerful frame of mind, thoroughly refreshed by the joy of seeing you and living with you for two heavenly days.
My green pyjamas which I am now wearing have cooked almost as much derision as the red ones. They are advertised as the “girlish green” ones – but I think that it is only jealousy that inspires the scorn of my fellow internees.
And now dearest, I will shut down for the night. Tomorrow I shall add a few lines & then send it off. Sleep well won’t you darling, and [underlined] do [/underlined] look after yourself. Before I forget, many thanks for buying my ticket back here. I couldn’t have managed it myself. I hope it hasn’t impoverished you.
Sleep well, dear XX.
[page break]
[underlined] After lunch Wednesday 27/11/40 [/underlined]
My Dearest Ursula,
While waiting for another of those intimate and rather rude inspections, I will dash off another few lines. Your parcel of socks & fruit arrived this morning and gave me a most unexpected and pleasant surprise. I had not anticipated hearing from you for at least another two days, so that I was more than delighted to hear from you. It was typically sweet of you to write so soon after your return. The fruit was very welcome but alas is no longer. The apple disappeared on its arrival and the orange after lunch.
The postings for our flight have just been announced [deleted] by [/deleted] but mine was not included. It seems that all bar Aircrew are posted for Friday morning and that about 30 of us will be left behind. We may be posted any time, but after our passing out. I shall try to glean a little more information about my probable wherabouts [sic] next week. In the meantime, I suggest that you and Barbara make any arrangements you like for her few days leave and if, by any chance, I should learn something about myself, I will try to ‘phone and see if we can fit anything together. Mind you, I think it extremely unlikely that we shall be able to arrange anything so don’t hope for too much.
The reason for the “rude” inspection this afternoon is that there has been a minor outbreak of skin disease in one of the huts of this Flight. They have all come from one hut (not ours) but as a precaution the M.O. is coming round to inspect us all shortly.
This morning we had another inspection in preparation for tomorrow – this time from the Officer in charge of our Wing. I, as usual, attracted no special attention, this of course was not a medical inspection but one of kit, deportment, polished boots & buttons etc.
So far, today has been reminiscent of the first few days of our stay here. We have been on parade twice and each entailed about 1 hours standing in the cold – and today it is cold. The rest of the time we have spent awaiting events in these unheated huts and very shortly, when the M.O. turns up, we shall have to undress to display ourselves to him. You can imagine that we are all pretty chilly just now – I hope that there won’t be another outbreak of colds & coughs for most of the chaps are getting rid of these early ones.
In your letter, you more or less put your fingers to your nose & point them at me over my hint that you should transfer £4.2.8 to Sundries a/c.
[page break]
However I merely shrug my shoulders in a derisive fashion and laugh at your ignorance. It doesn’t matter two hoots if you have only £7.10.0 in House a/c and have spent more than that sum. It will be rectified by the next monthly credit of £4, so please dear make the entry just for my sake no matter how stupid you think I am. You see, according to my calculation £4 per month should be more than adequate for household expenses and the £7.10.0 I gave you represented the first months £4 plus £3.10.0 for unpaid bills. If you are slightly overspent at any time, the position ought automatically to right itself by regular monthly provisions.
I am so glad that you liked Priors Marston & that you enjoyed last week end despite the trouble with Irene. As I told you, I loved every minute of it that I spent with you and after reading your description of how you felt I think we may safely conclude that we get on pretty well together.
Look here, darling, it is getting very cold in this ice box and my hand is beginning to seize up so I shall stop now and return to the attack when the temperature is a little more to my liking
[underlined] Wednesday evening [/underlined]
Now to a final attempt to complete this letter. I have just returned from ‘phoning you. It was grand to hear your voice again and to speak to you but as is usually the case on such occasions I didn’t quite know what to say to you in the limited time at our disposal. As I told you, the cost of the call will be charged against you on the next account. It should be 1/4 but I don’t know if there was any excess on account of time.
Shortly after I had stopped writing this afternoon on account of the cold, we were told to commence undressing for the “rude” inspection at 2.30 and being by now thoroughly subdued, we obeyed like good airmen. As I said, it was chilly in any case but stripped to the waist with a jersey flung over the shoulders was infinitely worse but like that we had to wait until at 4.15 the Corporals came to the hut to tell us that the F.F.I. (as it is called) was postponed until tomorrow. Would you beleive [sic] it? A whole afternoon wasted, most of it half stripped, in an unheated hut on a cold afternoon near the beginning of [deleted] Nov [/deleted] [inserted] Dec [/inserted] ember. Of course we were furious & were giving vent to our annoyance by a display of mad rowdyism when a fellow with a sheet of paper in his hand entered the hut. It was the notice of our postings on Friday. We had previously been depressed because we were the only fellows from
[page break]
[circled 2]
the flight not to be posted and this news coming as it did after the futile & chilly wait sent the fellows almost mad with joy and excitement. They behaved like children at school, dancing shouting nay shrieking even kissing one another in their delerium. [sic]
As I told you, we are to be sent to Grantham. I haven’t been able to look it up on a map but I have passed through it by train many times and know it to be much more accessible from London than this place. I should also imagine that it will be nearer Priors Marston but I am guessing on that score. It is on the main L.N.E.R route to Scotland and is a fair sized town. Of course I can’t tell you yet whether we can arrange anything for next week for you and Barbara but I will see what I can do and will ‘phone if possible during the week end. I imagine though that Grantham won’t be nearly so pleasant as Bridgnorth for a few days holiday. It is much more like a city and the country in the neighbourhood, if I remember correctly, is much flatter and far less interesting. I think that this town is in Lincs. and not far from the bulb growing country which should give you some idea of the scenic possibilities.
This will be my last letter to you from Bridgnorth. I am heartily glad to get away from the camp because at times I have loathed it intensely. I hope the new place will be better but we have no idea what it will be like nor do we know if we shall be in a camp or in billets.
We are still anxiously awaiting news of our washing. It hasn’t turned up yet and another story is circulating that the laundry itself has not been bombed but the water supply to it was hit last week. If this is true, though mind you, I don’t beleive [sic] it any more than any of the myriads of rumours that float about, we ought at last to get our things back even if they are unwashed. I hope so, because the situation will soon be very serious, my present shirt for instance has seen at least ten days service
Nearly all the boys are in Bridgnorth tonight celebrating the news of their forthcoming release from this unpopular spot. I imagine that we more sober spirits in the hut will have to put up with a deal of noise & possible violence when they return. Some of them have been drinking every evening this week – on Monday they were particularly noisy on their return and two of them were violently sick soon after they got back to camp.
[page break]
Tomorrow they will have another celebration to mark their last night here and that promises to be the rowdiest of all. What a pity it is that they can’t give way to their feelings in a less objectionable (from my point of view, at least) manner. Sometimes one or two of them ask for special permission to stay out late while we go to be [sic] normally at 10-15. Then at midnight they will come blundering in, shouting stupidly and kicking chairs etc without a single thought for those who are striving to sleep. [deleted] Yet [/deleted] On Tuesday night I apparently coughed a lot during the night and woke up my neighbour who is one of the noisy crew. On the following day he remonstrated with me several times often quite rudely and made me very wild with him for his utter disregard for anyone else.
I haven’t yet had a letter from Barbara. Has she sent one? I mention this only because you said something about it and I heard that a letter arrived for me last Saturday and was sent back to the Flight Office. Enquiries for it have since been made but no satisfaction obtained. On Monday one from Stewart arrived so it may be that it was his which came on Saturday.
I think I have disposed of everything on my mind now, dearest. I can’t expect a letter from you alas until I give you my new address unless there is one in the N.S & N which you told me about on the ‘phone. Could you please send me a few stamps when you write?
I hope that we shall be able to arrange for you to come up to Grantham on Monday but I think it unlikely, so don’t turn down any opportunities that may present themselves to Barbara & you for occupying her holiday. Give her my very kind regards and tell her to look after you as well as you try to look after her. She is jolly lucky in having you to tend to her wants and to pour out all her woes upon, but I think she realises it.
I hope you manage to arrange something satisfactory about the shelter and that you are able to fix up with Nurse Kerr too.
Until I write again or we meet again (happy thought) all my best love – you darling girl.
I am [indecipherable word] of affection for you
John.
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 John Valentine to his wife Ursula
Description
An account of the resource
Writes of very good weather, daily activities and problems with laundry. Exited about next station although they have not been told about it for security reasons. Postscript adds that postings have now been announced but he was not on list and 30 aircrew would be left behind. Mentions outbreak of skin decease. Continues with financial discussion and domestic matters. Mentions that posting finally listed and he will be sent to Grantham. Wraps up with more mention of activities.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1940-11-26
Format
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Six 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
EValentineJRMValentineUM401126
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--Shropshire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1940-11-26
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Tricia Marshall
Publisher
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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.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
John Ross Mckenzie Valentine
military living conditions
military service conditions
RAF Bridgnorth
training
-
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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
A name given to the resource
Valentine, John
John Ross Mckenzie Valentine
J R M Valentine
Description
An account of the resource
674 Items. Collection concerns navigator Warrant Officer J R McKenzie Valentine (1251404 Royal Air Force). The collection contains over 600 letters between JRM Valentine and his wife Ursula. It also contains his log book, family/official documents, a book of violin music studies and other correspondence. Sub-collections contain family photographs, prisoner of war photographs and a scrapbook of newspaper cuttings of events from 1942 to 1945.
He joined 49 Squadron in April 1942 and flew 10 operations on Hampdens. The squadron converted to Manchester in May when he completed two further operations. His aircraft was shot down on the Thousand Bomber raid of 30/31 May 1942. Five crew, including him bailed out successfully and became prisoners of war. The pilot and one air gunner were killed when the aircraft rolled over and crashed.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Frances Zagni 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
2018-09-06
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.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Valentine, JRM
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[crest]
POST CARD
[postmark]
[postage stamp]
M [underlined] rs [/underlined] Valentine
Lido
Tenterden Grove
Hendon
N.W 4
London
[page break]
Thursday.
Darling Ursula
Just a very hurried card written in Bridgnorth P.O. I have put a parcel. (without any letter) of sock etc. It was tied up in a hurry but I hope it arrives safely. Your N.S [indecipherable letter] N has not arrived & I shall have left after the next post, but doubtless it will reach me sometime. We leave early tomorrow for Grantham & I have to arrive before 4 a.m. Will let you know my new address as soon as possible. The passing out parade went off without incident today in fact it was a complete farce, being little more than an inspection by the boss of the camp.
Strictly speaking I am confined to camp tonight & am thinking hard for a convenient excuse for the guard when I return. It is a bitterly cold night & having come to Bridgnorth without gloves, I have very little feeling in my hands – hence my scrawl. I am extremely glad to be leaving here – I never want to see it again. Lots of love darling John.
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
Postcard from John Valentine to his wife Ursula
Description
An account of the resource
Post card from John Valentine to his wife informing her that he has sent a parcel. He tells her that he is leaving for Grantham early the following morning and that he will write again when he has a new address. He ends by saying that he is extremely glad to be leaving Bridgnorth and never wants to see it again.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1940-11-28
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One page handwritten post card
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
EValentineJRMValentineUM401128
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--Shropshire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
England--London
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1940-11-28
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Margaret Carr
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.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
John Ross Mckenzie Valentine
military living conditions
military service conditions
RAF Bridgnorth
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1281/19110/EValentineJRMValentineUM401130-010002.2.jpg
f97b90e8f03c0ea3a5997af93cc134f0
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1281/19110/EValentineJRMValentineUM401130-010001.2.jpg
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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
A name given to the resource
Valentine, John
John Ross Mckenzie Valentine
J R M Valentine
Description
An account of the resource
674 Items. Collection concerns navigator Warrant Officer J R McKenzie Valentine (1251404 Royal Air Force). The collection contains over 600 letters between JRM Valentine and his wife Ursula. It also contains his log book, family/official documents, a book of violin music studies and other correspondence. Sub-collections contain family photographs, prisoner of war photographs and a scrapbook of newspaper cuttings of events from 1942 to 1945.
He joined 49 Squadron in April 1942 and flew 10 operations on Hampdens. The squadron converted to Manchester in May when he completed two further operations. His aircraft was shot down on the Thousand Bomber raid of 30/31 May 1942. Five crew, including him bailed out successfully and became prisoners of war. The pilot and one air gunner were killed when the aircraft rolled over and crashed.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Frances Zagni 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
2018-09-06
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.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Valentine, JRM
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
Start of transcription
[post mark]
[postage stamp]
Mrs Valentine
Lido
Tenterden Grove
Hendon
London.
NW4
[page break]
R.A.F. Station
Grantham
30-11-40
Darling Ursula
Sorry I can’t let you have my permanent address. We have discovered
that our present quarters are only temporary. I am in the middle of writing a letter giving a little more detail of my activities & it should reach you shortly after this. I feel very dubious about the possibility of being able to arrange anything for Mon - Wed. We are still [underlined] completely [/underlined] in the dark about our duties & times therof. [sic] Will let you know everything as soon as I can.
Fondest love John
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
Postcard from John Valentine to his wife Ursula
Description
An account of the resource
A postcard from John Valentine to his wife Ursula written from RAF Grantham. He tells her that this is not his permanent address and that they are still in the dark about future duties.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1940-11-30
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One page handwritten postcard
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
EValentineJRMValentineUM401130-01
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
England--London
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1940-11-30
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Alan Pinchbeck
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.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
John Ross Mckenzie Valentine
military service conditions
-
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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
A name given to the resource
Valentine, John
John Ross Mckenzie Valentine
J R M Valentine
Description
An account of the resource
674 Items. Collection concerns navigator Warrant Officer J R McKenzie Valentine (1251404 Royal Air Force). The collection contains over 600 letters between JRM Valentine and his wife Ursula. It also contains his log book, family/official documents, a book of violin music studies and other correspondence. Sub-collections contain family photographs, prisoner of war photographs and a scrapbook of newspaper cuttings of events from 1942 to 1945.
He joined 49 Squadron in April 1942 and flew 10 operations on Hampdens. The squadron converted to Manchester in May when he completed two further operations. His aircraft was shot down on the Thousand Bomber raid of 30/31 May 1942. Five crew, including him bailed out successfully and became prisoners of war. The pilot and one air gunner were killed when the aircraft rolled over and crashed.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Frances Zagni 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
2018-09-06
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.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Valentine, JRM
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
Start of transcription
[inserted] Now permanent [deleted] [underlined] Only Temporary [/underlined] Don’t reply to it [/deleted] [/inserted]
[brackets] 1251404 AC 2 Valentine John
MQ 44
12 F.T.S.
R.A.F. Station
Grantham, Lincs.
Sat, 30-11-40 [/brackets]
Dearest Ursula.
I am afraid this will be but a very brief not to let you know my address.
_
1
[underlined] 1 [/underlined].
I had no sooner written the first two lines than a Sergeant popped in his head to say that we are not allowed out of camp until further notice, possibly tomorrow, so that I might be able to write a longer letter but you may not receive it so soon.
Our unanimous opinion of the R.A.F is just at rock bottom now. The waste of time is positively incredible while there appears to be no cohesion whatsoever in the activities of various departments.
As I hinted in my last letter, we commenced our last morning at Bridgenorth [inserted] by rising [/inserted] at 4 am with breakfast at 4.30. We were then given rations and paraded, many hundreds of us, in the large gym at 5.15. There we were herded into sleepy groups according to our respective destinations and led outside [deleted] f [/deleted] to form a long column of men. Luckily large lorries were in attendance to relieve us of our kit bags and after depositing these we stood awaiting developments for nearly an hour. It was a bitterly cold morning, with a thick deposit of frost and ice on all puddles and streams which abound in Bridgenorth camp. Then we moved off for the station where another wait ensued before we boarded a special train for Birmingham. Arrived there, we changed stations now carrying our kit and forming a disgustingly ragged column while we marched through the main streets of the city. London has little to show Birmingham in the way of bomb damage for we saw a great many nasty looking wrecks during our march. Having reached the station we had another agonising wait, crowded in hundreds on one of the smaller platforms. We managed, despite dire threats from our N.C.Os to buy a cup of tea at one of the refreshment rooms which partially restored the circulation and temper. They did not want us to leave the platform for fear that our next train, already much overdue, should leave during our absences
[page break]
However, it did at last come, and we literally had to farm ourselves into the very limited room at the disposal of the R.A.F. I was unfortunately unable to get away from the door of one of the Pullman type of carriages and, there being no heating on, became exceedingly cold during our journey through Derby to Nottingham. At the latter station we had to change stations again and as before we must have presented a sorry picture straggling through the main streets of the city (holding up all the traffic) burdened with our kit bags and forming an uneven column of men none of whom was in step with any other. At the new station, too, we had a wait of over an hour until the train [deleted] from [/deleted] for Grantham picked us up and deposited us [deleted] at [/deleted] there at 4.30. Again we waited while an R-A-F van came down for us but shortly after 5 pm as dusk was falling we reached this camp. It was a perfect evening, clear as a bell, while the sun set with a gorgeous display of crimson What time we waited and shivered, for it was [deleted] [indecipherable word] [/deleted] really cold, until we were lead off for a meal. It was now 6 pm. and apart from our rations given us at [deleted] Birmingham [/deleted] Bridgnorth, we had eaten nothing since 4.30 am. Nevertheless our meal consisted of a thin slice of cold [indecipherable word] sausage & some bread and jam – nothing to drink. When we had swallowed this snack out into the cold again we went and by now it was pitch dark. However waiting meant nothing to us now so we managed to endure another hour and a half in the hope that at least someone knew of us And even thought that we might like a bed for the night. Eventually someone did come along and his solution of the problem was to comb the camp in search of a bed belonging to someone on leave and to deposit one of us there for the night. I landed in a barrack tenanted by cooks & butchers and I slept in the bed and sheets of a butcher on leave. He must have been a tough customer for he had only three blankets and I spent a very uneasy night trying to forget the cold and doing my best to snatch an hour or two of sleep.
This morning was gorgeous but cold. There was a very severe frost last night and [deleted] there was [/deleted] any amount of ice was knocking about in the early part of today when we resumed our waiting. After breakfast we trooped over to the Medical Dept where after 90 minutes wait we had an F.F.I. & then began the longest hold up since our arrival here. We had fondly imagined that someone would know that we had come and would be deputed to house us, provide us with blankets sheets and toilet paper, [deleted] and [/deleted] tell us of our duties, times of meals the hours we would work and answer any questions we might like to ask. Yes we imagined all that but what
[page break]
[circled 2]
did we get? Nothing! Absolutely nothing. After the F.F.I. we asked an N.C.O. at the Medical Dept. what was the next step. He said he hadn’t the slightest idea, but suggested that we went to the Camp Warrant Officer. This we did and found our irritable Flight Sergeant to whom we addressed ourselves. His irritability was matched only by his lack of interest in our plight but he did condescend to say “Get into ranks of three and wait.” This was precisely what we had been doing for days but nevertheless we obeyed. After some time a clerk opened a window from a nearby room & took down our names, numbers etc and while each of us in turn went up to the window to give this information gusts of lovely warm air issued therefrom into our cold and pinched faces. When this operation was concluded the window was shut and we went on waiting. In time a Sergeant came out and called the names of 8 of us (not mine) who formed into a separate little squad. The Sergeant then disappeared & both squads of us started waiting again. Then another Sergeant came out and said “You spent last night in the married quarters didn’t you” We said “no” and after goggling at us in a rather nonplussed fashion he shook his head in disgust and took himself off. We, of course, went on waiting. After half an hour more had elapsed he reappeared, put the same question, got the same answer, again looked as if he didn’t believe us and again disappeared. Still we waited feeling very, very chilly especially about the feet. Finally out he came once more and bid the remainder of the original group to follow him, leaving behind those eight whose names had first been called. We were led to the nearest of the Married Quarters, [deleted] now [/deleted] rows of little immature brick built maisonettes. M.Qs aren’t used for their proper purpose in war times but they are still building them here. We were ushered into one only just finished, in fact it has been slept in but one night. There was no coal or central heating and no electric light. H & C water is laid on but the H function only if coal is available. Having [deleted] been [/deleted] parked us, our guide made himself scarce while we were left without any further instructions about what we were to do and when or what not to do and when not to do it It was by now, of course, lunch time and we had spent the whole morning idle & neglected standing in the open air stamping our frozen feet and swearing violently, so we hastened to the canteen for some corpse reviver in the form of cooked food. After dinner, we returned to our billets to see what could be done about heating them. I told you that they were newly built and there were others still in course of construction so that there was plenty of builders material lying about in the form of planks and wooden posts. We had no axe, of course
[page break]
but we managed to scrounge quite a considerable stack of wood of all shapes and sizes and somehow we were able to break it into a size more or less useful for the purposes of a fire.
The rooms in these quarters are small. The one in which I have been placed accomodating [sic] only three but I have got the two nicest of the whole bunch of fellows as my room mates so that if we three can stick together when we are moved I shall be perfectly content with my companions. One of them is the farmer, Bowack by name and an exceptionally pleasant fellow, quiet conscientious and sensible with quite a cheery personality. The other, Thompson by name is also of a quiet and rather gentle disposition. Bowack is married, seems to have plenty of money and is followed (sometimes preceeded) everywhere by his wife in their car.
During the afternoon, a Sergeant looked in to tell us that these quarters are only temporary & that we have to parade at 8 am tomorrow, Sunday. It is not beyond the bounds of possibility that we may then be told something of the work in store for us and of the [deleted] times [/deleted] hours which we shall have to work. This Sergeant also left hurricane lamps because, as the billets are not blacked out, it is impossible to use anything but candles or hurricane lamps. It is by the light of this lamp that I am now penning this.
At half past three I went for tea after which all the fellows pushed off for the town while I stayed behind to look after our fire and to write to my little wife. After a while Bowack came in because he had been posted for guard duty from 5 pm to 7 am. This gave us some idea of the jobs in store for us. He went into the canteen for tea and I joined him thus having the whole meal twice over. I was dreadfully afraid lest someone should recognise me as having been served once already. It is a very serious crime in the R.A.F to appear twice for the same meal but it worked for me this time and I came out of the cook house after the second effort feeling positively bloated.
By this time my circulation had been [deleted] fe [/deleted] completely restored so that I was able to take up my pen again in a far more agreeable frame of mind. I started this letter about 2.30 and it is now 7.15. I have had literally scores and scores of interruptions so please forgive me if I jump from one thing to another. Another disadvantage is the extremely poor light provided by a meagre hurricane lamp. I have to suspend it within a foot of the paper to be able to see [deleted] over the [/deleted] anything at all.
This camp, so far as I can gather is only a Flying Training School (F.T.S.) and we are here to guard it. The meals are worked differently from Bridgnorth where we had to queue until
[page break]
[circled 3]
the appointed hour when all joined in one mad, frantic and glorious rush to be served first. Here, breakfast is from 6.30 to 8.30, lunch 11.30 to 1.30 & tea 3.30 to 5.30 and the men come in when they are free. It was thus that I was able to have tea twice over. The canteen isn’t as good as Bridgnorth but the food seems reasonably good and I think that I shall be satisfied with it. If we are to be on guard at all hours of the day and night I shall have to toughen myself considerably for I have caught another cold as a result of the many hours of waiting during the last few days.
Our passing out parade at Bridgnorth was a complete farce, there must have been 500 men on it with the result that the stock of rifles was inadequate and much to our releif [sic] we went on to the parade without arms. We were lined up on the square before the Commanding Officer of the Camp arrived. He was new to the Camp and our N.C.O.’s had been very worried about the extent of his examination. All he did was to march at breakneck speed up and down our ranks followed by a cortege of breathless junior officers and N.C.O.’s. He hardly seemed to look at us at all and when he had finished he took his stand on a small beflagged dais to take the salute. This meant our marching past him with eyes to the right and left on our return journey but I am sorry to say that the marching was atrocious, there being about 20 different steps in each column of men instead of one. However we “passed out” and after it bitterly regretted the hours spent on our ceremonial boots at which he hardly cast a glance. After duty on Thursday, I broke my confinement to camp by going to Bridgnorth to send you my parcel and to call on the aged widow to thank her for entertaining us to tea on two occasions, returned early to camp cleaned my boots etc & retired early because of the [deleted] early [/deleted] imminent rise at 4 am.
I can’t think of anything else to tell you dearest, but I won’t post this letter until tomorrow afternoon in case anything else happens. I hope you don’t get bored by these recitals of mine – please, please tell me if you do. Oh yes, there is one silly thing to tell you. One of our fellows has got 5 days leave. Yes five days and what for – to go home for his trumpet [underlined] and [/underlined] he was given a railway warrant too. While we were waiting as usual this morning an officer passed. Seeing us he said “Are you new arrivals” Receiving an affirmative answer he then enquired if any of us [inserted] had [/inserted] played in a dance orchestra in civil life. This particular fellow said that he was a trumpeter so the officer said he could go home for his instrument if he wished and enquired if 48 hours was enough. The chap had the sense to say that, although he lived only at Richmond, travel through London was very difficult
[page break]
nowadays. Whereupon the officer gave him 5 days leave. Can you Bloody well beleive [sic] it? Five days leave for a trumpet while I with a nice wife, five months gone can’t get anything.
That’s all now dearest – will resume tomorrow
Good night my darling with heaps of love from
John.
[underlined] Monday Evening 2/12/40 [/underlined]
My Dearest Ursula,
Once again I will have a go a [sic] this letter. It now appears that the address with which I started it is our permanent one so that I shall be looking forward to hearing from you a day or two after I have sent this off.
I am afraid that the R.A.F, or at least some sections of it, [deleted] are [/deleted] is in an infernal muddle. No one seems to have had the slightest idea of what to do with us here, why we have come, where we are to be housed or what we are to do for keeping ourselves warm during day & night. The married quarters in which apparently we are to live have beds & 4 blankets only but no coal, no light, no sheets, no pillows, no black out facilities, no wood, no brooms for sweeping out the place and no materials for cleaning basins & sinks, no hot water. Some of these things are “on the way” we understand but no promised time has been given. However we have scrounged a lot of builders planks etc. for wood which we have broken up by hand, we have been given hurricane lamps & we stick a blanket over the window for black out purposes. Of course the rooms are bitterly cold during the night and 4 blankets are really not sufficient. A further worry is the fact that all our spare clothing is still at the bombed laundry to which we sent it at Bridgnorth. Will you please be a darling and send me as soon as you can
[symbol] [circled 1] Pair of pants – my warmest
[symbol] [circled 2] Vest “ “
[symbol] (3) My “sweat suit” – brown trousers & jacket.
[symbol] (4) Clean tea cloth
[symbol] (5) towel – not an enormous one but not one of those silly little hand towels
[symbol] (6) Some more handkerchiefs
[symbol] (7) [indecipherable word]
My shirt of course is filthy but I shall just have to wear it until my other returns from Bridgnorth or I get issued with another
[page break]
4 We have [deleted] done [/deleted] been here for three complete days but so far I, myself, have not done the slightest stroke of work although a few have done all night guard duties. However, this morning we were taken on a tour of all the gun posts of the ‘drome and I gather that we are to be split into partners to man these posts. When that is done we shall do 24 hrs on duty & 24 off, but on the “off” day we will be confined to camp until 4.30. When on duty we will sleep by the guns in our clothes. All guns are in the open air and the crews of four of the posts sleep in tents. The men on the remainder sleep in dug outs and although they look cold and wet I hope I get one of them. The thought of sleeping in a tent at this time of year just doesn’t attract me.
The discipline of this camp is far more lax than that of Bridgnorth and we have been described as the smartest [deleted] cr [/deleted] squad to arrive here for many a day. I am dreadfully afraid that we shall slack off though for with baths difficult and no supervision of uniform and no means of cleaning out the billets it is not easy to maintain a high standard of cleanliness
I am in disgrace again and really it is all your fault. When writing to you on Saturday night I had to counter the very poor lighting provided. To do this I hung the hurricane lamp just above the fire and sat very close to it so that I could be as warm as possible & get the maximum light. I don’t remember doing so but I must have crossed one knee over the other and hung the toe of one boot too close to the fire. At any rate, the following morning I found a chunk of the welt of my boot missing. The only possible explanation which occurs to me is that I must have dried the boot until the leather was stiff and then in the blackout stumbled over something and broken off the missing piece. I took the boot in for repairs today but the official looked very dubious and said that he would have to consult with the boot repairer before letting me know if they could do the repair. If they can’t I shall be called for an explanation of the damage and possibly put on a charge for negligence. I shall learn tomorrow.
Yesterday evening, I went into Grantham to make a few enquiries at different hotels before I ‘phoned you. I wasn’t able to get anything cheap that looked good enough for you but there was accomodation [sic] available so I ‘phoned you to see what your intentions were. It was lovely to hear your voice again but I was very sorry that you didn’t come although it was probably the most sensible decision to make as Barbara didn’t seem to be very keen. Bowacks wife has been staying in the town for these few days. I met her last night
[page break]
when I had a [deleted] few [/deleted] drink with them while waiting for my ‘phone call to come through.
The food here is not quite up to the Bridgnorth standard but nevertheless quite satisfactory and there is plenty of it. I must be getting tougher already for the cold I anticipated after all the waiting about last week has gone already although I haven’t completely shaken off my cough yet. I feel very fit though and am quite looking forward to testing my constitution in the conditions under which we shall have to do our duties. At the moment it appears to me that they will be rigorous in the extreme. That reminds me, will you put Cousin Mays Balaclava helmet in the parcel. [symbol]
In [underlined] possibly [/underlined] a weeks time, I shall [underlined] probably [/underlined] know a little more about my duties and hours so that we might consider something for Barbara next leave. I imagine that my leave will be very scanty and I think that time off at Christmas is most unlikely. We shall have to do a 7 day week of course for these guns have to be manned whatever the day or season may be. However, I think it is a relatively safe job for there have been no attacks on this camp up to date.
It is much more interesting being at a place where there are aircraft about. There are hundreds of them here, taking off and landing day and night. It is quite easy to have a “flip” although I have failed twice through going up at the wrong time. [deleted] It [/deleted] The station exists only for training purposes but it is an advanced training camp using chiefly Avro Ansons (twin engine) and Fairey Battles. The night flying is actually done at a field two miles away as a precaution against enemy aircraft being attracted by the landing flares. We are allowed to wander anywhere we like in the hangars or on the drome and it is quite exciting to hear the noise of many propellors [sic] & to see planes landing & taking off at almost every minute of the day.
Well dear – I have written eight sheets all about myself. Having done them at odd moments I have probably bored you and repeated myself over & over again. I now want to hear from you and of you and all that you are doing and thinking. Don’t disappoint me.
I have just remembered. Please may I have 10/- and some stamps. I haven’t indulged in expensive living, but with this eternal waiting & a large appetite induced by the cold I have considerably overspent my wages since leaving Bridgnorth.
How are you my dear. Keep well & mind the bombs and love your affectionate husband John as he loves you xxxx.
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 John Valentine to his wife Ursula
Description
An account of the resource
Writes describing last day at Bridgnorth and difficult journey to Grantham. Mentions poor food and difficulty finding accommodation on arrival. Describes activities and frustration about no news of future. Accommodation now in married quarters, describes day and companions. Says camp is flying training school and they were to guard it. Describes farce of passing out parade at Bridgnorth. Continues with banter and complains about the RAF being in muddle with no one knowing what to do with them. Goes on to describe daily activity including going into Grantham to look for hotels. States it is interesting as there are aircraft about.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1940-11-30
Format
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Eight page handwritten letter
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Correspondence
Identifier
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EValentineJRMValentineUM401130-02
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--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
England--Shropshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1940-11-30
Contributor
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Tricia Marshall
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
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
John Ross Mckenzie Valentine
military living conditions
military service conditions
RAF Bridgnorth
training
-
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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
A name given to the resource
Valentine, John
John Ross Mckenzie Valentine
J R M Valentine
Description
An account of the resource
674 Items. Collection concerns navigator Warrant Officer J R McKenzie Valentine (1251404 Royal Air Force). The collection contains over 600 letters between JRM Valentine and his wife Ursula. It also contains his log book, family/official documents, a book of violin music studies and other correspondence. Sub-collections contain family photographs, prisoner of war photographs and a scrapbook of newspaper cuttings of events from 1942 to 1945.
He joined 49 Squadron in April 1942 and flew 10 operations on Hampdens. The squadron converted to Manchester in May when he completed two further operations. His aircraft was shot down on the Thousand Bomber raid of 30/31 May 1942. Five crew, including him bailed out successfully and became prisoners of war. The pilot and one air gunner were killed when the aircraft rolled over and crashed.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Frances Zagni 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
2018-09-06
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.
Identifier
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Valentine, JRM
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
No. 17 Wed. 4/12/40
MQ 44 12FTS RAF Station
Grantham, Lincs
My dearest Ursula A lovely surprise today. I knew that you couldn't have written to me here already but your NS&M arrived from Bridgnorth & a letter from you (I love you) was inside. Was I thrilled – I'll say. I was so glad to hear your news of the shelter & Bethune (your letter was written a week ago today) I hope that by now you will have made further progress with the ordering of materials for the shelter. I don't see why the man shouldn't be able to make it entirely waterproof but if it is impossible, tell him to do his best & let me know how things go. I certainly think that he will be cheaper than anyone else & if he knows anything about the work he ought to be able to do it as well as anyone.
We had a little excitement yesterday when a Junkers 88 visited us. It was a day of continuous fine drizzle with low cloud at about 3000 feet. The warning went in the afternoon & those of us not on guns (myself included) were sent to shelters where we sat for 20 minutes or so. The the All Clear sounded & we left the shelter only to hear the warning signal about 2 minutes later. Several of us thought that it would prove to be another fiasco so we hid behind our shelter where we couldn't be spotted by officers. In a few minutes the drone of an aircraft could be heard & then we saw him. What a thrill ! He was just about cloud level so he kept on appearing & vanishing as he flew out of & into the lowest clouds. Of course, he was quite low & flying in a straight line dead over the 'drome & camp. However, he appeared to take no notice of it & the camp guns (of which there are quite a number) withheld their fire for fear of disclosing anything of their positions or the nature of the thing they were guarding. We grew quite excited & shouted to all & sundry to open fire. However when he had passed the camp guns opened up from all quarters & we saw him surrounded by little puffs of smoke. Then suddenly he disappeared & all was quiet for a few seconds. Then he came into sight again over Grantham & flying in our direction. Guns opened up once more & the plane went into a shallow dive. Then we saw three bombs leave the aircraft & a few seconds later columns of smoke shot up from the ground. After completing his dive, he opened up his engines & roared towards us, rising all the time. The noise of gunfire was now terrific, the most thrilling sight being the hundreds of tracer bullets shooting past him & all around. However, although we shouted encouragement to our gunners, Jerry disappeared finally into the clouds, apparently unhurt. We have heard today that he was hit, & being unable to maintain his height, crashed a few miles away. We await confirmation of the story before believing it. One bomb hit a brewery but did little damage, another fell near a large factory & again was comparatively harmless while the third, a DA., exploded today killing the officer in charge of the bomb disposal party. It was my first sight of real action & has given me quite a bit of excitement.
I have now written a page & a half without a grumble so it is now time for me to start. This is a lousy dump indeed. After five days on the station I have yet to start on my duties although I have had a few half-hearted fatigues given to me (& others) not because they were really necessary, but just to give us something to do. Most of the time we spend awaiting the next meal & as far as effective work is concerned we are almost completely idle. For some reason or other I am the only one of the 24 who came from Bridgnorth who has not done any guard duty but the others have done only one turn of all night camp patrol or 24 hours on a gun post. My turn should come tomorrow & I pray that it is not one of the four guns, the crew of which sleep in a tent. It is amazing how the prevailing slackness of the camp infects one because when performing the few fatigues allotted me I have been as dilatory as any lazy slacker could be. It was partly due to the fact that I knew that the job was not really necessary & in any case I shouldn't have been told to do it & partly to avoid being given another silly job if I should happen to finish too soon. I have tried three times to get a flip in a plane but had no luck so far. Shortage of parachutes is the trouble – there are only a few spare ones available.
We still have no sheets, pillows, lighting etc. & the coal delivered yesterday is already exhausted. It is almost impossible to read or write for long in the light of the hurricane lamp, so apart from writing to you I spend a lot of time staring into the fire which we manage to keep doing with wood scrounged from somewhere or other. I am developing a horror of filth. My shirt, underclothes & handkerchiefs almost sicken me & I have to shut my eyes whenever I use my towel – it is absolutely black. Today I had my first bath since arriving here & there being no HW at our billets I went over to one of the barrack rooms. The water was merely tepid while the bath looked as if it had coped with 1000 men since its last cleaning. On account of the coolness of the water & dirtiness of the bath I performed my ablutions in the erect position, sitting down only for a hurried rinse at the end of the operation. Was it a wretched bath or was it? We haven't yet been provided with brooms or materials for cleaning our basins etc. so the quarters are rapidly becoming too dirty for my liking & as we never have hot water our hands are assuming the appearance of those of a chimney sweep. Nobody loves us, nobody wants us, nobody has anything for us to do, nobody is in charge of us, nobody....etc. We see nothing but a blank wall of ignorance about our prospects & it is obvious that we are not required & only a bloody nuisance to the Ground Defence Staff on the Station.
Incidentally that Staff must be the most inefficient body of bloody boobs ever told to do a job which is really quite an important one. 75% of them are on guns which they haven't the slightest idea how to use. They are never given instructions, the posts are never inspected, their uniforms & boots are disgustingly dirty, they wear odd scarves & gloves & sometimes no ties. The other day a Corporal visited a post. At least one member of the crew should always be on the lookout but instead some were asleep & the others all writing. When the Camp Patrol is on duty at night time the guards call into gun posts for cups of tea & a chat instead of marching up & down the 'drome boundaries. When the guard changes, all the patrols congregate at a central point in the camp thus leaving the whole camp & 'drome unpatrolled while the changing of the guard takes place. Ursula, it is so inefficient that I am thoroughly ashamed to be a part of it. Yesterday four of the guns were taken away & are not to be replaced for some days, but the posts are still manned by 4 fellows per post for 24 hours a day. Incredible isn't it? I had better stop or I shall start getting angry with you too – my dearest.
Last night Bowack & I went down to Grantham just to get out of the place. We went to a flick – Return of the Frog – but it wasn't worth the 1/2d which the seat cost. A London Angus member had a small part in it, David Kerr who went to school with my Father – you may have met him. After the show we had a modest meal - welsh rarebit & coffee. It was delightful to have something nicely served & such a contrast to the canteen here where there is plenty of food but it is thrown at one. Unfortunately the jaunt cost me 3/- altogether – 2 days pay! My finances are in a lousy condition & I pray that my appeal for funds won't fall on deaf ears. If we were busy, I shouldn't spend so much but with all this idleness I have spent a fortnight's pay (£1) in a week. It has got to stop. Darling – my eyes are tiring & I will cease fire for the night. I long for a letter from you in the morning – I really am longing for it. Goodnight my dear – lots of love, John
Thursday 5/12/40 My dearest Ursula, Your hoped for letter did not arrive this morning & I was terribly disappointed, but I expect that the post office is chiefly to blame for the delay. There is, too, the consolation that I will have a letter tomorrow. Today has been a fairly interesting one for we have spent the whole of it having a lecture on the Lewis Gun, interrupted only by a full scale Gas practice this morning & an Air Raid warning this afternoon. For some extraordinary reason, I have yet to do a duty on Camp patrol or at a gun post. All the other fellows have now done one duty, & some have even done two but my name hasn't been called at all. I must admit that I am not at all keen to be up all night patrolling the 'drome or to spend 24 hours in a remote corner of it sitting in a turf dug-out or spending my off hours sleeping in a tent so I am not going to point out to my superior officers that as yet I haven't done a single stoke of my real work yet.
Tonight our conditions in the billets are worse than ever for when we returned in the evening we found to our horror that all the hurricane lamps had disappeared. It is early closing day in the town & it was therefore impossible to buy candles but after an anxious half hour we managed to borrow one, by the light of which I am writing this. Unfortunately, it is only a 'Woolworths cheapest' & gives a poorer light even than a hurricane. Infuriated by the requisitioning of our lamps Bowack & I sallied forth at dusk determined to scrounge something that would give us a good fire even if adequate lighting were impossible. We took a tin with us & headed for the coke dump. We had previously noted that the very ample coke stocks were kept in their place by wire fences & that, at the back of the heap, a lot of coke had fallen through the fence. No one was about so we were able to gather enough coke for at least two evening's fires, the first of which is now warming us beautifully. We should get a little hot water from it too for our fire heats the system in the house. Up till now, having had only wood for fuel, we haven't been able to generate sufficient heat to make much impression on the HW tank. If you haven't already sent some, could I have a lot of handkerchiefs. It was stupid of me to have returned some to you but I had not anticipated the enormous requirements of my streaming nose & phlegm-producing cough. I ought to be using two handkerchiefs a day just now instead of one every two days so when you receive my dirty ones treat them very gingerly. They are of course filthy & their stench is abominable.
In a day or two your birthday will come round. How I wish I could be with you to celebrate it darling, but I fear that the fates are against it. With all my heart I wish to many many happy returns of 8th December & I pray that we may never again be apart when it recurs. I asked Mother to get & send you something which I hope you will like. If the articles in question should not fit, don't hesitate to let Mother know for I specially asked her to make arrangements for that eventuality. Every best wish & lots & lots of love & as many hypothetical kisses as you want. As soon as the King will let me I intend coming to see you to transform the kisses into the concrete form – that doesn't sound very inviting to you I know, but you ought to be able to hazard a guess at my meaning. Do you know that I am absolutely starved of news of you. Apart from your letter included in the NS&M & written only 2 days after I saw you last I haven't heard a word of your activities or health. I know that it couldn't be helped but nevertheless I long for a long letter.
This camp is lousy for evening pastimes. I have told you of our lighting difficulties in the billet but the whole camp hasn't much to offer. The only common room with any lighting is the NAAFI but that is a tiny building, built for a camp of 350 whereas there are more than five times that number here now. However, it does have a small writing room with about 6 tables but it is absolutely impossible to get near them in the evenings. In any case, as soon as the warning goes (& that is every night) all the electricity in the whole camp is switched off at the main. It is thus impossible to read anywhere & very uncomfortable to write. Don't grumble any more John. There is one great advantage here, over Bridgnorth. I live in a room with only two other occupants instead of the noisy rabble. My two cronies were carefully selected & are very congenial company. Bowack in particular I like very much. He is, as I told you a farmer but is financially independent, has always been accustomed to two or three cars & owns three houses in different parts of the country. Nevertheless he is very charming, quiet & unassuming. If neither of us get Xmas leave, we would like to invite our respective wives to Grantham & have a joint celebration. How would you like the idea. You might spend a few days here & you would have 21 year old Mrs Bowack for company during the day & even your own hubbies' company in the evening. The two husbands might even get sleeping out passes. Bowack & I are to look for suitable digs for 2 respectable married couples. Let me know how you would react to such a suggestion if it should be made to you. I must finish this letter tonight & I long for one from you tomorrow morning. All my love, dearest & more love than ever for your birthday John
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 John Valentine to his wife Ursula
Description
An account of the resource
Relates that mail has caught up with him from Bridgnorth. Pleased to get news from home and is getting on with ordering materials for the shelter. Describes excitement of overflight by Ju-88 with air raid warning and sitting in shelter. Describes action of camp anti-aircraft guns. Complains about camp, duties, lack of light and laundry facilities and situation in general. Writes of poor guard changing, manning and guns being taken away. Mentions visit to Grantham. In postscript letter mentions Lewis gun lecture and other activities. Continues to complain about accommodation and asks for items to be sent.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1940-12-04
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Six 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
EValentineJRMValentineUM401204
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--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1940-12-04
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.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
John Ross Mckenzie Valentine
Ju 88
military living conditions
military service conditions
training
-
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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
A name given to the resource
Valentine, John
John Ross Mckenzie Valentine
J R M Valentine
Description
An account of the resource
674 Items. Collection concerns navigator Warrant Officer J R McKenzie Valentine (1251404 Royal Air Force). The collection contains over 600 letters between JRM Valentine and his wife Ursula. It also contains his log book, family/official documents, a book of violin music studies and other correspondence. Sub-collections contain family photographs, prisoner of war photographs and a scrapbook of newspaper cuttings of events from 1942 to 1945.
He joined 49 Squadron in April 1942 and flew 10 operations on Hampdens. The squadron converted to Manchester in May when he completed two further operations. His aircraft was shot down on the Thousand Bomber raid of 30/31 May 1942. Five crew, including him bailed out successfully and became prisoners of war. The pilot and one air gunner were killed when the aircraft rolled over and crashed.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Frances Zagni 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
2018-09-06
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.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Valentine, JRM
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
AC2 Valentine,
MQ 44, 12 FTS
RAF Grantham
Friday 6-12-40
Chess move Pawn H7 to H5
Knight G1 to F3 Keep it going now.
Sunday. Am going on guard again tonight, so if I don’t phone that is the reason. Happy birthday & Love.
Things are looking up now – we’ve got electric lights & had a go at N.S. & M. Someone had used the inside sheets to light a fire so I won’t bother returning the remainder. Please continue to send it. I enjoy it and won’t let it happen again.
My dearest Ursula, I don’t know how long I shall be able to stick at this letter, but I will do my best. It is now 2 pm & I am off duty, until 4 o'clock so at a normal place I would be able to set down comfortably to a one sided written conversation with my wife. Alas, things are different here. The billets, atrociously lit by night have windows painted dark blue. If there should be any lights in the room at night time the paint is useless for black out, while during the day the rooms are far too dark to read or write. It is just like late dusk here & because of the roaring hurricane outside, it is impossible to open any windows. The slightest opening causes a veritable tornado in these small rooms as well as a frigid temperature. Your parcel arrived this morning at a very opportune time, as I will tell you in a minute. Thank you so much, my dear, for answering to my needs so promptly. I am indeed lucky in having such a darling guardian angel. I am a bit worried by one thing though. In the short note accompanying the parcel, you mentioned a letter you had sent with money in it, but no such missive has reached me. I hope that it was registered for that would explain the delay & reassure me against my anxiety about its possible disappearance. I shan't send off this today in the hope that I might be able to let you know should it arrive tomorrow morning. I still am in suspense for real news of you, for as I said in my last letter, nearly two weeks have elapsed since I saw you & I have, of course, not had any letter during that time. Perhaps I shall hear tomorrow morning – invariably my last thought each night, while in the morning I am full of expectancy until the post is handed out. Be patient, John, be patient.
Today my spell of immunity from real work is to end in an hour or so. I have been posted for a turn of all night 'drome patrol but I don't know which watches I shall do. Your parcel was therefore doubly welcome for the Balaclava & Sweat shirt will be extremely useful. Thank you again Dearest. Grant tells me that the two best spells of guard duty are from 5.30 to 8 pm & 12 midnight to 2.30, for thereby you get only one interruption to your normal sleeping time. This morning we had a little trip out of camp on a fatigue of course. There is to be an RAF Officers dance at the RAOC headquarters in the town & we poor idiots had to load chairs on to a lorry, accompany it into the town, unload into an old barrack room & get to work sweeping the floor & getting the whole place ship shape for the frolics. Had I not been detailed for guard duty tonight I should have been down there with my fellows at this very moment. The light is too poor my dear for me to continue, so I shall shut down until the morning when I hope to be refreshed by a letter from you. Until then, all my love, John
Twenty Four Hours Later My Dear, Gee Baby , I feel like a million dollars. This morning I received from you a lovely long letter full of just the sort of details I wanted about you; some money & stamps & also your second parcel. Now I have put on clean socks clean pants, clean vest, clean collar & a clean shirt. If only my hands were a little more respectable I should feel almost sufficiently presentable to meet my own sweet wife. I have many things to say to you that I hardly know where to begin, but I think I will start by browsing through your letter & following any train of thought that it might start.
First of all the shelter: I am glad that you have been able to syphon away much of the water, but as it will be impossible to use it until it has been treated I don't think it will be worth your while baling out the rest. If & when you can get someone to attend to it, let them get rid of the remaining water. I am firmly of the opinion that it must be cemented, regardless of cost & cannot see why it can't be rendered waterproof. My suggestion is that when you have got a concrete wall (up to ground surface level) & a floor (both several inches thick) the whole should be lined with pitch or some similar substance. The surface of the pitch can then be painted, the floor protected by rug or board & the whole thing should be absolutely waterproof. Try this suggestion on the gardener & see how he reacts; also tell him to include the steps down to the shelter & the walls of the step passage; also tell him to remove only such electric wiring (including the little table) as interferes with the cement work. As regards your removal from Hendon to a less alarming part of the country, you know I am all in favour of it & that it is only through your own wish that you stay there. If at any time both before & after Baby's arrival you want to move I would be more relieved than by any other news (bar the cessation of the war). I am constantly worrying about your safety, even this week when I had to wait a day or two before hearing from you I kept imagining all sorts of accidents or disasters that might have occurred. However get the shelter done to lighten my burden of worry even if ever so slightly.
As regards Touche's cheque, they have obviously not started deducting tax yet, but I shouldn't worry them about it. The correct procedure, until tax deduction starts, is for you to open another a/c in your ledger headed Income Tax a/c & split the monthly £12.14.6 thus: LA £2.10/-; House £4; Income Tax £2.4.6; Sundries £4. Your arithmetical effort with regard to the LA is positively superb – in fact dead right. Your errors are that the premiums (or premia) are not due until 1st March by which date you will have, I think, £17.10.0 the remaining £12.10.0 is in my PO Savings Bank a/c. Please, dearest, drop the expression 'Job 1'. I loathe it, I abominate it, I hate it. Baby is something much more marvellous & tender & altogether superior to mass produced article. Baby is something that belongs only to you & me; is an animal creature, something that will be so helpless & look to you, especially, for everything, so delicate & so fragile. To call our own little creation 'Job 1' disgusts me. I loved all your meticulous details about Baby's outfit. You need never worry about sending such a minute account of the money spent – in fact I feel a twinge of conscience at your doing so, for possibly I am too niggardly towards you where money matters are concerned. You know that I trust you absolutely & you do me – you haven't questioned my spending although I have had one or two financial lifts (hitch hikes you know) from you. I am very glad indeed that you are going so early & thoroughly into the questions of clothing & accommodating our own little family. I long to be with you to discuss everything as you do it for I might even be able to help you. That being impossible, darling, always do just whatever you want & keep me informed as best you can without mentioning (unless you want to) such mean & sordid matters as shillings & pence.
As far as blankets for ourselves are concerned I am quite agreeable to buying a few more. We could take the money out of our Joint P.O. a/c. Would you like to consider those special blankets that the Freemans got? Alternatively drop a card to that place in Killin for their prices & sizes. They were certainly cheaper there than anywhere else. By all means buy soap, too, if it is not a more expensive way of getting it. What is your allowance? The £10 a month from your Mother? I thought that we agreed to touch that only if our own income was insufficient especially as we are charging your Mother £10 a month for Barbara's keep. If I have a family that doesn't try to be independent (without having to live in poverty) I should soundly spank them. My idea was that if Sundries a/c were to become overdrawn by deficiencies of Air Force Income & Barbara's keep, then we might make good the deficiency by sponging on your parents a bit more. However, if you want to do it, my dear by all means do so, but I thought we had agreed upon the procedures. Where it hurts me, Ursula, is that if ever you have to be financed by your Mother for necessities of life I feel that I am not providing for you sufficiently & therefore not doing my duty as a husband.
I wish you had come to Grantham at the beginning of the week. I was free every evening & could have had a sleeping out pass each night, a thing I shan't be able to do for a long time now for we are gradually settling down to a '1 day on 1 day off' basis. Fully half my fellows are already working on those lines. However, let me know how you feel about the Christmas idea. I would love it as you know & it would do you good to get you away from London. Tell Barbara that her fear (a stupid one) of her being a gooseberry really amounts to a ban on our ever being able to spend a few days together here. I would welcome her for her own sake not merely as a necessary evil to your delightful presence. The leave question here is absolutely impossible to forecast. Much if not all of the Station Defence is being done now by the RAF in place of the Army, new fellows are arriving daily & it may be months before any leave system is evolved. That doesn't mean that it will be months before we get leave, but that the time of each individuals leave is a complete mystery. I do know this though, that the Flight Sergeant in charge of Station Defence is doing his best, in very muddled circumstances, to allot leave as fairly as possible, with due regard to each man's length of service at this Station. Sleeping out passes for off duty nights may always be obtained. I am pleased to hear your news about the camphor wood chest. Do thank your Mother from me. By all means give a few onions to whomever you like, the inclusion of the Hazards is a nice thought but I can't recall anyone else on my side. As for Christmas cards I would like only a few sent. Mr & Mrs James Tout, Mr & Mrs Lovering, Ian Smith, Pat Fullerton Mr & Mrs Pullen (at the office). There are some rather nice air Force ones here at only 2d a time including envelopes. Grant, who knows a thing or two about that sort of a job thinks a lot of them. Would you like me to buy them & let you have them. If so let me know how many you want. They are not gaudy but very plain & rather austere. I was very much struck with them. The only Xmas present I would like sent apart from family & Dundee is to my Grandmother at Arbroath. I haven't the slightest idea but will ask Mother and let you know.
I am relieved to know that you have heard from Nurse Kerr & hope that you will be able to fix up things with her sometime. I agree that her fee is reasonable. Stewart for Christmas – 2 oz tobacco – Four square Yellow Label, Leslie likewise. The gloves for Ann will do for although I would like to give her something more, I can't think of anything. If you have any bright idea costing only a few shillings I would like her to have a little more. Tell Barbara, with very many thanks, that I really have enough sweaters. I don't want her to waste her time on something that really isn't necessary & any sort of sweater will do here. My blue one is quite good enough & I have the sweat suit & your Mother's maroon one to fall back upon. You see, I am likely to be out mostly at night time, but even at three gun posts, which really are cold, they are not very fussy about clothes since the great coat hides all. Perhaps when I am on flying training, a little more respectability might be required. I am sorry dear, but with the absence of light for reading I haven't been able to touch either NS&M or the library book yet. Going for tea, Darling – all my love John
Ninety Minutes Later Darling Ursula, I should have said 'Going for two teas' for when I returned from my first I met Grant & Bowack & returned in their company for a second dose. As a result I bulge considerably. I think I had disposed of your letter – now for the other things. Very many thanks for your more than welcome cash & stamps. One disadvantage of having fairly close friends is that one has to stick with them to some extent. Bowack, as I told you, is a wealthy man & Thomson gets his pay made up by his firm so that they don't have to watch every penny as I do. They are both very moderate fellows in every respect but I do have to spend a little more with them than by myself & yet I feel bound to join in with them to some extent because often either one or the other is on a duty so that the remaining one would otherwise be forced to spend a whole evening by himself. Your parcels are extremely welcome. I told you how grand it was to have on clean clothes while the joy of blowing ones nose into a clean handkerchief is one of the few pleasant discoveries that the RAF has yet allowed one. I think now, that I have as many clothes as I can comfortably wear, no matter how cold the weather. The shirt, you darling, was really a heavenly surprise. I had anticipated getting my undies from you sometime, but I feared that I might have to spend yet a few more weeks in my already filthy shirt pending recovery of the lost one or a re-issue. Unfortunately, dearest, the colour isn't too good. It is probably an officially allowed officer shirt but not an airman's. The collars of that style are verboten – in fact one of the chaps was pulled up today by a Flight Lieutenant for wearing a similar shirt & collar. Luckily, I have not lost any collars so that I can wear your new shirt with the official collar. The latter hides so much shirt & the tunic exposes so little that one can hardly see anything of it. I will keep the collars in reserve for, say, night duty (although they are far too good for that) or for the time when I am an officer. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the way you think for me – the shirt was an extremely pleasant surprise. Should any of the family ask you about a shirt for me for Xmas tell them that I now have enough. I am allowed to use only those which match the official airman's issue. Say that Officers shirts are taboo. I haven't tried the cake yet, but I look forward to doing so this evening – come & have a slice with me!! I have today sent you rather a large parcel of washing. I am sorry for it, my dear, but owing to the loss of clothes my existing ones got into a bit of a mess, as I have told you. I hope that I shan't have to send you the towel or shirt again – will hankies socks & pyjamas be alright? Don't bother to return the pyjamas or tea cloth until I ask. We have little storage room in our quarters & I don't want to increase the danger of loss by theft unnecessarily. The remainder could I have back at your earliest convenience. (Blast you John) especially the handkerchiefs. By the way, be very wary of those, THEY STINK I am sorry to say.
And now for a little less domestic chat. Since I started this letter I have done my first spell of guard duty. We reported at 5 pm yesterday & were taken into a centrally heated barrack room, eighteen of us. We were then split into sixes, the first patrolling from 5.30 to 8, & 12.30 till three. Acting on Grant's advice I volunteered for this. Each six split into twos, each pair having a different beat. I had previously drawn from the armoury a rifle & 50 bullets – or rounds. Yesterday was one of colossal wind – it really was terrific. I wore my sweat suit trousers under my RAF ones & the jacket under my tunic. With the Balaclava two scarves & two pairs of gloves the weight of clothing on my person & round my neck almost stifled me, the wind, besides being of hurricane force was also cold, but I was so warmly clad that I didn't feel the cold much. Unfortunately I was not paired off with Grant, having as my mate a rotten type of fellow, a thorough slacker & scrounger, anxious always to sit down, out of the wind for a rest. I was not at all keen to do this partly because I wanted to keep warm by moving all the time & partly because I was new to the job & therefore more conscientious than he, an old hand. We did not exactly agree on all points. Nevertheless, by a little give & take on both sides, he managed to have his rests & I to keep reasonably warm. The first watch started at dusk & was brilliantly moonlit. We had to patrol a side of the 'drome which we did without incident. Two gun ports were on the beat & I pitied those poor devils who do a 24 hours duty – 2 on & 4 off. Off duty they sleep in a tent & on they are confined to an exposed square in the centre of which stands the gun. The bitter wind yesterday must have made it hell's own job to keep oneself warm. I think it is a crying shame that at an established camp like this there should be 10 gun posts, the crews of all of which have to sleep under canvas throughout the winter months. We stopped for a short chat whenever we passed these posts but the fellows there seemed quite cheerful. Luckily it was free from rain & the cold & the howling gale made it rather exhilarating. Coming in at 8.30 we had supper of cold fried fish & baked beans & iced cocoa (more by accident than design) but fortunately the guard room was beautifully warm & had ELECTRIC LIGHT. We were then despatched to our billets for two, given a bed & 2 blankets & told to be quiet. We could either read or sleep in full kit ready to be out at a moments notice. I slept – restlessly. We were roused at 12.00 & sent out on the second patrol. The beat was different & the moon had disappeared. The wind still remained while the sky was clear & starlit. Our beat this time included the bomb & petrol dumps & reserve stores. They are very keen on netting for camouflage here but in the gale much of it had been blown loose & was trailing all over the place. Several times my rifle & bayonet became awkwardly tangled with flapping masses of netting, making it rather a difficult job to extricate in the darkness & wind. We passed by a similar store room, the door of which was open. Upon examination it proved to contain the flying kit of the pupil pilots on the station & my light fingered companion helped himself to a pair of beautiful soft leather fleecy lined flying boots. We had to smuggle these back unnoticed causing me quite a lot of worry, being an unwilling spectator, but he managed to do so. I cursed him later though, because we went by his watch & when just about to start for home we enquired of the time at a gun post, we were already 20 minutes overdue & landed back having done 30 minutes more guardianship (my own word) than we were told to do. A cup of tea had been awaiting us, but that of course was stone cold. We resumed sleeping fully clad until 7 am when we were sent back to the armoury to hand in rifles etc. It was not a bad job although in time it will become dreadfully boring. I feel fine today but my feet are rather sore because the boots haven't been off them for 36 hours. It will be 40 by the time I get to bed. About half those who arrived here with me are now on regular jobs – day off day on – so that soon I should be definitely settled. I hope I get last night's job because all are boring but camp patrol is considerably less arduous than any of them. I am getting much tougher though – the cold doesn't worry me nearly so much for we certainly have cold billets & I don't seem to mind them.
Grant & Bowack asked me after dinner if I would go up to the 'drome to cadge a flight in a kite (service slang). I refused having the much more pleasant job of writing to you & in any case expecting them to fail yet again. Instead, while I was pushing this pen around they spent two hours on a gloriously clear, cold December afternoon careering about the sky in an Anson – I shall try tomorrow. D.V. Reverting to Barbara's kindly offer to knit a sweater, may I drop a hint that I would like a pair of gloves in RAF colours. I want ordinary gloves, nothing fancy like mittens with zip fasteners & central heating, but with longish cuffs to meet my shirt, & fingers big enough to go over a pair of hogskin gloves. That combination acted admirably last night & it is unlikely that we shall have many gales of such force & frigidity
I have found a good spot for writing at last. If one comes on a Saturday afternoon & evening to the NAAFI writing room it is almost deserted. True one 25 watt lamp only, lights the whole room but that is better than a flickering candle or a hurricane lamp. There is a lot more that I could say but I am beginning to feel a little tired after last night so I shall shut down. Goodbye, my darling. Many many thanks for your lovely letter & the two parcels of surprises. Tomorrow is your birthday – I shall phone you many happy returns if I can get through. All my love John
PS May I have a battery for my torch sometime please?
PPS We've been given sheets at last. No more hairy blanket tickles
PPPS We've been given a sack filled with straw for a pillow
PPPPS Our hurricane lamps have been taken away.
PPPPPS There is a shortage of candles in Grantham so we can use only one at a time (this is not a hint – we three have feathered our nest well)
PPPPPPS I love you x x x x
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 John Valentine to his wife Ursula
Description
An account of the resource
Letter written over at least two days describing his activities, poor accommodation and weather. He was please with parcel and especially a long letter from her with details of all her activities. Mentions delays in mail, financial and domestic matters. He is sending her a large parcel of washing. Continues with criticism of live, duties and life in general.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1940-12-06
Format
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Eight 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
EValentineJRMValentineUM401206
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--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1940-12-06
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.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
John Ross Mckenzie Valentine
military living conditions
military service conditions
RAF Grantham
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1281/19119/EValentineJRMValentineUM401210-0001.2.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1281/19119/EValentineJRMValentineUM401210-0002.2.jpg
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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
A name given to the resource
Valentine, John
John Ross Mckenzie Valentine
J R M Valentine
Description
An account of the resource
674 Items. Collection concerns navigator Warrant Officer J R McKenzie Valentine (1251404 Royal Air Force). The collection contains over 600 letters between JRM Valentine and his wife Ursula. It also contains his log book, family/official documents, a book of violin music studies and other correspondence. Sub-collections contain family photographs, prisoner of war photographs and a scrapbook of newspaper cuttings of events from 1942 to 1945.
He joined 49 Squadron in April 1942 and flew 10 operations on Hampdens. The squadron converted to Manchester in May when he completed two further operations. His aircraft was shot down on the Thousand Bomber raid of 30/31 May 1942. Five crew, including him bailed out successfully and became prisoners of war. The pilot and one air gunner were killed when the aircraft rolled over and crashed.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Frances Zagni 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
2018-09-06
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.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Valentine, JRM
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
Start of transcription
[inserted] When you next send me something may I have a cake of soap & the largest tube of Palmolive shaving cream sold – 1/6 – it is the most economical tube.
Your cake is excellent much appreciated by Bowack & Thompson – more by John V.
1251404 AC 2 Valentine John
MQ 44 12 F.T.S.
R.A.F Station
[deleted] Bridgnorth [/deleted] [inserted] Grantham [/inserted] Lincs
Tuesday 10/12/40
My nDearest ursulla,
I may not have time to make this as long as some of my previous epistles for I must send it off by this afternoons post. I am going on guard again at 5 pm until 7.30 tomorrow so that I may be unable to let you know my news any earlier than by this letter.
We had a grand surprise this morning when we were informed of our posting next Friday to Stratford-on-Avon. It pleased me immensely for, after consulting a map I saw that Stratford is not more than 12 miles from Leamington. Should you move to G.M. soon, we ought to be able to see a lot of one another. I pray fervently that my stay there may be considerably longer than any previous sojurn [sic] at an R.A.F dump and I am trying hard to stifle the many castles that I am building in the air about the glorious prospect of being able to see my own darling wife more frequently than I have been doing of late. Mind you there is a considerable amount of concrete in these castles for I should obviously be able to get over to Leamington (or further) on any day when released at 12.30 so that we need not have to wait even for a 48 hour pass [deleted] before [/deleted] for a chance of meeting. However it would be stupid to indulge in any serious making of plans before knowing a little more of my exact address and hours of duty. I shall, of course, let you know these just as soon as I can and then we shall wee what can be done about it. Anyway, the outlook is considerably more promising than it was a few hours ago and I am very excited about the possibilities. I long for you always – now it looks as if I may be able to satisfy at least a very small part of my longing.
Barbaras letter & book, your letter & the Inc Tax form all arrived this morning. Will you please thank Barbara & tell her that I shall write as soon as I get a chance. I expect the last few days here to be fairly busy for my now regular alternate day & night guard duty will continue to the last & we have all been given an enormous form to be signed by an officer in each of the 20 departments in the camp, certifying that we are not leaving with any camp property. Even to find a man you want [underlined] when [/underlined] you want him in this place is well nigh impossible so I anticipate a spot of both in completing this wretched form
[page break]
The Income Tax apparently is now O.K. so I am returning the form & letter. Don’t, for Heavens sake pay the amount demanded because I shall now write to Touches to make sure that they are not going to pay it too and then commence deducting it from my pension which even now is niggardly enough. I shan’t write to them from here so you wont [sic] hear from me on this subject [deleted] any [/deleted] again for a week or two.
I have only one regret at leaving this place. Out of the 26 who arrived from Bridgnorth 20 are posted but the six remaining include two of my best friends – Grant & Bowack as well as four [inserted] fellows [/inserted] of the better type [deleted] of fellows [/deleted]. All the riff raff & rabble are coming with me and out of the whole bunch of 19 only Thompson is a real friend. I shall miss Bowack & Grant enormously – all four of us are sorry that the quartet is being split in two. Thompson & I hope anxiously that we do not go into large billets at Stratford and once again have to put up with the filthy language and noise of some of our Bridgnorth colleagues.
The conditions here have shown one or two improvements lately. Sheets arrived and pillows, the electricity [deleted] lights [/deleted] was switched on (but we had to buy our own bulb) and we managed to scrounge some coal dust and coke to supplement the wood stolen from the builders yard. Good lighting plus a more durable fire chain that provided by wood have combined to make life a little more cheerful.
It was lovely to speak to you on Sunday. The sound of your voice was like sweet music to me. I hope to be lucky enough to hear it again tonight. If I don’t, please don’t send anything more to Grantham – the place is so badly run that I might never see it again. Could you be kind enough to let Barnes know so that they don’t write to this address. I shall tell them my new one after I have told you.
I am now going on guard duty regularly with Grant which makes the job as pleasant as it can be. Luckily we haven’t had a single wet night yet and [deleted] as [/deleted] the cold doesn’t now worry me with all the extra clothes that you sent. I am getting quite used to prowling about the drome at all hours of the night. The most startling noises are made by the canvas draped over the cockpit & engines of the planes which flaps [inserted] in the wind [/inserted] against the wings and fuselage making a most weird & eerie hollow sound. The planes in scores are left at night time scattered all over the ‘drome and one hears the ghostly noises coming to one from all quarters when there is anything like a wind blowing. The planes, too, sometimes look like grotesque animals or birds when you catch a glimpse of their outlines from certain angles.
Must stop now dearest – going for tea & then on duty. All my love – as ever – [deleted] and [/deleted] I am hoping for great things at my next station - We may see one another soon – John.
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 John Valentine to his wife Ursula
Description
An account of the resource
Writes that he has been informed he is going to Stratford-upon-Avon which will be very convenient for them to see more of each other. Continues with domestic matters and income tax issues. Sorry that two of his best friends are not going with him.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1940-12-10
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
EValentineJRMValentineUM401210
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--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
England--Warwickshire
England--Stratford-upon-Avon
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1940-12-10
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Tricia Marshall
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.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
John Ross Mckenzie Valentine
military service conditions
training
-
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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
A name given to the resource
Valentine, John
John Ross Mckenzie Valentine
J R M Valentine
Description
An account of the resource
674 Items. Collection concerns navigator Warrant Officer J R McKenzie Valentine (1251404 Royal Air Force). The collection contains over 600 letters between JRM Valentine and his wife Ursula. It also contains his log book, family/official documents, a book of violin music studies and other correspondence. Sub-collections contain family photographs, prisoner of war photographs and a scrapbook of newspaper cuttings of events from 1942 to 1945.
He joined 49 Squadron in April 1942 and flew 10 operations on Hampdens. The squadron converted to Manchester in May when he completed two further operations. His aircraft was shot down on the Thousand Bomber raid of 30/31 May 1942. Five crew, including him bailed out successfully and became prisoners of war. The pilot and one air gunner were killed when the aircraft rolled over and crashed.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Frances Zagni 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
2018-09-06
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.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Valentine, JRM
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
1251404 AC2 Valentine John
MQ44, 12 FTS
R.A.F. Station
Grantham, Lincs
Thursday 12/12/40
My Dearest Ursula,
This will be my last letter from Grantham and will be scribbled at any odd & spare moment during the afternoon. I am enclosing it with a little more washing, most of which I had intended to send to the R.A.F. laundry. Our sudden removal has interrupted this plan & there will be the usual delay when we arrive at our new station so once again I am chucking the job on to you. I hope you don’t object, my dear. When (or rather if) we ever get settled for any length of time at one station I hope to get most of my washing done by the R.A.F for I want to impose upon you as little unnecessary work as possible.
I had a modest “night out” on Monday when I saw the film “Rebecca”. I think that it is one of the most marvellous films I have ever seen. I was completely carried away but it and enjoyed it enormously. If you haven’t already seen it, you ought to do so whenever you can. I would love to see it again. The actor[?] in our party has already seen it four times. He says that in his opinion it is the best film ever produced. (By the way his Father has just been given a knighthood for work in connection with food under Lord Woolton) When watching Rebecca, a curious thought struck me several times. Allowing for the differences [deleted] in [/deleted] [inserted] between [/inserted] our circumstances and social standing and those of the hero & heroine, I often thought that in their more intimate moments they behaved towards one another [underlined] exactly [/underlined] as you and I do at times (when allowed by the R.A.F.).
Going back to the washing question[?] once again. As soon as you get my new address will you send me, post haste: socks, [inserted] shaving cream & handkerchiefs & collars – and a bit of soap. Those are my most urgent requirements although I would like the rest of the stuff as soon as you can manage it, without bursting any blood vessels in a violent hurry.
Your welcome letter posted on the ninth reached me yesterday, and I will just browse through it to see if it inspires any rude answers.
I am so glad that you like the slippers though I haven’t seen them myself. If you are not perfectly [deleted] ha [/deleted] satisfied with Mother’s choice, you ought to be bold enough to say so and to make an exchange. It has struck me that you might be imagining that I have asked you for money from time to time merely in order to buy you a present – but on my honour that
[page break]
is not so. When I left Uxbridge, I took with me a small sum which I intended at all cost to reserve and preserve for your birthday and that I managed to do through your supplements to my RAF pay which enabled me to [one indecipherable word] & to keep my little fund intact. I am bitterly disappointed that my people did not send you a birthday gift. It hurt me tremendously and I cannot see any reason for it. Thank you for all your details of your other gifts. I loved to have them and I have read & reread your letter several times.
Re your statement that “a wife belongs etc. … though one has to reconcile etc. …”. I quite agree with the first part and also with the probability that when baby comes travelling to meet or see me will be almost impossible and I am quite reconciled to that. My point is that until baby arrives you ought to come to see me whenever possible. My reasoning is not entirely selfish because you know as well as I that the wisest thing for you to do is to get away from London as soon as possible. As for “reconciling other family [one indecipherable word] “ surely we have been doing this ever since 6th Jan last for we had Peter with us for the first six months of our married life, subsequently we lived by ourselves it is true but not in our own home & of course since 17th Oct you have not seen me except for those precious 40 hours wheras [sic] all the married chaps in my party have had there wives with them for at least several days. We have only just over three months available, darling, until our own precious little infant comes along after which you must of necessity be considerably more tied than at present. So please dear I implore you, that if any opportunity of our being near to one another should turn up, to do your best to take the fullest possible advantage of it. In common with many thousands of other newly married couples we embarked upon our new life with many horrible disadvantages [one deleted word] owing to the war & in addition have been denied the privilege of being completely on our own for 8 out of the 11 months since we took the plunge.
It was extremely nice and quite typical of Barbara to do her best to make your birthday as exciting as possible. Please thank her, from me, for her efforts to give you an extra little bit of happiness.
I was very relieved to hear that the biggest recent raid on London had not troubled you too much. I have read of it in the press and seen the German claims as to the amount of H.E. & Fire bombs dropped and was quite worried until your letter arrived. These lovely moonlit nights give me the shivers for I know from my own experience what bright moonlight can bring with it. I have just had a letter from Gus Cole who was
[page break]
in the recent heavy raid on Dusseldorf. I enclose his letter in which you might be interested. Please return it as soon as you can so that I can answer it.
I intended sending off those few [inserted] Xmas [/inserted] cards from Mr & Mrs [one indecipherable letter] & I thought that you would do[?] likewise to those of your friends whom I know. However, as you don’t want any R.A.F. cards I don’t think I will bother because one has to purchase a certain number before one can get any of the special type. I shall write to the [one indecipherable word] & to the office staff c/o Bill Pullen & that will do me for Xmas wishes. Any presents you send, please dispatch from both of us.
You needn’t bother drawing the chess board if & when you send a move. I keep a record of all moves so that it doesn’t take long to re set the board should I use it in [deleted] the [plus one letter] [/deleted] between our moves.
You asked sometime about your dress allowance. I believe that there was about £1 left over but it went into a pool with my dress allowance & other unwanted reserves to provide approximately £50 which stands at present in my P.O. book, available for confinement and expenses incidental[?] thereto. I hoped that sundries a/c would provide for your clothes.
I think that your letter is now exhausted & as we have to go on a pay parade in a few moments I will shut down for an hour or two.
Look after yourself dear
Lots of love. John.
My Darling,
I have just returned with my pay for one whole fortnight viz £1. It took an hour to get even that & I have [deleted] just [/deleted] only a few minutes left until tea time after which I must [one indecipherable word] to the town to send this off.
Today is a glorious one. It was clear and bitterly cold last night (I was off duty) & there was a wonderful sunrise. Since then the sun has shone steadily from a perfect sky but one has to keep moving in order to avoid getting cold. The country around here is pleasant but not so beautiful as that near Bridgnorth. Grantham lies several hundred feet below us in a distinct hollow, while all around it the country arises gently but hardly picturesquely. It has a naked look about it for there are relatively few trees and the fields are large. Nevertheless, had you been able to come here for a day or two I think you would [have] enjoyed a few strolls especially if the weather too had been as lovely as it is today. The town itself is definitely dull. The houses are uninteresting & monotonous while the few large factories give the place a depressing appearance. It has had several bombings & signs of damage are much
[page break]
in evidence.
I shan’t be sorry to get away from the camp. It is so shockingly slack & so badly organised that Bowack & I became very much ashamed to belong to the R.A.F. if we start criticising it. The billets are fairly satisfactory at last although we still have to scrounge for most of our fuel. Some of the fellows have complained that they are cold & draughty but I usually manage to fell quite warm enough when sitting huddled close to the fire. The weather has been fairly chilly all the time & my hands & lips have become badly chapped through washing in cold water and going out into the wind. Last night I bought a little Vaseline to put on the sore parts so that in a day or two they should be better. What I have appreciated so much here has been the quiet. Being in a room with 2 other & both of them likeable has made an extremely pleasant change from the noise of 30 fellows in one hut at Bridgnorth. I hope for similar luck at Stratford on Avon but I bitterly regret leaving Grant & Bowack behind. The job of Ground Defence is one of the most depressing that I can imagine but Ground Defence at Grantham station would be completely soul destroying after a few weeks. I am sure that we can’t do worse so I am looking forward to Stratford on that account alone apart from the possibility that we might be able to see something of one another.
Despite the glory of todays[sic] weather, I am feeling very sorry for myself, not a little homesick, and longing for you tremendously. I don’t know why I should feel it any worse today than at any other time, but you know how these moods steal upon one without any warning & even less reason. However, being down in the dumps doesn’t help one at all so I must try to comfort myself with the knowledge that you are my wife & that we both love one another.
I can’t think of anything more to say just now. I hope the washing doesn’t annoy you too much. You have no idea how much I appreciate your doing it for me – perhaps I take too much advantage of your good nature and willingness.
These billets are about ½ mile from the canteen so that they don’t send the meals over. That being so we are forced to go to the cook house ourselves & as tea is now being served (slung at one) I must wend my way.
Good bye dearest – the worst of these changes is that I never get any news from & of you. I have had only two real letters from you during my two weeks here so that you will have to start on overtime to make up your arrears.
With all my love & longing
Yours ever John.
[page break]
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 John Valentine to his wife Ursula
Description
An account of the resource
Last letter from Grantham telling of daily activities, laundry, cinema, letters received, her recent birthday. Catches up with news of family and friends. Writes about pay, weather and that he will be glad to leave current location.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
J M Valentine
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1940-12-12
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Sue Smith
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Four page handwritten lettter
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
EValentineJRMValentineUM401212
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--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1940-12-12
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.
entertainment
military living conditions
military service conditions
training
-
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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
A name given to the resource
Valentine, John
John Ross Mckenzie Valentine
J R M Valentine
Description
An account of the resource
674 Items. Collection concerns navigator Warrant Officer J R McKenzie Valentine (1251404 Royal Air Force). The collection contains over 600 letters between JRM Valentine and his wife Ursula. It also contains his log book, family/official documents, a book of violin music studies and other correspondence. Sub-collections contain family photographs, prisoner of war photographs and a scrapbook of newspaper cuttings of events from 1942 to 1945.
He joined 49 Squadron in April 1942 and flew 10 operations on Hampdens. The squadron converted to Manchester in May when he completed two further operations. His aircraft was shot down on the Thousand Bomber raid of 30/31 May 1942. Five crew, including him bailed out successfully and became prisoners of war. The pilot and one air gunner were killed when the aircraft rolled over and crashed.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Frances Zagni 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
2018-09-06
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.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Valentine, JRM
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
JOHN AND URSULA VALENTINE
29/10/1939 John & Ursula became engaged
06/01/1940 Married in St Mary's Church, Hendon
15/05/1940 John joined RAF Volunteer Reserve
18/10/1940 John called up - reported to RAF Depot in UXBRIDGE
John's letters begin On 18/10/40 and continue until Ursula joins him in Aberystwyth ( 1-44)
18/10/40 25/01/41) Unfortunately there are no further letters kept from him until he is a prisoner of war. None of Ursula's letters to him until January 1941 have survived So her letters begin in January 1941 (Nos 1-17) 0I/01 /41 - 28/01/41, and continue until she joins John in Aberystwyth at the end of January. They start again at the end of April (Nos 18—32) 26/04/41-15/05/41 continuing until she joined him in Monkton at the end of May Her letters start again when he goes to IO.M. at the end of July, (Nos. 33-124) 26/07/41-30/12/41 and continue until she joined him at Stoke Lyne ( near Upper Hcyford) until he completed his training on 15/03/42 After leave John became operational and was posted to Scampton (Lincolnshire) Ursula returned to the Lido, (Hendon) and her letters to John are continuous from this point ( Nos 125-162) 29/03/42 - 29/05/42
Ursula joined John in Aberystwyth on 01/02/41 On April 26 1941 John was posted to Scotland, where he was in digs with Mr & Mrs Howie, Fairfield Mains, Monkton, Ayreshire While there John qualified as an Air Observer navigator on 19/07/41. The course ran from 23/04/41 to 19/07/41
Ursula joined him there towards the end of May 1941 and they stayed with the Howies until John was posted to Jurby, Isle of Man Ursula then returned to Lido, Tenterden Grove, Hendon
John took the AB INITIO BOMBING COURSE in Jurby from 28/07/41-24/08/41 flying in Blenheim & Hampden planes Then from 25/08/41 - 20/09/41 he took the AB INITIO GUNNERY COURSE flying in Blenheims Unfortunately none of his letters to Ursula during this time survive. Her letters to him arc from 26/07/41 - 18/09/41 (nos 33-82)
John then had 17 days leave before being posted to Upper Heyford for his final training before going on ops Ursula's letters are from 08/10/41 - 30/12/41 (Nos 83-124) after which she moved to Stoke Lyne near Hcyford on 0l/0l/42 until 15/03/42
Having completed his training John was posted to Scampton in Lincolnshire to begin operational flying Ursula's letters to him arc from 29/01/42 - 29/05/42 (nos, 125-162)
Until John became a Prisoner of War there is only the brief period in January 1941 when there are letters going both ways No letters either way for February, March and the first part of April as they were together in Aberystwyth Then there are a few letters from Ursula from Aberystwyth until she joined him in Scotland When John was posted to Jurby, I O M Ursula returned to the Lido where she remained except for the two months when she was able to join him in Stoke Lyne from 01/01/42 15/03/42 John then had a brief period of leave until he was posted to Scampton at the end of March 1942. On 30/05/42 John was shot down during the 1,000 bomber raid over Cologne and Ursula finally heard that he was alive on 19/06/42 Letters both ways have been preserved until toward the end of the war when postal conditions deteriorated and John's letters of the last 6 months of war are missing
Most of Ursula's letters to him have survived. The last to reach him was No 127 (35) of 17/10/44. What happened to the remainder. up to No 140 (6) 25/03/45 is unclear - were they returned to the RAF & so to him in hospital or back to Ursula undelivered? After re-patriation John was very ill and was in hospital on and off for most of the year. Family life only really resumed in April 1946.
After John was repatriated he spent most of the rest of 1945 in hospital, mainly RAF Cosgrove (?) near Wolverhampton, although also in Loughborough. Ursula stayed with him until early July when she returned to Felmersham after collecting Frances from Gable End. She wrote to him daily when she was not with him, so letters 144 – 164 were written during July 1945. Letters 165 – 176 during August; 177 – 187 in September. 188 -192 in October. Then he had a period of 6 weeks at home before further hospitalisation. Letters 193 – 210 were written during December 1945 and 211 – 216 during January 1946.
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
John and Ursula Valentine
Description
An account of the resource
Provides dates and family history from their engagement to after the war including John's time as prisoner of war and in hospital after his return. Lists letters and dates and provides locations of where they were written.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Frances Zagni
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Five page printed document
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Text. Personal research
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
SValentineJRM1251404v20001
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--Shropshire
England--Bridgnorth
England--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
England--Warwickshire
England--Stratford-upon-Avon
Wales--Dyfed
Wales--Aberystwyth
Scotland--South Ayrshire
Scotland--South Ayrshire
Great Britain Miscellaneous Island Dependencies--Isle of Man
England--Oxfordshire
England--London
England--London
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
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.
aircrew
bombing of Cologne (30/31 May 1942)
observer
prisoner of war
RAF Jurby
RAF Scampton
RAF Upper Heyford
RAF Uxbridge
-
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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
A name given to the resource
Valentine, John
John Ross Mckenzie Valentine
J R M Valentine
Description
An account of the resource
674 Items. Collection concerns navigator Warrant Officer J R McKenzie Valentine (1251404 Royal Air Force). The collection contains over 600 letters between JRM Valentine and his wife Ursula. It also contains his log book, family/official documents, a book of violin music studies and other correspondence. Sub-collections contain family photographs, prisoner of war photographs and a scrapbook of newspaper cuttings of events from 1942 to 1945.
He joined 49 Squadron in April 1942 and flew 10 operations on Hampdens. The squadron converted to Manchester in May when he completed two further operations. His aircraft was shot down on the Thousand Bomber raid of 30/31 May 1942. Five crew, including him bailed out successfully and became prisoners of war. The pilot and one air gunner were killed when the aircraft rolled over and crashed.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Frances Zagni and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2018-09-06
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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.
Identifier
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Valentine, JRM
Transcribed document
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929946 Sgt Routledge
Sgts Mess
RAF Bottesford
Nr Nottingham
6 – 5 – 42
Dear John,
I must apologise for being so long in replying to your letter (I see by the date on it that it’s almost a month). I have been in the process of finishing O.T.U and having seven days leave, then being posted to 207, as you know by the address; I came here last Tuesday week. Being already operational yourself, you seem to have been rather fortunate because the way things seem to move here it looks like being some weeks before I start ops; they’re on Lancasters here and as they’ve put me in a crew now there is a certain amount of training to do before we get down to getting in 200 hours. My vision of doing them all during this summer have been rudely shattered. The station is all dispersed, which is very inconvenient and way out in the wilds, but not so bad when you get used to it. Grantham (the place seems to dog my Air force career) is still the nearest town, l but one can get to Newark and Nottingham quite easily. I hope to get to into Lincoln some time, too so I can hope to see you there. By the way, a chap from Upper Heywood was posted here a few days ago – goes by the name Pankhurst and knows you.
I do hope you managed to get home for the great occasion of your daughters first birthday – is that too much to hope for? And thank you for calling me uncle Frank – it makes me feel quite old and responsible - like. Eileen and I saw Peggy my leave and we went together to a show in London: She is hearing from Brighteyes quite regularly now, and in the middle of March was still at the Middle East pool waiting to go to an O.T.U. and being very vehement about the fact that out there to be a P/O is far better than being a sergeant because
2.
The sergeants life was full of woe; bad messes and whatnot. He has not mentioned what happened to Yorkshire – Stringfellow and Shuttleworth, with whom he had been all along, had already gone to an O.T.U. in Kenya. You may be interested too [sic] know, that Shepheard went to 106 at Coningsby at the same time as I came here: I was very sorry we were separated as I had been with him all through training and we were rather close friends.
I hope I shall hear from you again soon, and perhaps be able to see you some time. Please give my best regards to Mrs Valentine, and to yourself – good luck
Yours sincerely
Frank
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Title
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Letter to John Valentine from Frank Routledge
Description
An account of the resource
Recounts recent activities finishing OTU and posting to 207 Squadron flying Lancaster. Covers training, description of station and local towns. Mentions mutual acquaintance. Catches up with news of family and friends.
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F Routledge
Date
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1942-05-06
Format
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Two page handwritten letter
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eng
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Text
Text. Correspondence
Identifier
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SValentineJRM1251404v20028-04
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Nottingham
England--Newark (Nottinghamshire)
Temporal Coverage
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1942-05-06
Publisher
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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.
207 Squadron
Lancaster
Operational Training Unit
RAF Bottesford
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1073/24368/BPickeringEPickeringv1.1.pdf
8e3104798fa0ddf49e4902bc0cb8c6ca
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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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Pickering, Eileen
E Pickering
E Gascoyne
Description
An account of the resource
27 items. An oral history interview with Eileen Pickering (b. 1922, 483863 Royal Air Force). She served as a signaller in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force at 5 Group Head Quarters at Grantham and at Bletchley Park. the collection includes memoirs, a poster, photograph, bible, drawings and mementos. Two sub collections containing cards and drawings.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Eileen Pickering and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-04-22
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. 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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Pickering, E
Transcribed document
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Transcription
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[underlined] ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTOR EILEEN PICKERING NEE GASCOYNE [/underlined]
Do you ever feel that god has double crossed you or maybe you shouldn’t have been born? ….. that is how I feel.
Born an unexpected twin doesn’t give you much of a start ….. my brother, older than me by twenty minutes always getting preferential treatment in all things, didn’t help me one bit. He was considered brighter than me (which he was, in maths and remembering dates in history) but of course boys in those days were given priority (girls were nothing really ) i was always dressed up prettily (had some lovely clothes) but had best clothes and school clothes and never the twain shall meet …. couldn’t wear any new clothes on a Sunday if it was raining, a big disappointment if you had to wait another week to wear them 7 days was a long time … quite an ordeal in fact.
I always tell people that i was born in u.s.a. which really means upstairs in the attic … which is true, my parents were living, at the time of our birth, with my auntie and uncle and two cousins, so it was quite a houseful …. when we were six months old a house to rent came up and my auntie got on her knees and prayed that my parents would get the house in order for her and her family to get back to normal … bingo! Someone at the rent office took pity on my mom and she got the house for us much to everyone’s relief …. We hadn’t been in it very long before mom found bugs underneath my brother when he was in bed and she went berserk and the whole house had to be fumigated .. all the wallpapers stripped off (and there were several layers of them) …. And the house done up from top to bottom.
.my father worked in the steel works and had a lot of unemployment (on the dole really) so mom had to supplement the housekeeping by cleaning for other people and decorating too …. She also used to knit and sew for people and sometimes didn’t get the money in that quarter either … she was a very had worker was my mom.
My dad was a marvellous dancer and used to m.c most of all the big firms annual dances at the Sheffield cutler’s hall there used to be 2 dance halls one for modern and the other old time my dad dealing with the latter and in one of the big banqueting rooms they used to hold whist drives to which my mom occasionally went into and once won the first prize of a full 12 seater tea service and they had to have a taxi to bring it home (it was a lovely tea service) …..! Never had a lesson on how to dance it was inbred in me and i was dancing at the age of two … my brother and i went to our first dance at the ripe old age of six months .. everyone taking it in turns to nurse us …. more often than not when my mom and dad went to a dance we were left in the care of the next door neighbours Mr. And Mrs. Sprigg and more often than
Not we were not in bed when they got home ‘cos the Spriggs liked to have us in their house with them. Mom made me so me [sic] lovely dresses to go dancing in and i was never allowed to put the dress on until we were ready to set off to the dance and i remember that on one occasions i was wearing my lovely underskirt and one of my friends came to borrow my
[page break]
skates which were kept in a cupboard ….. guess what? …… i got some oh. [sic] Off the wheels of the skates on to the underskirt and didn’t i get a clip for that. Mom was furious
And i cried of course ‘cos you see the dress was made of crepe de chene [sic] and the underskirt showed through it, so did the oil from my skates.
My brother and i attended the same school and we were in the same class until junior school, at the age of seven when girls and boys were segregated. He being more intelligent jumped a year ahead of me so he was the shining light, so to speak. At the age of 10 he sat the scholarship exam (a year early) and won a place at the grammar school of his choice but my dad was out of work at the time and couldn’t afford the needs for such an education so it had to be turned down …… the following year when the exam came around we both sat the same exam and when the usual forms were being filled in, my brother was given the choice of schools and of course chose
The one he should have attended the year before … i had no choice … the school nearest, his choice was decided for me so that he could take me (i was treated as if I was at least 2 years younger than him, always)
At school i liked most lessons but especially swimming, dancing, sewing, drawing, didn’t like history or geography very much yet i gained a distinction at the merit exam when i was 14 .. one thing i didn’t dig very much was mental
Arithmetic, ugh!! …. ! Was in the rounders team dancing team and netball team (the latter occasionally because i was so small) i loved doing all those things and the travelling
Around to visit other schools. I remember on one open day the dancing team did the usual performing and the teacher had told us to go in a plain simple dress and how embarrassed i became when my mom decided that i could wear one of my best dresses for the occasion i daren’t tell her what the teacher had said so i stood out like a sore thumb (in my opinion) i don’t suppose anyone noticed but me.
I was proud of my swimming achievements having gained a medal for life saving at the age of 14 and my brother couldn’t even swim …… but (wait for it) he started to go for lessons at the ripe old age of 13 and by the time he was 14 had become the Yorkshire schoolboy breast stroke champion and i once more went in to the background. We both sat the merit exam and passed but naturally he did much better than i did (another good mark against his name) those days a boy was more important than a girl when it came to doing well so it didn’t matter about me (any sort of job would do for a girl) we eventually said goodbye to school days and started looking for work in order to bring in a few pennies for the household … and had to go to what was then called the labour exchange and “sign on”
[page break]
Location of story: Bletchley Park
Background to story: Royal Air Force
Contributed on: 20 October 2005
PEN DRAWING OF A TYPICAL HUT AT BLETCHLEY PARK – RAF Church Green.
[drawing]
Not just HOW but WHY? …….. I will tell you the best I know how.
First of all, prior to Bletchley I was stationed at 9th. Troop Carrier Command, Grantham (which was originally No. 5 Group Headquarters) ….. I was posted there just as the Yanks had started to work there … we were more or less teaching them the job ….. Gradually long after “D” Day they took over the signals completely and our posting came through …. 5 to Uxbridge and the rest of the girls to Bletchley approx. 30 … I was posted to Uxbridge but because one of the girls was getting married to a Yank and wanted to be nearer home I volunteered to exchange postings .. much to my regret.
Whilst we were working with the Yanks we received their P.X. rations and it was like having Christmas every week .. lots of cheap cigarettes, choc, biscuits and many other things besides .. imagine how disgruntled we were when we had to go back to N.A.A.F.I. rations.
Because I had exchanged postings I had to wait for my railway warrant so the others set off before me …. I went down to the railway station to see them off and on the way back to camp a lorry pulled up and told me to get aboard .. they had seen to my kit and off I was sent …. a very timid lonely W.A.A.F. The others journeyed via Nottingham, I had to go via London .. and I had never been there and was a wee bit scared. I eventually arrived at Bletchley Railway Station and on presenting myself to the R.T.O. was informed that the others hadn’t arrived and was pointed the way to the camp .. I ignored all that and waited for the others.
We landed at Church Green and placed in to hut 129 .. what a dismal camp it was …. not a bit pleasant and we were even more disgruntled when we found out that it would take 3 weeks to Vet us and we were given some very unpleasant duties …. My friend and I were put on Ablution cleaning .. not at all
[page break]
our cup of tea but we had to put up with it. I’ll leave it to the imagination what the state of some of the toilets were in .. ugh
During the weeks we were waiting we had lectures etc. and I remember we were given one by an R.A.F. Officer who spelt out the whys and wherefores and do and don’ts emphasizing the need for speed and (no errors) … he was speaking to the initiated …. our machines at Grantham had almost set on fire on and around “D” Day (no errors) … when he asked for any questions one of the corporals stood up and gave him a slight lecture ….. we all enjoyed that.
The time came for us to be introduced to the Park …… all of us in hut 129 were put on “A” Watch ….. the watches were 2 days 16.00 – 23.59
“ “ 12.00 – 20.00
“ “ 8.00 – 16.00 ….. 48hrs. stand down.
We had a pass which we had to show on going in and out.
We duly arrived for the first session in the Teleprinter Block not knowing what to expect and on reflections I feel sorry for the girls who had never known any other than the Park, having gone there straight from Radio School, at least we had had experience of a working station, so to speak ……. it was just like walking in to a factory just loads of machines and neon lights which were always going on the blink which didn’t help the eyesight one bit.
We were each given a section of machines to look after and all we did all the time we were on duty was walk around keeping watch over the printers that we had been allocated just signing for the signals, tearing them off, folding them in half and placing them on the conveyor belts to their respective destinations … this we did for the whole of the watches and then after stand down we were given another section to look after ….. boring, boring, boring.
All this went off day after day, week after week, month after month.
I was only 5. ft. tall and was picked on a lot which depressed me and what made matters worse, I developed Scabies and was shunned by quite a few people .. I had the last laugh though because the others in the hut had dysentery and had to have their blankets fumigated
I am not knocking the cookhouse because we had some decent meals but I started to be sick after most meals and couldn’t bear my collar and tie on and eventually my friend told me that if I didn’t report sick she would disown me so off I went ….. given tablets (I can only think that they were sleeping tablets) which I had to go to the sick quarters for each day to have one administered.
[page break]
Having been vetted the only way out of Bletchley was to volunteer to go abroad which my friend did …. She duly had a medical, was found to have T.B. was sent off to hospital and never came back … this made me very sad and lonely …. And even more depressed.
I can’t descibe [sic] how ill I felt ….. but the job had to be done and I soldiered on .. even managing to pass a trade test ….. We occasionally got to send signals but those machines were few and far between.
On one of my Watches a group of civilians came thru on their way to another department and I couldn’t believe my eyes ‘cos coming toward me was a girl I went to school with but we only just had time to ask “What are you doing here?” when she was moved on … I never saw her again, (she was a boy and girl twin just like me) .. small world isn’t it?
I befriended a girl in the next but one bed to me and she came from St. Neots and was able to get home on her S.O.P. and she took pity on me and I used to go home with her occasionally it was so kind of her family to take me in like that because they had a houseful, Mom, Dad, Aunty, Joyce herself, her brother and three land army girls so it was very kind of them to accept me as one of the family and they were such a lively lot it helped me a great deal Sheffield where I came from was a bit too far really although a corporal who lived there and I did once try going home on a 48 hrs. pass but we had a struggle getting back to Bletchley and I became sick which didn’t help matters especially when we were a wee bit late for duty however we didn’t get put on a charge which was a blessing.
To cut a long story short I eventually was sent to R.A.F. Halton to face a Medical Board and had to travel in a corridor less train with a Sgt. who I had heard played her violin at midnight .. so I wasn’t too happy about that arrangement .. however all was well although she refused to wear her cap so didn’t salute an Officer who just happened to be passing the station entrance when we arrived at our destination she was reprimanded if I remember, and I was held up as an example of discipline …. a feather in my cap I must say.
After facing the Medical Board and answering lots of questions I was informed that I had a nervous throat and given to choking (I am to this day .. difficult when visiting the dentist). I was offered my discharge which I refused so the alternative was that I was posted to R.A.F. Norton. Sheffield the idea being that I worked on the camp in the signals section but lived at home in order to have food cooked by my Mom .and this arrangement lasted until my demob at the end of 1945..
I left B.P. silently two days before New Year’s Eve 1944. and was put on duty immediately New Year’s Day 1945..
[underlined] My war time experience at 17 by Eileen Pickering nee Gascoyne [/underlined]
Contributed by Eileen Pickering nee Gascoyne
People in story: Eileen Pickering nee Gascoyne (Halfpint), Jack Pickering
Location of story: England
[page break]
Background to story: Royal Air Force
Contributed on 20 October 2005 Photo 0
Photo Of 21 year old EILEEN GASCOYNE
[black and white photograph]
I was 17 yrs. of age when declaration of war was announced, from the pulpit. in Church during the Sunday service. To say we were a little afraid of the unknown is an understatement war was expected, sandbags and Anderson shelters had sprung up all over the place and black-out curtaining was being bought by the yard. We had the first siren warning almost immediately but. thankfully it was a false alarm. Black-out was upon us and we carried our little boxes containing gas masks, all the time.
Life carried an [sic] normally for a little while but friends and workmates started to he [sic] called up for active service and a [sic] family circles gradually diminished.
Dec. 12th. and 15th. 1940 (Thurs. and Sun.) Sheffield, where 1 [sic] was born and bred, suffered a Blitz ….. it was dreadful. Wave after wave of bombers almost all night and we were couped [sic] up with neighbours, in the shelter, almost below ground. My Dad had built bunk beds for my twin brother and me but we never slept in them, it was too crowded to lie down because all the neighbours in the yard wanted to be together. The only light we had was one candle and I remember the old lady next door to us sitting next to me drinking the brandy which was supposed to be for medicinal purposes only. The next day we had to “Shank’s pony” to and from work, walking 3 to 4 miles each time, in to the City (no excuses those days) and that went on for weeks. All form of transport ceased and we had to walk in all weathers over rubble and dripping water mains, through a district that had had a lot of damage it was a nightmare
My boyfriend (who is now my husband) used to call for me and we would walk to work together most days
[page break]
Jack had volunteered for the R.A.F. and in 1941 was called up for service and sent to S. Rhodesia for Pilot training supposedly for 9 months but he was held back as an instructor and didn’t return until 1945.
In 1943, just before my 21st. birthday, I was conscripted into the services and was lucky enough to have my choice to join the W.A.A.F. I did my square-bashing (Drill) at R.A.F. Innsworth. Gloucestershire and at the end of the course we had to put on a show. I could tap-dance (and still do) so was roped in for the chorus and a solo …… Dress material being almost none existent. [sic] The producer went in to Gloucester and came back with some patriotic serviettes which we sewed 1to [sic] our issue bras. and made little skirts to wear over our Air Force Blue “bloomers,” we thought we looked great and everybody thought the idea a good one, we just had to make sure that we didn’t tear them, good thing they only had to last for the one performance.
From Innsworth, along with quite a few more “sprogs” (new girls), I was posted to Whitley Bay in Northumberland, a hellish journey, having to stand up or sit. on our kit-bags all the way. Being a short-hand typist, I was put to work in the Orderly room of Station Headquarters and eventually promoted to the Adjutant’s Office, even though I was still only ACH/GD (Aircraft hand/general duties) at the time.
We had a Pig of a W.A.A.F. Officer and when she came to inspect us had us drilled on the lower prom facing the sun which reflected on to the sea, not very pleasant. I remember her once saying “Now I know what it is like to drill 70 wet, dead fish all said and done for the benefit of the holiday makers who came to watch us. There were a lot of barbed wire defences all over the place and she took great delight in marching us -towards them and not giving the order to about turn until we were about four aces away, she was not very popular.
After about three to four months we were allowed to re-muster and I applied to be a T/P/O (Teleprinter Operator). I had quite a Problem with the aforementioned officer, to let me do this because at the time said 1 [sic] that I would like to go into Safety Equipment
(parachute packing etc.) as far as that was concerned she said “NO WAY” she would have me scrubbing the cook-house floors first. I stood my ground and in the end she agreed for me to apply to be a T/P/O. I was accepted and was sent to R.A.F. Radio school at Cranwell College. in Sept. 1943. It was a 10 weeks course, on shift work, 6 p.m to 2 p.m and 2 p.m to 10.0 p.m. alternate weeks, if my memory serves me correctly. We had to take a test at the end of each fortnight before being allowed to move an [sic] to the next step Of the training and if you didn’t make the grade you were either moved back a fortnight or scrubbed altogether and sent to train as a cook. At the end of the 10 weeks we sat an exam and I passed ok which meant an upgrade in my pay to 2s. 2d. per day.
From Cranwell I was posted to Grantham to a place called St Vincent’s House which was gradually being taken over by the Americans (it had been No. 5. -Group Headquarters of the Dam Buster era). We shared watches (duties) with the Yanks and as some of them were new arrivals from the States we had the task of training them an [sic] a one to one basis, more or less. Because we were attached to their unit, so to speak we were allowed the P.X. (stores,) rations and it was like having Christmas every week. Plenty of gum, choc bars and biscuits as well as other small items such as face cloths, pens etc. We were allowed 140 cigarettes a week Camel, Chesterfields, Lucky Strike to name but a few. Being a non-smoker I used to send mine in the laundry parcel I sent home, for my Dad to have. The Yanks had plenty of money too and were over generous to the girls who dated them but a lot of us refused to allow this to happen too often, it did not seem right to take advantage of their good nature; most of the ones I worked along side were gentlemen..
[page break]
On New Year’s eve, those of us who weren’t on duty were collected by truck and driven to Cottesmore camp and we had a whale of a time dancing the year out, jitterbugging and feeding our faces with food we hadn’t thought existed anymore. It didn’t matter that we had a long uncomfortable ride back in an army lorry and on duty the next day, we were tired but happy.
Our watch arrived for 8.0 a.m duty on June 6th. (D Day) 1944 to lots of shushes and “Don’t talk to each other” orders from the R.A.F. Sergeant in charge of us, stupid man, all signals were in code anyway! We were kept very busy, sparks almost coming out of our machines. We’d had a suspicion something was afoot ‘cos a few days beforehand all leave and passes had been cancelled. However, this did not deter my friend and I from getting up early on our day off, walking to the outskirts of Grantham and hitching a ride to Sheffield. I had written home to say we would visit
(no telephone for us) so we kept our promise. We had to come back the same day otherwise we would have been put on a charge. How we managed it all in the one day I don’t know, I had no sense of direction and there were no signposts, but make it we did. There was one worrying moment on the way back when the truck driver stopped and got out of his cab (it was a transport lorry) and left us for what seemed ages and we had no idea how much further we had to go or even where we were. We were also starting to wonder as to whether we would be back in time for our 23.30 duty. I remember we were late but can’t think what excuse we gave but luckily we got away with it. How we made it through the night I don’t know but we were young and managed not to fall asleep during the long hours of pounding our machines.
The Yanks eventually took everything over and we were posted en bloc. to Bletchley Park in Buckinghamshire. I should have gone to Uxbridge but exchanged posting with a Londoner; worse days work I ever did.
Bletchley Park was known as Station X, very hush-hush so, as they sang in one of the war-time songs “We won’t talk about that”. All I can say is that before we could work in the Park we were vetted and as this took about three weeks we were put to all sorts of menial tasks. Unfortunately for me and my friend, we were put on ablution duties …….. cleaning toilets etc., it was awful. Despite discipline and hygiene lectures there were still the add [sic] bods who broke the rules and on occasions our duties weren’t exactly pleasant.
The W.A.A.F. camp left a lot to be desired (there were Army, Navy, Air Force and Civilians at the Park). Navy and civilians were looked after the best, living in private homes etc., Army and R.A.F. personnel had to put up with concrete huts with bitumastic floors, very sparse, and what seemed miles to the toilets and baths.
(enclosed copy of the hut next to mine, to give you an idea of living conditions, this was drawn by a friend of mine who I recently discovered at a W.A.A.F. re-union).
Conditions weren’t good at all and the only way out of the place was in a “box” on medical grounds, or by volunteering to go to India, which my friend did but at her medical, was found to have suspected T.B. and was posted to hospital for treatment. There wasn’t much in the way of entertainment, morale was pretty low, and illness overtook some of us. The whole of our hut had dysentery (35 girls) except me. I was greedy and had scabies and the treatment for that was horrible. I had to go to sick quarters every day, have a bath and scrub myself until the sores bled, dry myself off and then the orderly with a brush, slapped an [sic] some sort of paste which stung and had to dry slowly before I could get dressed again. I felt very degraded and was spurned by everyone. They assumed that I was dirty, which made me very depressed. Sickness and depression dogged me all the time I was stationed there and eventually 1 [sic] had to face a Medical Board which entailed a trip to
[page break]
R.A.F. Halton Hospital. I was offered a discharge an [sic] medical grounds, but refused it. The alternative was a posting to R.A.F. Norton, Sheffield where I was allowed to live at home, attending camp only for duties and pay parades, etc.
I remained at Norton until my demobilisation in October, 1945 and during that time, my fiancee [sic] came home from S. Rhodesia and we were married just after V.E. day on 19th May, 1945. That is another story.
A SYNOPSIS OF my WARTIME EXPERIENCE
Mrs E Pickering (nee. Gascoyne)
483863 L.A.C.W.
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
Three articles about Eileen Pickering and her wartime experinces
Description
An account of the resource
Three articles in the same document. The first 'About the contributor Eileen Pickering nee Gascoyne' describes early life, growing up as well as describing parents, school and success at swimming. The second article 'A story of her work at Bletchley Park' which includes a drawing of a typical hut and account of her time before Bletchley, journey to Bletchley and routine including description of her work there once she arrived. Continues with account of a friend she met and her medical discharge. The third article 'My wartime experience at 17 by Eileen Pickering nee Gascoyne' includes a photograph of Eileen in uniform at 23 years old which tells of life at the beginning of the war in Sheffield including being bombed. Writes of being conscripted in 1943 at 21 years old. Gives account of training at RAF Innsworth and posting to Whitley Bay. She follows with description of re-mustering as a teleprinter operator and posting to 5 Group Headquarters at Grantham including events on D-Day. Concludes with a little of time at Bletchley Park.
Creator
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E Pickering
Format
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Nine page printed document
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BPickeringEPickeringv1
Coverage
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Civilian
Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Yorkshire
England--Sheffield
England--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
England--Gloucestershire
England--Buckinghamshire
England--Whitley Bay
England--Northumberland
England--Milton Keynes
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1940
1943
1944
1945
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
Tricia Marshall
5 Group
arts and crafts
ground personnel
medical officer
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
RAF Cranwell
RAF Halton
RAF Innsworth
station headquarters
training
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1419/25209/PWeltonB1501.1.jpg
7fdce2de7a332cd161cd7b8236bae9c4
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1419/25209/AWeltonB150604.1.mp3
595bcc016e786922ddc517ce96f6d4fc
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
Welton, Betty
B Welton
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
2015-06-04
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. 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
Welton, B
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Betty Welton.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
BW: My name’s Betty Welton and I was born in 1924 and I had a good childhood and I joined the Land Army when I was seventeen and a half. Dad wouldn’t let me join the Forces because he said they’d got a bad name. So I said, ‘Well, what about the Land Army?’ And that seemed alright so I joined up. And I went up, I got my papers and everything and went up to Westgate Station at Wakefield where we lived, got on the train and went right down to Bletchley and then we got transferred to Amersham, in billets there. And it was hard. And we were all, we had bicycles where we had to go to work. But apart from that the airmen used to come from the camp not far away to dances at our hostel and then we used to go there to their dances which was good.
PE: Do you want me to ask you some questions? Is that going to be easier for you?
BW: You ask me questions.
PE: Yeah. Okay. Fine. [Pause] What school did you go to?
BW: I went to Lawefield Lane School at Wakefield. First of all I went to the Church School, sorry and then I went to Lawefield Lane School and left when I was fourteen and got a job straightaway. But sadly, mother died just after I had started work and she was only fifty eight. But I kept working for about two years at a dress, in a dress shop. But dad couldn’t manage so I had to leave the job and stay at home and look after dad. And that’s how I learned to cook and everything and house work. And then eventually after years went by he got married again. So, I wasn’t very happy and I said, ‘Well, I’m joining the Forces.’ But then he said, ‘You’re not going in the Forces. They’ve got a bad name.’ So, I joined the Land Army and it was the best time of my life.
PE: Why did you particularly want to join the Forces?
BW: To get away. To get away from cleaning and, being a young girl again.
PE: What attracted you to the RAF?
BW: I don’t know really. It was just I used to love aeroplanes. There weren’t so many then but I used to love aeroplanes and I thought I’d love to join the Air Force but it wasn’t to be. But it did run in the family later on because my son joined the Air Force when he was old enough and so did my daughter. So that was lovely for me.
PE: It’s alright. Just a sec. I’m just going to shut this window. We’re getting a bit of traffic noise through. That’s made a big difference. It’s alright. Don’t worry. You’re doing fine. When you went to Amersham, in the billets there —
BW: Yeah.
PE: What sort of work did you do on the land?
BW: I was shepherdess, and a milkmaid but more a shepherdess. And I loved that. That was really lovely being with the lambs when they were born.
PE: Can you sort of describe what you did?
BW: Well, I used to have to be there when they were lambing and help the lambs out. And I think it was there that I was doing the milking and a cow kicked me and it sent me agin the boards and I sprained my wrist so I had to go home then on leave. I was on leave about three weeks and then I, when I was all fit to go back I joined up again and I was sent to Grantham. Little, Little Ponton, in private billets which was nice. Nice family. But it was hard work getting up early and fetching water from the pump down in the stackyard and such things. Fetching the cows up. Never thought I’d do things like that but yes, it went alright. And then they used to kill a pig which was horrible. I used to have to help with that with the lady. And I remember the only cooker she had was a metal cooker about a yard wide and long and it was paraffin heaters underneath it. Two paraffin heaters. But she used to cook some lovely meals, especially pastry. I remember the big pies we used to get. And, and then my dad, as I said he got married. Met somebody at Ropsley and got married again. But I didn’t used to get home much to Wakefield I’m afraid. There was nothing there for me.
PE: When you, sorry I’ll start that again, when you sprained your wrist and you went home for three weeks were you sort of happy then?
BW: Not really. No. I was eager to get back. Really eager to get back and I soon got in to it again. Got a few blisters like but —
PE: So originally you went to Amersham.
BW: Yes.
PE: Which is in Buckinghamshire.
BW: Yeah.
PE: And then you sprained your wrist and you went back to —
BW: Yeah.
PE: Wakefield.
BW: Yeah.
PE: Or near Wakefield.
BW: Yeah.
PE: And then you were reallocated to, to near Grantham. Is that correct?
BW: Yes. Yeah.
PE: Yeah.
BW: Yeah
PE: Yeah. Did you see a big difference in the way that you looked after animals in Amersham compared to Grantham?
BW: Well, I liked the people more in, at Little Ponton and around about, you know and the animals were taken care of. We had to care for them more there. Myself, I had to, you know washing them down before they were milked. We had to do everything and then, you know with the milk as well. And I used to help them make butter. I’m trying to think. I had something else on my mind and I can’t think now.
PE: Well, normally what happens when I interview people they usually remember something that isn’t very nice. So I don’t know whether you saw any of the —
BW: Oh yes.
PE: Saw any of the action.
BW: I have.
PE: Over Amersham, you know.
BW: No. This is over at Little Ponton, not Little Ponton, at Grantham. At Ingoldsby. The worst thing was being a town girl I wasn’t used to country ways and the toilet. Shall I put this?
PE: Yeah. Carry on.
BW: The toilet was right down in the stack yard and you had to go through geese and all sorts to get there. It was shocking. And when you got in the toilet it was buckets underneath and there was three holes in the wood. The mind boggles but I never had any company [laughs]
PE: At the time that you were in Amersham it —
BW: Oh right.
PE: It, it it’s possible that as you were near the south coast you might have saw some of the aeroplanes going in and going out. Did you remember anything like that?
BW: Not such a lot there. No. It was more at Little Ponton where they got to know all the aeroplanes. The Lancasters. They used to be going over our house.
PE: Yeah. So, at that time were you living at Stainton le Vale?
BW: I was at, I was at little, at Binbrook. No.
PE: Right.
BW: I’m getting mixed up.
PE: You were at Grantham.
BW: I was at Grantham.
PE: Grantham.
BW: Yes.
PE: And you described —
BW: At Branston.
PE: At Branston.
BW: At Branston. That’s right.
PE: And —
BW: Yes.
PE: You were very close to the end of the runway at Binbrook.
BW: Oh, that was Stainton le Vale.
PE: Right.
BW: That was at Stainton le Vale where we lived, yes.
PE: Yeah.
BW: Yeah.
PE: I’m just trying to —
BW: Oh sorry. Yes.
PE: I’m just trying to follow the sequence of events.
BW: Yeah.
PE: So, we have you at Amersham.
BW: Right. Yes.
PE: And then you go to Grantham.
BW: Yes.
PE: And then at some point you’re watching Lancasters.
BW: Yes.
PE: Going over the, or coming in and out of Binbrook.
BW: Yes.
PE: So, can you just sort of describe that?
BW: Well, when we, when I was at Binbrook in private lodgings we used to hear the Binbrook, hear the Lancasters going out bombing. And we used to count them. There was another Land Girl and we slept in the same bed which wouldn’t be allowed now would it? [laughs] And we used to hear the Lancasters going over and count them. It isn’t often we heard them coming back. I suppose we’d be asleep. But one night we were in bed and the German planes came over and it was a, it was a row of cottages at Branston at, in the top of the village and he went right down the row of houses machine gunning and the bullets came through our bedroom ceiling and they were just showing through. I think there was quite a few because they, and of course the girl I was with we wanted to keep some of the bullets for souvenirs but the police wouldn’t let us. We had to, they had to take them or whoever. But that was quite frightening.
PE: Did you ever see any crash landings?
BW: No.
PE: At Binbrook.
BW: No. I didn’t. No.
PE: Okay. So how long were you at Binbrook then?
BW: My first daughter was born there. We were there about three years, I think.
PE: Right.
BW: My first husband was one for moving about. It came to April the 6th, moving day on the farms and from there we moved to Darlton, near Newark and my youngest son was born there. From there we moved to [pause] oh where did we go then? My family have all been born in different villages.
PE: When did you meet your husband?
BW: I met my husband in the Land Army.
PE: Can you, can —
BW: He worked on the farm.
PE: Can you describe that? How you met?
BW: Yes. Well, they used to come, my husband used to come with two or three more to work on our farm in busy seasons and of course the Land Girls used to be talking to them and took us out a time or two when we got to know them to the dances and it went from there and we decided to get married.
PE: What year was that?
BW: Would it be ’44 or [pause] no. No. It wasn’t. Forty, yeah ’44 and my first daughter was born in ’46.
PE: And where was that?
BW: At Stainton le Vale. That’s right. Got that right.
PE: Good. So, you were at Grantham.
BW: Yes.
PE: And was and you met your husband there.
BW: Yeah.
PE: Yeah. And then you moved to Stainton le Vale.
BW: Yes.
PE: Which is where that put you at sort of at the end of the —
BW: Yes, that’s —
PE: Effectively at the end of the runway.
BW: Yes. That’s right. Yeah.
PE: For Binbrook. And that’s where you saw all the Lancasters —
BW: Yes.
PE: Coming in and out.
BW: Yes.
PE: Yeah. Yeah.
BW: And we used to walk up through Binbrook to the village and we could see the planes all stood there you know but you used to be able to walk through. Just like that. You wouldn’t now.
PE: When you were walking through did you ever speak to any of the pilots?
BW: No.
PE: Or the crews?
BW: No.
PE: No.
BW: I’d got a pram with me then. I was in a hurry to get there and back. It was a long way. I hadn’t time to chat. No. I never saw anybody. Not [pause] but I know at Binbrook, not that we went, the airmen used to go to one of the pubs there. I forget what they called it. Very popular it was for the airmen. They more or less took it over. But no, we never went there. Couldn’t afford it.
PE: So, what did you do after the war?
BW: Where did we live then? Stainton le Vale. Then we went to near Newark as I said. Worked on the farm there. And then we went to, we came to Caistor. Sorry, Swallow. We came to Swallow then and my husband worked on the land. And of course, I’d got a family then so [pause] but unfortunately, he died when he was fifty eight. He got a disease. They were spraying on the land and they never used to wear masks then. He worked for a Mr Bingham and he got this spray on him. And it started here and he went to hospital and he never came out. It spread over him. He died at fifty eight and I had four children.
PE: I’m sorry to hear that.
BW: That was sad.
PE: Yes. It is.
BW: I’m still here and they’re all lovely children.
PE: And they look —
BW: They grew up and got their own children.
PE: And they look after you —
BW: Yes. They do.
PE: Good.
BW: They all live away but they do come and see me.
PE: Is it fair to say that because you joined the Land Army then working on the land became your life after the end of the Second World War?
BW: That it — ?
PE: I’ll say that again. When you joined the Land Army that was something you were very interested in.
BW: Yes. Yeah.
PE: Did that sort of encourage and inspire you to carry on working on the land?
BW: Oh, it did. It made my life joining the Land Army. It brought me out. I was very shy. Well, I still am a bit shy but, it never leaves you but I was awfully shy ‘til then and it just made a woman of me I suppose. A lady. And I enjoyed it so much.
PE: And that inspired you to carry on working on the land.
BW: Yes. Yes, it did.
PE: So, in effect —
BW: Yes.
PE: You were in farming weren’t you?
BW: Yes.
PE: Yes.
BW: Yeah.
PE: In agriculture.
BW: Yeah.
PE: Yeah. During your time, you know as somebody who was in the Land Army can you remember anything that was particularly amusing?
BW: Well, more or less only that at Branston. When the bombers went over. And, well we thought it was awful at the time but then we thought it was funny after but the lady we lodged with she was very very strict and we had to be in a certain time and if we were late the door used to be locked.
PE: So, when you were at Branston you were working on the land.
BW: Yeah.
PE: As a Land Girl.
BW: Yeah.
PE: But you were actually living somewhere else in these digs. Is that right?
BW: Yes. In private billets they was. Yeah.
PE: Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. So, they were all private billets then.
BW: Well, that house we were in was that the Land Army, you know. She would get paid well for having us there. And we used to have to cycle to work.
PE: How far did you have to cycle?
BW: A mile and a half or two mile. Yes. It was hard work.
PE: Did you enjoy it?
BW: I did. Yeah. We got over it. It was hard work but yes we enjoyed it.
PE: So, do you think you made a valuable contribution to the war effort?
BW: I’m sure I did. I’m sure I did. Yes. Because the people that we were billeted with at the private billets they’d never seen town people before you know. They took a bit of getting used to my ways. And if it thundered the lady when I was at Ponton, in private billets rather she, the children that she had used to have to go under the table and pull the tablecloth down. And I used to sit there. She was annoyed with me because I wouldn’t do it but that was funny.
PE: Is there anything else you can particularly remember about your time in the Land Army?
BW: Well, when I was shepherdess I, as I say I used to have to take the feed out in a little pony and trap. And that was lovely going on the main road with the bags of feed and then you know putting it in the troughs for them. And that was a lovely time. I can’t remember anything much else.
PE: Did you ever think while you were in the Land Army did you ever think about what was happening, you know in London and some of the other big cities?
BW: Oh, I did. I did.
PE: When they were being bombed.
BW: Yes. I did. But it was, there wasn’t a lot of news then was there? You know. Radio. I think she had a radio but we didn’t get a chance to listen to it so we didn’t know. Only when we saw the bombers going over and things like that. We weren’t well informed. But we did wonder what was going on.
PE: Did you ever manage to get to a cinema?
BW: Yes. We did now and again in Lincoln but we had to cycle in. But yeah, there was the news on then. Oh, that would be it. That’s where we got the news. Yeah. Pathe Gazette. Yes. So, it was quite alarming that was. To think that we were safe like we were and what was going on there. It was hell wasn’t it?
PE: Did you ever worry about your family back in Wakefield?
BW: Not really. But when, when I was at home it was, before mother died and we had, did I tell you, we had to down in the cellar.
PE: Carry on.
BW: And we used to have to go down some stone steps where there was a big gantry where you kept food and then the next door you went through was the coal place where the man used to put the coal through a thing on the street. Drop the bag of coal through and we used to have to sit in this cellar. Well, the [pause] the siren went to say it was all clear and there was a bomb dropped at the end of our road where I lived. In the allotments.
PE: And that was in Wakefield.
BW: That was in Wakefield. Yeah. Did I say I joined the ARP?
PE: No, you didn’t.
BW: Oh. I did. Yeah.
PE: Well. I’ll ask the question then. Did you join the ARP?
BW: I did. Yes. That’s a thing I did want to do and used to go, wear a gas mask when we were at school. Little cardboard boxes. And of course, we had to take them up there to the, in to Wakefield and we used to be on duty. Night duty. Sleep in a little bed with a stone water bottle and if you were lucky you were agin, agin the stove. A big black stove. Freezing cold. But yeah, we’d some good friends there and I got to know a lot of people.
PE: So, you were doing firewatch duty.
BW: Yes. Yeah. I was trained for St John’s medical things. I got my certificate and everything but I never had to use it, thank goodness.
PE: So, when you were an ARP warden presumably you did that as well as your ordinary job.
BW: Yes. I did. Yes. Yes.
PE: So, did that mean working at night a lot?
BW: Not in my job. We finished at seven. We finished at 7 o’clock on a weekday in the shop and then sometimes I used to go straight to the ARP instead of going home. Take my things with me and go straight up there.
PE: Yeah. So, you were working. So, you were working during the day.
BW: Yes.
PE: And then you were doing your ARP duties.
BW: Yes.
PE: During the night.
BW: Yes. I did.
PE: Is that right?
BW: Yeah.
PE: You didn’t get a lot of sleep then.
BW: No, didn’t. Didn’t. But it wasn’t every night I was on duty. Just so many nights. Maybe two nights a week, and you could sleep if you could get to sleep but, yeah I’d forgotten about that.
PE: Yeah. So, did you see much bombing in Wakefield?
BW: Yes. Yes, we did and we could hear them going off. Terrible. Wakefield was hit quite bad but not, as I say there was one at the end of the garden. It was an incendiary bomb so [pause] but I didn’t know much about, I can’t remember much about anything else with the bombs but I knew they were going off.
PE: Is, is that what inspired you to want to join the RAF?
BW: It is. Yeah. Yeah. I, I just liked the thoughts of the RAF. But then dad wouldn’t let me so I never got in there.
PE: Did your father do anything during the Second World War? I mean was he —
BW: He was a blacksmith engineer. He was a very busy man. He, at Sydney Raines at Wakefield. He went there from school being an orphan as I told you and they trained him and he was there while he retired and I remember he, he came home and he said he’d been offered would it be a pension? Not a pension. Money. He could either have it, some every month or a lump sum and he had a lump sum and I think it was eighty seven pound. It was a fortune then. Something of that, that figure. Yeah.
PE: Was your father involved in the First World War?
BW: No. No. He wasn’t. No. No. He wasn’t, he wasn’t old enough for that. But they had a brother that was in the army, Uncle Herbert and he went to France. He was in the bombing. He went to Germany. Was it Germany? And he got shot. That’s right. And he came back to France to the hospital there where they used to go, didn’t they? I think it was France. No. It wasn’t. It was Jersey. Sorry. They sent him to Jersey to the hospital and he was there a long time. He was quite ill. But then he recovered and the nurse that had been looking after him they got engaged and got married and he decided to stay in Jersey. They lived in there. So, and his family, my cousin Eric, he is the, a Chelsea Pensioner now. Virtually the same age as me. So we keep in touch quite a lot.
PE: Do you see him very often?
BW: No. I would love to go down to London but I just can’t make it. My daughter and granddaughter went but I wasn’t fit enough to go. Not, not there and back in one day. But I’m going to do. They’re going to take me and we shall stay overnight at Chelsea, in the barracks so Eric said. Which would be lovely.
PE: Well, that’s lovely. Thanks very much for taking the time to talk to me.
BW: Oh [laughs]
PE: As I say. Is there anything else you can remember or —
BW: Yeah [pause] I can’t remember such a lot except when we [pause] where was it? At Swallow I used to drive a little Fergie tractor. I was so proud of that tractor. Have I told you that? And my youngest son David, he was only, it was when I was left on my own and I used to take David with me and there was a seat at the back of the tractor and I used to pad it up and tie him with a big scarf around me and he used to go to work with me on the tractor. Work with the, in the fields. Tractor and trailer and the lot.
PE: How old was he then?
BW: It was before he started school. He’d be four. Three and a half. Four. But I had to go to work because I needed money. A widow’s pension wasn’t much then and a family. And then I didn’t report it that I was working and somebody reported me. So I gave up then. Some kind person. I didn’t make, didn’t get much money.
PE: No.
BW: Not, you know, on the farm.
PE: No.
BW: But that was a horrible thing.
PE: Yeah.
BW: But I never looked back after. Yeah.
PE: Good. Well thanks very much, Betty. That was —
BW: Oh, you’re welcome.
PE: That was wonderful. Thank you.
BW: I hope I’ve done it right.
PE: That’s alright. As I say it, I mean sometimes people will just tell their story from start to finish.
BW: Yeah.
PE: And sometimes it means that —
BW: Yeah.
PE: You know, whoever I interview we have a conversation like we’ve done.
BW: Yes. Yeah.
PE: But it doesn’t matter. We’ve, we’ve got —
BW: Yeah.
PE: Some really nice stories and some information from you.
BW: Oh good.
PE: So, that will be really helpful.
BW: Oh good.
PE: I’m sure everybody will be pleased with that so thank you very much.
BW: Thank you anyway for taking the time as well to do that. It’s quite an honour.
PE: It’s a pleasure. Alright then, Betty.
BW: And as I said I’m going to a tea dance this afternoon. I’ve never been to one before.
PE: I’m sure —
BW: It’s only in Caistor.
PE: I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.
BW: My friend said, ‘I’ve, I’ve got two tickets and we’re going to a tea dance.’ My goodness. I said, ‘I can’t dance now. We used to.’ And she said, ‘Well, we can shuffle our feet.’
PE: Did you do a lot of dancing in the war?
BW: Pardon?
PE: Did you do a lot of dancing in the war?
BW: Yes, I did. When we went to Spitalgate and they used to come to us at Branston. I used to love dancing.
PE: Yeah.
BW: But as I said dad would never let me dance. Never go to a dance at home but I made up for it after [laughs] And I behaved myself [laughs]
PE: Well, that’s very good. It’s interesting really that of all the people that I’ve spoken to whatever happened during the war, whatever tragedies occurred they still carried on with life.
BW: Yeah.
PE: As it was.
BW: Yes. Yeah.
PE: And from your point of view I remember interviewing people who were in London and whatever bombing took place they always made sure they went to the dance.
BW: Yes.
PE: On a Saturday night.
BW: Yes. That’s right.
PE: And they went to the pictures on say a Wednesday night.
BW: All times of the year. Yeah.
PE: The Blitz spirit truly survived.
BW: Yeah.
PE: And the good old British public.
BW: That’s right.
PE: Would not be beaten.
BW: No.
PE: And they had a great, great strength and great bravery —
BW: Yes.
PE: I think, to, to continue with it, you know so —
BW: And I remember at, when I was at Grantham I’d never had much money, you know. I didn’t get a lot in the Land Army but I used to save it up and when I went in to Lincoln I bought these new shoes and they were red and, bright red and bright green and they were like clogs. That was the fashion then. You won’t remember them, will you? And I went home in them. My dad nearly had a fit. I think he nearly burned them.
PE: What year was that then roughly?
BW: Oh, what year would it be?
PE: It was during the war, was it?
BW: Yeah.
PE: That was very brave [laughs]
BW: [laughs] Yes, it was. That was funny really. It was awful at the time but [pause] Oh, and another thing I’ve remembered. This girl I was with in lodgings she had a blonde, they used to have a, like a, I forget what you called it like a fringe but turned under. So I got mine done. And hers was done blonde so what did I do? We got some bleach and she did mine for me. Went home on leave once. My dad nearly threw a fit. Anyhow, he says, ‘What have you done?’ I said, ‘I haven’t done anything.’ I said, ‘It’s the sun because I wear a scarf and the sun’s bleached it.’[laughs] I don’t think he believed me though. He took it in but that was one of the funny things. So, yes. I had a blonde fringe.
PE: Oh, that’s brilliant. Thank you very much, Betty. That’s wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. I’m going to switch the camera off now. Okay.
BW: Oh [laughs] I thought you’d switched it off before.
PE: No. No. No.
BW: Oh dear.
PE: No, that’s, that’s brilliant. Thank, thank you very much, Betty. I’m going to switch it off now.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Interview with Betty Welton
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Paul Espin
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
2015-06-04
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
00:35:19 Audio Recording
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Sound
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
AWeltonB150604, PWeltonB1501
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
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Description
An account of the resource
Betty Welton was born in 1924. She left school at the age of fourteen, and at the age of seventeen and a half joined the Women’s Land Army. She saw this as an opportunity to escape her home circumstances. On receiving her papers she travelled from her home town of Wakefield to Buckinghamshire, where she was billeted in Amersham. Her job was shepherdess, and milking the cows. On one occasion she was kicked by a cow, sprained her wrist and went home on leave. When she rejoined she was sent to work at Little Ponton near Grantham and stayed with a family in private billets. When she was billeted near RAF Binbrook she used to hear the Lancaster bombers and count them as they flew over, and remembers cycling to Lincoln to the cinema. She was also a volunteer for the ARP.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Buckinghamshire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
England--Wakefield
England--Yorkshire
England--Caistor (Rural district)
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Julie Williams
Carolyn Emery
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944
Air Raid Precautions
animal
civil defence
entertainment
home front
Lancaster
RAF Binbrook
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1414/27747/E[Author]AWareingJ[Date]-010001.jpg
803e5c0ee12f43c586778b4add9a608b
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1414/27747/E[Author]AWareingJ[Date]-010002.jpg
24c789f9f8dbcfca58da1a4fe493d73e
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
Wareing, Robert
R Wareing
Description
An account of the resource
258 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Robert Wareing DFC* (86325 Royal Air Force) and contains his flying logbooks, prisoner of war log book, memoirs, photographs, extensive personal and official correspondence, official documents, pilots/handling notes, decorations, mementos, uniform badges and buttons. He flew operations as a pilot with 106 Squadron. After a period of instructing he returned to operations on 582 Squadron but was shot down and became a prisoner of war.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Andrew Wareing and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-10-05
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.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Wareing, R
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[inserted] P.S I’ll be seeing you at Xmas. [/inserted] [underlined] Colsterworth. [/underlined]
Joan My Dear,
Thank you very much indeed for your sweet letter. Yes it certainly is great news. I also had a letter from Mary (Hugh’s sister-in law) she lives with his Mummie. She said Mrs [indecipherable word] had had a card from Hugh he was very well and being well looked after. I hope to goodness the war will soon be over then all the boys can come home. You should be hearing from Bob soon. I think they have rushed the Arnhem boys letters through, it’s only taken some of them about
[page break]
7 weeks to come. I think they are only allowed 1 card a month now, or so I’ve been told.
I’d simply love to come to those lectures they sound awfully interesting.
I’m very busy sewing at the moment, trying to make something out of nothing for Xmas gifts. They certainly are a problem, especially when you live out of town.
Well my dear Joey by bye for now love to your Mummie and Daddy & lots to yourself.
Alice.
P.S. [underlined] IF [/underlined] you can get me any Elizabeth Arden cream I’d love it please, talc or lipstick. I simply can’t get a thing here.
[page break]
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 Joan Wareing from Alice
Description
An account of the resource
The author, Alice, writes to Joan thanking her for a letter. She also mentions the speed of delivery of letters from troops at Arnhem.
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
E[Author]AWareingJ[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
Civilian
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Tricia Marshall
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
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1414/28090/E[Author]AWareingJ440907.pdf
f6661632adb31ffcac34a22e2af456b3
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
Wareing, Robert
R Wareing
Description
An account of the resource
258 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Robert Wareing DFC* (86325 Royal Air Force) and contains his flying logbooks, prisoner of war log book, memoirs, photographs, extensive personal and official correspondence, official documents, pilots/handling notes, decorations, mementos, uniform badges and buttons. He flew operations as a pilot with 106 Squadron. After a period of instructing he returned to operations on 582 Squadron but was shot down and became a prisoner of war.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Andrew Wareing and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-10-05
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.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Wareing, R
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
The Hostel
Colsterworth
Nr. Grantham.
7th Sept.
My Dearest Joan,
I can’t tell you how happy I am for you. When I received your Wire (at least I presumed you sent it,) I had a damm [sic] good cry I was so thankful.
You didn’t say if he was a prisoner, even if he is he’ll soon be home at the rate the war’s going.
I told Hugh about it & he is so pleased. I’m still going out with him, he’s awfully good fun. There has been one or two flaps about them going away, but they are still here thank goodness. The only snag is though, that they may
[page break]
2
be saving this particular bunch of paratroops for a “nice easy drop on Germany”!!! I sincerely hope not though.
I’ve been going out quite a lot of late to dances & they had a party in the mess one nite, [sic] only a small affair because there are only five officers. Then one nite [sic] Hugh and I [indecipherable word] an invite up to the mess at the American camp. Had a nice quiet evening everything you could wish for to drink, I had some iced fruit juice, it really was super. The Yanks certainly do make themselves comfortable.
The weather here the last few days has been super. Very cold in the
[page break]
3
mornings, but the sun has been shining. The farmers are all “flapping” about getting their harvest in.
I was going to an officers’ ball at HQ. the other Saturday, but it was cancelled owing to a “flap”. They had actually got [underlined] Bing Crosby [/underlined] to come down & sing. It was a dress “do” of course & I was thrilled to bits at the idea of wearing my bridesmaids frock at last, so you can guess how disappointed I was.
I do hope your Mummie & Daddy are well, my regards to them please.
Well my dear I really must go now, & write
[page break]
4
a few more letters. I’m afraid I’ve been neglecting everyone.
Please give my love to Bob when you write or when you see him. Please write soon & give me all the “griff” about him.
Always your friend.
[underlined] Alice. [/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
Letter to Joan Wareing from Alice
Description
An account of the resource
She writes that she is very happy to hear that Bob is safe and presumes he is a prisoner of war. She also writes about her social activities and the weather.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1944-09-07
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Tricia Marshall
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Four page handwritten letter
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
E[Author]AWareingJ440907
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
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-09-07
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
entertainment
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1414/28091/E[Author]AWareingJ440911.jpg
3daf2e195ef0984f09228acfdb95888b
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
Wareing, Robert
R Wareing
Description
An account of the resource
258 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Robert Wareing DFC* (86325 Royal Air Force) and contains his flying logbooks, prisoner of war log book, memoirs, photographs, extensive personal and official correspondence, official documents, pilots/handling notes, decorations, mementos, uniform badges and buttons. He flew operations as a pilot with 106 Squadron. After a period of instructing he returned to operations on 582 Squadron but was shot down and became a prisoner of war.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Andrew Wareing and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-10-05
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.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Wareing, R
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
POST OFFICE TELEGRAM
OFFICE STAMP SCUNTHORPE LINCS 11 SEP 1944
290 5.45 COLSTERWORTH 15
WAREING WEST COMMON GDNS BRUMBY SCUNTHORPE =
IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU JOAN DEAR LOVE = ALICE
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
Telegram to Joan Wareing from Alice
Description
An account of the resource
Writes she is so happy.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1944-09-11
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
England--Scunthorpe
England--Grantham
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-09-11
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Printed telegram form
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
E[Author]AWareingJ440911
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
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
David Bloomfield
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1414/28196/EBaileyCBWareingR430528.2.jpg
162c33612093608f93859cdde9629df6
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
Wareing, Robert
R Wareing
Description
An account of the resource
258 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Robert Wareing DFC* (86325 Royal Air Force) and contains his flying logbooks, prisoner of war log book, memoirs, photographs, extensive personal and official correspondence, official documents, pilots/handling notes, decorations, mementos, uniform badges and buttons. He flew operations as a pilot with 106 Squadron. After a period of instructing he returned to operations on 582 Squadron but was shot down and became a prisoner of war.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Andrew Wareing and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-10-05
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.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Wareing, R
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
TELEPHONE: BUCKMINSTER 228.
TELEGRAMS: BAILEY, COLSTERWORTH, GRANTHAM.
APPLEBY-FRODINGHAM STEEL CO. LTD.
ASSOCIATED WITH
THE UNITED STEEL COMPANIES LIMITED.
IRONSTONE MINES,
COLSTERWORTH,
NEAR GRANTHAM,
LINCOLNSHIRE.
GOODS TO GRANTHAM STATION. L.N.E.R.
SIDINGS A-F-S Co. SIDINGS, COLSTERWORTH.
STAINBY (G.N. SECTION) L.N.E.R.
OUR REF: CB/MA
28th. May 1943.
Squadron Leader Wareing D.F.C.
R.A.F.
Cottesmore,
Rutland.
Dear Squadron Leader Wareing,
When I was at Scunthorpe on Tuesday last I was very surprised to know that anyone from the Frodingham Works was likely to be so near to the mines owned by the Company in this district, and perhaps I might extend to you a very sincere invitation to come along and see us at any time you feel you have a loose end.
I know too that our village would very much like to use your services in the “Wings for Victory” week which is being held June 19th. to 26th. and whether you are an expert speaker or not, I know that they would very much welcome you at any functions you may be able to attend.
They are particularly asking me to find someone to officially open the “Wings for Victory” week, which will be about 3 p.m. on Saturday the 19th. at a Garden Fete to be held at “Highfield.”
I know full well that you may think this is something of a “dog hanging”, but believe me, the general public are very interested in you good fellows who are giving such efforts for us.
Yours sincerely,
[signature]
Chas. B. Bailey.
[The United Steel Companies Ltd crest]
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 Appleby-Frodingham Steel Company to Squadron Leader Robert Wareing
Description
An account of the resource
Writes inviting him to speak at their village’s festivities during the “Wings for Victory” week and, in particular to officially open the week at the garden fete.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
C B Bailey
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1943-05-28
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Tricia Marshall
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One page typewritten 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
EBaileyCBWareingR430528
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--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
England--Rutland
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943-05-28
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
RAF Cottesmore
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1414/28197/EBaileyCBWareingR430703.2.jpg
5a46f2a8b5b9695d01b8eaba9bef2f4e
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
Wareing, Robert
R Wareing
Description
An account of the resource
258 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Robert Wareing DFC* (86325 Royal Air Force) and contains his flying logbooks, prisoner of war log book, memoirs, photographs, extensive personal and official correspondence, official documents, pilots/handling notes, decorations, mementos, uniform badges and buttons. He flew operations as a pilot with 106 Squadron. After a period of instructing he returned to operations on 582 Squadron but was shot down and became a prisoner of war.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Andrew Wareing and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-10-05
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.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Wareing, R
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
PHONE: BUCKMINSTER 228.
CHAS. B. GAILEY, M.I.MIN.E, A.M.I. MECH.E.
COLSTERWORTH,
NEAR GRANTHAM,
LINCS.
3rd July 1943.
Squadron Leader Wareing,
R.A.F. Cottesmore,
Oakham.
Dear Squadron Leader Wareing,
I am sorry to have been so long writing you in the matter of the Colsterworth “Wings for Victory” week to let you know the total obtained in that village; the figure reached was £11,363.10.11d. and I think you will agree with me that it is most gratifying, and shows how valuable your “stir up” was at the opening on the Saturday.
I know I am expressing the views of the Committee, and certainly of myself, in saying how glad we were to see you and have the benefit of your talk.
I hope we may see something of you in the near future, and repeat our previous invitation to come along at any mutually convenient time.
Kindest regards.
Yours sincerely,
[signature]
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 Charles B. Bailey to Squadron Leader Wareing
Description
An account of the resource
Writes thanking him for giving a talk at the “Wings for Victory” opening ceremony in Colsterworth. He states that the funds raised were £11,363/10/11d. He hopes to see Squadron Leader Wareing in the near future.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
C B Bailey
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1943-07-03
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Tricia Marshall
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One page typewritten 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
EBaileyCBWareingR430703
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--Lincolnshire
England--Grantham
England--Rutland
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943-07-03
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
RAF Cottesmore