1
25
53
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1313/19080/PStachiewiczM17010045.2.jpg
516461309972479b0b38e5500c0d8d96
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1313/19080/PStachiewiczM17010046.2.jpg
d9a1440490bd0c41da67a61af79a4b32
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
Stachiewicz, Mieczysław. Album
Description
An account of the resource
58 items. An album of photographs, newspaper clippings and papers relating to Mieczysław Stachiewicz's escape from Poland through Romania, Greece, and France to Great Britain, and his tour of operations as a pilot with 301 Squadron from RAF Hemswell. The album also contains photographs of his friends and family.
These items were digitised by a third-party using technical specifications and operational protocols that may differ from those used by the IBCC Digital Archive.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-01-19
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
Stachiewicz, M
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
Wyciag z ksiegi strat Dywizjonu 301 w okresie maj – listopad 1942
Excerpt from 301 Squadron's loss book for the period May - November 1942
Description
An account of the resource
A list of 16 aircraft and crew lost between May and November 1942 from 301 Squadron.
Business card for P/O Harry William Bock, Polish Air Force.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
301 Squadron
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1942-11
Format
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Three handwritten sheets and a printed card from a scrapbook
Language
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eng
pol
Type
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Text
Text. Service material
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PStachiewiczM17010045
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Polskie Siły Powietrzne
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-05
1942-06
1942-07
1942-08
1942-09
1942-10
1942-11
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending text-based transcription. Other languages than English
301 Squadron
aircrew
killed in action
pilot
RAF Hemswell
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1376/24329/MFordTA1585520-170411-14.2.pdf
0acf2c189aab6d3d793b1066ff56da7a
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
Ford, Terry
Ford, T
Description
An account of the resource
135 items. The collection concerns Terry Ford. He flew operations as a pilot with 75 Squadron. It contains photographs, his log book, operational maps, letters home during training, and documents including emergency drills. There are two albums of photographs, one of navigation logs, and another of target photographs.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Julia Burke and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-03-13
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy.
Identifier
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Ford, T
Access Rights
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Permission granted for commercial projects
Transcribed document
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[Drawing of an aircraft flying over a single gravestone]
The Flying Gopher
SEPTEMBER 1942
[Page break]
[Advert for the Dickson Hotel and Café]
[Advert for Rialto Billiards]
[Page break]
Officers’ Mess
Gossip
CENSORED
Space donated by …
WARREN’S DRUG STORE
1
[Page break]
[Advert for Commercial Café]
[Advert for Walker Fruit]
[Page break]
[Drawing of an aircraft flying over a single gravestone]
The Flying Gopher
The Journal of The Royal Air Force, No,41, Service Flying Training School,
Weyburn, Saskatchewan, Canada.
Published by the Kind Permission of Group Captain E.C. Emmett, M.C., D.F.C.
VOL. 1. SEPTEMBER, 1942 No. 4
Editorial
[Drawing of a thoughtful gopher with writing quill at a desk]
There are some changes this month – as doubtless you have noticed. Changes both apparent and inward have affected the production of the fourth edition of your Flying Gopher. Note the cover, for instance, which we hope will have more appeal to the casual eye. It’s a plain cover, we admit, but it has caused almost as much headache as all the inside pages put together. We were loath to part with the vastness, and yet our title required more punch. There you have it, and if anyone has any further ideas, bring them along.
Turning to the first page, the reader will notice that the seed catalogue which graced that prominent place is conspicuous by its absence. Names are boring at the best of times and we are sure that the contents page was merely a waste of space – you don’t pick your articles, you read the lot, don’t you, dear readers?
Further along it is to be noticed that more variety is embodied in the make-up of the pages. Like the idea? We do wish you would let us know. There must be a good deal of improvement which can be made if everyone’s minds were turned to it instead of just the few who edit the magazine.
Finally it was suggested that while we were making sweeping changes we might as well cut out the editorial. But no, a place to let off a little steam is a good thing to have here, and anyway, by omitting the editorial we would be forced to throw away the cut of our Editor-in-Chief, the Gopher and we think it’s such a lervely picture…!
THE EDITORS.
3
[Page break]
[Advert for Duncan & Russell]
[Page break]
Doc Vyse Forgets
[Drawing of a doctor with stethoscope and syringe]
The title may seem a strange departure from the reminiscences which have appeared opposite the rather compromising cartoons firmly incorporated in recent issues of The Flying Gopher, but don’t let the title mislead you.
Any man who sits at a service office desk knows that a small oversight may start a long chain of complaints descending upon his head by telephone and expedite signal until nearly every section at the station is involved. So forgetfulness doesn’t pay. My experience has been an exception. I recall with chagrin the occasion some two years ago when S.M.O. Group visited the Sick Quarters I was nursing. In the excitement of night calls to the Tarmac and ministering to an exceptionally sick padre, I forgot the approaching S.M.O’s. visit, and with the result that lamp shades, overhead office shelves and doorway ledges didn’t get the extra polish they had the right to expect. After what I thought was a pretty satisfactorily conducted inspection, the S.M.O. planted himself in front of the office fire and summarized, “Well, Vyse, I can’t congratulate you… ,” an anticipatory smile must have crept over my face as he continued, “Yes, I must congratulate you on having the Filthiest Sick Quarters I have ever seen.” Incidentally I did not forget this incident when I visited this S.M.O. twelve months later when he was a patient in hospital.
However it is generally accepted that one forgets unpleasant incidents in one’s life, which probably explains the delusion under which certain people labour when they assert that their school days were the happiest in their lives. My opinion is that the honest man who is interested in his job will admit that there is no time like the present. Maybe it is difficult to count our blessings until afterwards, but I have a shrewd idea that in years to come many of us will be talking as warmly of our visit to Canada, our stay in Weyburn and our weekend visits to Regina or the Lake and certainly our friend, the Gopher, as we now fondly recall the rain of Manchester, or the rumble of London. And I don’t think the apparent change of heart will be entirely due to the pint of “old and mild” that may accompany the reminiscing.
[Signature]
5
[Page break]
The R.A.F. Comes to the Wild West
Let us consider Weyburn as it was before the blue of R.A.F. uniforms began dotting the streets of our illustrious city. The burg is bereft of its young men, its old men, its middle aged men,- in fact of almost anything given to wearing long trousers, excluding masculine-minded females. Our life is a mere existence, and a drab one at that – rising in the morning to do our small and dolorous daily tasks – wandering down to the Inevitable Club for a Coke – trying to lend an appreciative ear to some slapstick comedian on the radio or a jitterbug jive – listening with longing ears to a broadcast from our boys in the services.
Then came rumours, floating here and there through the district, carried on “I-don’t-know-whether-it’s-true, -but-that’s-what-I-heard” wings, and soon spreading thick and fast in the female-filled city, to the effect that the R.A.F. were soon to fill with their charm the inconspicuous city of Weyburn. Some disbelieved, some elaborated, others patiently waited, until one day all these surmisings were resolved with the arrival of --- (number censored) “blokes” to our then under-construction airport.
Weyburn took on a new appearance, and a very distinguished R.A.F. blue one at that.
At first the Old Country brogue was like a Babylonian jargon to us, but as acquaintances grew this obstacle was overcome in the face of their charming manner, their story-telling ability, and – a characteristic common to many of them – their wavy, sleekly oiled hair.
At dances, these boys’ popularity never wanes. The uniform perhaps, so scarce during the summer months, was a call to arms – the arms of girls, ladies, women, dames, hags, sacks, and what would you. Where such vast numbers of the fairer or not-so-fair sex came from will always remain for us a sixty-four dollar question still unanswered.
However, these jives and jitterbugs, or nervous wrecks set to music, began their task of dancing with gentlemen so cultured, so well taught in the art of ballroom dancing. We found ourselves two beats ahead of our partners in a slow fox-trot, two feet lagging in their slightly quicker style of waltzing, and generally falling over ourselves when our well-meaning assailants tried their feather steps and palais glides. As time wears on, our compromise in styles is markedly successful.
To us, too, the eagle-crested chaps have brought a station band, held in very high esteem, and appreciated especially by those who know that a waltz does have a definite tempo, while a quickened step has another.
A Hostess Club has come into existence to entertain the boys, and it is unnecessary to tell of the pleasure which we derive from providing this home-away-from-home. We have enjoyed many a quiet get-together in these home-like surroundings, helped on by the smiles of the hostesses.
The bowling alleys, the theatre (or cinema), the swimming pool, the football field, each has donned a new atmosphere of bustle, excitement, and a good-time-was-had-by-all air.
For this we can thank our winged service men. They have brought home to us something of how the other half of the world lives, they have given us their companionship, they have brought with them memories of their forefathers, and for all this we salute them.
And without them too, I know that I, as well as many others in category Female No. 1 Single would now be sitting at home, knitting sweaters for Cecil.
FEMALE CITIZEN.
[Page break]
Prairie Vista
[Photograph of a serviceman sitting on a block in a field, looking pensive]
We offered prizes for pictures illustrating Weyburn, and here you see what happened. We point out that Weyburn really is a quiet place at times and that those we have chosen for this issue merely tell one all about the undulations of the scenery round about.
If those fellows laying claim to these photographs will call on the editors, they will hear something to their advantage.
[Photograph of a railway line heading to the distance]
[Photograph of Weyburn Fire Station]
7
[Page break]
Gremlinology
After a variety of reports from a highly skilled assortment of u/ts now flying with “D” Flight, we record this warning to all pilots and pupes on this station. We have long suspected this, and now it has been definitely established. We can wait no longer. We must give you the terrible news.
The Gremlins are operating here on the Prairie ! ! !
Wait, reader! Don’t dispose of this with an airy shrug and turn over the page. This is pukka gen. Both the long-experienced pilots on this station will already be familiar with the Gremlin, but for the benefit of the uninitiated we may explain that gremlins are the little folks of the air who are responsible for all those minor mishaps which occur while you are airborne. They sit quietly on the mainplane for a while, and then, when you are beginning to feel that you really can fly, they open up. What do you think it is makes for a heavy landing? Your flying? Never! It is the gremlins jumping on the deck, lifting the runway up about ten feet, and then dropping it back while you are holding-off. Decent types, in fact.
We believe this is the first appearance of gremlins in this country, and at first we thought we had discovered a new species, the Prairie Gremlin, but after careful investigation, we can state with certainty that they are of the British variety, Gremlin Mk II, a very unpleasant species, stowaways on the U.S.S… It may be that the gremlins are only operating on “D” Flight kites, but we give this warning in case they should migrate to lower forms of station life.
Our first experience of the Gremlins came soon after our course had started, when we were smitten with a plague of ground-looping. This was obviously no fault of the pupes, and we realize now that the Gremlins jumped from our kites on to the runway just as we were landing, and pulled down a wing on to the tarmac, then clambering back on to the kite and chuckling with glee at the efforts of the pilot to extricate himself. It is on record that one of our instructors, particularly popular with the Gremlins, booked himself out for “Exercises 8 and 9 ground-looping”.
Only yesterday a certain sergeant from the Nav Flight, distinguished for his frequent reversion to his habits of recent Tiger days in switching off Harvards in fine pitch, was emitting a sigh of relief and surprise at making a reasonable landing when a group of gremlins planted a large area of mud dead in the path of his aircraft …
Take heed to our warning, then you fliers, and profit by our experience.
A word to our instructors. If you have noticed some slight errors on our part, landings with the undercart up, or taking off full flap, don’t blame us. It’s those Gremlins at work again. And a last word to fellow pupes. Next time you write off an aircraft, don’t let it bother you, just tell your Flight Commander it was the Gremlins, and he will give you another kite straight away. After all, what’s a few aircraft at a time like this? Think of all the Gremlins you may have written off too.
H.W.F.
[Boxed] Wanted
In this edition appear several items of interest from people outside the camp. These missives were received by the staff at various times during the last month and, since they show a remarkable insight into the life and living of No. 41 S.F.T.S., the less libellous paragraphs are littered about our pages.
The Editorial staff makes this public appeal to the writers to come out into the open and reveal their identities. We should like to express our appreciation of these witticisms and establish a closer liaison …
The anonymous contributors were all ladies of Weyburn and its surrounds … [/boxed]
[Page break]
[Advert for Gold Seal beer]
[Page break]
[Advert for Kempton’s Book Store]
[Advert for Lee Sing Laundry
[Advert for Bill’s Café]
[Page break]
Romance in Regina
(A tale of the wide open spaces)
By “Prairie Oyster”
[Drawing of an airman with his arm around a pretty girl] “She thrilled as she felt a hand on her shoulder.”
WHAT’S HAPPENED UP TILL NOW:
Mary Anne Svenson is still a slip of a girl; sweet sixteen and never been kissed. Her faithful chum is Penelope Picklove – a dusky young beauty. In spite of the vivacious zest for life, and all that goes with it, shared by the two girls, they are closeted in Saint Agatha’s Convent for Good Girls Only, in Regina, Queen-of-the-Prairies. This, of course, is the biggest, smartest and best Finishing School north of the American line.
Already Dan Cupid has struck deep at Mary Anne. She is going steady with a handsome Old Country aviator called Patrick Alexander. But, alas, the girls of the Convent are only allowed one late pass each month, and then only till 22.30 – so courtships are slow. But not with our heroine, Mary Anne Svenson.
However, nothing daunting, the dashing lovers keep secret trysts. Where there’s love there’s a way. But now both are in trouble – serious trouble. Patrick is about to be court-martialled for roaring low over the terrified convent-girls, and blowing kisses to his own true-love. And now, horror of horrors, Mary Anne has been summoned by the cruel matron, Sister Immaculata, who caught her behind a bush with her dearest Patrick.
“Tomorrow,” roared the dread matron, “you will be publicly expelled. They are in need of a practitioner at the Weyburn Mental.”
NOW READ ON IMMEDIATELY, DON’T WAIT A MOMENT:
Mary Anne, looking more than ever like a scented rose at dewy dawn, felt cold all over. Creeping from the presence of the terrifying ogre-matron, she sought the faithful Penelope. Finding her peeking thru the keyhole as she left the room, she staggered sobbing on her shoulder. “Worse than death,” she whispered hoarsely.
The faithful Penelope soon soothed our crestfallen heroine with a bag of liquorice all-sorts and a story from True Confessions. As there was no school that day owing to all the instructors being on a 48, she persuaded the damp-eyed Mary Anne to take a stroll towards Regina’s famed lake. There the pair sat on the grassy sward, gazing thoughtfully into the deep watery stillness.
Meanwhile Patrick had returned to camp, his hopes of being able to be an ace with the Canadian and British airmen overseas being dashed to the ground. One thought only saved him from immediate suicide – the thought that soon he might see his beloved prairie flower once more. As he fell to pondering over the blissful tryst of the previous nite, he became less browned off and the light shone in his steel-gray eyes once again. That night he was to play center-forward for his team in the Semi-Final of the South Sask. Soccer League. As he thought of the evening soccer game (Old Country fashion), he resolved that he would leave his mark as an ace footballer, even if he was not to be an ace-aviator.
Mary Anne stared wistfully into the lake; her impending public expulsion
11
[Page break]
From Saint Agatha’s, and the consequent wrath of her stern Puritanical parents, steady farmers at Expanse, Saskatchewan, cast a somber cloud over her usually sunny disposition. Like a flash the one and only solution to her troubles crossed her turbulent mind. She must escape from the toils of the dreaded Immaculata. Escape she must; and escape at once.
By the time faithful class-chums had returned to the convent at near-dusk, Mary Anne had decided on a plan of action.
At the same time, Patrick had played his last game for his station. It was a ding-dong struggle, and the pent-up spectators held their breath as his station struggled with Medicine Jaw for the lead in the S. Sask. League. The score was 1-1 when the ball came to our hero. (Square 4.) Like a second Babe Ruth he dribbled it up to the field (Old Country style) and scored a magnificent goal a second before the whistle shrilled for the end of the thrilling match. In what had been the greatest game ever seen in the three Prairie Provinces, Patrick had lead [sic] his station team to victory; repeat, victory. Everyone was happy. Even the S.W.O. smiled. The C.O. personally congratulated Patrick, as he (Patrick) was held shoulder-high by his more-than-delighted team-mates.
That night as the team was celebrating in the Y with milk-shakes and bubble-gum supplied free by the Imperial Daughters of the Empire, a lone figure made its way through the shadows surrounding St. Agathas.
Patrick, as we already well know, was a man of action. It was only the work of a trice to corner the young sport-loving C.O. after the Celebration Dinner. With the aid of many “Big Chiefs” and the thought of his timid blondie, Mary Anne, he poured out his sorrows to the understanding Group Captain. At first he, the Group Captain, was unimpressed and dwelt at some length on the importance of discipline and Section 7, Para 3, of C.A.P. 100 and the Stockbrokers Gazette. But as the merrie evening wore on he loosened up and at dawn he left Patrick promising to make him acting Pilot Officer unpaid, and furthermore promising that he would instruct his lawyer in Watrous (Prairie Regional) to buy up all the evidence against Patrick.
Meanwhile Mary Anne tramped the streets of Regina, wondering what might befall her. She stopped in at the Dominion Hotel to spend her last nickel on a cup of ersatz coffee. Staring into her coffee cup in a deep reverie, she suddenly noticed out of the corner of her eye a small placard, “Good-looking assistant wanted.” Immediately applying to the manager, she was given the job at the same pay as an ACH G/D. (K.R. & A.C.I. para. 2295).
By this time the whole convent was in an uproar. Even the calm Immaculata was in a flat-spin. Even Penelope Picklove had no idea of the whereabouts of beauteous Mary Anne. All feared the worst.
All the following day Mary Anne toiled in the Drug Store, frying eggs and cutting sandwiches. Late that evening just as she was serving a David Harum to a Lance Corporal in the S.S.R. she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her heart leapt with girlish excitement. Could it be Patrick. She was scared to look round for fear it might be some forward stranger. But it was Patrick; as handsome as ever in sky-blue with glittering brass buttons. Soon he had persuaded her to slip away from her drudgery, and to go dancing with him in the Silver Dell.
The nite, as usual, sped by blissfully for both. Finally, as dawn broke over the golden wheat fields outside of the city, Patrick took her home to the Dominion Hotel. As the couple entered thru the swing doors, Mary Anne Swooned into her lover’s arms; for who should be standing in the foyer waiting for her, but her wrathful parents, Mr. and Mrs. Svenson.
* * * *
That’s all this issue. Buy the next issue to find out where on earth the faithful Penelope has gotten herself to, and what Mr. and Mrs. Svenson have to say about their daughter’s capers.
FILLUP
You’ve heard of the airmen’s canteen,
Where they say the language’s obscene,
You’ve heard of the Corporal’s place
Their dances they say, are “Disgrace”
You’ve heard of the Sergeant’s bar,
Where they drink too much by far.
…BUT! Have you heard of the Officers Ball
When it ended up in a “free for all.”
[Page break]
[Photograph of a man in uniform on the telephone]
Key Men No.1
The Adj.
No, this is not the Mental Hospital. You must have the wrong number. … What is it? The Royal Air Force, of course … No, not the R.C.A.F. That’s something different. This is the English one. We’re all English here … Yes, that’s why I talk with a frog in my throat … What do we do? Oh, teach people to fly … No, we can’t give you a joy ride. Certainly not … No, it’s the first I’ve heard of it. I must ask the Flight Sergeant … Dammit, what else do you want to know/ I’m a worried man … Do we wear spotted ties? Most certainly not.
Weyburn Newsfront
So many of our readers have written in asking us how The Flying Gopher manages to score its numerous newsbeats over its competitors that a word of explanation might be interesting.
Events move so quickly on the camp these days that every available means of communication must be utilized in order to give our readers “stop-press” news. Not trusting the telephone (the enemy has many ears), Flying Officer Rogers, in shorts, may frequently be seen rushing up the road with the latest watch tower reports, followed by a gust of censored weather.
Formerly, news from the remote reaches of the station require several weeks to reach the editors, coming by means of camel train (now discontinued since Flight Sergeant Tillman is unable to supply the beasts with retreads, sampan (requisitioned to ford the floods of last spring), dog team, and finally, pogo stick (to keep the carrier’s head above the mud on the main roads).
It is now suspected that Flying Officer Colchester will be using a carrier service to forward his news, since, whenever sports are mentioned, he invariably replies, “That’s my pigeon.”
Red-hot news is conveyed by AC. Rowing-Parker on the station fire-tender.
Corporal Rae, our postman, brings highly secretive news, but unfortunately we are unable to use any of it since all his letters are invariably addressed to someone other than the editors. He is apologetic about this, but when the hell is he going to bring something, even if it’s just a letter from the girl friend?
Finally, there is one method of transmission which is faster than Flying Officer Rogers in his shorts, Rowing-Parker on his fire-engine, AC. Harrison with his signals, faster than Aldis lamp. radio or television. The method has been perfected beyond any other system for getting news spread farthest to the mostest, and only one little kink needs to be ironed out – the method is utterly unreliable. We refer, gentlemen, to Rumour.
No, the Flying Gopher does not have to use Rumour to scoop the news-beats of the world!
13
[Page break]
Society Page
Night Life on a Prairie Airport Can Be Fun
The well-sleeked hair of RAF airmen glistened brightly in the light of the photographer’s flash bulb as he took these pictures of dancers enjoying a quiet evening in the Airport “Nightclub.” Accounts Section as always appears to be well to the fore – notice “Stinker” Simmons and “Flash” Morgan – while closer scrutiny reveals that the Flights, Maintenance and Equipment Sections have all sent their representatives along.
[Photographs of a dance]
[Page break]
More Archaeology
In our last issue we deserted our serious research into the life and existence of the Men of Raf to enquire into their sports and pastimes. We now return to our examination of their Social Order, and perhaps it is time we paid a little attention to their monetary system.
It seems the Men of Raf had risen, if only a little, above the system of Barter, and each member of the community received reward for his labours. Again the characteristics of tribal life are evident and we find that the task of organizing and carrying through this complicated system of remuneration was the responsibility of the Klan of Akkownt, verily a learned Tribe.
That this was appreciated by the other Men of Raf is borne out by documents recently recovered, in particular a letter from a member of the Klan of Kwip to a brother Kwippite situate [sic] in the distant land of Ukay in which he states “verily, the Klan of Akkownt are wonderful men; strange and mystic are their ways. According to the High Chief of the House of Rek I did stand in favour with the God Kred to an amount of Fifteen Bob, but lo, and behold, now I am arrived at the Land of Wey, the High Chief Jaycee doth tell me that the God of Deb does frown on me to the extent of Two Bucks Two Bits!” Reference of this matter to the disciples of Einstein has confirmed that the problem, though abstruse, can be solved by the application of sufficient Relativity; hence the motto of the Klan of Akkownt, “relatively speaking – “.
Here is should be mentioned that the Klan of Akkownt was a divided tribe. Years and years ago the Klan of Akkownt did arrive at the strange Land which they found already in the possession of the Tribe of Kwip. Now both being learned Tribes and having great respect for each other’s qualities it was natural they should arrive at the conclusion that the life then lived by the Men of Raf was too, too simple to be continued. Hence the Heads of the two Tribes did sit in conclave for many moons, formulating mystic rites and customs to improve the social organization of the Men of Raf.
And that is where the trouble started. The Klan of Kwip were convinced that the system of Barter would prove the best. The greater part of the Klan of Akkownt were in favour of making use of a new element they had just found and which they had christened Munny. Munny’s the time they were to regret that decision.
Apparently the idea of the Klan of Kwip was to issue each man with the necessities of life in regular quantities on prescribed dates, thus: “Notice to the Men of Raf – Be it known that on the sixteenth day of the month of February, the amount of labour performed by the members of the community having at last reached that determined by the High Priest of the Klan of Kwip, there shall be issued to each man the following –
Quantity, one: Article, Paste, White, Dental, Effervescing, Airmen for the use of.
Quantity, enough: Article, Liquid Blue, Copper, Sulphate, Bath, Foot for the filling of, Airmen for the use of … - and so on.
Here the Munnyites in the Klan of Akkownt did object that the wants of each and every man did differ, and hence the system of barter would give much encouragement to the underground worshippers of the evil God Aakket, in whose honour Men would perform the rites of Swop and Swipe. But there were several of the Klan of Akkownt who were in favour and to their fellow tribesmen they became known as Kwip Akkownts, or, in times of stress, Twip Akkownts. This section it is which also imbibes vast quantities of the Dish of Vowcher. A nasty habit, and one apparently which stimulates queer dreams and ambitions.
Some members of the Klan have been known to aspire to membership of the Klan of Ayr, in the tribe of Wop, trade of Gunner, and have roamed through the mighty places of the Klan singing “Oh for the wings of … “ before being brought to account. Yet others of the Klan were taken with a strange sickness and did wander around in a dazed condition continually chanting in the manner of Kroon, which was indeed a bad thing for the men of Raf, but when these
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[Advert for Burge’s Meat Market]
[Advert for Weyburn Hardwar Ltd.]
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afflicted creatures did encounter the totem pole of the Men of Raf, known as Myke, in the presence of which their voices did acquire greater strength if not sweetness, then was it night unbearable!
May we ask our readers to avoid confusing the insignia Myke with the mystic drink Mikky. Both seem to have had an evil influence on certain sections of the Men of Raf, but I think it can be safely concluded, from the evidence we have, that Mikky had a far wider and much more general effect. (In this connection I refer you to Chapter XXXIXXVII, para 12345 in the “History and General Treatise on the Habits of the Klan of Sarj,” which informative volume I regret will not be found in the Station Library).
The crucial point in the history of this Section of the Men of Raf arises as a result of their migration from the Land of Ukay to the province of Wey in the Land of Kan. It was quite natural that they should bring with them their own Gods and Deities, one or two of whom we have mentioned above, and for quite a time they lived a peaceful and undisturbed life. Tribute was regularly paid to the Gods Kred and Deb, and many members of the various Klans had occasion to be honoured with the Noble Order of Ritoff. It was therefore a great shock to them to find that the Land of Klan was ruled by High Authority known as Cas, with its partners Afhq and Rcaf, often called the Terrible Three.
One never-to-be-forgotten day these Three did smite the Klan of Akkownt and shake them from head to foot, abolishing all their old Deities, in particular the Gods of Kred and Deb, and making it a law that all the Men of Raf, on each Festival of Pay should bow their heads to Sine; as a result of which many members of the Klans of Erk, Lak and Korp did discover with amazement that they still had knowledge of the Art of Riting, even if, in many cases, they were not fully conversant with the Art of Spelling. It is noted that rumour indicates that, consequent to the initiation of the tribute to Sine, many of the Klans had to unearth the old tribal records to discover hereby a true knowledge of the Names accorded to each member, in order that he might not commit offence in the eyes of the new Deity.
In closing it should be mentioned that the Klan of Akkownt was one of the few Klans to devote its whole energies to the task allotted to it in the social order of the Men of Raf. Each year they were allowed a period of absence wherein to recuperate from the strain of their labours, but if reports are to be believed they joyfully spurned this chance to rest, and did travel many hours to the West, to the East, to the North and to the South, only to continue the fascinating study of Figgers. There can be np doubt that Figgers are and will continue to be, the beginning and, in many cases, the end of the Klan of Akkownt.
Medical Meanderings
A man goes sick on M two five,
And feels he’s only just alive.
The M.O. looks, and hums, and he
Places the man on M. & D.
But some are not so fortunate,
Or so they think, at any rate.
Their troubles here have just begun,
They are put on forty-one.
They saunter through the office door,
And answer questions, one or more.
The twerp presiding gives a look,
And puts partics in a little book.
And then the fun begins, they say,
If M.O. looks the other way.
The orderly, with eyes agleam,
Makes him happy it may seem.
The patient, he is sore depressed,
His work on others now will rest.
They bring him coffee in a cup,
And send old Bliss to cheer him up.
So Bliss comes in with hook in hand,
When patient is in sleepy land.
He wakes him up, says “Hello mate,
What is your enlistment date?”
He then is placed on two four o,
And written in for a day or so.
But office twerp, he wants some gen,
So wakes the patient up again.
Once more he tries to go to sleep,
But office gen, it will not keep.
The office twerp comes in with mirth,
And wakes him for his date of birth.
And so he asks for his discharge,
He’d rather be with the boys at large.
He walks out of the dock with zest,
And goes to billet for a rest.
F.C.B.
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Weyburn Has A Library
Certain very puzzling questions keep coming into the mind of the Librarian – questions which she can never answer. She will be most grateful for any assistance in the matter of solving these highly perplexing problems.
It might be only fair to state here that any resemblance to you or anyone else in any of the following remarks is highly coincidental.
Now, as to the questions.
Why do you airmen, or at least some of you, persist in thinking that the library is financed solely by the takings from the R.A.F.? There seems to be a common misapprehension that the librarian lurks behind the bookshelves waiting to pounce upon innocent airmen victims. If any of you, as yet uninitiated into the solemn rites of membership of the W.P.L., have heard that ugly rumour, please ignore it. It is true that certain of the fellows have been most generous in the extent of their contributions, but this is due only to the fact that they will insist on ignoring the Librarian’s grim warning that horrible penalties will be exacted from him who fails to return his books on the prescribed date.
Why, again, do some of you insist on making unpleasant insinuations as to the integrity of the staff? “Did you have a good time at the Fair with my fine money?” That sort of remark is calculated to make a more sensitive person quail.
Then why do you so consistently ignore the polite little reminder cards which are sent out? They should, of course, be regarded as a friendly gesture, for their sole purpose is to prevent the fines from mounting higher and higher. Still, there is always the fear lurking at the back of our minds that someone may try to abscond with a book, which of course would lead to serious repercussions, the extent of which is unpredictable. Certainly it would bring down the wrath of the Librarian on the heads of the offenders, and that wrath is indeed a great wrath.
And this brings us to the ultimate Why, the crux of all our Whying. Why don’t you bring your books back on the due date? Life would be so simple if only you would look at the date stamped on your card in the back of the book.
Last of all, why don’t more of you use the Weyburn Public Library? If anything you have read in the above tends to frighten you away, please ignore it. We really do like to do business with the R.A.F.
G.N.G.
Archimedes
look forsooth
see a youth
writing a letter to his love
can’t find a rime
spent lots of time
can’t find a rime
for amelia
goes to bed
with aching head
inspiration
light
see the officer of the law
rat-a-tat at the door
see the judge
we must stop these violations
of the blackout regulations
ten pounds
says the judge
pays the fine
pleasure’s mine
because i’ve found the rime
i wanted all the time
listen
or fair and beautiful amelia
i like you better than celia
eureka
eureka
wedding bells
F.R.S.
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[Drawing of a beautiful girl on the telephone] “But mother, the Airman here says it’s not true about those gooseberry bushes.”
19
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The Padre Ponders
[Photograph of a padre and two women sitting]
“Padre – you’re posted to Weyburn”
Weyburn! For was not Weyburn in the district in which I had ministered as a civilian priest of the Church of England some few years ago; a district with headquarters at Milestone?
I remember arriving in that town, which has shown some excellent hospitality to the men of this Station, and wondering how anyone could exist, let alone live, in such a desolate and flat district. But, as the months passed by, I realized that “man does not live by bread alone.” For the prairie, so drought stricken, taught me that common hardship and suffering can bring out the finest qualities in man. The people found great joy in that which is so necessary to-day, e.g., co-operation. Co-operation with God; and co-operation with our fellow-men.
I am once again the district and I am pleased to be here at such an interesting stage in the development of 41 S.F.T.S. Just as in civilian life, so in Service life there must be that oblation of self to God and to the welfare of our fellow-man if we are to possess a truly happy Station. Ways and means are daily discussed and are being put into operation to attain this end. The prairie will not look half so grim, especially in the winter, if we each give whatever talents we possess to the Station, both spiritual and social.
I leave you with a thought – “The people who make no roads are ruled out from intelligent participation on the world’s brotherhood.”
Sincerely,
THE PADRE.
The Padre Acts
A play which has enjoyed a long run at the Old Drury Theatre in London, must possess outstanding qualities of entertainment. Such a play is “French Leave,” to be produced in the near future by F/Lt. Clarke (Chaplain).
Casting is not yet completed for this hilarious three-act comedy, but we have a spot of news for you:
Inside information: The female parts will NOT Be taken by hairy-legged Airmen, but by members of the fairer sex from Weyburn. The cast will be announced later. It’s anyone’s guess.
“French Leave” is a good story, well written in the dramatic sense. Our director has had considerable experience, with the added advantage of having already produced this play at Carberry and Winnipeg.
Here is an opportunity to co-operate in a worth-while venture. The padre is looking for volunteers, for acting parts and to assist in the stage production. Let’s make a go of this!
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[Advert for Fred Barber’s Man Shop]
[Advert for Anderson’s Café]
21
Bus Ride
I had just received my ticket from the conductor as the bus stopped at Marble Arch. The usual mixed crowd of London bus passengers jostled each other on. It was then I noticed her … she sat directly opposite, just inside the bus where the seats face each other. I couldn’t believe it – a glance told me she also recognised, but could no more understand than I. She was exactly the same, tall, fair, with that expression of determination which camouflaged a certain nervousness; the very same expression that had caused me to look twice on the night of March 8th, 1941, when I first met her in a little café in Old Compton Street. I had gone to the café to rest and regain control of my distressed mind for I had been dragging people out of the Café de Paris, … the aftermath of a direct hit.
It all came back to me, as clearly as if it had been yesterday. I had sat smoking in that little café, endeavouring to compose myself, for I was badly shaken; blood and dead bodies had no part in my life previously. It was then I saw her for the first time. She was just the same, tall and fair with that same expression which was so attractive and yet pathetic. She brought me a coffee and withdrew quickly behind the counter. I was fascinated, not so much by her beauty, for indeed she was beautiful, but by this unique expression; I was unable to take my eyes off her until forced by the counter which rose some six feet in the air, and I lost sight of her, the counter, and everything, as I sailed through a plywood window, which would have been glass but for a previous raid.
Slowly human life took shape again, and I realised someone was speaking to me in a strained, pathetic voice …no! it wasn’t to me for my name is not David. Then full realisation came to me, as at the same time a gas main ignited and the whole scene was made visibly clear. There she was, lying on a stretcher not two feet away from me, and as I saw her I was mentally aware that I was only shaken, but she was obviously badly injured. Almost inaudibly she commenced to speak, and then the words became clearer: “David, David, forgive me, kiss me and say you forgive.” Some kind of impulse made me, forced me to comply with her wishes …
As I drew my face away from her, I was touched on the shoulder by someone standing at my side, and a masculine voice said, “Your wife? I’m sorry.” “No,” I replied. “Fiancee?” “Yes,” I lied, for then I felt guilty of my actions. “Too bad,” he said, and then added, as if in consolation, “There’s no pain.” During this short conversation my eyes had not left her face, which was now beautiful in the full sense of the word; for her smile was one of supreme happiness. I took her hand in mine to comfort her and as I did so I knew she was no longer with me …
…And yet here she was in the seat opposite, reading the advertisements above my head.
P.D.C.
The New Arrival
Squadron Leader “A” was browned off. He had waited twenty minutes for a taxi, and he was particularly keen to get back to the mess … someone had had a baby or something, and he was licking his lips in anticipation. Eventually the taxi came, and, seated beneath three or four erks, he travelled back to camp. “Never again,” he muttered as he extricated himself from the taxi at the camp gates, and fumbled for his share of the dollar. “Never again,” he muttered when he hurried into the Mess to find the celebrations at an end. It might be a long time till someone else had a baby, and his throat was very dry. What with the R.C.A.F. accounting procedure, and the S.A.O. a bit peeved about the tire shortage, you had to go a bit carefully these days.
“And you really do recommend this one?” “Yes, sir, I am sure this specimen will give you every satisfaction.” “Right, I’ll take it. Wrap it up, will you?”
And lo and behold a beautiful yellow bus at the camp gates, straight from the Army and Navy Store at Regina, wherein we travel to and from the city at regular hours and in considerable comfort!
Thank you Squadron Leader “A”!
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[Advert for McKinnons]
23
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Legal Laugh
Maintains Our Resident Attorney
Everyone loves a legal story. The judge who innocently asks “What is nagging?” never fails to stimulate us. The smart-tongued witness, standing up to counsel, always gives us joy. The obstinate client, the advice of whose solicitor was taken much too late for it to have been any value, for ever brags about the futility of consulting lawyers on commercial matters. Yet lawyers flourish.
The layman, primed by his daily paper with full details of the latest murder, would feel disillusioned if he knew how little most solicitors know, or even care, about such matters. But the layman listens attentively to all that falls from any lawyer’s mouth concerning it, for all men love to see behind the scenes. The trappings of the law can thrill, and they who put them on command respect. So much for lawyers in real life. And when we turn to fiction we still find that, on the whole, a lawyer’s ways are stern.
Gray hairs, ill-fitting for a fool, all lawyers long for. Proudly, at thirty, bowler-hatted, I had mine. Man thought me forty-five; at least I hoped so. For the lawyer, forty-five seemed to me to be a very desirable age, for one is then old enough to have experienced everything, but not too old to like to do new things.
Law in the Services usually concerns punishment. But a solicitor in general practice spends his time dealing with problems and people, arising out of every conceivable combination of curious circumstances, and living in almost every class of society. It was only comparatively lately that I began to appreciate the never-ending interest which can, at any moment of the day, be found in simply carrying out one’s work as a solicitor.
I took up Law as a sedative, after War Flying. In the whole of my peace-time career, I never handled any case concerned with aviation. The nearest approach was when a lady consulted me about the arrangement for her approaching marriage. She believed that her intended husband had an ample fortune. Ought she to insist that substantial trust funds be settled upon her, prior to surrendering herself?
I promised to look into the matter. It was the Wednesday before Easter.
Late next afternoon I wired to her as follows: “Your fiancée ex-R.A.F. Officer. Exercise extreme caution.”
P.R.
Ich Dien
This is the tale of AC. Sprog, who sailed the mighty seas.
He slept in ancient blankets which scratched furrows in his knees;
His collar was as black as ink, he smelt like ancient cheese –
He was serving his country and his King.
Early in the morning you would find him at the rail,
A-feeding if the fishes, and at evening without fail
You would find him at the rail again, in sunshine, wind or hail,
Nobly serving his country and his King.
They set him peeling onions, they sent him up to guard
The upper deck, though the wind was blowing very hard,
And Sprog obeyed them gladly, and his chest stuck out a yard,
For he knew he was serving his country and his King.
Sometime Sprog would peep inside the Sergeant’s Mess, and there
He would contemplate the scene of ease, and sigh and tear his hair,
To think how distant was the date when he would take his share
In such noble, glorious service of his country and his King.
- SIGMA.
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True Yarn
As everyone knows, when the Royal Air Force began to expand in 1938 hundreds of ex-officers were given commissions and posted to ground jobs.
And so, in a burst of zeal, and confident that a large-sized war was in the offing, Peter Robinson, who had served in the 1914-1918 mess as a commissioned officer in the Royal Regiment of Artillery, and later in the Royal Flying Corps and Royal Air Force, offered his services, in September, 1938, to the Air Ministry.
In due course, our “hero” was summoned to Adastral House to appear before a Selection Board and about three weeks later he received a short note to the effect that he had “been found fit for employment.”
And so, Robinson, who was running quite a tidy business, handed over to his wife and prepared to get back into uniform.
After a lapse of some weeks, he was ordered to report to Cardington for a Balloon Course and so for ten very weary weeks, poor Robinson pulled balloons about, drove lorries and winches, climbed all over balloons, inside and out, and finally passed the examinations with flying colours. In his innocence, Robinson thought he would then be posted as a Balloon Officer, but oh no! He was sent to a brand new Station, not nearly completed, as Adjutant! At least, he did all the work of and Adjutant but was only graded and paid as an Assistant Adjutant, since in those far-off piping times of peace, on a Station which had a Squadron Leader Admin, the establishment allowed an Assistant Adjutant only.
His first office was a contractor’s hut and as the buildings were completed, the Station Headquarters successively occupied an N.C.O.’s bunk in a barrack hut, a portion of the Seregant’s [sic] Mess, the Station Sick Quarters and on a never-to-be-forgotten day in July 1939, moved into the Station Headquarters building with all his staff, i.e., three clerks, G.D., two civilians and a runner.
During his trekking period, Robinson had been sent to Rollestone to attend the Anti-Gas Course and duly completed a very pleasant three weeks. On his return to his Unit he became Station Anti-Gas Officer, and by the outbreak of war, he was Adjutant, Assistant Adjutant, Anti-Gas Officer, Officer i/c M.T., Officer i/c Sergeants’ Mess, Messing Officer, Fire Officer, and Code and Cypher Officer. Oh yes, he had done half an hour’s course on Codes and Cyphers. On the 3rd September, 1939, he shed most of his jobs and for months he did nothing but test respirators and bob in and out of a gas chamber.
Then, the practical joke department got busy, and he was posted to a Group Headquarters in Scotland as Armament Officer, his sole qualifications being the fact that he knew the difference between a Vickers and a Lewis gun. And so he spent many months in Bonnie Scotland, very happy since he was out of doors most of the time, but scared stiff that his A.O.C. would find out his total lack of knowledge of all the thousand and one gadgets which constitute “Armament”.
Our Robinson was then bold enough to apply for an Armament Course – after ten months in Scotland – and the practical joke department at the Air Ministry stirred themselves again and sent him on the Junior Administrative Course at Loughborough! Another happy three weeks followed with lots of golf and visits to that very nice hostelry at Quoon, and then another branch of the practical joke department woke up and made him a Squadron Leader in Command of a Training Wing not a hundred miles from Warrington.
And so we leave him. By this time I expect he is either an Accountant Officer, or perhaps an Equipment Wallah.
E.T.
MORE FILLUPS
A Squadron Leader we’ve christened chips,
Spends hours in workshops making bits,
He built himself a bedside table,
Then found he was so very able,
He started on a set of chairs,
When thro’ the window C.O. stares.
He quickly donned an airman’s tunic,
And looked just like the Station Eunuch.
25
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[Advert for Forteath Cabins]
[Advert for Four Star Taxi]
[Advert for Weyburn Bottling Works]
[Advert for Lee Lang Laundry]
[Page break]
Wakee Wakee
The gentle click of a switch, then a scream of WAKEE! WAKEE! from an enraged Sergeant. Some of us fall out of bed in surprise, others with lower numbers hardly stir. GETOUTAVIT! and with a bellow of rage the Sergeant hurls someone out of bed, a top bunk. Then with a crash of the door which knocks off half of the clothes off their pegs and breaks two lamp bulbs, he is gone. Muttering curses of “He ought to be shot!” everyone scrambles back to bed, and within five minutes if soring peacefully …Another day is dawning.
Time sweeps by, and five minutes before the end of breakfast some early worm yells “EGGS.” With a mighty shout and a “Why didn’t some fool wake us?” we are up and charging at the door. The last but one slams it. It is anticipated that, on his discharge some months hence, the last one will be repatriated. With mugs flying, we dive into the Cookhouse and race up to the counter. Some little squirt a foot in front of us moves off to a table with the last egg. There is a muttered rumble of “Who said ‘EGGS’?” from the corporal i.c., and we followed him back to our stye, hungry, dirty and discontented, … ready for sleep.
[Drawing of a sign with Corporal Stripes on]
Corporals’ Club Comments
This month we cannot report the appropriation of animals by club members. The billiard table has not yet arrived and there is really a pronounced lull on the twin striped front. The “last on the right” is a very staid and stolid residence these days. Of course it is summer and apart from fellows going up there to visit the canteen section they appear to be preferring the great open spaces to the confines of a club room. But, in the words of George Formby “winter drawers on” and it is expected that great things will come of our club in the winter months.
There is one lecture which is outstanding in its popularity – the fortnightly dance. That is by now quite an institution both on the camp and down town – even though we do say it ourselves – and far from the cautious preparations which preceded initial functions they now more or less “run themselves.” – We have quite good numbers up there.
It is not the intention of the writer to name the comings and goings of members of the Corporals’ Club during the last month, suffice it that we wish departing members luck in their new abodes and extend a welcome to the several who have either been made up” [sic] or arrived on the Unit since the last publication.
Of Much Interest
The competition for a station motto has been won by the Padre for the following:
“Gopheres magnopere gopherimus.” (“We gopher the gophers in a big way”).
Who was the U-T pilot who thought that the so much talked about second front was something out of a Met. report?
Flight Sergeant Snooks, a member of the R.A.F. No. 41 Service Training School at Weyburn has been transferred to Ottawa. He was a most popular member of the station, and he will be missed by both his friends, who will also have missed their promotion. In anticipation of his posting he has recently been passing babies.
27
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[Drawing of a sign with Sergeant stripes on]
Sergeants’ Mess Gen.
Farewell to W.O. (Columbus) Grundy and W.O. (Sebastian) Earp who having been posted left Navigation Flight after a short spell on “binding” Cross Countries. We shall miss these corpulent and genial pilots.
Surprise item of the month is the excellent piano playing of W.O. Campbell who distinguished himself by joining Sgt. Ryckman in Duets after the Officers v. Sergeants Soccer Match. As regards the latter, the least said the soonest mended. We are still wondering how the Officers managed to beat us the first time …
Sgt. Johnny Love has now settled down in Dauphin, and elsewhere in the “Gopher” you will read of the romance between ex-Sgt. “Jock” Leeming and Sgt. Love’s sister. Sort of Love is the sweetest thing.
Back from a hectic leave is Sgt. Hal Jones, who managed to take in New York and Chicago, whilst Sgt. Norman has also returned from a spell in Detroit.
They both say that it is swell to get back to the peaceful life on the prairies. I know that Sgt. Tom Riby definitely boobed in Toronto; opinion is, he thought that the parade was in honour of the select company present.
How are the queer people in Port Hope? We ask of W.O. Kavanagh.
Sgt. “Torchy” McCartney has resigned his post as frog trainer, and he is still looking for the infant that strayed in the Quarters the other day.
Will someone tell us why Sgt. “Johnnie” Johnson didn’t send last month’s issue of the “Gopher” home, and who was that Squadron Leader who wrote from Ontario asking awkward questions?
Sgt. Tom Collinson, a stalwart of the Soccer Team, has now passed his course and we lose yet another fine player. We wish Tom good luck.
F/Sgt. Ayres made a fine job of the drumming in the Station Orchestra recently when he walked into the show at the last moment and took over in his usual competent manner.
Surprise for lots of airmen when they saw the S.W.O., W.O. Mallinson, playing soccer. He played a straight-forward game and shook the troops with his speed.
Lost … Sgt. Richardson.
We would like to see Sgt. Mays dancing the Tango, and Sgt. Collick leading a Male Voice Choir …
That’s all…
Correspondence
Sir,
I have never been wont to complain, but more silence would drive me insane. I received my last wash looking all clean and posh, but I found to my sorrow when I came on the morrow to undo the package to dig from the wreckage, some odourless footwear, the good lady had put there some thick strands of cotton, which I thought was rotten.
Now, dear Mrs. Este, please do not get testy when I thus decry the way that you tie my gent’s natty half hose (with holes in the toes) with knottings divine in pieces of twine. I know all socks shrink when given a drink (a thing which your daughter blames on Weyburn water), and its quite comme il faut for only one toe to find room to arrive where there used to be five.
But although cogitation makes this explanation seem fairly near truth, I still hold, forsooth, that to spend hours just sitting and merely unknitting isn’t really much fun, and, in fact, Isn’t done.
That’s all there is to it. Mrs. E, please don’t do it.
In deepest distress,
Yours, etc.,
P.
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Who’s Who?
WHO IS:
The fair corporal who “gives out” in a deep bass voice an accompaniment to a certain group of singers scheduled to meet at regular intervals on the corner of main street? He must have thought they needed some moral support to be so willing to join their throng.
WHO IS:
The party of four that awakened the neighbourhood from a very peaceful snore at the unoriginal hour of 1.30 a.m. by kicking cans down one of the main streets of the town. Of course, we don’t mind them having their fun but we hope that next time they pick a more respectable hour.
WHO IS:
The P.O. now becoming very interested in milking machines. Couldn’t be he’s taking up farming as a sideline. Oh, no!
WHO IS:
The airmen besides Stinky Miller who believe in sprinkling all the fair roses of the town with Ben Hur or Sweet Pea perfume.
WHO IS:
The airman who refused to pay the charges on the hair restorer that came C.O.D. Better try “Neet,” it works much better.
WHO IS:
The Corporal who instead of exiting a taxi via the door, tried “going out” the windshield? Thinks it’s not such a good idea after all.
WHO IS:
The LAC. “Bobbie” who for the love of – well not the camp, - goes on Jankers, not once but twice in the past three weeks.
WHO IS:
The R.A.F. chap who might like to submit an ad similar to the one below:
FOR SALE: Lines: - fish and otherwise, complete with tackle of pukka gen. Reason: Complications. Explanation given below.
After telling my friend of my prospective marriage to an out of town girl, date, Wed., Spet.2 this friend promptly sent a telegram of congratulations to the address and on date given, much to the surprise of the addressee who was still to be told of the event.
Moral: No more lines complete with gen to be sold, lent or given.
WHO IS:
The airman who asked a young lady at the dance if she had any spare tires. The fair femme now wonders if he had a car or if he just had a flat tire.
WHO IS:
The fellow who, at the corner of main street, tried to ride a borrowed bike but was unsuccessful. Reason: Only one pedal. We know!
THE EYES AND EARS OF WEYBURN
The above from a Weyburn Wag. – Ed.
Works and Bricks
If you want a gadget fixed
Just telephone to Works and Bricks.
You’ll hear a voice, so gentle fair,
But don’t forget what needs repair.
Just exercise your vocal organ,
And ask the girl for FO. Morgan.
Then if you’re lucky and he’s out,
To her your soul you may pour out.
29
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[Drawing of a chequered flag] Flight Notes
B
Until now, “B” Flight has been inarticulate. The outstanding qualities associated with us have been strength and silence, coupled with an efficiency which has been reflected only in our football, the success of which, we hope, has produced apprehension in “H” Flight. Admittedly we share the personnel of the team with “A” Flight, but they can safely be left to shoot their own lines.
However, we have now swallowed our dislike of the effete practice of literature, and have decided that a certain amount of self-advertisement is necessary, as we have imported at no cost whatever a tame scribe from “C” Flight, who had endured him just as long as was humanly possible. So that until we too get tired of him, the evil chuckles of Sgt. James will echo through the pages of the “Gopher,” as well as striking terror into the instructors’ hearts, and Cpl. Westwood’s pipe will smell foully to a larger audience.
The activities of the permanent members of the flight have included latterly the absorption in a competitive spirit of a certain about of liquid in connection with the passing of No. 54 Course; a detailed account of proceedings would be revealing, if not edifying. We are, however, not prepared to go into the matter in detail, but we will add that the occasion was one of celebration too, for the promotion of “the Boss” to the exalted rank of Flight Lieutenant, and the rapid slide through the ranks of the warrant officers made by P.O. Dixon, and we pause for a moment to wonder if Tubby Dyson’s inactivity on the football field was occasioned by his saving himself for the “do.”
Life has been made more interesting by the pleasantly cosmopolitan character of No. 62 course, and by the vagaries of the new inter-com. We are looking forward to forced landings, too, for by the time we start teaching them, we should be able to tell the direction of the wind by means of the rippling of the grass in the garden. Unfortunately, Sgt. Dakeynes’ hair will not serve to usual purpose in that connection, as it was cut, according to schedule, at the end of the last course.
P.S. We train only Flight Commanders for the U.S. Army Air Corps.
D
Yes, shamefacedly we admit it, we were too lazy before to write in the “Flying Gopher.” But now pangs of remorse smite us in the breast, and we borrow a pen and set to work.
Suggestions are pouring in from all sides, but above all the tumultuous shouting, the voice of AC “Taffy” Tomlins bursts upon the ear drums, “Tell ‘em about our Soccer team.”
At this point a general argument starts, led as usual by “Taffy” and involving “Will” Harris, “Ted” Horrocks and “Sniffy,” Eventually we arrive at the conclusion that, up to the time of writing, we have a good and promising team, bolstered up by members of 58 Course (loud cheers from the end bed), and we are expecting some good results. To aid us in our fight we now go about our daily tasks wearing furious scowls and practicing blood curling oaths. We notice that, since his kick on the shin whilst playing against the cookhouse team, Ted Horrocks has acquired strong views on Soccer, and for the next few minutes we are treat-
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ed to a general discourse on players, referees, football fields and spectators. The Greeks had no word for it, but Ted has, and we listen admiringly.
We take this opportunity of congratulating Cpl. Ward on his promotion and his wife on her safe crossing. We hope Mrs. Ward’s crossing was better than ours.
Since the arrival of the SE.s life has been fairly easy compared to the days of the old Annie and we have even had a bang at gardening. We planned a garden comprising a border of flowers surrounding a swimming pool, to be used as a safe retreat from the “skeeters” in the summer and converted to an ice rink in the winter. After reviewing the amount of ground to be dug to a depth of six feet we hastily amended the plans and substituted a goldfish pond. But when the first three spadefulls had been dug up, all ideas of pools were promptly forgotten.
So now we have just a plain garden with plenty of grass seed on it, and we hope, some flowers. The flowers have yet to make their debut and the lawn rather resembles Smiffy’s chin … but we live in hopes.
F
We welcome Flying Officer Whiteside who succeeds Ft.Lt. Henley as Flight Commander, and Flight Sergt Hudson who takes over from Flight Sergt. Brockington, who is sweating (and how!). We wonder whether Brock also handed over his address book together with “all relevant publications.”
We are now in the market for a large lawn mower as the lawn is becoming positively jungle-like. For a small fee we may even consider allowing personnel from other Sections to come and sunbathe.
We would like to ask Cpl. Lothario of the Other Flight on this side of the hangar to tell his lady friends his working hours. Of course, we are always willing to lend a helping hand in such a deserving cause, but it becomes rather difficult at times to explain that the Corporal isn’t in the hangar and really we don’t know WHERE he is.
We have discovered a new type of Gremlin. To the uninitiated we might explain that a Gremlin is a being which haunts the upper reached of the atmosphere and causes all the little troubles for which pilots are not responsible.
The new branch of the family amuses itself by breaking Harvard windows, and we never can nail the blighters for a report.
- F.T.R.
H
We must apologise for our failure to write any notes last month, but must plead pressure of work in trying to attain the elusive line and get 52 course out on time. The high pressure work necessary is best illustrated by a pupil’s remark to the Flight Commander when asked if he was on the night flying programme. “I am never on the ground long enough to read the notices.”
Another amusing episode occurred at dawn one morning when the kites were sent for just one more circuit, and the A.C.P. noticed one rush down to the Christmas tree, do a circuit of 800 ft. and come into land before anyone else had taken off. Deciding to teach him a lesson, he was given a red, which was followed by a circuit at 500 ft. so another red. Afterwards the conversation went something like this: “What was the big idea?” “I only had 10 gallons left.” “Well why didn’t you blind your rear lights?” “The battery was flat and the nav. lights weren’t on.” “Anything else wrong?” “The flaps would only come down 20 degrees and there was a mag. drop,” Wonderful crates the old Annies.
Having got them away to time, our instructors had to learn all the vices of the new “buzz- boxes” that were to replace our trusted (?) twins, during which time “G” flight undertook to get our pupils solo. Many thanks to you, as you probably saved us a few ground loops.
Don’t our pupils appreciate the sterling qualities of our Flight Commander? They make frequent efforts to blow him out of his office in a shower of dirt, and though the voluntary contribution is stepped up each week they still find it worthwhile.
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[Advert for Club Café]
[Advert for Weyburn Motors]
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One day when the “coke” flag was put up, a questionnaire elucidated the statements that extra speed was used on the approach on a windy day so that you got to the aerodrome more quickly, and in a glide approach so that the plane descended at a reasonable angle and didn’t just float around.
I wonder if “F” flight are still complacent on the success of their soccer team. They certainly are a lucky side, fancy getting three goals against us.
X
What a busy month it has been. Airmen, pupils – even instructors have de-digitised. “We MUST finish before the snow comes” … “The Flight will be a credit to the Station” … “Do you think HE will notice it?” are among the many remarks overheard in the crew room. The identity of “HE” can only be surmised from the hushed tones in which the word is uttered. The product of the proverbial bull has been widely sought after to hasten results. F-Lt. Goon gazed from his window between cups of tea and looks for people running up in front of “My Office,” his little-tin-box in his hand jiggling reminiscently. A certain “Middleton” has been discussed with great reverence, but perusal of nominal rolls has failed to reveal the Section honoured by his presence. You may be under the impression that we are striving to get the course out ahead of time – but have I mentioned flying? A mere detail. We MUST finish the garden first!
- L.W.
G.I.S. Jottings
Amongst one of the periodic showers of paper delivered to the G.I.S. the other day was a memo which commenced with those all too familiar words “Your contribution is now due.” This was duly passed to those who sit in judgement and authority and finally found its way back to me endorsed “Pass to Stooge for action.” Same old story – voluntary compulsion!
There is, of course, little to report. There never is. Pupils come and P-Os and Sergeants go. I may even make an odious comparison by saying that the G.I.S. may be likened to a sausage machine. True it is that mysterious ingredients are put in! The output in our case consists of a very fine line of Pilots duly burnished by Flying Wing! To a small cog in the machine it is all very inspiring.
Highlight of the month must be the sudden removal of our N.C.O. Discip. Unlike his Irish predecessor he did not return to the Emerald Isle although he is much nearer to it than he was. We regret that we are a little extravagant on Discips and will, in future try to make them last a little longer at least.
No. 56 Course are in the process of “Passing Out.” Many of them passed out quite early on and the remainder are wondering how “So few can repay so many.” The passing out celebration is to be held in the privacy of the telephone pay station in the Y.M.C.A. Our heartiest congratulations go to this course who may consider themselves the most select course we have yet had.
The phrase “What’s Cooking” really does mean something to us. One of our busy Navigators now does a little plotting on the Diet Sheet. It is extremely interesting to be right in the “gen” and to know what one HAD for dinner.
One of the Armament Instructors recently returned from an aircraft recognition course. He has since spent hours pinning up posters on the walls of the entire building, missing not even the most unusual places. We hope that these posters will be of great INSTRUCTIONAL value.
The Airframes and Engines instructor recently returned from Detroit. He said that he had had little sleep during his stay. Asked why this was so he replied in his broad Scots accent that he was afraid of missing something.
At the time of writing, Sgt. “Hal” Jones id still on his official visit over the border. Someone said that his visit was in connection with lion shooting. We THINK they said “lion.”
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[Advert for Charnell Studio]
[Advert for Expert Dry Cleaners]
[Advert for The Sun Café]
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Lease-Lend Dept.
Accts. Forwarded - - - Transition Period
One fine summer morning, as is not his wont, the writer awoke when the sun’s rays were at a slant, and finding the desire for slumber had mysteriously disappeared, he sought to occupy his mind usefully, with what success the read [sic] may judge thereafter.
In the August issue, brief reference was made to the far-reaching and paper-consuming changes recently made in Accounts procedure. For example, if AC. 1 Plonk’s wife in the far-off Motherland presents his father with a grandson, or LAC. Budd blossoms forth as P/O. Prairie Flower, extra shipping space is needed to convey the required forms so diligently prepared by our now so-bumff-hating stooges.
Prior to and during the transition stages the contents of Big Chief Two-and-a -half-ringer Culbertson’s in-tray assumed abnormal proportions. Thereafter it became at times almost the hourly channel of communication of fresh “gen” and amendments are still coming in. How familiar became the words, “Coming over! More Bumff! No Bumff!” accompanied by some expletives suited to the occasion. Little Chief Where’s-it-laid-down’s desk shuddered at the impact, ink splashing right and left as the tomes landed with a thud – a dull, resounding thud, somehow suggestive of impending overtime. The thud usually caused the lighting system to fail, heralded by weird and wonderful noises from the Telephone Exchange opposite.
While the Big Chief consumed these bulky products – perhaps indigestion resulted and might explain certain remarks on messing – the dupe and tripe copies were passed by the most direct manner as described above, to Little-Chief-Stooge. Then, unless they had already swiped a copy, to either Chiefie A.M.Os., who, like the mosquitoes, gets results. Uncrowned-Three-Striper Pass-the-Buckman, or Sergeant Acquaintance Roll(ey) for information, consumption, necessary action, and onward transmission to the Lesser Stooges who do the donkey-work.
The “New Order” requires that the Stooge A.O., now keeper of the moneybags, shall be referred to as the “Responsible A.O.” Any reflection on the character of previous holders of the money-bags in hereby refuted. The possibility of more time being available for Bridge at first appeared, but such fond hopes have long since been dismissed.
Odd Points
Little-Chief-Stooge Where’s-it-Laid-Down’s secret desire is to let all personnel on the station help themselves to the money-bags on pay-day. What’s his size in bowler hats? They never did suit him, anyway, and it is thought that he would lose his “responsibility,” so perhaps he must curb his altruistic desires after all.
After the loss of the Accounts Sections’ laundry, the idea of having a washing line of our own was mooted. It had, however, to be abandoned, because the AC1. Sergeant-Air-Gunner shot a line which was unsuitable for the purpose.
We hear of a certain Corporal who will insist on bursting forth with “Deep in the Heart of Texas” at the slightest provocation. Why don’t the Corporals, with their wealth of musical talent, teach him at least one other song? – or perhaps they would prefer him to forget the one he HAS learned? At the time of writing, we await the return of another Corporal from his trek down south. Gosh! Supposing HE returns with a “Deep in the Heart of” complex! ‘Orrid thought!
-v-
LOST – Ronson Lighter. Engraved. “Bill from Laura, 22-9-41.” Valued as a keepsake. Finder please return to Mrs. V.M. Tomlinson, Weyburn. Reward.
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Minor Bottlenecks
Having a few spare moments from the onerous task of keeping A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H and Navigation flight aircraft serviceable, (Why the ‘ell can’t they do it themselves or are they just too busy gardening?) we have decided to contribute a few notes to the Station Magazine.
We welcome Sergeant Haskell to our Section; he is being initiated into the skilful art of “Where can I get one” by our inimitable “Sandy.”
We have noticed that a certain Senior N.C.O. has been very busy the last few days – they say e has changed his name to “One Splice.”
Is it true that a certain red headed Fitter is going to move his kit into Weyburn?
A few of our personnel spend their weekends on farms in the district – are they getting the harvest in or do they just Mou-land?
Our F-Sgt. Has joined the happy band of the Pensioner brigade and, although he despises crutches, he is pretty good on stilts.
Upon reading the August issue of the Flying Gopher, it was noticed that the Minors football team had been omitted from the League table. Why, Ed? We are not as bad as that – or are we? Congratulations to LAC. Williams in making the Station Soccer team – nice work “Ginger.”
Ed. – Error regretted.
Maintenance Changes
In the Orderly Room, Sergt. Jack Lloyd has taken over the duties of F-Sgt. “Ginger” Ayres, the latter as Chief Clerk now occupying that worthy seat in the Holiest of Holies – Station Headquarters.
Providing there is an ample supply of “FLYded,” the new Sergeant is determined to see that no flies are observed in his Orderly Room.
He wants to know if it is true F-Sgt. Ayres shouted “Come in”, to a knocking on the door last winter, and a bear nosed its way into the office.
The roster for Duty Crash N.C.O. now includes the names of three new arrivals. Also one additional Flight Sergeant who will no longer chuckle gleefully when the list next appears in D.R.O’s. Allowing for leave and other contingencies, this duty should permit the lady friend to take a night off once in every three weeks.
More Accts. Sec.
Squadron Leader name of Cox
Keeps all our money in a box.
Credits he is loath to pay,
Even on our “Eagle” day.
What’s he do with all our dough?
That’s what we all want to know.
Says our credits go to blighty,
His girl’s got another new Nightie.
Postal Rates
The Flying Gopher can be sent to people in England under present postal rates for 2 cents if unsealed, or 7 cents if sealed.
Join!!
We know all these jolly little committees which have been springing up right and left during the past few weeks? Well, someone came down from the S.W.O’s. office the other day binding something awful because he had been told to warn someone he was on the Sewage committee or the Cat Welfare Committee or something, and he couldn’t find him anywhere. And he showed us a list, at the bottom of which was “LAC Artetta” …
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[Advert for Wilson Pharmacy]
[Advert for Service Hardware]
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[Drawing of two men dressed for gold and fishing]
Fort Qu’Appelle
Fort Qu’Appelle offers many attractions for week-ends or longer leaves. It is 75 miles north of Weyburn on a chain of lakes in which good fishing may be had. Boats may be hired at 25c per hour. There is an excellent swimming beach and a nine hole Golf Course with grass greens on the outskirts of the town.
The hotel is comfortable and cheap. Fort Qu’Appelle may be reached quite conveniently by train or ‘bus.
Small Ads
WANTED – By Service Police. One pair of thick rubber soled boots; one deer stalker’s cap, and a dog called Tinker.
WANTED – Retired Donkey to eat super-abundance of carrots. Box WEY. 5.
WANTED – By Cookhouse. Mincing Machine, to replace one written off by VERY fair wear.
WANTED – Secondhand lift. For use of tired airman occupying top bunk.
WANTED – By P.T.I. Officer. Two fitter Britains (or Rigor Mortis) to undergo short course.
EXCHANGE – Two permanent early dinner chits required. Would exchange for anything useful. Box WEY. 2.
LOST – Between Padgate and Weyburn, 7 days pay, a lot of kit, and ring (gold).
PERSONAL – S.M.O. “What price the stork?” C.N.I.
PERSONAL – S.A.I’s. “Are you Grand Arch-Cardinals yet?” L.T.I.
FINALLY WANTED – One seaworthy vessel. By one thousand airmen, must have room for at least one hundred. With stationary decks. Price to include delivery to Weyburn.
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[Advert for The Leader Store]
[Advert for National Musical Supply]
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[Advert for McDonald’s Show Store]
[Advert for Arnett Electric]
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Etter Plugs the Jive
The two already run off were surely great successes, weren’t they? The committee in charge of the dances is anxious to have you have a good time., fellows, so let’s have constructive ideas on the subject. These efforts are carried on each second Wednesday evening in the Recreation Hall. Tickets are on sale the Saturday previous in the Y.M.C.A. Because the capacity of the Recreation Hall is limited, the number of tickets available is now limited to 150. Come along early and get your tickets. Good prizes are given each time to the winners of novelty dances, the Swing Commanders play for dancing which starts at 9.00 and ends at 12.30. With the bus running regularly there is no reason why Airmen here can’t make these one of the outstanding events of life on 41 S.F.T.S.
Recreation Reviewed
With the Fall, outdoor activities will be curtailed for the personnel of No. 41 S.F.T.S. After an enthusiastic season, soccer is coming to a close, with only a few plaster casts around to remind us of many strongly contested matches. Cricket and swimming have not long to live, and already skating and hockey are waiting for the freeze-up.
Our Flying Gopher has been examining his burrow to see if he will be comfortable for the winter. Unlike his hibernating brothers of the prairie, he refuses to lie dormant – therefore he wants to know “What’s cooking?” So, sticking his nose into the lair of the Central Committee, he has unearthed a program of activities on the station which will keep him happy digging until spring.
The editors have sifted the mound of information piled up outside their den and here present an analysis of its contents.
Of interest to every man on the station, this program is designed to provide as much variety as possible. There will be no need for any man to be bored and this winter will be a very different affair from the last.
Certainly no town of similar size could have shown more hospitality than has Weyburn to the men of No.41. Weyburnites have taken many men into their homes and entertained them with typical western conviviality, and as for the home cooking, well – we know where we can get apple pie just like mother used to make. The Canadian Legion and the attractive Hostess Club along with other organizations, have made us feel right at home in Weyburn. We are very grateful for all this and wish we could repay some of the hospitality.
But where the number of men on a large military station almost equals half the population of the nearest town, as it does in this case, there will be many men who feel as Tootles when he goes to town, bored and a little disillusioned, unless the men themselves have an organization on the station for providing their own recreation.
We have the organization now, a complete program arranged by the Central Committee for the Fall and Winter. There are activities to satisfy the most varied interests. Through the P.S.I. funds all the necessary sports equipment ahs been provided and more will be forthcoming as the demand grows. Art Etter’s “Y” plays a valuable part in this program.
Romantic Spree
The latest news from the Officers’ jigs,
Where they stuff lemons in little pigs,
Is Flight Lieutenant D.F.C
Embarked upon a romantic spree,
He talked to a maiden fair and twenty,
Of loving cup he had drunk plenty.
He thrilled her with his hectic life,
Then found she was the Padre’s wife.
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Grand Impending Sports Meet at Weyburn
No. 41 S.F.T.S., August 30th. – Alarm is expressed in Service Police quarters here at the violent partizanship which is developing between different factions which will participate in the Giant Sports Day to be held in the Weyburn Stadium on Wednesday, September 23rd. Corporal Neathway, S.P., usually unmoved by anything short of invasions warns that delicate women and children should be chaperoned by husky airmen, since it is rumored on good authority that two factions intend to rub each other out with cream puffs at ten paces! The spectacle of members of the fairer sex cheering for their favourite airmen competitors is likewise not calculated to make this a dull affair. A promising feature is the hair-pulling contest between two girls each with an airman in the 440.
In spite of this, or perhaps because of this, we expect that hundreds of the people of Weyburn will attend. By permission of the Commanding Officer, the station will be shut down for the afternoon in order that the R.A.F. may be out en masse.
All Invited
This is an open invitation to the people of Weyburn and the surrounding district to attend.
Proceeds from the small admission charge will be devoted to the purchase of sports equipment for the men of this station.
Teams from other R.A.F. stations and from R.C.A.F. stations have been invited to compete in a program which will last about two hours. All preliminary heats will have been run off previously and only final events will be contested.
Dance At Night
To round out the Sports Day entertainment, a Station Dance will be held in the Drill Hall on the same evening. The hall has been specially decorated and the Station Dance Band will be augmented for the occasion. The Y.M.C.A. is catering for the evening, and this dance should be the highlight in a very full day.
Sports Officer Lets Cat Out of Bag
Browsing through sports equipment the other day, our reporter was startled to discover, framed between a festoon of boxing gloves and tennis racquets, George, The Moustache. Behind whom resided the genial features of Flying Officer Colchester, our Sports Officer.
“Ah, ha,” he exclaimed, “just the man I’m looking for. Take a look at that?”
“That” was the sports program for September 23rd, at the Weyburn Stadium. Here, at last, was the long awaited news. We give it to you now – the main events for Sports Day –
SPRINTS: 100 yards, 220 yards and 440 yards.
DISTANCE: 880 yards and one mile run.
FILED EVENTS: High jump, long jump, pole vault, discus, javelin and shotput, and hurdles (if priority can be obtained for lumber to build them).
OBSTACLE RACE.
LADIES RACE and comic events.
Well, there it is. The halt, the maimed, and even the binders are expected to turn out and practice for these events on order to turn back the invasion from outside stations. Let it never be said that No. 41 could not put up a good effort when its very reputation was at stake.
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At Your Service
Sports Department
[Photograph of a man with a magnificent moustache] ED COLCH. Now in Weyburn.
Hello, Fellows! Maybe that’s the snappiest way to greet youse all. It certainly is the dandiest thing to be allowed to write you a piece in the “Gopher” and to be able to tell you all what a swell bunch of chaps you are, and why I am here at all. Now, don’t forget to say “hello” to me on the streets of 41 when you see that browser mustache [sic] and line-shooting tea-cosy with a football badge on the front. As the great bard said, I guess “A kiss without a mustache [sic] is like a hamburger without dills.” You see I sure do wanna get together with all you great Old Country boys.
The sports department is for sports, don’t please ever forget that fact. Those of you who have been here some time will have some idea of where my office is. Just drop in for a coke with me any time you have some little personal sporting problem you want to thrash out. I’m usually there blowing up footballs in the morning – and always at your service. However tricky your problem don’t hesitate to step right in and have a talk with the Sports Supervisor. The name is right there on the door.
It is my aim to give you all a body like mine, and make the square the gathering-place for all you lads, on Wednesday mornings in particular. We are flat out to make the square a reely [sic] attractive spot; and I certainly am going to make sure that a first rate decorating job is done there. I guess I’m not speaking out of turn if I tell youse fellows the “Y” is going to lay down some really snappy carpets, and put flags up all around the joint.
Say, bo; let me be your father. I am here to jazz up cricket and drill you for you all. Just buy a tiger skin and drop in.
Your one and only,
ED. COLCH.
Tail Piece
From the Diary of an R.A.F. Hurricane Pilot in Malta, Aprl 6, 1942.
“There was a short service for readiness pilots outside the dispersal hut. The hymn was “Fight the Good Fight.” This struck a chord in my memory. When I was confirmed, the Bishop of Kingston gave as his text, “Fight the good fight of faith,” and that same evening when I opened a book sent to me by my aunt, the first words I read were identical with the text. And now they recurred again. I mentioned this to the Padre afterwards. The coincidence comforted.”
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[Advert for Standard Garage and Machine Shop]
[Advert for Co-op. Dairy Products]
[Advert for The Hi-Art Theatre]
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Ice
If a good many RAF chaps at this station are eating off the mantlepiece this winter it will not be from riding horseback but probably from taking the bumps at ice hockey. The enthusiasm with which fellows who had never skated took to the narrow blades last winter augers well for the sport this season.
A new rink is being built behind the recreation hall, largely for hockey, but another rink will also be constructed for straight and figure skating. Sonja Henie, look out! By the end of the winter No. 41 S.F.T.S. may be touring the country with the Weyburn Ice Follies. At any rate, a public address system will be installed to provide music for the skaters. There will no doubt be Visitors’ Nights when AC Tootles will be able to show his colourfully dressed girl friend how well he can waltz with only a few spills for punctuation marks.
As for organized hockey, we are fortunate to have a good coach in Lieut. Bigelow of the Dental Corps. It is hoped to organize a Service League but that depends on how well the players develop. We may not have any Wally Stanowski’s from the Maple Leafs, but it should be a good effort.
Basketball
We are sorry, but you are wrong. Neither soccer nor horse-racing draw the biggest total number of spectators in sports, but basketball. Started over thirty years ago by a Dr. Niran, who used peach baskets for the first hoops, the game now has the largest fan following of any game in the world. Hundreds of teams compete in national competitions in the States and many thousands of spectators attend games from the high school tournaments to the national finals.
Yes, the game has something. It is very fast – requiring the peak of physical condition in the players in order that they might stand the pace. But, it is a game which can be learned in easy stages. Already at No. 41 S.F.T.S. we have quite a few enthusiasts – it is expected that organized games will take place nearly every night in the Drill Hall. Want a new sport thrill? We can recommend basketball.
Boxing
“Come on now, keep them up, keep them up! That’s better. Don’t signal your punches.”
Sound of leather on hard chests, the shuffling of feet, quick gasps from straining lungs. It might be Cpl. Wheel or Cpl. Farley or AC Rowing-Parker coaching a lad in the art of self defense, but whoever is the coach or whoever the pupil, they are having a cracking good time, literally.
The boxing ring is completed in the Drill Hall, with mat and ropes. There are plenty of gloves available. Practises already reveal promise of future Dempseys to uphold the honor of No. 41 S.F.T.S.
Maybe you are a dark horse, already experienced in the ring, or maybe you have had no experience but would like to cuff AC. Tootle’s head up a peak (probably he feels the same about you). In any case, come out for boxing and have a good work-out.
Badminton
This sort of thing has got to stop. This chap Burkeman (F/Sgt. Burkeman, know him?) is getting to be too much of a good thing. The guy is getting too chesty. What I want to know, is there any game the bloke can’t play and play well? The other night we thought we had him – we would be able to smear him at badminton, anyway, but no, this Joe Burkeman wore us down to a grease spot and he was still smiling at the end as unruffled as you please.
For heaven’s sake, won’t someone come out and pin Joe’s ears back? He tells us he will take on all and sundry. (Joe’s a right nice guy really, but we have to make him the villain of this piece in order to have a story).
Anyway, Flying-Officer Colchester will be only too pleased to supply you with badminton rackets and “birds” whenever you want a go at this fast game. There are four courts in the Drill Hall – you can easily arrange a game, with any type of player.
A Wing Commander very fly,
Is sometimes called the C.F.I.
His Flight Commanders hover round,
With useless pupils they have found
He interviews them one by one,
A second glance he gives to some,
But see him at a graduation,
This really is a revelation.
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“A and B” Flights Win Armit Trophy
In Hard Fought Final
When the soccer team from “A and B” Flights met “H” Flight on Wednesday evening, it appeared that half the Station had turned out to watch the game – the other half learned of the score before the evening was out. The occasion was a momentous one in Station Soccer for it was the final of the League Championship, the winners being the first to hold the Armit trophy. Both teams have been hot contenders for the title and truly the game was a battle royal. It had all the ingredients of an English cup-tie game – the highly partisan crowd, grand football, with first class tackling and heading, an eventual penalty, a last minute goal, and, finally, the players being carried from the field shoulder high.
Excitement ran at high pitch throughout the whole game. It was clean and openly played. “A and B” truly deserving their victory of 2-0 by reason of a fine show put up by their forwards. Thompson at centre was a constant menace with his clever rushes down the centre of the field and his accurate distribution of the ball.
After a very even first half, in which neither side scored. “A and B” forwards, aided by their half-backs, dominated the play from the restart and it appeared obvious that a goal was soon forthcoming. “H” Flight made a quick reverse, however, and for a while it seemed that they would be the first to open the scoring. Charles, however, was unfortunate in shooting over an open goal.
First blood was drawn when, during pressure by “A and B” forwards, Corporal Wallace, “H”, handled the ball in the penalty area and gave Molloy a chance to score the opening goal of the match from the kick. This unexpected point caused excitement to rise to high pitch and fast and furious play ensued as “H” tried hard to wipe off the setback with an equalizer, but their forward line could not get going against the close play of their opponents and in the last quarter minute of play, LAC. Lord, a pupil, clinched the issue with a smashing goal from the inside right position.
The team was fully deserving of the applause it gained for a brilliant game. As for the losers, they were a plucky side, hindered by the injury, early in the game of LAC. Cook and this loss undoubtedly was responsible in some measure for their lack of smoothness. Their forwards were too often off side and it was unfortunate for them that they could not find the smooth team work which enthused their opponents from start to finish of the match.
Last Month’s Crossword
[Answers to the crossword clues]
The first correct solution opened was sent by Miss D. Bakstad, 405 Government Road, Weyburn, to whom a cheque for $5.00 will be forwarded as soon as the Editor returns from leave … or it may have to be deferred until the following pay day. Anyway, Mis Bakstad, you shall have your $5.00.
The Flying Gopher is published on the 15th of each month by and for the entertainment of the personnel of No. 41 S.F.T.S. (R.A.F.) at Weyburn, Saskatchewan, Canada. Printed for the Publishers by the Weyburn Review.
[Page break]
[Advert for Pilsner beer]
47
[Page break]
[Advert for Stinson-Powers Lts.]
[Advert for the Royal Hotel]
[Page break]
[Advert for R.H. Williams & Sons]
[Advert for Snelgrove’s Sundaes]
[Page break]
[Advert for The Lounge]
[Advert for Victory Cab]
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
The Flying Gopher September 1942
Description
An account of the resource
This edition has adverts, an Editorial, reminisces by Dr Vyse, an appreciation of the arrival of the RAF at Weyburn, photographs of Weyburn, stories about Gremlins, a fictitious love story, photos of dances, Weyburn library, poems, love stories, a story about one man's postings, odd goings on around Weyburn, Notes by the different Flights on the base, light hearted station news and sporting news,
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
41 SFTS Weyburn
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1942-09
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
52 printed sheets
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
MFordTA1585520-170411-14
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
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
Anne-Marie Watson
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Canada
Saskatchewan--Weyburn
Saskatchewan
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-09
aircrew
entertainment
gremlin
Harvard
love and romance
sport
station headquarters
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/27/123/PFilliputtiA16010033.1.jpg
2121ec8cb832ddbf07728107a5904ae1
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
Filiputti, Angiolino
Angiolino Filiputti
Alfonsino Filiputti
A Filiputti
Description
An account of the resource
127 items. The collection consists of a selection of works created by Alfonsino ‘Angiolino’ Filiputti (1924-1999). A promising painter from childhood, Angiolino was initially fascinated by marine subjects but his parents’ financial hardships forced an end to his formal education after completing primary school. Thereafter, he took up painting as an absorbing pastime. Angiolino depicted some of the most dramatic and controversial aspects of the Second World War as seen from the perspective of San Giorgio di Nogaro, a small town in the Friuli region of Italy. Bombings, events reported by newspapers, broadcast by the radio or spread by eyewitnesses, became the subject of colourful paintings, in which news details were embellished by his own rich imaginings. Each work was accompanied by long pasted-on captions, so as to create fascinating works in which text and image were inseparable. After the war, however, interest in his work declined and Angiolino grew increasingly disenchanted as he lamented the lack of recognition accorded his art, of which he was proud.
The work of Angiolino Filiputti was rediscovered thanks to the efforts of Pierluigi Visintin (San Giorgio di Nogaro 1946 – Udine 2008), a figurehead of the Friulan cultural movement, author, journalist, screenwriter and translator of Greek and Latin classical works into the Friulan language. 183 temperas were eventually displayed in 2005 under the title "La guerra di Angiolino" (“Angiolino’s war”.) The exhibition toured many cities and towns, jointly curated by the late Pierluigi Visintin, the art critic Giancarlo Pauletto and Flavio Fabbroni, member of the Istituto Friulano per la Storia del Movimento di Liberazione (Institute for the history of the resistance movement in the Friuli region).
The IBCC Digital Archive would like to express its gratitude to Anna and Stefano Filiputti, the sons of Angiolino Filipputi, for granting permission to reproduce his works. The BCC Digital Archive is also grateful to Alessandra Bertolissi, wife of Pierluigi Visintin, Alessandra Kerservan, head of the publishing house Kappa Vu and Pietro Del Frate, mayor of San Giorgio di Nogaro.
Originals are on display at
Biblioteca comunale di San Giorgio di Nogaro
Piazza Plebiscito, 2
33058 San Giorgio di Nogaro (UD)
ITALY
++39 0431 620281
info.biblioteca@comune.sangiorgiodinogaro.ud.it
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Filiputti, A-S
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.
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
Laconia incident. Part 1
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PFilliputtiA16010033
Description
An account of the resource
At night, the submarine U-156 launches a torpedo at the SS Laconia. A massive explosion causes large flames and black smoke to engulf the centre of the liner. Small flags are flying from the masts of the ship. A postcard with the caption “The New Cunarder “Laconia” – 20,000 tons” has been pasted onto the painting.
Label reads “64”; signed by the author; caption reads “(1) LA TRAGEDIA DEL LAKONIA [sic] 12 SETTEMBRE 1942. Il sommergibile “UI56” al comando di Warner Hartenstein [Werner Hartenstein] in navigazione notturna, alle oer [sic] 21 avvista il Laconia di 20.000 tonnellate in rotta dall’Africa agli Stati Uniti, carico di 1800 prigionieri italiani, più equipaggio e passeggeri. L’U156 lancia 2 siluri colpendo in pieno la nave, aprendo il piu terribile dei drammi del mare, di tutti i tempi. (in basso a destra, una rara cartolina del “Lakonia.)
Caption translates as: “(1) The Tragedy of the Laconia, 12th September 1942. The “U 156” submarine, led by Werner Hartenstein, was sailing at night. At 9 pm it caught sight of the Laconia, 20,000 gross register tonnage, en route from Africa to the United States. It was transporting 1,800 Italian prisoners, along with crew and passengers. The U156 shot two torpedoes, hitting the vessel, and starting one of the most terrible tragedies of the sea of all times. (bottom right-hand side, a rare postcard of the Laconia.)”
Language
A language of the resource
ita
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Angiolino Filiputti
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Francesca Campani
Alessandro Pesaro
Helen Durham
Giulia Banti
Maureen Clarke
Subject
The topic of the resource
World War (1939-1945)
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One tempera on paper, pasted on mount board
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Atlantic Ocean
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-09-12
1942-09
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Artwork
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Filiputti, Angiolino. Laconia incident
arts and crafts
submarine
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/27/124/PFilliputtiA16010034.1.jpg
d9bbe3f0a7d7355a1d0a2565b314897d
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
Filiputti, Angiolino
Angiolino Filiputti
Alfonsino Filiputti
A Filiputti
Description
An account of the resource
127 items. The collection consists of a selection of works created by Alfonsino ‘Angiolino’ Filiputti (1924-1999). A promising painter from childhood, Angiolino was initially fascinated by marine subjects but his parents’ financial hardships forced an end to his formal education after completing primary school. Thereafter, he took up painting as an absorbing pastime. Angiolino depicted some of the most dramatic and controversial aspects of the Second World War as seen from the perspective of San Giorgio di Nogaro, a small town in the Friuli region of Italy. Bombings, events reported by newspapers, broadcast by the radio or spread by eyewitnesses, became the subject of colourful paintings, in which news details were embellished by his own rich imaginings. Each work was accompanied by long pasted-on captions, so as to create fascinating works in which text and image were inseparable. After the war, however, interest in his work declined and Angiolino grew increasingly disenchanted as he lamented the lack of recognition accorded his art, of which he was proud.
The work of Angiolino Filiputti was rediscovered thanks to the efforts of Pierluigi Visintin (San Giorgio di Nogaro 1946 – Udine 2008), a figurehead of the Friulan cultural movement, author, journalist, screenwriter and translator of Greek and Latin classical works into the Friulan language. 183 temperas were eventually displayed in 2005 under the title "La guerra di Angiolino" (“Angiolino’s war”.) The exhibition toured many cities and towns, jointly curated by the late Pierluigi Visintin, the art critic Giancarlo Pauletto and Flavio Fabbroni, member of the Istituto Friulano per la Storia del Movimento di Liberazione (Institute for the history of the resistance movement in the Friuli region).
The IBCC Digital Archive would like to express its gratitude to Anna and Stefano Filiputti, the sons of Angiolino Filipputi, for granting permission to reproduce his works. The BCC Digital Archive is also grateful to Alessandra Bertolissi, wife of Pierluigi Visintin, Alessandra Kerservan, head of the publishing house Kappa Vu and Pietro Del Frate, mayor of San Giorgio di Nogaro.
Originals are on display at
Biblioteca comunale di San Giorgio di Nogaro
Piazza Plebiscito, 2
33058 San Giorgio di Nogaro (UD)
ITALY
++39 0431 620281
info.biblioteca@comune.sangiorgiodinogaro.ud.it
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Filiputti, A-S
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.
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
Laconia incident. Part 7
Description
An account of the resource
Six naked figures are on two makeshift rafts floating in rough seas, surrounded by sharks. Two figures holding sticks are trying to scare the sharks away. Three of the figures are pointing to their left and shouting. Men are also in the water surrounded by sharks. A pair of legs can be seen in a shark’s mouth. One figure is holding a knife in his right hand ready to defend himself.
Label reads “70”; signed by the author; caption reads “(7) … L’alba ci diede un’esatta immagine dell’immane tragedia, attorno a noi, a perdita d’occhio, nessun segno di vita solo il mare era disseminato di centinaia di cadaveri, tenuti a galla dai salvagente, testa ripiegata in avanti sommersa dall’acqua. Fummo circondati dai pescicani, stavano straziando i corpi dei nostri morti, uno mi sfiorò una gamba, aveva in bocca un’atroce pasto. Un’italiano certamente impazzito, a cavalcioni di un lungo palo, sospinto dalla corrente, solcava l’Oceano nostante i nostri gesti di salute, e di richiamo. Imperterrito senza profferire parola, egli si allontanò come una statua sul mare…”
Caption translates as: “(7)… The sunrise allowed us to understand the extent of the tragedy surrounding us. As far as the eye could see, there was no sign of life; only the sea, in which hundreds of corpses were dispersed. These were kept afloat by life vests, their heads tilted forward, submerged in water. Sharks surrounded us, tearing apart the corpses. One brushed against my leg, its mouth full of a horrific meal. One Italian, surely insane, was sitting on a long pole with his legs astride and, driven forward by the current, cut through the ocean despite our gestures of greeting and signals. Undaunted, and without saying a word, he went away like a statue on the sea…”
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PFilliputtiA16010034
Language
A language of the resource
ita
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Angiolino Filiputti
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Francesca Campani
Alessandro Pesaro
Helen Durham
Giulia Banti
Maureen Clarke
Subject
The topic of the resource
World War (1939-1945)
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One tempera on paper, pasted on mount board
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Atlantic Ocean
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-09
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Artwork
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Filiputti, Angiolino. Laconia incident
arts and crafts
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/27/125/PFilliputtiA16010035.1.jpg
09656e8378d27a25f55a7c0f7d546b6e
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
Filiputti, Angiolino
Angiolino Filiputti
Alfonsino Filiputti
A Filiputti
Description
An account of the resource
127 items. The collection consists of a selection of works created by Alfonsino ‘Angiolino’ Filiputti (1924-1999). A promising painter from childhood, Angiolino was initially fascinated by marine subjects but his parents’ financial hardships forced an end to his formal education after completing primary school. Thereafter, he took up painting as an absorbing pastime. Angiolino depicted some of the most dramatic and controversial aspects of the Second World War as seen from the perspective of San Giorgio di Nogaro, a small town in the Friuli region of Italy. Bombings, events reported by newspapers, broadcast by the radio or spread by eyewitnesses, became the subject of colourful paintings, in which news details were embellished by his own rich imaginings. Each work was accompanied by long pasted-on captions, so as to create fascinating works in which text and image were inseparable. After the war, however, interest in his work declined and Angiolino grew increasingly disenchanted as he lamented the lack of recognition accorded his art, of which he was proud.
The work of Angiolino Filiputti was rediscovered thanks to the efforts of Pierluigi Visintin (San Giorgio di Nogaro 1946 – Udine 2008), a figurehead of the Friulan cultural movement, author, journalist, screenwriter and translator of Greek and Latin classical works into the Friulan language. 183 temperas were eventually displayed in 2005 under the title "La guerra di Angiolino" (“Angiolino’s war”.) The exhibition toured many cities and towns, jointly curated by the late Pierluigi Visintin, the art critic Giancarlo Pauletto and Flavio Fabbroni, member of the Istituto Friulano per la Storia del Movimento di Liberazione (Institute for the history of the resistance movement in the Friuli region).
The IBCC Digital Archive would like to express its gratitude to Anna and Stefano Filiputti, the sons of Angiolino Filipputi, for granting permission to reproduce his works. The BCC Digital Archive is also grateful to Alessandra Bertolissi, wife of Pierluigi Visintin, Alessandra Kerservan, head of the publishing house Kappa Vu and Pietro Del Frate, mayor of San Giorgio di Nogaro.
Originals are on display at
Biblioteca comunale di San Giorgio di Nogaro
Piazza Plebiscito, 2
33058 San Giorgio di Nogaro (UD)
ITALY
++39 0431 620281
info.biblioteca@comune.sangiorgiodinogaro.ud.it
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Filiputti, A-S
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.
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
Laconia incident. Part 8
Description
An account of the resource
A lifeboat from the Laconia floats on rough seas with eleven figures on board, among them two Polish soldiers. The soldier on the left is standing over the others in the boat. He has a pistol in his right hand and is pointing it at the occupants of the boat. The soldier on the right has used an axe to hack off the right hand of an Italian survivor trying to clamber into the lifeboat. Blood is spurting out of the wound and the man is screaming in pain. A third man in the bow of the lifeboat is wielding a club.
Label reads “53”; signed by the author. Caption reads “(8)… fummo salvati dall’affondatore del Lakonia, l’UI56 e vi rimanemmo 3 giorni. Al 2o giorno incontrammo una scialuppa, carica di inglesi, il comandante del sommergibile cui fummo trasbordati,.. chiamò a bordo un soldato italiano, che le [sic] fece questo agghiacciante racconto: durante la notte del 12 due italiani, a bordo di una scialuppa inglese, si erano mescolati a loro senza che ne se accorgessero, scoperti, i due erano di troppo per i viveri di bordo, si era deciso di tenerne uno solo, l’altro doveva essere lasciato in mare. Ma questi non voleva sganciarsi dalla scialuppa, e si aggrappava ai bordi con la forza della diperazione. I 2 soldati polacchi con una scure gli recisero le mani. Il comandante del sottomarino, fatto sgomberare il ponte da tutti noi, rimase solo con i due polacchi, uccidendoli…”
Caption translates as: “(8)… We were saved from the sinking of the Laconia by the U156 and we stayed aboard for three days. On the second day we came across a lifeboat full of British [personnel]. The captain of the submarine on which we were trans-shipped spoke to one of the Italian soldiers on board, who told an appalling story: on the 12th, at night, two Italians jumped on board a British lifeboat, mixing with them without anyone noticing. When they got caught, the British soldiers realised they were surplus and the food was insufficient for everyone. Therefore, it was decided that only one was allowed to stay onboard and the other one had to be abandoned in the sea. However, the latter refused to disengage himself from the lifeboat and desperately held on to the gunwales. Two Polish soldiers severed his hands with a hatchet. The captain of the submarine, after ordering us to leave the deck, remained alone with the two Poles and killed them…”
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PFilliputtiA16010035
Language
A language of the resource
ita
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Angiolino Filiputti
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Francesca Campani
Alessandro Pesaro
Helen Durham
Giulia Banti
Maureen Clarke
Subject
The topic of the resource
World War (1939-1945)
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One tempera on paper, pasted on mount board
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Atlantic Ocean
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-09
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Artwork
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Filiputti, Angiolino. Laconia incident
arts and crafts
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/27/217/PFilliputtiA16010036.2.jpg
66d1cb89b747d38fa878b9bac227a115
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
Filiputti, Angiolino
Angiolino Filiputti
Alfonsino Filiputti
A Filiputti
Description
An account of the resource
127 items. The collection consists of a selection of works created by Alfonsino ‘Angiolino’ Filiputti (1924-1999). A promising painter from childhood, Angiolino was initially fascinated by marine subjects but his parents’ financial hardships forced an end to his formal education after completing primary school. Thereafter, he took up painting as an absorbing pastime. Angiolino depicted some of the most dramatic and controversial aspects of the Second World War as seen from the perspective of San Giorgio di Nogaro, a small town in the Friuli region of Italy. Bombings, events reported by newspapers, broadcast by the radio or spread by eyewitnesses, became the subject of colourful paintings, in which news details were embellished by his own rich imaginings. Each work was accompanied by long pasted-on captions, so as to create fascinating works in which text and image were inseparable. After the war, however, interest in his work declined and Angiolino grew increasingly disenchanted as he lamented the lack of recognition accorded his art, of which he was proud.
The work of Angiolino Filiputti was rediscovered thanks to the efforts of Pierluigi Visintin (San Giorgio di Nogaro 1946 – Udine 2008), a figurehead of the Friulan cultural movement, author, journalist, screenwriter and translator of Greek and Latin classical works into the Friulan language. 183 temperas were eventually displayed in 2005 under the title "La guerra di Angiolino" (“Angiolino’s war”.) The exhibition toured many cities and towns, jointly curated by the late Pierluigi Visintin, the art critic Giancarlo Pauletto and Flavio Fabbroni, member of the Istituto Friulano per la Storia del Movimento di Liberazione (Institute for the history of the resistance movement in the Friuli region).
The IBCC Digital Archive would like to express its gratitude to Anna and Stefano Filiputti, the sons of Angiolino Filipputi, for granting permission to reproduce his works. The BCC Digital Archive is also grateful to Alessandra Bertolissi, wife of Pierluigi Visintin, Alessandra Kerservan, head of the publishing house Kappa Vu and Pietro Del Frate, mayor of San Giorgio di Nogaro.
Originals are on display at
Biblioteca comunale di San Giorgio di Nogaro
Piazza Plebiscito, 2
33058 San Giorgio di Nogaro (UD)
ITALY
++39 0431 620281
info.biblioteca@comune.sangiorgiodinogaro.ud.it
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Filiputti, A-S
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.
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Title
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Laconia incident. Part 9
Subject
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World War (1939-1945)
Description
An account of the resource
On a clear day, a four engined United States Army Air Force aircraft attacks the submarine U-156. Bullets are raining down on the figures on the deck of the submarine. Some of the figures are diving into the water, others are running for cover and some have been shot and are falling down.
Label reads “72”, signed by the author; caption reads “(9) …Mentre il sommergibile navigava a fior di acqua, avvistò un aereo Americano in missione, passarono alcuni minuti, poi un boato seguito da un’ altro scosse il sommergibile, lo fece sussultare, gemere, inclinare, le bombe di profondita avevano colpito i periscopi e danneggiato gli accumulatori. Ci fecero salire in coperta e trasbordare su l’U506 perche l’U156 dovova rapidamente allontanarsi per le avarie riportate. L’aereo che ci aveva bombardato, era un quadrimotore Americano, trasbordammo ancora sull’Annamite, poi a Dakar fu la salvezza. (dal racconto di BB.) FINE
Caption translates as: “(9)… As the submarine navigated just above water, the crew spotted an American aircraft on patrol. A few minutes went by and they heard a rumble, soon followed by another one which shook the submarine. It trembled, groaned, and listed. The depth charges hit the periscopes and damaged the batteries. They made us climb on the deck and were transshipped onto the U506, because the U156 had to swiftly sail away because of damage. The aircraft that bombed us was an American four-engine plane. We transshipped again on the ‘Annamite’. We reached safety in Dakar (From the account of BB.) The End.”
Creator
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Angiolino Filiputti
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
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Alessandro Pesaro
Francesca Campani
Helen Durham
Giulia Banti
Maureen Clarke
Format
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One tempera on paper, pasted on mount board
Language
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ita
Identifier
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PFilliputtiA16010036
Spatial Coverage
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Atlantic Ocean
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-09
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Artwork
Is Part Of
A related resource in which the described resource is physically or logically included.
Filiputti, Angiolino. Laconia incident
arts and crafts
strafing
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1830/32857/YPattissonC1264245v1.2.pdf
06a680ea050a8b7653bcc219a846dd88
Dublin Core
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Title
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78 Squadron Collection
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-04-21
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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78 Sqn Info
Description
An account of the resource
Eighty-seven items and a sub-collection of seventy-three items.
The collection concerns 78 Squadron and contains documents and photographs.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Tony Hibberd and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Charles (Dick) Pattisson Pocket Diary 1942
Description
An account of the resource
Transcription of day by day account of activities from 19 April 1942 to 3 October 1942. Commences with photograph of Squadron in front of Halifax and of pilots on training course (Pattisson top left), Records daily activities, casualties, losses of individuals and aircraft, crashes, aircraft shot down, names of comrades, commanding officers. weather, discussions with colleagues, leave, health, feelings, prisoners of war, location of personnel killed, Concludes with list and details of films seen as well as abstract of all Charles Pattisson's bombing operations and comments.
Creator
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C Pattison
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1942-04
1942-05
1942-06
1942-07
1942-08
1942-09
1942-10
Format
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Thirty-five page printed document with photographs
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Diary
Identifier
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YPattissonC1264245v1
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Canadian Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Germany
Germany--Mainz (Rhineland-Palatinate)
Germany--Hamburg
Belgium
Belgium--Ostend
France
France--Dunkerque
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Krefeld
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Essen
Germany--Bocholt
Germany--Osnabrück
Germany--Papenburg
Germany--Emden (Lower Saxony)
Great Britain
England--Yorkshire
Germany--Wilhelmshaven
England--Catterick
Germany--Saarbrücken
Germany--Düsseldorf
England--Kent
England--Ramsgate
England--London
Netherlands
Netherlands--Nijmegen
Poland
Poland--Żagań
Belgium--Antwerp
Germany--Berlin
Poland--Łambinowice
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
England--Norfolk
England--York
Germany--Flensburg
England--Lincolnshire
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-04
1942-05
1942-06
1942-07
1942-08
1942-09
1942-10
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
76 Squadron
78 Squadron
Beaufighter
bombing
bombing of Cologne (30/31 May 1942)
crash
entertainment
final resting place
Halifax
Halifax Mk 1
Halifax Mk 2
killed in action
mid-air collision
military living conditions
military service conditions
missing in action
prisoner of war
RAF Bircham Newton
RAF Catfoss
RAF Croft
RAF Marston Moor
RAF Topcliffe
RAF Waddington
Stalag Luft 3
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/937/11294/ALyonJK180202.1.mp3
741ac5d555a5640deb1186b8e219f3a1
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Lyon, Jack Kenneth
J K Lyon
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Pilot Officer Jack Lyon (1917 - 2019. 903044, 62667 Royal Air Force). He flew three operations with 58 Squadron before being shot down and becoming a prisoner of war.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-02-02
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
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Lyon, JK
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
CB; My name is Chris Brockbank and today is the 2nd of February 2018, and I am here in Bexhill with Jack Lyon, to talk about his life and times, now he’s aged a hundred. So Jack what is your, what were your first recollections of life?
JB: Well I think a baby in a pram, and I remember going past a hoarding in Sydenham and I must have dropped something, yeah that’s my first, I was only about five years old I suppose then, apart from that I-
CB: What did your parents do?
JL: Sorry?
CB: What did your parents do?
JL: My father worked in the Smithfield Market, connected with the wholesale bacon trade, that sort of thing. He was a clerk in, George Bowles Nichols was the name of the firm. It had a, you know, a stake in Smithfield Market but they didn’t deal much in meat, mainly in products like ham and that sort of thing. George Bowles Nichols it was, he was a clerk in there. And he was a, oh right from a young child he had a, he was, had a bad health, in fact he had three brothers and they all did except one: they had a hereditary disease which gave them this hump back sort of thing. He nevertheless managed to work, to travel up to London every day, until in 1932 he had a, well he had a, and he died in 1932, anyway, of this, it was while we were on holiday my memory, in this town of Cleve. He didn’t die there, but he was in a very bad way and we only got home, a few days later he died. Well that was, what did I do then.
CB: And you lived in Sydenham then.
JB: I, we was living in Sydenham, and I attended Brockley County School. I’d passed what was the equivalent of the eleven plus from a, I began my school at five years old, in a, they call a church school I think it cost me, cost my mother about a shilling a week to get to, for this, a good education though, very good. I was going to say I passed this, the equivalent of the 11-plus and I went to this Brockley County until, well, I left school at sixteen and I went to work with a London gas company, the South Suburban Gas Company, which had an area extending from Lewisham right down to Tonbridge. I worked in their admin department. At the same time I was studying night school and, let me see that takes us up to, oh yes the, I left, I passed that what’s called the 11-plus and I was at the school and then the South Suburban Gas Company, I joined that in February 1934, and at the same time I tell you I was night school at a place in Knights Hill and I remember on the 30th, sorry on the 30th November 1936, somebody rushed in and said the Crystal Palace is on fire and of course that was the end: we watched that happen. Great pity because it, well it had, anyway I continued to work. In 1939 when I was still working for the South Suburban, I was studying night school as well - accountancy and that sort of thing - I passed stage one of the Royal Society of Arts bookkeeping, and the tutor was, worked for Shell and he poached me. He said, ‘you’re, you have quite good knowledge of accountancy and that sort of thing, would you be interested in transferring from the gas, from the gas company to Shell?’ Well I thought about it, and financially it didn’t, in fact it was slightly worse off I had to pay my train fare to London, but I thought well, it’s a good thing to be a small fish in a very large puddle and you couldn’t get much larger than Shell, could you? It was world wide then, Royal Dutch Shell, and I agreed. In fact I joined Shall about the 1st August 1939. I remember Shell opened an account for me with Lloyds Bank, 39 Threadneedle Street, where they banked themselves; they opened this account for me. But as I say, at that time we were working in St Helen’s Court and there was another famous RAF person also working there, Douglas Bader. He, when he lost his legs in a flying accident, he was invalided out of the service and he joined Shell as a management trainee, I remember that. Well, as I say on the 1st of September, Shell began, operated their wartime programme and that involved closing the London office. So they said well Mr Lyon we shan’t require your services during this present emergency, but in the meantime we will bring your salary up to parity with, what until it’s parity with what you’re earning now, and [emphasis] at the end of the emergency you will be free to rejoin the company if you so desire. Well that’s what, on 5th, war was declared on the 3rd of September, wasn’t it?
CB: Yes.
JL: That was a Sunday, wasn’t it.
CB: It was.
JL: On the 4th of September, I and a friend of mine, we made an effort to join the army because we had a connection with the Royal West Kents. They used to invite us to their annual, the Aldershot Tattoo, and we used to be entertained in their sergeants mess so we decided to join the army, but when we got to Parish Lane, Penge where their office had been, it was closed! [laugh] I suppose part of the war, we said well that’s a funny way to run a war but still, that’s it, there’s nothing we could do about that. And the next day, the 5th of September, somebody said oh they’re opening an RAF recruiting office at, in the Yorkshire Grey pub so we took a 75 bus from Sydenham High Street to there. We were examined and my friend was rejected because he had flat feet. I said he would have been more apt if he’d been joining the army, but still, that’s the way they work. I was accepted and I was told to go home, get overnight things and come back and I would be taken to RAF Uxbridge. I did that and, as I say, I was examined and accepted for, in the air force. They asked me then what trade I would like to be in and I said well what can you offer me and they said well cook and butcher well that didn’t ring any bells with me so I said hmm what else, and they said you could join the secretarial branch. Well I’d been pushing a pen for the last five years and in those days I think I want a change. They said well what about aircrew? I said well what about it? They said well if you complete your training satisfactorily you’ll be automatically promoted to the rank of sergeant, receive twelve and sixpence a day I think it was, plus so much flying pay, so there was really no contest was there. And that’s how, I passed the medical for flying and I was given a uniform which I must, was told to wear at all times because I was still actually in the air force. I was given two books to study. One was called mathematics for engineers and the other one was practical mechanics. Neither of them had much bearing on flying training, but there it was. Now this was the phoney war. I went back to my house, we were living in, oh, we had a little flat, my mother and I had a little flat in, just near the Sydenham Road, well as I say the phoney war dragged on until the 30th of December 1939. I had a telegram, “proceed to number one initial training wing, Downing College, Cambridge,” and that is where I went. Now the course was supposed to last for six weeks. In fact it dragged on to nearly four months. The reason was there were still no training facilities available. It had its up side. We were billeted in the, well what used to be the students home in, when they were there because when they were students there in Downing College, some of the colleges did have students as well, but we didn’t have that, we were permitted to use the clubs, that the College’s silver, yes, and we took turns at serving and washing up. So as I say, that relieved the monotony a bit. But this dragged on until as it were, what they say the nemesis, on the 10th of June, 10th of May 1940 the Germans invaded the Low Countries, Holland and Belgium, yes. I was, I was on fire picquet that night and the admin had been headed by a, well I must go back a bit. Before the second world war, Brigadier Critchley, his name was, was chairman of the Greyhound Racing Commission. Now when the war started he was given the rank of Air Commodore and he recruited quite of his old associates for various posts. Our adjutant was a name of Shaffey and I believe in peacetime was a tennis coach, he came and he was in a terrible state, he said LAC – we’d been promoted to LAC by the way after a number of weeks, which meant our pay was a bit better, Leading Aircraftman - what do I do with this LAC Lyon? I said well you must call, as soon as it’s light you must have a general, a roll call of all the students, all the would-be airmen, check for deficiencies in kit and that sort of thing, and the instructions were: ten recruits and each, name, not by name but by number, to various RAF stations, not necessarily air training stations and I and nine others were posted to RAF Kinloss which was not, at that time it was called 45 MU I believe, there was no flying directly from there, because as I say it was mainly material. Well we made the journey up, I had to stay, we stayed overnight I remember in the YMCA in Edinburgh, we managed to get a billet there. We travelled on the next day and we arrived at RAF Kinloss to be viewed with a certain suspicion because at that time it was stories of nuns in parachutes, coming down by parachute and all the rest of it, we were not exactly given a heroes welcome. However, they found us a billet where we could lie our heads for the night and after a day or so they received some sort of confirmation of our status and we were trained in air station defence. I think we, they, the weapon we had was interesting: it was a 20mm Hispano-Suiza cannon which had to be what they called “cocked” before it could be fired, the great thing is not so much the strength, dexterity because the story was if you lingered a bit you could lose a few fingertips, however we were trained in the use of it. And we were going to have a read out, two read outs, five of us in each, in each one, but the cannon was, overnight was requisitioned for service in the south of England where it was thought would be far more useful in the event of an invasion. It was replaced with a, I recall it was a 1912 Lewis, Lewis gun with a pan for ammunition.
CB: A drum.
JL: And even then it was a bit of a situation. We were told we must not open fire under any circumstances without consulting the Station Defence Officer. Well first of all we didn’t know who the Station Defence Officer was and even if we did we had no means of contacting him. So therefore, as I say it was perhaps a good thing that our skills were not called into account. This went on for a few weeks and the only outstanding thing I can remember is that one night, or one morning, we woke up to find on a stretch of uncultivated area in the camp were prone figures. They were guarded by normally armoured personnel and we were instructed not to attempt to approach these people in any [emphasis] circumstances. Well, they were in fact refugees from the evacuation of Dunkirk: they were up there because they were spread all around the country, they didn’t want too many in the same place, bad for morale. They stayed there, one night they disappeared and that was that. Not long after this, I was, we, yes, I and one or two others were posted to RAF Elementary Flying Training School at a place just outside, where the beer, Burton. Burton, that’s right, you know, there’s a sign he’s gone for a Burton, well that’s there. Burton on Trent. I was trained as a, in those days all aircrew were first of all trained to be pilots. I failed the pilot’s course – so the failure rate was quite high, something like thirty per cent - and then I was asked what I wanted to do, they said well the only question is becoming a navigator bomb aimer. The senior, the officer in charge of training there, tested my knowledge of mathematics, it was not a big test, it was comparatively simple, just sort of fourth fifth form geometry and that sort of thing. I satisfied him I was intellectually capable of becoming a useful navigator and bomb aimer and then I was then posted to RAF Manby, Number 1 Air Armament School, at a place near Louth in Lincolnshire, where we went through, wait a minute, no, no, one of them, sorry I’m jumping the gun, I was posted to RAF Prestwick, in Scotland for a navigation course. That went on until, that’s right, we completed the course in I think it was September 1940, and I was then posted to, wait a minute, that’s right, I was posted from Prestwick to this one, this Number 1 Air Armament School in Louth in Lincolnshire, that’s right. I satisfactorily completed that course and I was called to the Station Commander, or Training Commander in charge of aircrew training. He said, ‘LAC Lyon, in view of your passing out at the top of the class and your past service record you have been awarded a commission,’ pending what they used to call well, you know, gazetting, whichever, whatever the wartime equivalent of that was, where I would be promoted to sergeant, and I was posted then to, oddly enough, RAF Kinloss! But by that time it had become Number 19 Operational Training Unit, well, it gives you, it tells you, the name tells you what it did. That’s right, this, this was in, this would be about November 1940. I completed the course in early January and let’s see, I went to, oh yes, that’s right. Nothing particularly, well, you cut all the bits and pieces short. The course was completed in, oh yes, in about, I think it was, March of 1941 I was called to the admin office in Kinloss and said that your commission has been confirmed. I was given a week’s leave to get myself a uniform and that sort of thing and then I would return for operational training. I bought my uniform, I managed to stay with a family I knew, their name was Truss, I think it was, and he was an engineer and he was working actually I didn’t know turned out it was the largest, there was an article about it the BBC Channel 4 some time, it was the largest armaments factory in the whole of the country. I didn’t know the extent of it then, but he was employed there. I got my uniform and whatnot and returned to RAF Kinloss and after, in a few days, I was posted to RAF Linton on Ouse which at that time was, it had, it was unusual, a brick building very good accommodation. It was built in the intermediate war years. It also had the other squadron was, they had Halifax, they were being converted to Halifaxes but they were not operational. So that’s right, I stayed with them and returned. Right, well I completed at RAF, at RAF Linton on Ouse I remember I was taken a very bad cough and cold and I remember the medical officer said, ‘Oh, Pilot Officer you have a nasty sounding bit of congestion there.’ And within half an hour or so I was ensconced in this local nursing home to be treated for this congestion. After about ten days there I think, I was released and my training continued. Right. Now, here we come to our, first of all I was to join with a man named, was it Flight Lieutenant Walker, who I think he had the nickname Johnnie, well he would wouldn’t they, that name, but then that order was countermanded for some reason unknown to me, the rumour had it that he was getting a little too fond of his namesake, sort of rumours that are rife in war time. I was then teamed up with a crew the first pilot was Sergeant Roberts. I was the only commissioned member of a crew. Now I don’t know what you know about, can you see any particular reason that that would cause difficulty, you probably don’t now, but it did then. As I was commissioned and they were not I could only converse with them socially or otherwise, in two places: either in a crew room or of course in the aircraft itself, otherwise it was actually forbidden to associate with me as commissioned officer to associate with non-commissioned personnel on the camp area, so it did make things a little awkward, didn’t it. Very unusual situation, that. Anyway, on the, was it on the let me see there, the 1st, of, was that, would be May 1941 we were allocated a new aircraft and told that the, in the crew room, we were told that the target was marshalling yards and adjoining railway station in Dusseldorf, Germany. Right, and we were going to do a pre-flight air test, as you were operations rules insisted. We were in the aircraft waiting to start and well, Roberts, the captain, started the engines but calamity intervened: there were no chocks in the wheels, under the wheels and the aircraft rolled forward and collided with what I think was called a Huck starter.
CB: Oh dear.
JL: No one weas injured but the propeller blades of one engine the Whitley, they were, it was a Whitley 5 was the actual classification of the aeroplane. Well, there is, chaos reigned and it just about did because, I didn’t mention, but shortly after my arrival early at RAF Linton on Ouse, one night there was an air raid. Now I looked around and there were no instructions of what to do in the event of an air raid, I thought well, what do I do? I thought it was a question of Jack you’ll have to play it by ear and wait and see what happens. Suddenly there was an almighty bang! My bed lifted off its, it seemed about lifted about a foot in the air and came down well what do I do? If I rush out to find a shelter I may be going the wrong way. I thought no, I’d better stay put, so I did. The next morning I got up and I went into the Officers Mess and there was no hot water, well that was not unusual, what I didn’t know, overnight a shelter had received a direct hit and quite a large, I think about twenty airmen were killed, including the Station Commander, so that was not a very auspicious beginning to my stay at Linton, was it? Anyway, I did, I, well nothing I could do there then, just hold on. We, I, the station was in a really, a terrible, the pilot was confined to quarters, told he would face a charge of gross negligence and we were told that we would not be flying that night, so we returned to, the rest of the crew, returned to our quarters. Not two hours later there was a change once more. Group, you see it was Headquarters at 4 Group, Group wanted a full number of aircraft involved, no exceptions. They said you, we have allocated you another aeroplane. You must be ready within two hours for take off and your pilot will be Sergeant Roberts. Now there’s a volte face isn’t it, one day he’s considered not fit to fly and next moment it’s all over and he’s fully qualified to fly as captain again. Well, that aeroplane that they gave us should never, in my opinion, should never have been used. We’d only, we took off with the rest of the squadron, but after about only an hour and a half flying, the port engine began to overheat and the, Roberts could do nothing about that, we had to reduce speed, it meant we cut our speed by about ten knots. That in itself was not particularly of great concern, but what was far more important was that we couldn’t get above ten thousand feet. Now the previous briefing the recommended height had been fourteen thousand so theoretically we could have been knocked out with one of our own bombs, but I don’t think that that’s very likely. There was no, well there wouldn’t be any fighter aircraft, they were also using anti aircraft fire, in any case, I think all the fighter squadrons in that part of Germany had been withdrawn and were sent to the, what would be the east front in Poland and regroup and practice for the, what the plan, what was it called - Operation Barbarossa – which was due to and took place on the 21st of June, yes 21st of June 1941 so there were no. Well we, I, we flew on this and almost immediately [emphasis] we were caught in that blue light which locks on to you and it is so dazzling you cannot see your own instruments, it’s so, it’s, you’re virtually as good as blind. We, I released the bombs at what I considered, though I had no idea really where it was, but I knew we’d got to get rid of them, they went down, and we immediately turned and I gave, I gave Roberts a course for home, although we never had any time to check the variation from magnetic to compass course, but let’s hope it was alright. But not long after we turned on for home, the port engine caught fire! The extinguisher didn’t work so therefore we flew on. Now, then the pilot said to me, ‘look Jack I can’t contact the rear gunner. Do you think you could crawl along the fuselage and see whether he’s all right?’ I said, ‘yes I’ll try.’ I opened the door behind the wireless operator and I was immediately assailed by a cloud of fume and flame. I really thought my, my time was up. I didn’t feel particularly frightened, I don’t know why, but then of course the adrenalin snaps in, doesn’t it. I seized an oxygen mask, took a few gulps of it, and Rob looked around, and he said, ‘oh my gawd, abandon aircraft.’ Now, it so happens that the exit is, in that particular aeroplane, was right beneath where I was sitting, so I had to be the first one out otherwise I’d block the exit for the remainder of the crew. I opened the hatch, I jumped, I don’t actually remember pulling the cord, the release, parachute release cord, I obviously did otherwise I wouldn’t be sitting here, would I? I came to and I could see by that time the aeroplane below me and it was like an enormous [emphasis] torch in the sky, the entire plane was burning. Now how this happened, I don’t really know, but that was a fact. I saw it hit the ground with one tremendous kind of smoke and flame. I landed, and it was a windless night, so much so that the canopy covered me. I looked, I got it off and I looked around. Now I’d either landed in what was a probably a recreation ground, or what might have been a sports field, but I think it was a recreation ground. I know in the escape books they scurry around and bury their, bury their parachute. Well, you needed a power, power digger to make any impression on that soil: it was hard as a rock! But within less than a minute a German soldier turned up and well he didn’t, although he didn’t say it, had he done so I’d have been inclined to agree with him. “For you the war is over.” Well I wouldn’t have got far in the old fashioned fleece lined flying boot with no proper heel to it and in British battle dress, so there was little I could do but accept it. Now, this one, I could have walked in front of him and he could have walked holding on one hand on his rifle and the other hand his bicycle, so we accepted that the only other alternative: I sat on the cross bar and he did, we proceeded on a bicycle. Now either way, he stopped. Now it was, I wasn’t quite sure at the time, but depending on whether Germany had double summer British, double summer time, but it was well past midnight, he knocked on the door of this house, at that time I could understand a fair amount of German because I’d been studying German at night school, but that’s another, that’s another. He said I have a wounded British officer here, I’d like you to give him a little help. The lady produced some warm water. Head wounds always bleed a lot although they’re really only superficial and this was only a superficial cut, she bathed all the dried blood away, and believe it or not, she also made a cup of tea. Tea not coffee. I thought that was very impressive and I knew enough German to say vielen danke, kneidiger frau: thank you dear lady for your kindness. We then proceeded on for the rest of the journey to a town called Goch, G-o-c- h, not far from the Dutch border. Now for some reason that I never discovered, I did not end up, oh, first of all the policeman, he said give me your pistol, I said ich habe keine pistol, I have no pistol, which I didn’t, the sort of thing I didn’t want to be lumbered with that. He thought maybe a bit odd but he accepted it and that was it. I didn’t spend that night in the cells, he put me in the telephone exchange of all places. And all night, it was a manual exchange in those days, you hear the thing going up and down to finding its correct slot to go in to, anyway I can’t say I slept much but still, that was, I was dry and I’d saved my life so I couldn’t really grumble. The next day the, a Luftwaffe officer turned up and he said would you please come with me, and together with, at some stage or other, we picked up the rest of the crew so I must have had, I think, a slight case of concussion, but anyway, we ended up, he took us to the Luftwaffe base at Duisburg, and he said, ‘oh by the way, your comrade, the rear gunner is quite safe, but when he landed he broke his ankle and he is receiving treatment in a clinic near here, but he is otherwise he’s safe and well.’ And now believe it or not, these, they were extremely polite these Luftwaffe officers, very high standard of education I’d say, in fact some of them could speak English; some of them had spent time in England. We were entertained in the officers mess. There was no attempt made to extract information from us. We talked about cricket or the weather or something like that, and then they said, well we now have to hand you over to a representative of the German Air Force POW body and we went, we, they duly took us in hand and we went by I think it must have been a sort of a mini bus I think, yes it must have been. It wasn’t a, wasn’t a truck, it had seats in it, I know. Well, where do you think they took us? Believe it or not they took us to Dusseldorf and we got out of the thing there, and we stood on the platform. There was absolutely no sign of any damage whatsoever. [Emphasis] We were not the object of any kind of well, abusive attention from the Germans. They looked us up and down and took no, virtually no notice, in fact we had, it was a corporal with us, and he came back with some sticky buns for us. Well, so that was the, from we entrained at Dusseldorf and we travelled to Frankfurt, that is Frankfurt on the Main, the river Main, which at that time was the prison, the Luftwaffe prisoner of war body as what they called the Dulag dursrstadtlager’s transit camp. Now we, when we reached this transit camp, this is where we, they put me in the, I suppose they did with the other, rest of the crew as well, in the interrogation cell, which was really not much different from a second or third rate boarding house the only thing is there were bars over the window. Now before we’d had no instructions to what to do in event of being taken prisoner, of course they do it now, but they didn’t in those days, in 1941. But anyway, a Luftwaffe major came in and he gave me a form to sign and he said if you complete this, your details will be sent immediately to the Red Cross in Geneva and your relatives or whoever you’ve asked to be notified, will know within forty eight hours that you are safe and well. Now, we had [emphasis] oddly enough, been briefed about this. It wasn’t anything to do with the Red Cross in Geneva, it was actually prepared by the German Intelligence Service. I read it and I said, ‘I regret, Herr Major, I am not allowed to divulge some of the information that you require.’ And he accepted this without argument: that was that. And the next day I was released into the compound there. Well of course they had got far more on their hands to worry about than a rather insignificant crew. The last Sunday I think it was, in May, which used to be called Whit Sunday, there was a break out, there was a tunnel, the permanent staff at the gulag had been building this tunnel which they broke on I say, on the Whit Sunday. All were subsequently recaptured except for Roger Bushell, and that’s another story. So you might well say that I wasn’t the only failed bomb aimer, was I? We know that now. Anyway we travelled by normal train from Frankfurt, after Frankfurt. There were some guards there, but they were, they didn’t make themselves too obtrusive. We arrived at a place called Barth, which was the site of Stalag Luft I. Stanlager all that means is it’s a permanent camp, Stan means permanent, as opposed to Durst means transit. So that’s all. That was Stalag Luft I we found ourselves in. Now at the entrance to that I went one way because I was a commissioned officer and the rest of the crew went the other because they were not, because at Stalag Luft I there was an NCOs compound as well as an officers compound and that was in fact the last I ever saw of any of them. Any of them. Peculiar isn’t it, never mind. We were only there, well I stayed there until about April of 1942 and that was when Stalag Luft III was opened. The journey there was uneventful. We got to Stalag Luft III and I was allotted a, well a billet obviously, a room, [sigh] how much more of this do you want from me?
CB: Just keep going. We’ll stop for a break. I think you deserve it. So, you said you were shot down on the 3rd of June 1941.
JL: Correct. Yes.
CB: You had been in the squadron since, for a couple of months, by then.
JL: Oh, no.
CB: Three months was it?
JL: I think it was.
CB: April.
JL: So much happened, air raid and whatnot. I think it was about the mid April when I got to Linton on Ouse, yes.
CB: And you talked about the crew, but in the air, what was the cohesion like?
JL: Well, we could fraternise.
CB: Were you all on christian name terms in the aircraft on operations? When you were flying?
JL: Well, the only one I knew quite well was Robbie, that’s all, the pilot. I don’t remember. If they told me I, it didn’t sink in.
CB: No. Then you already mentioned, that in, outside the flying period, if you were, time, if you were going out and socialising, that was different.
JL: Some of the better class, you know the real, the nice hotels in Linton on Ouse, didn’t like too many non-commissioned ranks in there, they were fussy.
CB: They only wanted the officers in.
JL: They only wanted officers, yes.
CB: Yes. I suspect times changed quite radically later.
JL: Oh, they must have done.
CB: When the heavies came. Yes.
J: They must. But in the early days it was a, it was strict, I was given, no doubt about, I was given strict instructions I was not to fraternise.
CB: Yeah, that was the early part of the war.
JL: They were very particular about it in those days, the air force.
CB: Right. And because you were shot down so soon into your tour, you didn’t have a lot of time to get to know your crew well, did you.
JL: I had very little time, Robbie was about the only one I knew.
CB: Yeah. Fast forward again into Sagan, Stalag Luft III. How was that organised? You had the officers and NCOs. But in the officers’ side.
JL: There was an officers’ compound, and an NCOs compound.
CB: And in the officers compound, how did that work?
JL: Actually I went in to a the, they were quite small huts, and there were only two more in the room that I was in. I was billeted with a man with, a chap named Jules Silverstone, who was in fact Jewish and also this chap Pop Green, who in fact had served in the first world war. He was a, interesting history, at the beginning of the first world war he held a commission in the Oxford and Bucks Light Infantry.
CB: Right. We were in that. We were in that.
JL: Really. Yes well, he had a commission in that but he later transferred to the Machine Gun Corps because the Germans hopelessly outclassed us in that, in those, in weaponry. He survived the war, but he was told that he was only allowed to fly on training missions, but being that sort of man he probably got himself on an operation and he was flying in a Hampden and they were shot down, and he survived, without, he wasn’t injured, and as I say I was billeted with him. He said that Passchendaele was the worst he had ever [emphasis] encountered. People died there not in action, but in a mass of filth and slime. He said it was, it was appalling. What happened was, he said the Germans withdrew to higher ground and left us in these swamped trenches. He said, as I say, he hated it. And of course, well he, [laugh] he was the only man who was rather sorry when the war ended. The reason was he’d have to go home and rejoin his wife whom he hated the sight of, [laughter] and last I heard of him he was running a taxi service in Bray.
CB: Any reason why he hated his wife?
JL: I don’t know, but he did. He didn’t go into that. [Chuckling]
CB: Yes. What, you said there were three others. So you had Jules Silverstone, Pop Green, who was the other?
JL: Jules Silverstone. His father was a solicitor in Birmingham, but he didn’t follow in this father’s footsteps, he moved heaven and earth to join the RAF. Now I think he was, at age, I think he was thirty four. He was too old to join as pilot or navigator, he had to be classed as a gunner. So, that was it, he was a -
CB: Was an air gunner.
JL: Pilot Officer Silverstone, gunner. Interesting him, because he knew all about this stuff they used to call window, the one that, when they released it, it had black, black on one side and a sort of reflective surface on the other. It played hell with the tech -
CB: With the radar.
JL: With the radar, yeah. And it wasn’t, he said they won’t use it, he knew this, he said but they won’t use it till they’ve found a reason to overcome it. And it was in fact, it wasn’t used until that raid on Hamburg, that firestorm they created.
CB: On Hamburg.
JL: Hamburg. In 1943. Yeah.
CB: Who was the third person with you?
JL: Sorry?
CB: Who, you mentioned two people, who’s the third one?
JL: There was only Pop Green and Silverstone. Three in the room.
CB: And you. Oh, just three in the room, sorry. Yeah, okay.
JL: They were quite small huts. There were only, I think there were only four, only four huts in the officer’s compound, certainly not many. I tell you what we, did happen one day, do you remember that story of the one who got away?
CB: The German.
JL: The German, yeah. Well he turned up, he was in, dressed in ordinary German uniform, he was a major, major, and I remember seeing he was on the doorstep to one of the huts chatting to a man named talking to Squadron Leader Mac Dunnell [?]. Of course he was, actually, the German, he was shot down during the Battle of Britain wasn’t he.
CB: Yes. Yes.
JL: That’s right. And of course Mac Donald [?] was part, flew a Spitfire I think. They were chatting quite friendly, and he was not accompanied by any other German personnel. he just wandered around chatting to people.
CB: Amazing.
JL: He had a sad ending, he was killed in a flying accident. He was testing new fighter apparatus I think, but he had engine trouble or something, he was lost at sea, never found, they never recovered his body, in November 19, oh, 1940 41. That was the one that got away.
CB: Off the Dutch coast.
JL: Yeah. He was there.
CB: Well. he escaped in Canada.
JL: There was obviously, you know, a bond in the, between the two air forces at that time, later on they didn’t, but there was in the early days.
CB: A Chivalry.
JL: Yeah. Chivalry. That’s it, chivalry of the air.
CB: Extraordinary really.
JL: So well that’s my story. Long before, Douglas Bader, who was, he was taken prisoner wasn’t he.
CB: Yes.
JL: When, something, either his plane collided with another one, anyway but he was taken prisoner.
CB: He was shot down.
JL: Whether he was shot down or not.
CB: By one of his own people, he was shot down by one of his own people it turned out.
JL: Ah well that’s. By one of his own people?
CB: Yeah. They met in prison and the chap had to own up.
JL: Oh, I met him personally.
CB: But he didn’t admit.
JL: Because he was also Shell.
CB: Yes, he was.
JL: Well anyway, That was a. When he was in the camp he used to play golf, he would try to. And because of his, he lost his legs you see, I mean his prosthetic legs,
CB: Yes.
JL: I think they replaced them, they threw them out or something like that. He would sometimes fall over but god help you if you went to assist him, you know he would swear at you, he was determined to get on his feet unaided. Anyway, he had a bit of a falling out with the powers that be there. Because he didn’t like the way they were treating the guards and whatnot as if they were friends not enemies. it was decided he would be better off in another camp and the last I saw of him, well not the last, the last in the prisoner of war camp I saw him, he was being escorted out, he turned it into his own advantage inspecting as if these as a company.
CB: Oh you saw hm doing the inspection did you? Of the guard.
JL: He was inspecting the, yeah. That’s typical Bader, isn’t it. Now! I retired, I left the air force in something like well, October 1945 but I remained on as a, I was paid by the air force till I think it was January ’46 and very soon after going to, where did we work to? Very shortly we, I was asked if I wanted to go to Venezuela because Venezuela still had most of its wells, oil wells and I agreed, and I was, I went out to, we didn’t go out on a ship I went out on a tanker SS Luscia, Luscia I think she was. She was imbalast so she rocked about a bit I’ve never been seasick or any other sick in an aeroplane. We finally docked at Aruba, in, which belonged to, was a Dutch possession then, Aruba, in the West Indies and I was only there for a night and then we got a, I was flown to Maiquetia, which was the airport for Caracas. Caracas itself is about five hundred feet above sea level, the capital of Venezuela. I was, from Maiquetia I travelled by a bus on a road which they say was built by convicts in the Gomez, when Gomez was a dictator of Venezuela, you could sometimes look down and see where you’d been ten fifteen minutes before. I reached Caracas, or I might say that they charged me, I had to have what was called a certificate of identity, and I had to pay for it in the local currency. They took a, all I had, was a, I had an English, I had a five pound note I think, they gave a stamp and it was probably worth about one tenth of that in the local currency, the so-and-sos. That’s how it happened. When I got to Caracas, I found a billet in the Hotel Majestic and I knew enough Spanish, I’d, interesting while I was in the prisoner of war camp I had lessons from of all people Tom Kirby Green, why he should be a good Spanish speaker, mind he served with the Republicans, didn’t he, in the war in Spain.
CB: In the Spanish Civil War.
JL: Lord Haw Haw announced it, didn’t he, yeah. So that was that, yes. I had enough Spanish to say I’m in the employ of Shell, they were called the Caribbean Petroleum Company then, they didn’t, Shell, enter into the name although they used the, what it is, the, oh it’s a scallop isn’t it, that’s the Shell sign isn’t it, the scallop, and oh I think it was the afternoon of Christmas Day, a chap named Swinson turned up, he said, ‘Oh Lyon, I’m glad to find you,’ he said, ‘I know you, we were advised you were on your way but then we sort of lost track of you.’ But then of course I served in the, on what they called internal audit, that is not, not, as opposed to the exterior audit, was actually Price Waterhouse in those days. They did the proper auditing of Shell’s possessions there, I went round to these depots making sure their equipment and whatnot was properly registered and that sort of thing. It was quite interesting work. Well, while I was there, who should, that was having travelled down to the fields the main producer in the Maracaibo, while I was there on this what they call internal audit, who should turn up but Douglas Bader. Now he was on a, well they say he was just, reviewing his position, he was visiting, but what he was really was doing he was trying to push the company to try to use British aero, aircraft rather than all American, and I was introduced to him as: ‘oh this is Mr Lyon from our head office in Caracas.’ And he said, ‘oh, hello there.’ I said, ‘but sir, we’ve met before haven’t we. He looked, I said, ‘last time I saw you, you were acting as a kind of inspector of a -.’ ‘Oh my gawd yes!’ And we kept in touch quite a lot afterwards, I’ve known him for quite.
CB: Did you?
JL: Yes. Bader, so.
CB: How did you find him, outside Stalag Luft III?
JL: I got on with him very well. He certainly wasn’t everybody’s cup of tea, but he had a, he was shrewd. One of the airfields in the concession area, was at a place called Mushi de Suleman [?]. It’s at five thousand feet and in the hot season the pilots were having great difficulty in taking off because of the rarefied air. Now in those, this was the days before computers, I didn’t get a, I got a file across my desk one day, and this was, Bader had seen this problem that they had and he had written in the margin, “let them take off with half tanks”, and he knew that in emergency they would still have enough to reach wherever necessary to safety and yet still travel with only half a tank. He did very well as a, in Shell. He finished as the President of Shell Aviation with a private jet to fly. So he did very well there. But he certainly, he had this, being able to see the, you know little bit further through a brick wall than most people. I had great admiration for him. But I agree he wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I always got on with him quite well. Yeah.
CB: Where did you go from there?
JL: Sorry?
CB: Where did you go from there?
JL: After I returned home by 1950, April 19. By the way, I flew the Atlantic in, at a time when there weren’t many transatlantic flights. I was staying in Montreal at the time, I had some relatives there and I was booked on this, it was little more than a souped up DC4, the aircraft we flew in. We were due to call only at one place: Halifax, but I remember the pilot made a special landing somewhere, he wanted to pick up, I think they were Catholic priests I believe, the look of ‘em, there was snow on the ground, I think we were lucky to take off again, but anyway we did. But flying at that, of course in those days you only flew at probably about twelve thousand feet, something like that, looking on down this unbroken mass of well pine trees I suppose, you wouldn’t have stood a dog’s chance of anything if you’d had to make a forced landing in a plane in there. Anyway we did we, I got home and 1950, in April 1950 and I, [pause] I met my future wife. Now, now I had known her as a schoolgirl because I was friendly with [chuckle] her half uncle, it sounds like carbuncle, doesn’t it [laugh] but he was a half uncle because they’d been, the father grandfather [unclear] had married twice, but that’s all I, we met again and well we decided to get married, Hazel and I. Our, our union, we didn’t do too bad: sixty three years exactly because she died on our wedding anniversary.
CB: Did she really.
JL: In 19, sorry, 2013. So we’re not bad was it.
CB: Fantastic!
JL: So , and then I, well I continued with working. I had the opportunity to leave about the end of. You see they formed what they called Iranian Oil Participants which was agreement hammered out with the Shah as he was then and when they kicked out Masadic [?], he agreed that concessions could be opened by this consortium of oil companies, and there was the BP had a forty per cent interest in it, the major oil, American companies had another forty, Shell had fourteen percent and the Company Francaise de Petroleum the remaining six per cent. That was how Iranian Oil Participants, and I was senior financial, financial assistant in, seconded to Iranian Oil Participants and I held that post for seventeen years. At the end of it I was getting a bit tired of it. I had a man that I’d no respect for: a man named Hoppen. Let’s say he shafted me once, he fed me to the, he tried to feed me to the lions that’s it; fortunately I was set, I had no respect for him after that. He said, ‘I’m not going to make you redundant, Lyon.’ I said, ‘thanks very much, I don’t want to be called redundant, I think I’ve done a pretty good job for seventeen years. Thank you.’ All I asked was that they brought forward the, at Shell you retired at sixty, that was before, and then there was also a reduction made for overseas service which I had, so it would only mean bringing forward my pension date by three or four years, not too much to ask, but that served me well because you see it’s an index linked pension.
CB: Yeah.
JL: Now, my monthly salary is worth, worth much more that I was actually paid when I retired.
CB: Yeah.
JL: So I made the right decision there.
CB: You did, yes.
JL: Staying with, staying with Shell. So I have some things to worry about but money is certainly not one of them.
CB: What made, what brought you down to Bexhill?
JL: Ah! Shortly before I retired, I’d lived in St Leonards. We had a, I had, we had a small bungalow in what they called the Links. It was actually originally it was a golf course, because I, it wasn’t being used as a golf course then but nothing else. I used to walk across this links to West St Leonards where I picked up the train for, used to take me to Cannon Street. But so, that brings it well, I’ve been with them ever since.
CB: But you decided to leave St Leonards and come to Bexhill.
JL: Oh yes, well, I made the right decision there.
CB: What made you do that then?
JL: There wasn’t much there for me in the air force: a failed navigator. I mean. They don’t even have them now anyway do they?
CB: Well, It’s different.
JL: No, no I made the right decision there. I knew I would. No, I couldn’t go wrong.
CB: You mentioned air force again. Going back to your flying times in the Whitley.
JL: Yeah.
CB: What navigation aids did you have in those days? We are talking about 1941.
JL: Well you had a thing called a CFC, whicb you set your, you set your, the course you would want to follow, and then you fed in what the, the wind direction, and you fiddle around with it and that gave you your course to fly. They did have, you could have, some of the Whitleys, not the one I was shot down, didn’t have one, they had an astrodome.
CB: Oh yes.
JL: So if you’d been trained in the use of the [unclear] mill, polar, star charts you could theoretically fix your position by air, star sight, but certainly the one we flew in, the old one they trundled out, that didn’t have one, didn’t have a - there was only one exit there, and that was downwards.
CB: Oh right.
JL: So that was the only navigation instrument we used to rely on, and dead reckoning as they called it.
CB: So in the daylight you could more easily see where you were, but flying at night, what did you do there?
JL: Oh yes it was. I did in fact, have use of, while I was waiting for this, at Cambridge, Downing Cambridge, Downing College Cambridge, I used to read Air Publication 1 2 3 4 and this was the navigational training of a pilot,
CB: Right.
JL: Because we were all supposed to be trained as pilots to start with in those days, they didn’t have different courses then. I was able to use it one day because I know we took off and the mist came down, I was pretty certain we were drifting off course, well it did tell you what to do. You flew halfway to your, half the distance that you’d previously calculated and then [emphasis] you gave the pilot orders to fly twice the distance that you were, you think you’d been going off course, twice that distance and that should give you a course to your original. It really, all you’re doing is flying the two sides of an isosceles triangle, and I tried it and we did, and out of the water, out of the thing, saw this, it was just an island.
CB: You’d got it right.
JL: So it certainly, it worked, I know.
CB: This is doing the maximum drift calculator isn’t it.
JL: Sorry?
CB: This is the maximum drift calculation.
JL: Yes, it’s for, they call it pilot navigation.
CB: Yeah.
JL: Yeah, oh yes. Because he couldn’t take bearings and all that sort of thing could he. As I say, it’s a simple, simple, it’s just geometry really, that’s all you’re doing, flying the two sides of an isosceles triangle. Yeah.
CB: So how many ops did you do before you were shot down?
JL: Only a couple, that’s all.
C: Right.
JL: We had to, they call them nurseries, they were using them to bomb an occupied port like Calais or somewhere like that. How they arranged it so that the, you weren’t dropping bombs on German and French civilians I suppose they had some means of contact in, I didn’t know what it was but that was all, a couple of those and this was just our third trip, that’s all.
CB: How many aircraft were there in the squadron?
JL: That I don’t really know. It was not public information anyway.
CB: And when you went out on a raid, on an operation, did you go with other aircraft or did you go as individuals, as singletons?
JL: Each one took off, you got the, from the Control Tower you get the take off clear, that’s it, one by one.
CB: But you weren’t in any kind of formation or cohesive?
JL: Oh no, it was only Americans that did that, formation flying. Oh no, quite impossible at night.
CB: Yeah. And before you went on the op how did the briefing go?
JL: Well as I say, it was quite clear. The marshalling yards, and the adjoining station: Dusseldorf. That was in the briefing, that was the target.
CB: But they got you all together in a room where everybody was briefed together did they?
JL: That was, yes, well not the second time, we were only given about a couple of hours’ notice to, there was no second briefing, we were just told to fly the original course. Yeah.
CB: Were, when you went off on the ops were all the crew together or were the briefing only for the pilot and navigator?
JL: Well, the pilot and navigator, myself, or bomb aimer I was acting as, we were there and the second pilot, and of course, but the rear gunner was at, well where he should be, the rear gunner. What he, you see he was getting, he was getting fried, there’s no doubt, because the whole aeroplane was on fire and we didn’t know it.
CB: Ah!
JL: So he, what he did, he just rotates his, rotates his, turret, pulls the ripcord, and the airstream takes him out, clear of the, the Whitley was built so that you were clear of the tail, the rear gunner was clear of the tail, twin tail, it just pulls him off and that’s it, that’s what he did, yeah, but as I say he broke his ankle, that’s all.
CB: So all the crew survived.
JL: All the crew survived, yes.
CB: And all of them were captured.
JL: All of them were taken prisoner, yes.
CB: Taken prisoner. What about after the war, first of all how did you get back? Were you flown back or did you come on a ship? Or what happened?
JL: Well at the end of the war, I was here wasn’t I.
CB: No, but you were flown back were you? Or did you come back by ship?
JL: Oh I see what you mean! Well, we by the I think it was the 1st of May 1945, we heard a bombardment and we guessed that was to cover the crossing of the Elbe by the British forces. The next day, the 2nd into the, we were billeted in a farmyard, well we were told that it belonged to a German, well he was in the tobacco business we heard, I don’t know how true that it was, but anyway, the accommodation was fine, we managed to get, it was good weather then, quite warm, no problem there. Into this compound the, came a, there was a British light armoured vehicle. There was a Captain I think, and a corporal. He didn’t say it to me but apparently he said to somebody, I believe there are quite a number of POWs here, and they said yeah, about six hundred if you look around. And that was the end of the war. What we didn’t know was, that as of the 30th of April all German forces in North West Germany surrendered to the British. Well they obviously, they’d rather surrender to the British than the bloody Russians wouldn’t they, that’s what they did. So actually the war ended in that part of the world a week before the main alliance. So, I remember the guards, they neatly piled their arms as you should do and that and they went off to what was called the cage, which was, that was the name the British gave to it, where they, and then they’d be taken ordinary prisoners of war. We’d only been there a short while and a convoy of American Mac trucks turned up and we were loaded on to these and this convoy set off. We got to a place called Rheiner, where we exchanged the American transport for British, well they were only yes, British RSC vehicles and we finally, we crossed the Elbe, I know. They had, well they had one of these revolving things and all the searchlights on, the idea because the war was still on theoretically, as protection as we crossed the Elbe. We, that’s right, we stopped at Luneburg, which was the place a week later the official German surrender took place, and they flew us on, then they drove us on next day to this Rheiner, this airfield at Rheiner. And we waited and we, I was flown home, most of them were, in the, it was a Douglas DC3.
[Other]: Dakota.
JL: They called it a Dakota. And we landed at Dunsfold in Surrey I think it was, where they gave us tea and biscuits you know, the Women’s VS, and we were really then rushed high, as quick as possible up to RAF Cosford which was the gathering centre for POWs, and there we were stripped bare, I don’t think, I never had any, they were thinking of lice. Actually, interesting thing I never saw a louse all the time I was in Germany, let alone getting infected with them, lice so that was. We used to get showers occasionally, but that was, that was certainly not getting rid of lice, it was merely to get a bit of, clean ourselves. We had a quick turn around. I was given fresh clothing, battle dress only with an officer’s stripe on it and I was home on the 9th of May 1945. We were living, my mother was living in Wallington. She had a flat which was a house owned by a relative. Wallington it was, yes.
CB: In Surrey.
[Other]: Surrey.
JL: Yeah, in Surrey, yeah. That was it, that’s my war story.
CB: So how did you actually get to the Elbe? Were you in the Long March?
JL: Oh, I, you look at my book, I never called it a march, it was a, I called it the long walk home.
CB: Yeah.
JL: Yeah well, in those days the incurable optimists thought that when the Russians turn up: oh they’ll be brothers in arms and we’ll celebrate their victory with liberal tots of vodka. [Laugh] We didn’t think that! We refused to countenance the story that Hitler, and he did actually give this order, all, all commissioned personnel, ex-prisoners of war to be shot. But fortunately in those days his writ didn’t extend much beyond his bunker. So we refused to accept that. The one that we thought would happen and in fact it did that we would be put on the road and have to leg it to wherever we were supposed to be going. That is why I used to do at least five circuits a day on foot.
CB: In the camp.
JL: In the camp, yeah, in preparation for this, and of course it paid off. It wasn’t, the Germans never pushed the pace. The only thing is, our first night I couldn’t find any covered accommodation. Everywhere I went I was politely told to shove off [laughter]. No room at the inn. So I crawled into a great pile of hay, or straw I suppose it was really, covered myself entirely and I went to sleep and next morning I got up and I was all right. From then it was really dead easy, because a thaw had set in. These people who had built themselves sleighs – they were useless. Similarly those people that had got trollies, they were useless because they didn’t have any hard wood for a bearing, it went through and that was their trollies and their sleighs were useless. I went, I just plodded on. I had a little suitcase I remember, made of fibre. The first, the second night, after the, when I settled down to the straw or hay, or whatever it was, we were billeted in the stable. I believe it was actually, the stable was owned by General von Arnim. The man who replaced Rommel when he was repatriated on grounds of ill health, wasn’t he. I don’t know, that’s the story, it belonged to General von Arnim. Anyway, I was bad enough to get a dry place to sleep. I admit I was a bit close to the horses, but I don’t think they’re any particular menace. I was awakened by a terrific bang! I thought oh my goodness that’s a shot first of all, isn’t it. I thought no, not a shot. I looked, I was using my little fibre suitcase as a pillow, and there was a bloody great hole in it, it was the hoof of a, it must have been within inches of my head! [Laughter] But from then on it was dead easy because the, we stopped at a place called Spremburg. Now there was a glass factory operating and it was still working. We managed to get a, I did manage to get a bit of a wash down and the girls were decent enough to look the other way. I managed to get myself a bit of a clean up. From there we went on to a place called Spremburg, which was a rail head. Now here our column was split in two, why, I don’t know. One, we were loaded on to, on to, they weren’t cattle trucks, they were the old fashioned you know, these Eschable carourdon [?] variety from the first world war, we were loaded in to one of these. The others they went to a place called Luckenwalde, I think was, actually that was liberated by the, by the Russians, and from all accounts they weren’t too well treated to start with by the Russians until they found, were sure who they were. But we were lucky, we were loaded into this. Well, it was crowded, yes I grant you, but the real reason was that we were in pitch dark, everybody wanted, for some unearthly reason to sit as near the door they could. I don’t know if they think it was suddenly going to open and they were going to be wafted away to safety, but they wouldn’t move. When daylight came we were able to sort ourselves out. Now I grant you the toilet facilities were not all that good, but no worse than a ordinary soldier in the field in action has to cope with, a sort of open latrine, and above all, I’ve virtually I’ve experienced worse crowding in London’s underground. So it wasn’t all that bad. We trundled along, we, I remember we did a very slow stop-start circuit of Berlin, course there was a raid going on at the time. We arrived then at a place called, what was it, oh it was a little village, small settlement, not far from Bremen. We, it was, I remember we stopped outside this camp, and look up at it and miserable rain was coming down, there was this thing over the door, well it didn’t, we used to always used to say it was a “Work Makes You Free”, and we used to say “work yourself to death”, but it looked a pretty dreary and unuttering place and we went in to this. It was called Marlag and Milag Nord and it was designed, by the name you could tell, for Royal Marine and Merchant Navy officers: Marlag and Milag. And there were, we were a little concerned because we thought this camp is empty. Where have all these Marine, Naval and Marine officers gone? And we got a horrible thought they might be in some mass grave or other. However, it wasn’t true, they had been moved, when, where and why I’m not actually sure. But when we got inside, well if we had any clothing, warm clothing we were lucky, or dry clothing we put it on. It was a nothing, not a camp I’d recommend but it was, at least it was dry and there was, we had adequate food. There was a certain thing, belief that we were short of food, well I can assure you we never were, we had more than we could do with because the Red Cross parcels were being delivered by since the rail system was on the blink they were coming in by truck and they were, they were dumping parcels by the side of the road by us. Well I couldn’t carry, well most of us did, took out things like chocolate and tea and coffee and things like that, the rest of it. We offered them to the guards but they wouldn’t, neither would the civilians, I suppose they still might be pounced upon by die-hard SS, SS army, the army SS not the civilian SS. In fact one, one night we were billeted with these SS Waffen, Waffen SS, they, weaponed I mean, armed SS and we did, well always had a low profile but these chaps were very willing to chat to us. They got somehow idea that it wouldn’t be long before we joined forces with them and then finally put the bloody Russians -
CB: Out of Germany.
JL: Where they should be. Well it was, well, actually the second, as I say, if the first leg of the, our all expenses tour of north Germany was bearable, the second was a doddle. It was fine weather. Warm enough to sleep outside, in fact sometimes we walked through orchards white with blossom, not with snow with blossoms and we, there was no attempt to force the pace, but what did happen on the way, we stopped, in all the, four, nearly four years I was a prisoner of war I never suffered not even verbal abuse, let alone physical, never, but this particular, we did have a bit of trouble there, it was more directed at personal about us, in general. In fact the civilian population we got, they tried to you know, reach our ranks, the Germans just turned bayonet and rifle, pointed and don’t you dare come any closer. Well we moved on and then we thought we heard an explosion and we saw smoke arising from this. We thought it was the town that had been attacked, and we, you know as they say well it couldn’t have happened to nicer people. I’m afraid it wasn’t that, it was our column [emphasis] that had been attacked! By a, I think it was a Canadian Squadron Leader flying a Typhoon. He, he must have been blind, because this, it couldn’t possibly been a, it wasn’t a, looked like a German unit of any description but anyway I’m afraid he did and there were quite a few people killed on there. And that to my mind I think was the only, some, I’ve read in terms of hundreds something, hundreds killed on this so called long march, it’s just not true. The only other fatal casualty was a chap named Large I think it was, he had a ruptured appendix but there’s no reason to say he wouldn’t have had it anyway, it wasn’t caused by the conditions and that was that. We reached, we reached the place called Stade, was the southern side of the Elbe, and oh one thing I did see while we were at Marlag and Milag Nord, I saw a V2 fired, not many people have seen that. There was a bit of a rising ground and I happened to be on it and then suddenly I saw this, this thing, this great rocket, with this great burst of flame as it rised slowly and slowly and slowly, and it appeared, of course that was as much an optical illusion, it held itself out and it turned to get its bearing and by that time it couldn’t reach Britain, so probably the target was Antwerp, but that’s I saw a V2 fired and not many people have seen that. Anyway, we got to this Stade place and the Elbe ferry if you please, was still not operating normally, it was, and there was a, there was a boot repairer there, some people’s boots needed a bit of attention, mine were all right, but anyway he did what he could. We crossed the Elbe and we arrived at a place called, oh, just outside Hamburg. You come up a cobbled street, which we had, quite steep and we were then met by what, I, was the most horrible thing I’ve ever come across, a migration of slugs! Can you believe this, they were marching up on a broad front. There was absolutely no way of avoiding them. Blankenese, was the name of this little town, that’s the name of it: Blankenese. We tried to pick our way, very, very carefully and thank god I managed to keep on my feet, otherwise if I’d fallen can you imagine the state I’d been in. Well from then on it was, it was easy going and as I say, we got to this, this open, this tobacco man’s, well he was, farm and from then on it was the journey home. But I’ll never forget, oddly enough we saw a reverse, I mean a thing so beautiful. I’d never seen it before. It was a, I didn’t tell you, hadn’t told you that in September of 1942, I and a number of others were for some reason which the Germans had and they didn’t bother to give us the details, we were transferred to a place called Offlag 21B. Now Offlag meant it was an officer’s camp, that’s all. 21B. And we stayed there through a rather dreary time, the winter, until we moved in April, but I came back and I didn’t go in to the north compound I went back to the east compound for some reason or other. Why I don’t know, and actually I didn’t move into the north compound where the tunnel was being dug until September of 1943. How are we doing?
CB: You’re doing well. One final question. What happened to the guards after you’d walked all this way? Did they just surrender or did they leg it or what did they do?
JL: Oh yes. Well they were only part of this. They’d realised, they heard they were all German forces had surrendered and they were only too pleased, they just neatly piled their arms and that was that. They knew all right. And they went off to go, to be taken in what we called the cages to a British prisoner of war camp. Some of them actually, when I lived in Salcombe in South Devon many years later, there was a chap there used to run a driving tuition, he’d been one of these there and he’d stayed in England.
CB: Funny.
JL: So he didn’t have too bad a time.
CB: Well Jack Lyon, thank you for a very interesting conversation.
JL: My pleasure.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Jack Kenneth Lyon
Creator
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Chris Brockbank
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2018-02-02
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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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ALyonJK180202
Conforms To
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Pending review
Pending revision of OH transcription
Format
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02:03:03 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Description
An account of the resource
Jack Lyon was a navigator/ bomb aimer and a prisoner of war for almost four years. Born in 1918, he was employed with the London Gas Company as a bookkeeper until August 1939 when he transferred to Shell. At the outbreak of the war, Shell closed their London office and Jack enlisted in the RAF on the 5th September. He was attracted to the extra privileges that aircrew received. Initial training commenced in late 1939 and elementary flying training in June 1940. Being unsuccessful with pilot training, Jack completed navigator training at RAF Prestwick, followed by armament training at RAF Manby, and operational training at RAF Kinloss. On completion of training, Jack was awarded his commission and posted to RAF Linton-on-Ouse. Being the only commissioned member of the crew, Jack found the opportunities to socialise restricted. Having only completed a few operations, Jack and his crew had to abandon their stricken aircraft. Separated from his crew, Jack was arrested by a German soldier cycling past who, faced with a long walk, decided the easiest way was for Jack to ride on the crossbar. Stopping at the first house they came to, the soldier arranged for Jack’s wounds to be attended to, and he was given tea and cake. Initially billeted in Stalag Luft 1, before being transferred to Stalag Luft 3 in April 1942, where he remained until early 1945. Douglas Bader was also billeted there, and Jack witnessed the famous incident when Bader inspected the German guards before being transferred. Early in 1945 with the advancing Russian army getting near, Jack participated in what became known as “The Long March”. Following the German surrender, Jack returned home, and following demob, returned to continue his career with Shell.
Contributor
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Ian Whapplington
Anne-Marie Watson
Spatial Coverage
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Germany
Great Britain
Poland
England--Lincolnshire
England--Yorkshire
Germany--Barth
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Düsseldorf
Poland--Żagań
Scotland--Moray
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1941-05-01
1941-06-21
1941-06-03
1942-09
1943
1945-05-01
1945-05-09
aircrew
bomb aimer
navigator
prisoner of war
RAF Kinloss
RAF Linton on Ouse
RAF Manby
RAF Prestwick
Red Cross
shot down
Stalag Luft 1
Stalag Luft 3
the long march
V-2
V-weapon
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/834/18874/YGeachDG1394781v3.1.pdf
0ac2178ce957f882e1ba3691a9434011
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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Geach, David
D Geach
Description
An account of the resource
<a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/218400/"></a>52 items. The collection concerns Warrant Officer David Geach (1394781 Royal Air Force) and contains his diaries, correspondence, photographs of his crew, his log book, cuttings and items relating to being a prisoner of war. After training in Canada, he flew operations as a bomb aimer with 623 and 115 Squadrons until he was shot down 24 March 1944 and became a prisoner of war. He was instrumental in erecting a memorial plaque to the Air Crew Reception Centre at Lord’s Cricket Ground in London. <br />The collection also contains a scrap book of photographs.<br /><br />Additional information on his crew is available via the <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/218400/">IBCC Losses Database.</a><br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Harry Wilkins and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-03-14
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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Geach, DG
Transcribed document
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[Cover Page]
PJZ4 HUT 7
PER ARDUA AD ASTRA MIM
[/Cover Page]
[page break]
[underlined] BOOK 2 [/underlined]
COMMENCING MY FLYING TRAINING, AND MY ADVENTURES UP TILL THE TIME OF LEAVING ENGLAND
[page break]
[underlined] Saturday June 20th [/underlined]
Our first stage in flying training has commenced, we are no longer cheesed with periods of studying, drilling, & various other binding pastimes. Our journey from St. Andrews to Carlisle was pretty uneventful, we caught the connections, & arrived here at about 1 p.m. Dragging those two kit bags around was pretty deadly, & we were glad to dump them. All the lot of us, 19, are in a large room of a hut, rather a collection of huts called the town-centre. This is just opposite the station, the actual station is about 4 miles out from Carlisle & the name of it, is Kingstown.
I know it seems early to form an opinion, but we all dislike this place intensely. It is very hard to describe, but we have never known a place to cheese one so completely. The general air of the place & the slip-shod way it is run all contribute to discourage us more than anything.
[page break]
There is a civilian here parading around in a W/O's uniform although he has the badge of a civil airways on his arm. He goes under the title of S.W.O. - what cheek, & we have to address him as Sir. Although he is unable to put us on a charge he can give us an hours digging on fatigues, & he makes good use of that. From what we can see he practically runs this station, despite the officers.
That is one of the main faults here, the place is half R.A.F. half civvie, & a general fiasco ensues. The food is catered, & served by civilians, & one word describes it, disgraceful, honestly! I never thought food could be served out in such a state. It is not my personal feelings, everyone is the same, & one only has to see all the cadets eating hot meals in the Y.M.C.A. to realise it. The officers cant [sic] do much about it only request [?] the chap who is in charge of the mess to alter things, needless to say there isn't much difference.
[page break]
In a big gloomy converted hangar now called the 'Crew Room', why I don't know, are our lockers. We have one ordinary sized steel locker between two of us, & we both have to keep our flying kit, kit-bags, P.T. kit, & books in this, it is almost impossible to close the doors. P.T. is every day & we change behind the lockers, have a terrific long roll-call, run to a nearby field for about 10 mins. P.T. & run back again. Hurriedly changing we rush to the N.A.A.F.I. & find a large queue there, the time being 11.a.m. & the N.A.A.F.I. closing at 11.15 a.m. we never get it. So we never have a cup of tea while we are here in the morning.
Another annoying rule is that once we enter the gate in the morning at 8 a.m. we are not allowed out till 6 p.m. even during the dinner-time, so we drift around aimlessly. There being only 4 lavatories & 3 wash-basins available for the couple of hundred cadets here, we even have to queue for those necessities. Yes I have never seen a station where there are so many things wrong and so few right.
[page break]
The ground lectures are a farce, and they might just as well scrap them. First thing every morning or afternoon we have Aldis practise, [sic] & I have heard it rumoured that some people take it. We have had one Navigation lecture, stuff we did right at the beginning of I.T.W. Armaments, a chap came & nattered about the Browning Gun, the Signals Officer is a P/O an Observer from the last war, who seems slightly wrong in the head! A large part of the programme consists of going to the Cinema Hut for M.O.I [sic] films, of, the Enemy has Ears, variety, some of these bring home to one how vital it is to be guarded in conversation.
For entertainment each Sunday and Monday night they have a movie film, free, Bing Crosby & Bob Hope are on this Sunday in 'Road to Zanzibar'. Once a fortnight there is a dance in the mess and a good few women from the town come. They had one the evening we arrived it was a pretty good band. Well being tired I don't feel like writing any more so will close.
[page break]
[underlined] Wednesday June 24th [/underlined]
We have been here exactly a week now, & are wishing we had gone to Perth for it must be better than here. I don't know whether the A.M. realises it, but a place like this & a training system like these Grading Schools is enough to make anyone completely fed up with flying. I remember last week the first time I went up, I guess it was the biggest thrill I have ever had. Strapping myself in with the Sutton harness, I waited & then we gradually moved forward, gaining speed & all of a sudden I had a shock for looking over the side I saw the ground about 50 feet below us, I had not noticed that we had left it. Sitting there admiring the view I felt a strange sense of exaltation, as if I had left worldly things behind, & was all alone in the universe. I was jerked out of my isolation by the instructors voice crackling through the inter-com, & we began the business of flying.
[page break]
Being the first time the instructor didn't give me any of the patter, he just let me get used to the new sensation. I had rather a shock when he cut the motor, & announced he was going to practise [sic] a forced landing, although he didn't actually touch down he would have made it easily. Coming [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] [inserted] back [/inserted] he flew low along the course of the Eden, & this was great, I got a bigger kick out of the low level flying than anything. The following lessons were all graduated each hour for teaching one thing e.g. the first lesson - straight & level flying, then medium turns, climbing, gliding etc. on to take-offs. landings & spins. It certainly is marvellous how correctly trimmed the aircraft will fly by itself almost smoothly, yet as soon as we touch the controls she lurches about - gremlin trouble - maybe.
I think the whole idea of Grading Schools are a farce though, & every instructor & pilot on 'ops' that I have spoken to agrees. They maintain that it is impossible
[page break]
to discern whether a fellow will make a pilot in 12 hours or not, the time is too short. A fair amount depends upon one soloing in the time, & yet a fair few well known pilots today soloed after 12 hours. Another point is that the instructors can't take any real interest in a fellow for no sooner have they got him up to the soloing stage, when he goes & someone completely new comes in his place. So I guess no-one can blame them for feeling cheesed & not being able to give the individual attention to us that we need. All these points & the atmosphere of this station as well all go to make us lose heart in the flying & ask are we being given a fair deal.
From our point of view we definitely are not, for we know that if we had received our papers a couple of months before we did, we should have missed this scheme & gone abroad as usual, & stood
[page break]
a much better chance of getting our wings being, as we would be on a full E.F.T.S. course. From the A.M's [sic] point of view I suppose they are fully justified. They are short of Observers, & these new Air Bombers, so the easiest way is to just whizz a few [one indecipherable word] potential pilots off the course, & re-muster them. As they say it being for the good of the country our personal feeling don't count. It certainly is hard when you have set your heart on being a pilot, & volunteered for it to be just placed on one side, without a fair trial of one's capabilities. Still there it is, but it seems ever such a great waste of youthful enthusiasm & keeness [sic] to me, I can see, and also feel it myself, the old spirit gradually dying away & being replaced with a browned-off feeling, & a 'nothing matters' outlook. It is the way that this country has always been though, & I guess it always will be. Who are we to question the wisdom of the great.
[page break]
[underlined Sunday June 28th. [/underlined]
The end of the week, and a fast-moving week at that, things sure have happened speedily. Four of the boys have finished their course already & are going on leave tomorrow. This is embarkation leave, just in case we should get a pilot, which I doubt. Amongst those going are 'Nob' Davies & Cooper, they were withdrawn from lectures & their flying speeded up to four hours a day at times. Consequently they often reached a period when the instructors words would go in one ear & out the other, they just couldn't take any interest in it. Cooper soloed at 10 hrs 25 mins, but 'Nob' didn't. The way they are rushing us through with this flying, they are either desperately short of aircrew, or else are getting our 12 hours over with just because the training system is so choked & they have to get as many through as possible. I think the latter is the case, & as usual it benefits all but us.
[page break]
I guess I should have finished my flying by the end of the week, & be on leave, it seems rather absurd to be home on leave again, seeing I only left a fortnight ago - still I'm not grumbling. I had my 7 hour progress test with the F/Lt. in charge of C flight & didn't do too bad, I learnt afterwards I had 555 marks which is average. As long as they don't rush me with my flying I'll be alright. One of the fellows from St. Andrews have [sic] been taken off because he gets nervous every time he goes up. It's hard lines on him, for some people are made that way & he has gone through his I.T.W all for nothing.
There is a fair in the park in town & we will go there tonight, for it is Carlisle's stop-at-home holidays week & they have different attractions. Carlisle itself is quite a nice town, a lot more livelier than St. Andrews, & a very fine park. They have a large Y.M.C.A. here - the John Peel Hut, & it
[page break]
really is a fine place. If people only knew how much these places matter to service men I am sure they would receive more support.
Cooper has received a letter from a pal at Manchester who has been classified as a pilot. He said it is a matter of luck what percentage of pilots they require at the classification time, whether we get a pilot or not. I must say it doesn't sound too hopeful, still maybe whatever happens is for the best.
I did spins for the first time this week, it is a queer feeling when the aircraft stalls & lurches forward & the earth spins round & round. This was a thing I managed to get hold off [sic] quite easily & could do pretty well. My instructor did half an hours aerobatics yesterday & I hardly knew if I was on my head or heels. He is a real decent fellow though, never binds a bit even when I make silly mistakes, not like some instructors.
[page break]
[underlined] Wednesday July 1st. [/underlined]
My brief period of flying is over, it certainly was short & sweet, it lasted under a fortnight, & from that someone can tell whether I would make a pilot after a few hundred hours flying - maybe. Right at the last couple of hours my instructor was changed because another instructor didn't like his pupil, there was a switch & now my instructor has the chap. This other one binds more, but I [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] [inserted] was [/inserted] not worrying about that for I had [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] at last got my landings O.K. So he promised me half an hour to go solo on Tuesday, but it seemed that right at the last Fate took a hand. For on Tuesday I was called out of lectures & told I would have to let my solo go & do my last two hours, & get my 12 hours test over that morning. Feeling pretty cheesed I did & did fair in my test. They told me the fact that I was about to solo would go on my record yet I doubt if that will cut much ice.
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Today I & Jack Dawsett [?] have been dashing around with our clearance chits, trying to locate people, who don't want to be located. We managed to get them in the end & got our clothing settled. Because a few chaps flew on Sunday they issued Daily Flying Returns with everyone down as having 'Attended Lectures' being as we didn't know we omitted to sign, so Dodds the W/O fellow, put us on an hours digging tonight, our last night too, I'd like to meet him outside.
Still my outstanding thought, is thank the Lord we are leaving this place. Tomorrow we only have an F.F.I. & get our warrant & ration cards then we are away, & most probably will be able to catch the midday train - then home and some good food. I expect Mary will get a shock when she sees me. Ah! well I'll close this my last entry at Carlisle, my first flying school, & not the last I hope.
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[underlined] Sunday July 12th. [/underlined]
It is a week & a half since I have made an entry, only I never enter anything when I am on leave, don't combine business with pleasure in this case. I am now at my fifth station, as I have mentioned, Manchester in this case. After enjoying seven days leave I was due to report here on Friday at midday. To do that I would have had to catch the 4 a.m. train from Euston & sleep on the station all night. So I took the 8.15 am. with Jack Dawsett & practically all other cadets went on it as well. We arrived at London Rd Station about 1.45 p.m. & caught a 1d services bus to Victoria Stn. where we connected the train to Heaton Park. This type of train is electric & reminded me of a cross between a London Metropolitan Train & an armoured train. We finally arrived at the park at 2.30 pm. Nobody said anything, all was bustle & confusion, hundreds of cadets wandering around, harrased [sic]
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N.C.O's endeavouring to get some semblance of order, what a panic.
To anyone who has never been to Heaton Park the word "Park" is apt to be misleading. The place is over 500 acres of natural country, complete with hills, vales, woods, streams, lakes, and in peace-time must have been a really lovely place. It was originally owned by an Earl, his name escapes me, & he presented it to Manchester Corporation for a public park, which in its turn was taken over by the R.A.F. At the time of writing the mansion itself forms No. 1 Squadron's offices, the officers mess, & various other rooms contain service branches. The huge lawn is a parade ground - can hold over 2,000 men. The Cafeteria built for the public is our mess, & another one has been built for No 2 Squadron's Mess. In the natural theatre by the stage & pavilion are lots of tents & more by the tennis courts, & everywhere one looks, ugly Nissen Huts have served [?} themselves up.
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It certainly has spoilt the appearance of the park, but I'm afraid we don't care about the beauty a lot. We are constantly moaning about the terrific distances we have to walk from place to place on the station. Talk about dispersal, everything is miles away from anywhere else. Jack & I are in billets outside the camp, we are both in nice houses, I have good rooms. The only trouble being in the morning when we have about a 2 mile walk to get to the mess for breakfast. I always have to dig Jack out, & sometimes we miss it.
The food here on the whole is pretty good, & one thing there is plenty of it. Being as there are about a thousand cadets here, they certainly handle the queues quickly. Not so with the N.A.A.F.I. this is in the tea-bar that is by the boating lake, & it is a devil of a wait outside, then a mad scramble at the counter with no orderliness at all. Consequently tea fly's [sic] over everyone & tempers become short.
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We got fixed up pretty quickly on the day we arrived, issued with mugs etc. and all the usual performances were got through, that always have to be done on joining a new station. After some searching we located our billets & nearly dropped dead getting our kit-bags there. The following day we commenced the programme, what there is of it. Nothing is hardly done here, for it is just a Classification centre, & then a posting Centre. Discipline is very slack indeed nobody pays any attention to the N.C.O's & people slide off when & where they like, there is rarely more than 3/4 of the flight present when a check is taken. This is rather a rest cure in some ways.
I have met 'Nob' Davies & Cooper, they arrived on Tuesday, & are in tents! We have Saturday afternoon off, but have to come all the way over to the park on Sunday, just to answer a roll-call. For the church parade is held on Wednesday. Well, thats [sic] enough for now, I'll describe the station & Manchester more next time.
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[underlined] Wednesday July 15th. [/underlined]
Life just slips uneventfully by, and we [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] slide along in a regular rut. Most of our day is spent in dodging off, our sergeant is one of the nervous & conscientious type, & fusses like an old hen. The [deleted] trob [/deleted] trouble he takes to get us all in the open-air swimming bath is marvellous, but then he never succeeds. The fellows in camp are allowed out till 11 p.m. each night excepting Friday & Saturday when it is 23.59. Almost the entire camp pours into town, by means of the electric train service, or various buses.
Manchester is more after my idea of fun, for it is large like London, and very busy. There are bags of up to date cinemas, the prices are rather high though. There is a good theatre the Palace, they sometimes have productions there prior to them opening in the West End. Strangely enough there are poor facilities for troop canteens, one
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Y.M.C.A. which is always packed, a C.W.L. canteen, equally crowded, and a Forces Canteen on Victoria Stn. which is pretty good, but with limited accommodation like the others.
We certainly lead a gay life, and we pay for it, the money really pours away, we spend £2 pocket money a week easily. Admitted about 15/- a week goes on food in the cafes, but we also go to the films about 3 or 4 times weekly & dances twice. The Ritz Ballroom is a pretty good place, but gets very packed. There was a dance in our mess in the week & that was well crowded.
Coming back from town we catch a train they run at every ten past & twenty to in the hour & the late ones are very crowded but we generally make it. Jack and I get out at Bowker Vale the station before Heaton Park, as it is right by our billets, I don't stay out late though, about 10 to 10.30 p.m – so far.
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treated as children, & numbers, but never human beings, and last of all, these long hanging about periods, all tend to dull the edge of the keenest appetite. It certainly is a shame, there are thousands of young fellows who volunteered to join Air Crew, & I am not line shooting when I say we are treated as though we were the last people that were needed in this war.
We had Navigation the other day, in a long Nissen Hut, one can't really whip up any enthusiasm here. Most of our days are the same we always try to slip off early to tea, before the colossal queues appear, then we can get an early start into town. I believe we might get a 48 hr pass this weekend, I hope so, for I feel as though I have been away ages. That sure is a rush on the London train, and also coming back, Sunday night, still I wont [sic] mind that as long as I get home.
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[underlined] Tuesday July 28th. [/underlined]
Today is my 19th birthday, and has been quite an eventful day, I had a Greetings telegram from Mary & cards from the family & friends. Beside this however it was our classification day, & I am now a A/T Air Bomber. The parade was held this morning, we were all marched, through the rose gardens, down to a beautiful green, with a small lake, a truly peaceful spot. There we layed [sic] upon the grass & listened to the Wing Comdr. reading out our destinies. There were about 30% pilots out of this parade. I felt sorry for one fellow who was made a Navigator, he flew so well at Grading School, and went solo in a record time, that he had a letter of congratulations from Group. Yet after that he was made a Navigator, ah! well it is a funny system.
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[underlined] Wednesday July 18th [/underlined] [pages in wrong order]
The lady with whom I am billeted informed me upon my arrival that it would be unlikely I should be here more than 10 days, well, that has passed, so we are wondering how long we will be here, it won't be longer than 3 weeks I should say. 'Nob' is expecting to be classified Monday or so, I wonder what he will get. It is a weird way they appear to classify them, nobody knows how they do it. A fellow who got a pilot the other day was taken off the flying coarse after 5 hours & told he would never be able to fly. Still I wouldn't mind an Air Bomber, its [sic] a nice short course, & that's what attracts me at the moment. We may be classified at the same time as 'Nob' I hope so, might as well get it over with. There'll be some disappointments, I guess.
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There is a familiar cry at this place, "Stand Still!" Every time we are on parade someone screams that, an officer or an N.C.O. everyone of them love saying it. Parades are fairly lengthy here for after the roll calls etc. long lists of fellows are called out for various reasons. Then the N.C.O's in charge of the flights are called out at the double & their instructions issued regarding the day's programme. This place is apt to get rather deadly after awhile, life becomes too monotonous.
I hear they are opening a new N.A.A.F.I. for 2 squadron, this should ease the pressure on the other one. The complement of the station is growing for fellows are coming in & none being posted. The weather is lousy rain and more rain and one never sees a blue sky, oh! give me the Sunny South!
[underlined] Wednesday July 22nd [/underlined]
The Classification Parade was held on Monday, but our flight wasn't on it. 'Nob' Davies, was made an Air Bomber, he was pleased over that, Cooper a pilot, Brayshaw a Navigator, there were about 40% pilots, I should say a rather large total. I thought we should have been classified, well, maybe we will have our chance next week, if I get an Air Bomber I'll be happy.
We have been on Camp Co-operation lately, this is rather a farce. On a camp this size, & so short staffed, there are bags of work that has to be done by the cadets so different flights are detailed for these. They are varied these fatigues – beg pardon – if anyone should make the mistake of referring to them as fatigues, they can be placed on a charge. Anyway, we sweep clean, paint, build
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fences, tend vegetables, dig, and everything imaginable! Needless to say there is bags of skiving, (or slipping off) as its [sic] called. Salvage is the biggest dodge, practically all the cadets are on this after the Church Parade, Wednesday. The S.W.O. who is a decent little fellow, has 27 years service in, is pretty keen on salvage.
I am not feeling bitter or anything, when I express the sentiment that the Press should know the full details of Air-Crew Training, I am merely voicing the feelings of almost every cadet under training. For in practically every case one sees, keen enthusiasm, turn into a oh! – what the hell attitude, it is unavoidable. The Wing Comdr here, admits this but states this can't be helped, I don't think so, if it were all reorganised, by young brains we could really get somewhere This changing from station to station, being bound at by dumb N.C.O's
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I am pleased with myself though, if I can get a posting pretty soon, the course is only 12 - 14 weeks, & I shall be home on leave for Xmas as a sergeant. The stations we are posted to are Dumfries, Stourbridge, Isle of Man, & it is rumoured that there is a station opening at Reading, I would like to be posted there, its [sic] near enough to London. I am now in 'H' flight with a decent crowd of fellows, & a really smashing corporal, he's the opposite of the sergt [sic] we had, this one wangles us off everything, & gets plenty of opportunities for skiving. It was only a rumour we were having a 48, I didn't really credit it, for we had, had one the previous weekend. This certainly is a station for rumours, anything is believed here, postings, different methods of training, everything wildly buzzes around amongst the cadets. Now my next worry is when I shall be on a posting I guess, ah! well I shall remember my 19th birthday.
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[underlined] Saturday 1st August [/underlined]
Well, there is a posting of Air Bombers, but I am not on it, 'Nob' Davies is though. It was the first half of 'F' flight & as I am in H flight, we will have to wait awhile I guess. It is to Bobbington near Stourbridge I believe it is a pretty good station, they are due to leave tomorrow evening. So at last 'Nob' is on his way, 12 weeks & then he will have his tapes, [?] lucky guy.
We are definitely getting cheesed with this place, we can thank the Lord for having Oxenbury for a Cpl, he is about the best N.C.O. I've ever met. He gets us off different things & plays around, boy he sure takes a lot of the burden off us. I guess we'll stroll around this afternoon & have tea in John Lewis's cafeteria, that is quite a nice place, than finish off with a show. The cinemas are about the best choice for the
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dances are so crowded, we sometimes go to the dance in the Y.M.C.A. though. On our first Saturday here, we went to Belle Vue, I didn't think a lot of the fun fair, it was rather dear too. We went into the Speedway & enjoyed quite a good programme, we were going into the all-in wrestling after, but decided we didn't have time. What a job it was to get back, though, thousands of people dashing for the buses, huge queues everywhere. Phew! I thought we would never [one indecipherable word] but luckily we jumped on one & got back O.K.
They are having a regatta here on the lake, shortly, I don't mind watching as long as it isn't on our Saturday afternoon off, they can pull little tricks like that, all too easily. We have had Navigation again this week, we professed not to know the computer again, so the instructor went through that. Ah! well anything that averts work is a good thing.
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[underlined] Sunday 16th August [/underlined]
I haven't made an entry in this diary for a fortnight, owing to the fact, that there has been hardly anything to enter. Life has just slid along in the hum drum way it does at Manchester, without anything important happening. By every right we should have been on a 48 hour pass this [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] week end, [sic] it was our turn, but they jumped us heaven knows why, so two sergeants in our flight are going to have an interview with the C.O. about it. I hope we get it next weekend, heaven knows I need it, I feel I have been here for months.
This certainly is a meeting place for everyone, from all different times in ones life. I have already met Frank Young who was in my room at Hall Rd, he is a Navigator W/T, & will 'cake' the wireless, being [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] a wireless officer in the Merchant Navy, before he
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joined up. In my flight now is 'Bill' Bailey who was in my class at school, I never knew he had joined up, I had a great surprise, when I met him. Also another chap I have bumped into was Jimmy Twigson [?] who I worked with first of all, he is an Air Bomber, so far I haven't met any fellows from the office who joined up with me.
The regatta finally got cracking after it had been washed out once by a torrential downpour of rain, number 2 squadron won it. Last night we had a pretty good time, we generally get pretty tight in the Gaumont Long Bar, one of the few places that we can get Youngers at. I have had a letter from 'Nob' giving all the 'gen' on the course and it seems there is a fair amount of work more in fact than I thought. Still whatever it is the sooner we are on it the better.
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[underlined] Monday 24th Aug [/underlined]
Well, we had our 48 hour after all the week end just passed. The two sergeants had an interview with the C.O. & he expressed surprise that we had been missed, & agreed to grant one. We were lucky to get away a bit earlier than usual, and after a frantic struggle managed to catch the 2.15 p.m. from London Rd. What was more akin to a miracle was the fact that I acquired a seat, something very much out of the ordinary. I spent a most enjoyable week-end, & naturally finished up feeling pretty cheesed at having to return. Then followed the old scramble for the midnight train at Euston, with crowds of cadets everywhere. Then we would try to snatch some sleep during the journey & arrive in Manchester around five. The grey dawn would be breaking & there would be the lucky ones who were huddled up, waiting for an early train to take
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them into London on leave - how I envied them. Our eyes would be continually closing & we could hardly keep awake & then we would trudge to Victoria Stn. for the first train to Heaton Park. 48's sure are fun but hellishly short, & terrible to return from.
The past week we have had another corporal, helping Oxenbury, & what an object. He was in the band, & had two fingers in plaster maybe he caught them in his harp, & he had the queerest voice I have ever heard. Nobody could tell whether he was shouting Left or Right, or what, it was a perfect mess. He doesn't seem to be with us now thank the Lord. There are rumours circulating of an Air Bombers posting, but we have heard so many ones like this that we are inured to them now. I think I will go to the WAAF's dance at the Bowler [?] tonight, they are generally pretty good.
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[underlined] Saturday Aug 29th. [/underlined]
The rumours of a posting weren't rumours after all, we are actually going, but there is a lot of doubt & puzzlement in our minds. When they announced the place we were going to - Hastings, I nearly jumped for joy when I heard that, for I had never dared to hope I would be so near London. Then we found out that all the Air Bombers, 400 of them were going, which seemed rather strange, & now the news has gone circulating round, that this place isn't anything more than another Manchester - we just have to await a posting from there. I'll leave this entry awhile & finish it tonight, something may have turned up by then.
It is now night & our fears have been realised, the Wing Comdr. in his address to us, told us Hastings was another pool from where we would be posted. Still it is nearer
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to London, & I might be able to get home, it does seem silly to have a station so near to Jerry I think. We are leaving tonight, there will be a glorious beer [?] up before we leave I guess.
This afternoon there were the Inter-Squadron Sports, & although it was Saturday afternoon no-one was allowed to leave the camp, everyone had to watch it. Even us who were leaving that night, weren't allowed out for our last few hours, it doesn't seem much, when one mentions it, but believe me, when one experiences how you can be pushed & pulled around well it isn't so hot.
I think I'll trot out with "Bud" Flanagan tonight, on a pub-crawl, & drawn my sorrows. We have to report back at 9 p.m. for a check & supper & then after the usual delay, I guess we will be on our way. So it finally is goodbye to Manchester, I seem to have been here ages, ah! well, it wasn't so bad after all.
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[underlined] Wednesday 2nd Sept. [/underlined]
Here I am down in the sunny South again, & it certainly is a change to see a lovely blue sky again after Manchester. Yet what wouldn't I give to be back there I never realised how easy it really was. Still theres [sic] no time to cry over spilt milk and I'd better recount what happened when we left.
As I guessed we all went out and became gloriously tight, & rolled back into Heaton Park for the final checks. What a shambles – they first tried to call the roll in the dark - heaven knows why. Trying to do that with 400 fellows at least 300 of them well under the weather, was just asking for trouble. About twenty voices would answer for each name called out, as nobody knew who was present & who was not. Then some fellows began throwing pieces of earth at the officer holding the flashlight, gee! it was a fiasco.
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Then, finally it penetrated the official mind, that, it would be a lot easier if they went into the mess hall where it was light - so in we went. Here they got through a roll call of a sort, & as time was passing they decided we had better have supper. This was easily the best meal I have had at Manchester & one of the best in the R.A.F. It was fried egg, or was it eggs I wasn't sober enough to remember, & a lovely golden brown potato ball, it went down well I know. They finally moved us off then, & we were passed through the door one at a time, between two officers so they were able to get a proper idea of who was missing at last. 'Taffy' Evans was there tight to the eyebrows & screaming himself with laughter at another fellow who had a few flowers stuck in his great pack. All the time Taffy, unknowingly, had a terrific bunch of them, sprouting all over his pack & webbing! When he passed the officers, one reached out despairingly to stop
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him, but as if he said "oh! whats [sic] the hell", let him go.
We marched to the gate, laughing and singing, & there came to a halt, we waited half an hour & moved across into the station. The train arrived after a little while and we all dived in with the usual scramble for seats. I got settled with the three Scotties, Bob, Bill, & Jock, & tried to snatch some sleep. Our carriage had the windows hermetically sealed, & believe me, they put a good few men on troop trains, fellows sleeping on the floor & everywhere, phew! it was hot. Being a troop train it was going right through with no changes, a blessing. I awoke early next morning cramped & thirsty & attacked my meagre rations, some of which where bad. I had the devil of a shock when some while later we pulled into Willesden Junction, I thought we had crossed the Thames long ago. It was heart breaking to pass right through London & across Chelsea Bridge, so near & yet so far to home, but not a chance of reaching there.
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We picked up speed when we were clear of London, & were soon rushing through Tunbridge & on & on till we finally arrived at St. Leonards.
Our worst fears were realised when we saw our reception party, all the N.C.O's had smart uniforms, terrific creases, dazzling boots & buttons & worst of all brilliant white blancoed [sic] belts. It certainly was a home of bull we judged - & we were right. They fell us into line & away we went, with them constantly whipping up our step, I thought bitterly it won't be long before they have broken us in. After a tidy march we reached our quarters, Marine Court, a magnificent huge modern block of flats. What a target for Jerry I thought, about 12 floors of huge glittering white stone & glass. The usual settling in process followed, bedding, rooms, wash, eat, 'gen' chats by different officers & the C.O. details of parades, all the old routine, then time to ourselves. One's first job on such occasions is always to dash off letters with the new address to all & sundry. Being late, & myself being tired I'll close this until the next entry.
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[underlined] Sunday Sept 6th. [/underlined]
To continue with the life of this station, the C.O. seemed very gruff & hellish bad tempered at times, but he was alright if everything went right. A Flight Lieut Observer there, everyone hated the sight of, a supercilious cocky guy, a last war Obs. incidentally with Gen Service & Victory Medals up. Our squadron C.O. seemed one of the biggest baa-lambs under the sun a hell of a binder. I think everyone retired with some misgivings on Sunday night as to what the morrow would bring. Our rooms were lovely, I was in one on the 7th floor with three other fellows, the room had French windows opening onto a balcony overlooking the front & the rear, the balconies were out of bounds.
Reveille was at 6.15 a.m. and up we scrambled, & came down five floors to the dining hall. The food here was terrible & very little of it, there were scores of complaints that day, but very little action. We waited for awhile [sic] before we were served, here they have a ticket punching
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idea, that ensures nobody goes around twice for a meal, I can't imagine anyone that would. After breakfast we scrambled [?] beds, & then followed a rush of bulling brasses sweeping the room, & making bed packs, & then we dashed down in time for the parade at 8 a.m. This was held in a tiny street at the rear of Marine Court. After a helluva lot of 'attentions' & Stand at Ease', there came the familiar "For Inspection Open Order March", & then we came under fire. I have been on many inspections but never one like that, the A Sqdn C.O. P/O Stuttaford, was meticulous to the point of ridiculousness, ever such tiny faults were magnified into major offences, it was terribly cheesing. At last it was over & after the usual 'guff' about making ourselves 'lots smarter', the days [sic] programme commenced.
We were soon to become familiar with the curriculum, first we marched to the streets around Warren Sq for 2 hours drill. Foot drill after our I.T.W was long passed go it was binding, then we were marched back & given a quarter of an
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hours [sic] break, during which it was impossible to get ones nose in the N.A.A.F.I. & we weren't allowed out to any cafe's. Right after this we paraded in P.T. kit & ran about 2 miles to White Rock Park, where we had 2 hours P.T. & then ran back again. Dinner followed that, then the whole afternoon was devoted to a route march. It was hellishly long & I know it crippled a lot of the older N.C.O's the F/Sgt didn't show his nose in any again. This programme was adhered to rigidly every day of this week. In the end we began to wonder if we were on a Commando Course or what the hell. The bull was continued all the [one indecipherable word], the usual stuff of rooms being scrubbed with trimmings like polishing the brass on the window frames & black polishing gum boots. Our food has improved slightly but not a lot.
Yesterday we went to a local cinema for a 'gen' chat by a Flt/Lt. Observer, just off 'ops' who is taking a hand with a course they are organising. It seems to me rather a farce being mainly
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I.T.W subjects & hardly anything we will get on our course, we are too cheesed off to worry now though. There is leave as the C.O. graciously calls it one 36 hour pass once a month, & this is stopped at any time if there is any little thing wrong with the rooms. The laundry is a decent one here thank the Lord, but the system of giving out mail is chronic, instead of giving it out to each flight N.C.O. 'Chiefy' or F/Sgt Tate shouts it out for the whole squadron, bloody poor system.
He is one of the biggest binders I have met, & thats [sic] saying something here. On inspections in the morning, what with him, Stuttaford & half a dozen others screaming 'Stand Still', 'Take his Name', I realise what the Guards go through. One hardly expects it in Air Crew though. To make up for the lack of food in the barracks we eat a lot in the cafes, there seems to be plenty of food in town, luckily there are bags of fruit too. Gee! but I guess we will all heave a sigh of relief the day we leave here.
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[underlined] Thursday 10th Sept. [/underlined]
This certainly is a lot quieter than Manchester, when we drill in the streets it sends a shiver down my spine at times; They are all deserted & nearly all the large boarding houses empty & boarded up with broken windows paint peeling off, & cracked walls, it is a ghost town in some parts. Around London Rd there is plenty of life, though, & also in Hastings itself. Most evenings we spend in cinemas, the films are very old at times, but the seats are good, & at cheap prices too.
Our routine is the same this week as it was last, but I am feeling lovely & fit now. With bright sunshine most of the time & the sea air it is a lovely change. On Sunday I dragged my 'biscuits' [?] & pillow out onto the balcony & lay there sunbathing all day. Strangely enough most of us like the route marches now. Admitted Sgt. James (one of the best) generally takes them & we march 3 miles & then lay down in a
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field & sunbathe.
I now have a 'distinguished' post, I am 'A' Squadron's Messing Representative, and it was marvellous the way I was given the position. After returning from a route march one day, we were dismissed & I happened to be standing around with my hands on my pockets. 'Chiefy' Tate pounced on me immediately, "Name & Number?" he said, getting out his note-book, I argued thinking I was on a charge, but he took my name, & then said, "For having your hands in your pockets, you are A Squadrons messing representative", ho! ho! such is service life eh!
I think I shall put in for a pass this week end, for I'm getting a little cheesed & the way things go on this station one never knows when they will be cancelled. This certainly is the place for alerts, there's a warning every hour, but hardly any action at all. I'm expecting a real 'do' one of these nights. I hope it isn't tonight anyway for I feel really tired and want a good nights [sic] sleep.
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[underlined] Monday 14th Sept. [/underlined]
This is a fine bloody station I am now on "jankers", and this is how it happened. I got my week end pass after a bit of humming & hawing, & spending the Saturday morning on rifle drill. I caught the train O.K. & got home about 5.30, after a meal & a wash & brush up I went over for Mary. We had a swell weekend, well I say weekend it was only a day really, too short. However I caught the train from Victoria O.K. & although I had to stand all down I didn't mind it was a nice trip. All the cadets poured into Marine Court & handed in their passes & then so to bed. I got into my room and put on the light to get into bed, when in walked an S.P. & [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] took my 1250 for having the lights on after lights out. Holy Mackerel! "Lights Out" was at 10.45 p.m & this was just gone 11 p.m. & not allowed a light for a few minutes to get into bed. This is an example of red tape carried out to the maximum. Anyway we were marched before P/O Stuttaford
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& after him having his little bind, he awarded us 4 days – 4 days hell! in this place it equals 7 days on any other station just for a little offence like that – anyway today I started.
Its [sic] wonderful what scam they get for S.P's the sgt. in charge of the jankers parade screamed and bawled as if we were the most hardened criminals, oh! its [sic] not worth describing it. He gave me an ultimatum to get my hair cut tomorrow or else – . We worked for two hours from 6 - 8 p.m. cleaning lavatories – oh! to be in air crew. The parades each day are at 7 a.m. (that means early rising) 1 p.m. to make sure we can't get out in the dinner - time. Then 6 p.m. when we work till 8 p.m. parade again at 9 p.m. & at 10 p.m. Ah! well the first day is nearly over anyway. I hear that C Squadron when charged with the same offence were only awarded 2 days, there will be a do about this, the sooner we are off jankers the better.
[page break]
[underlined] Wednesday 16th Sept. [/underlined]
My jankers have finished, so short & sweet they were too. As I [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] prophesied there was a moan over C Squadron only getting 2 days & us 4, & it had its results this morning. We were on drill in Warrior Sq when old Stuttaford came round & called us out. In a big hearted tone he told us that owing to our rooms being very clean (he'd moaned about them the day before) he would let us off the last 2 days jankers. Quite an amusing effort on his part to save his face. Still we didn't bother to query the if's & buts we were off and that's all that mattered.
I nearly dropped in for it again this afternoon though – in fact I'm not sure whether I have or haven't. Being Wednesday afternoon I went to the Messing meeting and made the usual complaints over the food, which has improved considerably but is still fairly bad. After this I found everyone was down in the garage
[page break]
on Armaments, not feeling like this, I went up to my room & dropped my biscuits & pillow out on to the balcony & lay out there reading a pile of Daily Mirrors.
I heard footsteps in the building but took no notice of them, happening to look up I saw Stuttaford gazing, horrified at me. Boy! I thought here's where I really get it, opening the door he screamed "Come in here", there followed quite a scene, & finished by him shouting for Sgt. Tasker [?] to take my name & no. Tasker [?] was decent & he may do something for me, I hope so anyway.
Think I'll go to the cinema with Bob & Bill, "They Died with their Boots On" is in Hastings. This course or farce of a course is getting pretty binding, I'll be glad when its [sic] over I know the Sten Gun inside out. The Sgt. Pilots & Observers who take us are as cheesed as we are, so its [sic] a fine state of affairs
[page break]
[underlined] Monday 21st Sept. [/underlined]
Events moved fairly quietly up to the weekend, I was never charged for being on the balcony, so I guess old Tasker was able to get it "washed" [?] he's a decent old stick. I felt sorry for Taffy he had a pass for the week end & had arranged with his girl, for her to travel from Birmingham to London & he would meet her there. Then on Wednesday Stuttaford came round in an even worse temper than usual, and swore his mug (that is displayed on the bed lay out) was dirty. It wasn't much good arguing with him, Taffy was awarded 3 days 'jankers', Thursday, Friday, & Saturday. So he lost his weekend pass as well, & had to wire his girl, cancelling the arrangements – all that just for a drinking mug – reputed to be dirty, its [sic] funny what swines there are in the world. I'm gonna fight like hell for a pass on Oct 16th as Don and Betty are being married & I must be there.
[page break]
This morning what I had been expecting to happen did, it was like this:- The morning was devoted to a swimming parade in White Rock Baths, an event which was appreciated by all, even though we did have to pay 6d each to get in. We paraded promptly about 8.45 a.m. in the little street at the rear of Marine Court & away we marched. As usual we marched through the streets of the town & then out onto the promenade by Warrior Sq. Hardly had we marched onto the prom, when there was a roar of aero engines, which made us look out to sea hastily. There was a low lying mist which suddenly parted & two F.W. 190's flying about 20 ft above the water rushed in. Luckily they were between us & Marine Court, consequently being unable to fire upon us without altering course. Before we had time to move at all they lifted off the water & each released, the 500 Kgm bomb, they had slung underneath, at
[page break]
Marine Court.
There was a minor explosion as one entered, but being on D.A. we took advantage of the delay to dive for cover, then with a roar it exploded. The other missed the building & exploded in the small park behind. Everything had happened so swiftly & with such surprise that not a shot was fired at the raiders. We continued on to the Baths, but all agog to get back & see what had happened. As we turned onto the gradient next to Marine Court, we observed that the 7th, 8th, & 9th floors, above the dining hall were blown in & quite an amount of damage done to the 10th, quite a lot of damage for one bomb, but it wasn't a very solid place, more for show in summer time. I must record here, our true feelings when we saw the damage, onlookers standing around apparently expected us to burst into tears, but if they had, had the time we did there I daresay they would have acted the same.
[page break]
We cheered, & meant it, and cries of "Bullsh– Mansion Gone at Last", & Critchleys Palace Destroyed", (Critchley was reputed to have shares in every place we were billeted) greeted the night. One dear old soul gazing at us, & apparently hard of hearing for she couldn't have heard our remarks, said loudly "Ah! the 'boys' will get their own back for this", needless to say the 'boys' received this with obvious merriment. Bob, Bill, & myself had dinner in a cafe we weren't intending to hang around for hours, upon returning we were told to go down to the car park in the basement. Here lots of salvaged equipment was heaped & we settled down. Each floor was ordered upstairs in turn to clean their rooms or what was left of their rooms. At last came the 7th & up we trooped, [?] glad at last to get a look at what was going on.
Some boys on the salvage party were having a fine time slinging stuff around. Our room wasn't damaged except for a few cracks & the door
[page break]
blown in. We staggered up & down to the basement (9 floors in all) carrying kit bags & bedding, until we were cheesed & skived off for a rest. Leaning on the balcony of the 11th we watched the demolition party at work. The street below that we had paraded in 15 mins before Jerrie's arrival, was covered with large [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] blocks of stone & debris, so I'm glad they insisted on punctuality there. Anyway the demolition party were throwing pieces of stone etc. onto the pile and amusing themselves & the onlookers by aiming them at a lamp standard underneath, & in this way succeeded in completely ruining it.
About 5 p.m. we were told to parade on the prom, & were then marched past Warrior Sq about 110 yds. to the Eversfield Hotel which was our new quarters. It was a dark & dingy place, and we didn't like it as much as Marine Court, but Taffy & I got a room to ourselves, with our own wash bowl, quite lucky. Naturally our first action was tea, then unpack & well here I am
[page break]
[underlined] Friday 25th Sept. [/underlined]
I am writing this amidst constantly changing surroundings – on a train. You see, we settled down to normal work again on Tuesday lessons in the Victoria Hotel once more, & apart from numerous clothing parades for those who had to be re-kitted, & wangling of kit by a good few more everything went on the same. The C.O. came & shot an awful line about the bombing happening, because a few had disregarded orders & gone out on the balconies when a reconnaissance plane had come over at 25,000 ft a couple of days previous. He apparently overlooked the fact, that on the day of our arrival he himself had told us the Hun would know we had arrived. Even if this was so, he greatly under rated the German Secret Service (particularly active in Hastings), & also I would have liked to have met the fellow who could see a human being from 25,000 ft. Well everything was O.K until yesterday & I went to a messing committee meeting at Marine Court & had hardly returned to Eversfield when with a roar, 11 F.W's or ME 109's roared past the window about 30 fit off the deck. A few
[page break]
seconds later came the clump of exploding bombs, getting nearer, I ducked & waited. Nothing happened, so I looked out of the windows again, the raiders were already well out to sea, & three others who had been circling round in the sun ready to take a hand if any of our boys came along joined them.
About 11 bombs had been dropped, three up on the hill leading to the sports field one on a blind home, two by the Victoria Hotel, and three in Warrior Sq, where I had been a minute before. A single V.G.O. was mounted at each end of Marine Court, & one fellow got off a good few rounds at them – a good show. Unfortunately not like the Monday, when nobody was injured there were a fair few civilian deaths & casualties, also our boys didn't escape. They had been marching back from football, when they were spotted, a F.W dived & let his bomb go on the houses nearby & two others side slipped to roof top height & opened with cannon & machine gun. I think about 6 chaps were killed & 30 injured, it was a swine being unable to strike back.
[page break]
'Nobby' Clark appeared in the mess last night & said he had contacted the A.M. & we would leave Hastings as soon as possible. He was right too, they woke us up at 3 a.m. this morning & we packed, hung around & had breakfast & then left at 6.30 a.m. It was a 4 mile walk to the station – to carry 2 loaded kit bags it was impossible, I carried them for a bit, then dragged one, & finally sat down by the road with some others, really worn out. P/O Stuttaford came along carrying a suitcase (he had sent 6 fellows down to the station with his stuff) and shouted at us like pigs to get moving, my blood boils when I think of it. We struggled on for a bit, & then rested again - he screamed at us again then a Sgt took pity & said he'd take charge of us, & we hopped on a bus. We got in the troop train, I think there were about three and at 8 am. we moved off, our destination is secret, [deleted] [one indecipherable word] [/deleted] but everyone knows it is Harrogate. It broke my heart to travel through old London, & not be able to get out. We stopped for a 1/4 hour about 2 miles from Mary's place, we expect to arrive in Harrogate about 5 p.m.
[page break]
[underlined] Tuesday Sept 29th [/underlined]
I certainly get around I'm writing this at Manchester & am on a draft at last. We were billeted in the Grand Hotel at Harrogate, & received us so well that after 13 hours on 2 sandwiches & an apple, they gave us two slices of bread, no butter, & a few pieces of cheese – a fine supper. People hear of the glory of the R.A.F. its [sic] a pity they don't hear how they train aircrew. I was put on a draft right away with 18 others, & we spent Saturday getting kitted out & wasting time. I am glad I shan't be staying in this hotel, it used to be a WAAF's billets. [sic] There is plenty of 'bull' here, polished floors & everything, lights put out with a master switch & everything. Saturday afternoon we looked round the town, it wasn't a bad place, high prices & queues & everybody endeavouring to forget the war, but bags of women, there being all the Civil Service, a WAAF & AT.S training place. I saw a girl I worked with before she was evacuated to Harrogate but didn't speak to her. We saw Abbott & Costello in " Rio Rita" in the evening.
[page break]
Next morning away we marched to the station, "Nobby" gave us a farewell talk, & W/O Roberts bound to the last, "Chiefy" Tate unbound a little but I doubt if the meant it. The journey to Heaton Park didn't take long and we arrived here Sunday afternoon & passed through the old familiar gates, we had a good meal upon arrival. As our so called embarkation leave was 3 months previous we were entitled to another 7 days & naturally expected to hear something about it. On Monday though we were paraded & marched straight off to camp co-operation. My God! nobody knew anything about us, the C.O apparently didn't want to see us, we could get no 'gen' from anyone, here we were on the point of going overseas & being denied a chance of saying cheerio to our people. Its [sic] funny how they can bugger you around when they fancy to. When we were entitled to leave & to be put on fatigues & told nothing that was too thick, its [sic] funny how C.O's appear devoid of human feelings. Well, we will just have to wait hear [sic] eating our hearts out.
[page break]
[underlined] Wednesday 7th Oct. [/underlined]
I am writing this aboard the Queen Mary now under the name of HMT 02. we came on board this morning. No leave was granted to us at all at Manchester, we hung around all that time & could have had 7 days leave easily. Nothing was done until the last two days, we did fatigues all the time. Pat Kinsella had an interview with the C.O regarding leave, but was told it wasn't definite how long we would be at Manchester, how delightfully vague, still I guess there is no good crying over spilt milk.
We were allowed out into town for the last afternoon and had to report back fairly early. There followed the same old roll calls and a fine supper, just the same as when we went to Hastings. We entrained just after midnight, at Heaton Park, & being a troop train it was crammed as usual with little ventilation. We travelled through the night & arrived at our port at 8.30 am.
[page break]
Our port of embarkation was Greenock & we stood by on a tender for a couple of hours, engrossed in the busy scene on the Clyde. Every variety of naval craft, destroyers, corvettes, transports, cruisers, an aircraft carrier, & scores of landing craft dodging about, truly a busy scene. At last we moved out to our transport which we could see was a large one, & by hookey! it was a size when we got alongside. We passed in through a door way down in her side, & were given a berth number. In each cabin, they used to be single or double I should imagine are 12-15 bunks, pretty crowded, its [sic] a lovely ship though. The dining hall is colossal, one can't imagine they are afloat, we shall have that fact borne upon us, after tonight I guess as we sail then.
I'll close this now & on my next entry we will be a 1,000 miles away from land. This closes this book, and my next one will be about our trip and my experiences over in Canada.
[page break]
CONCLUDING BOOK 2 AND FINISHING MY GROUND TRAINING IN ENGLAND.
[page break]
[Faint handwritten dates on outside of back cover]
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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Book 2, Commencing my Flying Training and my Adventures up till the time of Leaving England
Description
An account of the resource
Second of David Geach's diaries, describing his training for aircrew at Kingstown, Heaton Park, Hastings and Harrogate until his embarkation to Canada on the Queen Mary. Covers the period from 20 June 1942 to 7 October 1942.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
David Geach
Format
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One handwritten diary
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Diary
Identifier
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YGeachDG1394781v3
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Carlisle
Scotland--Perth
England--Manchester
Scotland--Dumfries
England--Stourbridge
Great Britain Miscellaneous Island Dependencies--Isle of Man
England--Reading
England--London
England--Hastings
England--Harrogate
Scotland--Greenock
Canada
Scotland--St. Andrews
England--St. Leonards (East Sussex)
England--Berkshire
England--Sussex
England--Worcestershire
England--Lancashire
Temporal Coverage
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1942-06
1942-07
1942-08
1942-09
1942-10
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
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Joy Reynard
David Bloomfield
aircrew
bomb aimer
bombing
entertainment
Fw 190
gremlin
ground personnel
Me 109
mess
military living conditions
military service conditions
navigator
Navy, Army and Air Force Institute
Nissen hut
observer
pilot
RAF Heaton Park
sport
training
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2057/33889/MPriceAP572090-190517-02.1.pdf
99a89439614ea4676026bc4c22ecc0df
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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Price, Arthur Phillip
Price, PA
Description
An account of the resource
90 items including two photograph albums in sub-collections. The collection concerns Flight Sergeant Arthur Phillip Price (572090 Royal Air Force) and contains photographs, documents and correspondence. He served as ground personnel with 619 Squadron and was killed 9 June 1943 while on an air test.<br /><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2062">Price, Arthur Phillip. Album 1</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2064">Price, Arthur Phillip. Album 2</a><br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by John Barnes and catalogued by Nigel Huckins. <br /><br />Additional information on Arthur Price is available via the <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/119025/">IBCC Losses Database.</a>
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2019-05-17
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Price, AP
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
THE PENHOLD
PRICE
5 CENTS
[pictures of aircraft, maps of Great Britain and Canada and head and shoulders of a member of aircrew wearing flying helmet]
36 S.F.T.S.
VOLUME II NUMBER 4
[RAF crest]
SEPTEMBER 1942
[page break]
CAPITOL THEATRE, RED DEER
Screen Attractions for September 1942
Tuesday and Wednesday, Sept. 15-16
“HOLIDAY INN”
Bing Crosby Virginia Dale Fred Astaire
Thursday, Sept. 17 – One Day Only
“RINGS ON HER FINGERS”
Henry Fonda Gene Tierney
Friday and Saturday, Sept. 18-19
“CROSSROADS”
William Powell Hedey Lamarr
Mon., Tues., Wednes., Sept. 21-22-23
“REAP THE WILD WIND”
Ray Milland Paulette Goddard John Wayne
One of the really big pictures of 1942
Matinee Monday at 4:10 p.m.
Thursday, Sept. 24 – One Day Only
“PACIFIC BLACKOUT”
Robert Preston, Martha O’Driscoll
Friday and Saturday, Sept. 25-26
“I MARRIED AN ANGEL”
Nelson Eddy, Jeanette MacDonald
A picture you will like and remember.
Monday and Tuesday, Sept. 28-29
“SABOTEUR”
Robert Cummings, Priscilla Lane
A thrilling action drama that is up-to-the-minute.
Wednes., Thurs., Sept. 30, Oct. 1
“BED TIME STORY”
Loretta Young, Fredric March
[Advertisement for the Red Deer Creamery Dairy Bar]
[page break]
THE PENHOLD LOG [drawing of aircraft flying through clouds]
VOLUME II NUMBER IV
SEPTEMBER 1942
Published by kind permission of Group Captain W.B. Farrington, D.S.O.
Commanding Officer No. 36 S.F.T.S., Penhold
[three symbols]
EDITOR
L.A.C. MARTIN. C.
BUSINESS MANAGER
P/O W.F. MILLER
COMMITTEE: F/SGT. SALT. N.V.J. SGT SUTHERLAND. B.H. SGT. CHILDS. L.R. L.A.C. HART. J.A.
Editorial [drawing of a feather]
AN outstanding sporting event took place on Saturday, 22nd August. It was the Inter-Service Sports Meeting at Calgary. Several Royal Air Force and Royal Canadian Air Force teams and one from the Royal Canadian Navy took part. The standard of athletics was very high, but paramount, as far as we at Penhold are concerned, was the winning, by our team, of the Challenge Trophy, with a total of 59 1/2 points against the Navy’s 55 1/2. Congratulations to all the members of the Penhold team for their splendid performance.
I referred, briefly, last month to our First Anniversary in Canada, but with the actual date falling a week after publication, several tributes have since been made. An interesting editorial appeared in the Red Deer Advocate on Wednesday, 19th August. Also, on the actual day of our Anniversary, the 20th, a letter was received from Mayor Hogg of Red Deer. The Mayor’s letter and the Group Captain’s acknowledgement are published in this issue.
[page break]
Page Two
Editor’s Note. – Any of our readers who are thinking of going to the U.S.A. should read AC Dean’s letter very carefully. All the details are accurate, and if they are complied with , you will find no difficulty in making the necessary arrangements for your visit.
Gerald Dean Goes to America
On board C.P.R. “Chinook” Train,
Red Deer – Calgary.
Dear Mother:-
Thanks for your last letter enclosing the snaps of Cis’ wedding. Gee, don’t I wish I had been there. I’ll bet the old “Platelayers Arms” did some business that day. The first thing I’m going to do when I get home is to stand myself a pint of Mild and Bitter in the Bar Parlour – I can smell the sawdust on the Bar floor now. However, that’s got nothing to do with this. When I heard that Cis had got spliced to “Johnnie Doughboy,” you could have knocked me over with a feather. But it set me thinking. Now I’ve got an American brother, I ought to see what sort of a country he came from – Ontont Kordial [sic] and all that sort of thing, what Mater? Aw, cum orf it! Anyway, I started to make some enquiries.
I asked the editor, Old Martin, what he would do: he seems to know something about everything. But he was stumped, and suggested I read D.R.O’s. (That’s the Raftown edition of “The News of the World,” even down to Births, Marriages and Deaths and results of the Court cases). So off I went to the Orderly Room to get a copy. Needless to say they didn’t have any back numbers to spare, and as the day’s edition was on the press, they were very busy. Jock Sutherland, the chief printer, told me to go and see the publisher himself in the Adjutant’s office.
So I said to myself, “In for a penny, in for a pound,” and knocked on the great man’s door. What did I see? Two desks, side by side, and behind them two chaps, their faces wreathed in smiles, welcoming me in (I heard afterwards their wives had just arrived from England. It just shows that Adjutants are human after all.)
“Hello Dean,” said the more important of the two. “What can I do for you?” and I told him I wanted to go to the U.S.A. “Well,” he said, “I can give you a permit to apply for funds to the Bank who are the agents of the Foreign Exchange Control Board, but you must first give proof that you are entitled to apply. To qualify, you must be (a) on Embarkation Leave: (b) going to visit a first degree relative who will provide the expense of maintenance in the U.S.A.; or (c) on a visit occasioned by the illness of a close relative. In any of these cases I will give you a permit to apply to the Bank for a Form H, and for them to change your Canadian currency into U.S.A. currency. They may also give you permission to carry up to $25 in Canadian currency with you in the U.S.A. to pay your expenses from the U.S.A. Border back to the camp. However, if you have a friend who is a bona-fide permanent resident of the U.S.A. who will pay all your expenses in the U.S.A., and who will send you as an absolute gift the necessary funds by a U.S.A. Draft, Cheque, Bank Money Order or Telegraphic Transfer expressed in U.S.A. dollars and payable to you – not a Post Office Money Order or Dollar Bills, I will give you a permit to apply for a Form H giving permission to carry up to $25 Canadian currency for expenses on the return journey to camp from
[page break]
Page Three
the U.S.A. – Canadian Border. These Canadian funds are not to be used in the U.S.A. except in cases of extreme urgency.”
Just then a door labelled C.O. swung open, and the two laddies jumped to their feet crying out in unison, “Good morning, Sir.” I drew all 5 feet nothing of me into one long stiff straight line, and said nothing. The C.O. (that stands for the Chief Owner of the paper) smiled pleasantly at me, and turning to the nearest of the two said, “Oh, Carsteps, I hope you are looking after Mr. Dean properly?” “Yes, indeed, Sir,” answered Carsteps. “Mr Dean’s going to the U.S.A. in a fortnight’s time, and I’ve just explained he doesn’t need a passport, but does require a Form H from the Bank. He has a letter from his sister in America saying they will meet him at the border and pay all his expenses, so I’m sending him down to the bank to get his Form H and funds for incidental expenses.” “Good show,” beamed the C.O. “When he gets back from them, send him in to me and I’ll give him a permit to enter the U.S.A., and don’t forget I want you to see that a report of his travelling to America appears in the next edition of our D.R.O.’s, Part II, Personnel, sorry, I mean our ‘News of the World,’ Society page, Personal Column.” And nodding to me, he smiled, “Now, Gerald, my boy, have a good time, don’t spend too much and whatever you do, don’t buy U.S.A. currency in Canada from anyone other than a recognised agent of the F.E.C.B. There are very heavy penalties,” and with a cheery wave of the hand he was gone.
Well, Mum, that’s about all, everything was fixed up, and here I am on my way south right now on the Chinook, and hoping to arrive in U.S.A. tomorrow. Will write you again from there.
Your loving son,
GERALD
P.S. – Our Corporal says he wants his photo back, seeing that Cis got marred to that “Johnnie Doughboy.”
[Advertisement for The Phelan Hotels]
[page break]
Page Four
[Advertisement for Lawrence Ltd., a Department Store in Red Deer and Lacombe]
[page break]
Page Five
[underlined] S.H.Q. Notes [/underlined]
WISE AND OTHERWISE
By “JOE”
DOMESTIC. We airmen moan amongst ourselves pretty often, sometimes about the dining hall, and often about kit inspections, locker arrangements and the like. The dining hall, by the way, has shown remarkable improvement of late, but the lockers still prove an irksome acquisition. There are, however, just a few restrictions imposed as a result of our own thoughtlessness. Recently someone wanted to blow his own trumpet, and as a result broke into the Recreation Hall and removed not one, but two trumpets. This, of course, is unpardonable, for it means that something has been stolen from every airman on this Station, in view of the fact that the trumpets are P.S.I. property. Another unfortunate practice is the effort made by some airmen to obtain a supper to which they are not entitled, to the detriment of night workers. It is certain that the majority of our personnel take a very poor view of such practices, and it is to be hoped that those responsible will seriously reconsider their attitude towards their comrades in the R.A.F.
GUESS WHO. Brusque in manner, of sturdy stature, but not tall. Has a queer sense of humour sometimes difficult to detect. Is known by everyone on the Station either for the entertainment he provides or the restrictions he imposes. Moves the ACH/GD’s around like pawns on a chess board. His physiognomy suggests one who keeps his own counsel and mixes seldom with his colleagues. Often threatens, seemingly in earnest, but relaxes having scared his victim. His job makes it difficult to be on friendly terms with everyone, but he does not do so badly, in spite of this fact. Our conduct is his one concern.
WAITING. Clerks do not always get justice in this world, and those who must visit S.H.Q. from time to time resolve that the clerk, as in civilian life, invariably uses that cruel weapon of making his victim wait. Now of all the soul destroying sufferances, waiting is one of the worst. But what really does happen? Well, up comes an airman for his transportation warrant. Pops heads through hatch. Leave clerk on telephone. Talks for five minutes. Crowd around hatch increases. Applicant for transportation is jostled and does not like it so gets annoyed. Leave clerk terminates telephone conversation, is about to approach applicant when the Adjutant rings for him. Gets job which must receive immediate attention, more waiting for the applicant. On verge of dealing with the applicant when the Flight Sergeant sweetly calls over the wall. Attends to Flight. Applicant now drooping. Commences to deal with applicant. Phone again demands Leave Clerk. “Curse S.H.Q. and its clerks,” says the applicant, but what about the poor fellow doing all the work?
VISIT THE U.S.A. We from the Old Country are all keen to pay Uncle Sam a visit before returning home. S.H.Q. Orderly Room is charged with the delicate task of advising how to obtain currency and permission to cross the border. Now, although there is no physical border, so great are the difficulties in crossing it that one senses the existence of a fifty-foot wall, with jagged glass at the top. We in S.H.Q. have a heck of a job to understand the regulations, and as for our enquirers, we leave them dazed. It is quite amusing to listen to a conversation at the hatch between the clerk responsible and the person enquiring. Anyhow, it is just one long fight between the F.E.C.B. and the ambitious airman. If you do manage to get by those Red Deer Bank Managers, my goodness, you’re a marvel. When you have spare time, though, please read D.R.O. 187/42 paragraph 7, and then tell us if you can understand what we’ve told you. No prizes offered.
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Page Six
[Advertisement for A.B. Mitchell Jeweller and Watchmaker]
[Advertisement for The Club Café]
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Page Seven
How Canada Became British
I BELIEVE that your stay in Canada will be more meaningful if you have a knowledge of some of the highlights of Canadian History. Therefore, I propose to write a few sketches for the Penhold Log which, I hope, will give an understanding of some of the present features of Canadian life. This, I believe, should be the true function of History – to help us to understand and interpret the present.
All the wars that Canada has been involved in were wars concerning Great Britain primarily. The Seven Years’ War (1756-1763) resulted in Canada being attached to Britain rather than to France. The war in America was waging even before officially declared by Great Britain and France. Each side set their Indians on the enemy, and many bloody massacres took place. In the early stages of the “official” war, the brilliant French General, Montcalm, won a number of victories. Thus from 1756-1758 French successes were the order of the day. Not until the British Command was reorganized by William Pitt did the fortunes of England improve. How strikingly modern it reads – he “sacked” old and incompetent generals and appointed younger and more capable leaders. In 1758 the French fortress of Louisbourg, which guarded the entrance to the St. Lawrence River, fell. This opened the way for the attack on Quebec in 1759.
General Wolfe had an almost impossible task in trying to assail Quebec City. This task might be compared to that of invading the continent of Europe today. To make a landing and scale the river banks was a most difficult feat, but he found a path up the cliff, landed a small force, overpowered the guard, and was then able to bring up a powerful force before the fortress of Quebec. Montcalm, the French general, knew that Quebec could not withstand a siege by land and came out to drive Wolfe over the cliffs before he was firmly established. Montcalm failed, and the English entered Quebec. Both Montcalm and Wolfe were killed in the struggle.
Within a year the rest of Canada had fallen to the English. The Peace of Paris was signed in 1763, ceding Canada to England. It is interesting to note that British statesmen for some time considered taking the French West Indies Island of Guadeloupe instead of Canada, as at that time some of them considered it more valuable.
As early Governors thought that the somewhat severe climate of Canada would not be very attractive to English settlers, they tried to rule for the benefit of the 60,000 survivors of the French regime. The Quebec Act of 1774 was passed to gain their support. Its effect has been felt to this day. It granted to the French all the rights they had enjoyed before the conquest, including the right to use their language, their customs and their religion. Some of the more important terms are:
1. French Civil Law was restored.
2. The rights held by the catholic Church under French rule were restored. (This included the right to levy taxes or tithes for the upkeep of the church.)
3. French was recognized as an official language in Quebec.
Obviously, though French Canada had become an English colony, under this act it would retain its French character. This it did; and the French character it retained was that of the 17th Century, not that of France after the great French Revolution which made France secular and rather anti-clerical. The Quebec of today is quite strongly Roman Catholic, rather isolationist, and backward in education and social progress. Quebec today bitterly opposes conscription, especially for overseas service. It is Canada’s problem, for its original 60,000 inhabitants have become about three and one half million people, who are rather inclined to think in terms of Quebec only, rather than of Canada as a whole. – A. Allen.
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Page Eight
[Advertisement for Munro & Baines Ltd. providing a men’s outfitting department and offering dry cleaning and tailoring services]
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Page Nine
Dear Old Penhold!
[cartoon drawing of two airmen, one very old man seated on the edge of a bed, and one young man seated on the floor]
“When I’d Been Here Eighteen Months, I Got My First G.C.”
TO THE BOYS OF THE R.A.F.
From “Norfolk Broads” or Sussex Downs, from Derbyshire hills and dales,
From “Cornwall’s coast” to John-o-groats or the lofty mounts of Wales,
Be you ever welcome here my lads, in our great and mighty west;
So long as you’re with the R.A.F., we know you’re of the Best.
We know the task you’re set to do, and the sacrifice you’ve made,
Of the homes and loved ones left behind, and we know you wouldn’t trade
But it won’t be long before you’re back, and we know you’ll never shirk,
The duty due, and the vow you made, at the Epic of Dunkirk.
When the odds were great, but British pluck and courage won the day
And Briton’s Pride, the R.A.F., kept those Nazi dogs at Bay,
You told the world, “We’re coming back,” there’s a job we’ve got to do,
And not until this job is done, will the hopes of all come true.
You did it once, and once again, you’re ready for the test,
Uphold the fame of the R.A.F., none better than the best,
And whilst we’ve lads like you who’ll fight ‘til the enemy’s no more,
We’re not afraid that Nazi feet will march o’er Yorkshire Moor.
- J. W. Horan
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Page Ten
In Appreciation
As we start on our second year of providing Bus Service for the boys at the Penhold Airport, we wish to extend our thanks to you for the business that you have given us, and to hope that during the coming year we shall continue to have the same very friendly relations which has made it a pleasure to serve you in the past.
Sorensen Bus Lines Limited and Staff
TAXI SERVICE PHONE 364 RED DEER
We Extend Our Congratulations to
The Air Force
on the first anniversary of their arrival at Penhold
RED DEER STEAM LAUNDRY
A. SHADDICK
(Leave Orders at the Wet Canteen)
Phone 779 RED DEER
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Page Eleven
A Cyclist’s Memories
YOUR Business Manager is a most persistent man – when he suspects that any of his acquaintances are capable of making the simplest mark on paper, he pesters them for an article for your Log. But his request this time has been a pleasant excuse for me to ramble in my memories of the past, when I roamed the English roads, lanes and paths of two wheels propelled by my own two legs or the combined efforts of myself and my tandem partner – and, believe me, I got more kick out of handling a fast tandem down a steep, twisting road than I’ve ever had out of the “mighty Oxford bomb-ber.” [sic]
Now exiled here, I long for the sight of a “real” bicycle – with a pair of curly Highgate bars,, light high pressure tyres and a B17 saddle. I long for my short wheelbase tandem with my willing partner to share the pushing and the steering and the fun. I long for the winding roads, the switchback roads, the tree-shaded roads, the milestones and signposts of old England, I even long for the gaudy yellow A.A. village signs.
On the wall of my room is a map of the British Isles, and as my eye runs over it, names flash out and then the walls fade and I’m back in England with the gang on wheels again.
Filey with its Brigg – a long neck of rock thrusting out to sea, once supposed to have been used by the Romans as a pier. On a windy day the breaking seas are a thrilling sight as they drive in from the bleak North Sea and, crashing against the rocks, rear up in massive walls of water, foam and spray and always there is beauty and interest to be found in the rock pools – sea animals, plants and even fish left by the retreating tide.
Malham Cove, high up in the Pennines, with three hundred feet of sheer cliff curved like an amphitheatre with the embryo River Aire oozing from the bottom. At the foot of this towering cliff we were caught in a thunder storm and as we ran for shelter the cliffs echoed and re-echoed the crashes of thunder, like the mad roll of giant drums.
Then the Lake District with its heartbreaking hills, its breath-taking descents and always the beauty of lakes and hills – Westwater, cold and austere, Windermere and Derwentwater, tree-ringed; Ennerdale Water, peaceful and lonely. Here in Canada the lakes and hills are larger than ours, but they are large almost beyond human comprehension, but our lakes and hills are of a size that our minds can grasp and, after all, beauty is not a matter of size but of shape, proportion and understanding so that in the world England’s countryside stands second to none in beauty.
Then there are the little villages which nestle like precious gems in a setting of green – these are perhaps the real essence of the word “England.” Thornton-le-Dale at the foot of the moors, Bishop Burton with its swans and its houses clustering around the ponds and gleaming, just as white as the swans. How I long for the English duckponds. Goathland, moorland village with a street as wide as any in the country, and sheep grazing there and countless more villages – an almost endless list of gems.
The ruins of England, the abbeys and castles are shown, too, on this map – Fountains Abbey with its immaculate lawns, Whitby Abbey gaunt on the cliffs of Yorkshire, a Christian challenge across the North Sea, the almost unknown ruin of Sherriff Hutton castle now used as a farmyard.
But my cycling memories are not just memories of idyllic days of sun and beauty. There were the days when the ache in our knees made us curse the man who invented the velocipede, but we often soothed the hurt with
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Page Twelve
our catch phrase, “It’s an experience” – a phrase that has smoothed many a Service bump, too. We rode in the rain and in blizzards, we rode when the roads were sheets of ice, yes, we fell off. We rode over the bare moors on sheep tracks, we crossed mountain passes mainly walking and carrying our metal steeds. We had many impromptu races with our club mates and with unknown roadfarers. We rode early and late and saw dawns in the hills and sunsets on the moors. We snowballed on the beaches where later in the year we basked in the sun and bathed.
Many of our memories are of the little cottages and farms which showed the sign, typically English, “Teas,” and of the pubs with sporting prints on the walls, low beams, gleaming brassware and a roaring fire in the winter.
Thoughts of cycling remind me of one of the crowd – she is now an ambulance driver, her latest exploit being to prang into a bomb crater. We were discussing our route and its hills, and someone cracked “Per ardua ad astra.” She knew as little Latin as the rest of us, and asked, “What does it mean – get off and walk?”
On re-reading this, there seems to be little of general interest – there are only personal meanderings, but it may be better for that, for it may strike some chord in your memory, too, and bring back to you some favourite corner at home, be it the rolling Downs, the red cliffs of Devon or the mountains of Scotland. It may bring back the wet and the fine days shared with those you love, in the country that we are fighting to save, and it may for a few moments turn the bald prairie into some resemblance of that “emerald isle set in a silver sea.” – H.J.
[five symbols]
LAUGH. M.O. – “The best thing for you is to give up both smoking and drinking.”
Airman – “Sir, I really don’t deserve the best. What is the second best?”
[Advertisement for the Buffalo Hotel]
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Page Thirteen
Group Captain W.B. Farrington, D.S.O.
Commanding No. 36 S.F.T.S., R.A.F. Penhold, Alberta.
Dear Sir:-
August 20th will mark the first anniversary of the installation of the R.A.F. at Penhold. I feel that the occasion should not be allowed to pass without some comment on the general significance of that first year.
Since you came, a number of graduation exercises have indicated that the School under your command is successfully carrying out the job of work given it. We are led to believe that this is being accomplished with a minimum of serious accidents, indicating efficient and careful staff work, and a realisation on the part of the students of the grim necessity of accurate knowledge of their jobs.
This community has been delegated to welcome you and your men into their midst. It has been a good experience for us all. We hope you and they have enjoyed it as much as we have.
Of the future no one will dare to speak. The task before us all is a grim one. However, when we attain our goal, we believe that the greater knowledge of each other we have both obtained will help in a small way to further that closer relationship which is so essential to the well being of the peoples on our side of this struggle.
Yours very truly,
E.S. HOGG, Mayor
Royal Air Force Station,
Penhold, Alberta.
Dear Mr. Mayor:-
I thank you for your letter of the 19th August, which I am taking the liberty of having published in our Daily Routine Orders so that all personnel may be acquainted with its contents.
It was singularly appropriate that the anniversary of the arrival of the R.A.F. at Penhold should have been marked by a letter from the chief civic dignitary of the City of Red Deer. In gratefully acknowledging its generous praise and cordial sentiments, I am happily afforded an opportunity of expressing, in some measure, and on behalf of the R.A.F. at Penhold, our deep appreciation of the generous and spontaneous hospitality which has been afforded to all of us since our arrival here a year ago.
Throughout the past year we of the R.A.F. have been made continuously welcome by the citizens of Red Deer, and by them have been freely entertained in their homes. The feeling of mutual goodwill which existed from the first day has been strengthened by a spirit of mutual understanding engendered by such friendly contact.
Moreover, I am assured that our experiences in this locality are common to all members of the R.A.F. throughout Canada. This must surely be of inestimable value in fostering that spirit of mutual co-operation for the common good which has always so happily existed between the peoples of our two countries.
Yours very sincerely,
W.B. FARRINGTON
Group Captain, Commanding,
Royal Air Force Station, Penhold.
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Page Fourteen
[Advertisement for The Red Deer Pharmacy]
[Advertisement for Sterling Cleaners & Tailors]
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Page Fifteen
Entertainments
WITH the coming of the Fall, out thoughts turn reluctantly to the long Winter evenings before us and the best way of spending them. Now is the time to consider joining one or other of the entertainment organisations. The Entertainments Committee cannot make a success of its plans unless it has the full and wholehearted co-operation of all men who have the ability to assist. If we can get your support, there is no reason why we shouldn’t be able to put on this Winter a comprehensive programme of Concerts, Dances and Plays. We already have a Dance Band, Concert Party and Choir, and it is our aim to add to these a Dramatic Society, Music Club and Chess Club in the very near future. If you can help any of these organisations, you are invited to come forward and let us know about it. You can always get information from the Entertainments Officer or from any member of the Entertainments Committee. This Committee is comprised of representatives of all the entertainment sections. It meets twice monthly to review past events and prepare for future ones. One project we have in mind is the provision of some kind of miscellaneous programme of musical and literary items, concluding with a sing-song and short epilogue, on Sunday nights. If you have had experience as announcers, script writers, production managers, actors or as artistes in radio stations anywhere, or if you can help in any way in Station Concerts, please contact the Entertainments Officer at the earliest opportunity.
[five symbols]
“Why didn’t you settle this case out of court?” said the magistrate to the airman before him.
“Sure, that’s what we were doing when the city police came and interfered.”
How’s Your Maths?
1. What ten numbers when added together to give a sum of 535 also have a common difference of three?
2. How many figures, each containing six square inches, may be cut from a triangular figure having sides of 12, 16 and 20 inches?
3. A man is three times as old as his son was 5 years ago and 2 years from now the father will be twice as old as his son. How old is the father now?
4. If an aircraft starts its journey to a distant point at 100 miles per hour, travels 10 minutes, increases its speed (ground speed) at the rate of 5 miles per hour every ten minutes, how far has the plane travelled at the end of three hours?
5. At what angle must you make saw cuts from a board so that you will cut strips to make an octagon?
6. Work out: 60 – (2 1/4 plus 4 3/8) multiplied by 8.
(Answers on page 24 – Wait! Work them our first!) M.L.R.
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Page Sixteen
Sporting Activities
ATHLETICS
Past Month’s Activities: Inter-Unit Athletic Sports Meeting at Mewata Stadium, Calgary. Preliminaries August 15th; Finals August 22nd.
Results:-
3 miles – 2nd F/O Richardson and AC Campbell
880 yards – 4th LAC Mullard.
440 yards – 2nd AC Beadles
Throwing Discus – 3rd, F/O Morris and AC Rogers.
Tug-of-War – 3rd, Cpl. Janssens, LAC’s Mottershead, Walker, Burton, McVernon, Porter, Mitchell and AC Rogers.
Broad Jump – 3rd, P/O Stewart and Cpl. Rabbitts.
Medley Relay (220, 240, 440, 880) – 1st, LAC Page, P/O Wallington, Cpl. Mardles, F/O Richardson.
Pole Vault – 2nd, Cpl. Fleet and Cpl. Hodgins.
Hurdles, 120 yards – 1st, Sgt. Price.
Shot-Put – 2nd, F/Sgt. Griffiths and AC Rogers.
One Mile – 3rd, F/O Richardson and AC Campbell.
Hop, Step and Jump – 3rd, P/O Stewart.
Javelin Throw – 3rd, P/O Stewart.
Mile Relay (4x440) – 1st, AC Beadles, P/O Wallington, Cpl. Rabbits, Cpl. Mardles.
Nine units competed for the Inter-Unit Trophy presented for annual competition by the Kiwanis Club, Calgary.
1 Penhold - - - 59 1/2 points
2 Navy - - 55 1/2 points
3 Claresholm - - 50 points
Activities For Next Month
It is hoped that it will be possible to arrange a match between the R.C.A.S.C., Red Deer, and this Unit sometime during the month.
Basketball: Since the lights in the Drill Hall have been covered with wire cages, it has been possible to play a fair amount of basketball during organized games periods. It is intended to make full use of the court during the winter months, as this is one of the finest “conditioners” of all games.
CRICKET
The Cricket Committee met weekly during the past month and arranged a number of inter-section matches. In spite of the patches of Manchester weather, all these matches were played and, as the figures below indicate, some of the finishes were close and exciting.
30th July –
S.H.Q. 61 for 9 v Maintenance 60.
5th August –
Flying Wing 65 v S.H.Q. 63.
13th August –
Maintenance 47 v Flying Wing 29.
17th August –
Maintenance 27 v S.H.Q. 24.
Two away games were played, one at Calgary against No. 37 S.F.T.S., and the other at Edmonton against a representative Edmonton eleven. Both matches were lost! The scores were:
9th August –
No. 37 S.F.T.S. 119 v No. 36, 91.
23rd August –
Edmonton 137 v No. 36 S.F.T.S. 78.
There has been a great deal of activity at the nets and no doubt, with practise and diligent searching for new talent, we shall be able in time to field a winning side. The nets are available for practise every night and if you like cricket, there is an opportunity for you to have a knock and a bowl. We are not out to cater solely for experts.
If the rain keeps off for long enough, your Committee hopes to carry out a programme of inter-section matches during September, and an invitation has been extended to No. 37 S.F.T.S. to play a return game here. We anticipate, too, that a match will be arranged here against Bowden.
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[black and white photograph of four rows of airmen, back row standing and other rows seated of the Penhold Athletic Team]
Penhold’s Triumphant Athletic Team
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[black and white scenic photograph with mountains in the background and horses and riders coming along the Banff-Jasper Highway]
Trail Riding on the Banff-Jasper Highway
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[black and white scenic photograph of horses and riders on the Columbia Ice Fields]
Trail Riders Exploring the Wonders of the Columbia Ice Fields
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[black and white scenic photograph with mountains in the background and flowers in the foreground]
Drummond’s Dryas in the Sunwapta Pass at the foot of Mount Athabasca, Jasper National Park, Alberta
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Page Seventeen
SPORTING ACTIVITIES Continued
FOOTBALL
During the past month our football teams have been very active. The “A” team, better known as the Penhold Flyers, have played five games. They has won four and lost one. This is their first defeat, and the honour goes to another R.A.F. team, No. 37 S.F.T.S., Bombers. In a very hard game at Calgary on the 29th August, our side went under 4-2.
The Penhold Tigers, our “B” team, have now played four games and have won two and lost two. The team is getting into its stride, and they are expected to give a good account of themselves in the remaining fixtures.
The Inter-section League, which was suspended till the mosquito war was over, resumed last week. Some very keen matches are expected before the championship is decided.
[four symbols]
GOLF
Officers’ Competition. – Played as a knockout match play on handicap, progressing, first round nearly completed.
Station Competition. – Open to all ranks as above; same position applies.
Red Deer Golf Club and Lacombe Golf Club have been approached with a view to playing a twelve-side match on handicap, to be played on a Sunday. Also No. 37 S.F.T.S. for an eight-side match, the best team that we can turn out, not to be played on handicap.
Clubs in the vicinity of Edmonton and Calgary have been approached with a view of giving us any sport equipment that they may have. To date no reply has been received from them.
The possibility of erecting a golf practice net is being considered. – A.J.L.
RIFLE CLUB
The Penhold Miniature Rifle Club, now in the process of inauguration, looks quite promising for the future, although the strong support expected has not yet been given. This may be due to the fact that the idea is still rather new, and sufficient “would-be interested personnel” are not yet familiar with the scheme.
Those people who have given their support are displaying keen interest in its organisation.
The range will be installed in the south end of the drill shed, equipment already having been purchased by P.S.I.
Targets will be supplied free by the Association of Dominion Marksmen, which Association, all personnel interested in shooting, are strongly advised to join. Membership is free, and enrolment forms may be obtained from the secretary of this club. Attractive prizes are offered for competitors making the requisite scores.
In addition, it is proposed that an “Inter-Unit” competition, commencing the second week of October, be held every week, comprising a team of eight competitors from each unit of 4.T.C.
There is no restriction on any privately owned .22 calibre sporting rifle, providing that it is not fitted with any form of glass sights. There are also four club rifles which may be used by members who do not possess their own rifles.
Ammunition is the only item involving any expenditure, as the club will be free to all entrants who are members of this unit.
As miniature rifle shooting is a splendid pastime for the dark winter evenings ahead of us, it is hoped that all interested will give us every possible support.
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Page Eighteen
[Advertisement for the Red Deer 5c to $1 Store]
[Advertisement for Jenkins’ Groceteria Ltd]
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Page Nineteen
“Such is Life”
By OWEN GILL
IT was an early Spring morning, and Mary was on her knees, a pail of thick soapy water beside her, lustily scrubbing the two imitation marble steps leading into Maghull’s latest addition, a modern hotel. She had just finished as the doors were thrust open and a steady stream of potential customers began to flow through the fine oak doorways. Farmers from nearby small-holdings, as thirsty for a glass of rich dark ale as for some pertinent gossip on the latest parish scandal, led their massive bay horses and wagons into the courtyard, and adjusting the horses’ nosebags and patting their sleek necks, left them to enjoy their repast as they sauntered inside. Service men from a local anti-aircraft battery, with clink of heels, smartly strode in. Motorists drove up the semi-circular drive; some, commercial men for lunch, others merely out of idle curiosity. Even bargemen from the canal had stopped the “chugging” of their engines, laid up their cargoes, and hands in pockets jauntily strutted inside.
Shawcross, the grocer, still wearing his white apron, hurried over from his shop across the street for his “constitutional” glass, almost making a head-on collision into the rotund figure of Armitage, the butcher. The latter, whose bloated countenance denoted an over-indulgence in good English beer, was about to splutter a “Damn you, Sir,” when he noticed whom the hurrying one was and, being neighbours, they walked through the welcoming doors of “The Meadows” arm in arm.
A garrulous, noisy crowd had now gathered in the spacious lounge, everyone apparently more interested in the others’ conversation than in his beer, and the atmosphere became more like a pea-soup fog every instant. Sally, the barmaid, beamed on each newcomer through the haze with a cheery, “Good morning, mild or bitter, Sir?” “Mild for you, Mr. Porter?” “Beautiful morning, Mr. Foster.”
After a while the steady flow of people coming and going subsided, like fish finding a cool refreshing pool then darting on again downstream. A lull arose in the general hubbub and Sally was able to lean over the counter and open up a conversation with a rusty-cheeked, grey-haired figure, who was leisurely sipping a tankard of ale at one side, his cheery twinkling blue eyes surveying the whole gathering as if to give it the benevolence of this presence. He had an old trilby hat pushed to the back of his head and his spotlessly clean collar-less shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, showed a shrivelled but wholesome, pink skin at the neck and arms.
“So you are the gardener here, Mr. Shaw,” said Sally. “Yes,” said the old man, “I’ve worked in this district nigh on fifty years now. I can remember it being just miles of green fields with the canal winding through them. Now, bless my soul, it’s as busy a little suburb as you’d find anywhere on Merseyside.”
“It’s really amazing the way the houses have shot up,” agreed Sally.
“It becomes harder and harder,” continued the old man, “to find a living doing odd jobs here and there, but now that I’ve gotten this, I’m fair pleased as Punch.” With that he swallowed the remainder of his beer and with a “’Morning, Miss,” and raising his hat, he quietly slipped out of the back entrance into his own domain.
The builders and contractors who had constructed the hotel had erected a high brick wall around a rectangular piece of ground which was to be a bowling green. An oval-shaped centre piece, now strewn with stones and rubble, was to be the green itself; encompassing this ran a gravel path and the remaining land running up to the wall was to be a flower border. Odd pieces of wood lay here and there, nails were embedded in the soil, and the
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Page Twenty
[Advertisement for Horsley’s Drug Store]
[Advertisement for Arlington Hotel, Red Deer]
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Page Twenty-one
whole scene would have instantly disheartened a less experienced and tried man. Old Shaw surveyed the whole with a critical eye, walked along the path, casually thrusting his hat into more comfortable positions, looked up into the blue sky once or twice, and almost immediately settled on a plan of campaign.
Some twelve months later a perspiring figure could be seen energetically pushing a lawn mower over a perfectly green carpet of grass, green shoots were appearing in a neat flower border, and comfortable rustic seats were arranged around this gleaming rectangle of smooth, glossy turf. Not since the hotel had been opened had anyone been allowed to touch a blade of grass on this bowling green which the old man had looked upon as almost hallowed ground. Special sea-washed turf had first to be brought from the sea coast and laid with meticulous care on the well rolled earth which had been completely raked of all traces of gravel and stones. Each evening during the hot summer months, when even water was rationed owing to the need of A.R.P. services, Shaw had stealthily stepped out and peering guiltily round, turned the sprayer on to his thirsty lush, green grass. Then as it grew, it was daily cut and rolled and treated with fertiliser. Every semblance of weed had been rooted out almost as soon as it had seen the light of day, and any weak patches he had nursed and nourished as attentively as a mother.
He finished cutting and walked across the green, the feel of the springy turf under him tingling his feet, and he nipped a few blades of grass which the mower had missed. Taking out his pipe and lighting it with a sense of supreme satisfaction, he remained for a few minutes puffing away, a look of contented serenity reposing on his face. Then putting the tools of his labour away and taking his bicycle, which had been propped against the wall of the hotel, he got on and rode away down a nearby lane to his small white-washed cottage by the canal. It was just eight o’clock, and old Shaw, who lived alone, had partaken of a frugal meal of bread and cheese and hot cocoa, and feeling tired was about to ascend the staircase to his bedroom, when splitting the air, the warning siren wailed out the approach of oncoming enemy aircraft. He had become used to this and, retracing his steps, sat in front of the fireplace. Soon flashes of light appeared all around, guns situated in fields near the cottage crashed out, then the regular miss-a-beat pant of the Nazis’ planes could be heard.
“They must be almost overhead,” he thought, and hurriedly pushing a thick oaken diningroom [sic] table into the ingle-nook corner of the room farthest away from the window, lay underneath; his accustomed air-raid shelter. Through the window the flash of the guns and the criss-cross of innumerable searchlights in the sky lit up the whole room. All night the guns barked out as fresh waves of planes zoomed overhead. Amidst the renting and tumult of the heavens he imagined he heard the scream of bombs descending to the earth, but he had often heard this and it was probably some miles away. Then as night drew on he slowly fell asleep.
Next morning, he crawled out of his nocturnal shelter and, stretching himself, noticed sundry pieces of plaster from the ceiling lay here and there and some soot had been shaken down the chimney.
“These were minor details,” he thought, “he must clear the place up and make haste down to the hotel to make perfectly sure everything was ready, for today his bowling green was to be opened to the general public. Someone had even suggested he should bowl the first wood – how very considerate of them.”
His breakfast over, he got on his bicycle and made off at a good pace towards the hotel. As he approached he seemed to notice something unusual about it; people were gazing more curiously than usual at it, and a number of men in uniform were busying themselves in front of the main entrance. Now he could see a hole in the roof and many windows shattered, with the
[page break]
Page Twenty-two
glass strewn everywhere. He rode right up to the main doorway before alighting.
“What has happened? Surely a bomb hasn’t hit the hotel?”
“No, Mr. Shaw,” came the slow reply, “it landed on the bowling green.”
Shaw dropped his bicycle and dashed to the back of the hotel, almost knocking an A.F.S. man down as he rushed through the back doorway. When he reached the gravel path he stopped with a start, his eyes were bulging out of their sockets, his hat was all awry, his hands drooped by his side, as with mouth open he looked on the awful spectacle helplessly.
A huge crater had been formed exactly in the centre of the bowling green, huge lumps of earth lay about almost completely covering the flower border and gravel path; it was chaos indeed. The old man seemed stupefied, tears trickled down his cheeks, then taking out his handkerchief and wiping his eyes, he said slowly and painfully: “What a pity, but . . SUCH . . IS . . LIFE.”
[five symbols]
A man who realised his inability to remember names was one day dining in an hotel when, on looking up from his newspaper, he saw a familiar face, but the name escaped him. “How are you? Where have you been? Will you join me?” and other polite remarks, whilst shaking hands with the man, at the same time trying to think of the other’s name. Said the embarrassed fellow, “I’m the waiter, sir.”
War is the surgery of crime. Bad as it is in itself, it always implies that something worse has gone before. (Oliver Wendell Holmes.)
A visitor to Britain during a very wet day was asked what he thought about the country, looked out of the window at the Barrage Balloons and said, “Why don’t they cut the ropes of those things and let the place sink?”
[advertisement for Gaetz-Cornett Drug & Book Co.]
[page break]
Page Twenty-three
Notes On The Ninth Green
I AM afraid that the following account will be regarded by some as fiction, whereas I can guarantee it to be scrupulous fact, since I made careful notes of the proceedings from the time that F/Lt. Flaps, F/O Judder and P/O Prune swam, as it were, into my ken. They were admirably dressed and equipped for golf, and seemed to be in good humour – exchanging merry banter and the like.
They approached the tee, and debated as to who should have the honour of playing off. P/O Prune eventually took it on himself and stepped forward to tee up his ball. This took some time as he was using a tee which he had found on the last fairway; and as the top was split, a certain amount of nicety of touch was involved. He then assumed a stylish attitude and took three practice swings, the last of which accidentally connected with the ball, sending it 200 yards straight down the fairway. Smothering his cry of protest, and assuming a complacent expression, he moved aside and struck an attitude intended to give the impression of quiet brilliance.
F/Lt. Flaps teed up, glanced quickly upwind, turned towards Prune as if seeking a green, and assumed action stations. At this moment a charming local resident arrived. P/O Prune’s eyes bulged rather more than usual, F/Lt. Flaps cricked his neck through turning his head with the club at the top of the swing; and even F/O Judder, who was notoriously allergic to the fair sex, was heard to remark sotto voce “Woo-woo.”
The diversion passed and F/Lt. Flaps, having massaged his neck, again addressed the ball. A rabbit, which had for some minutes sat on the left of the fairway, took cover as he drew back his club. It cowered down as the ball clattered among the trees over its head; emerged to sneer visibly at F/Lt. Flaps, and scurried off as that sportsman shook his club threateningly.
F/O Judder spent some time studying his ball intently, then withdrew to working distance and lashed out. He watched with considerable interest as his club head detached from the shaft and described a gentle arc down the centre of the fairway. The ball independently moved smartly towards the trees and just succeeded in making cover. P/O Prune stepped off jauntily along the fairway, whistling insolently, as his opponents slunk into their respective forests, clubs at the ready. Presently F/O Judder began to extricate himself, as was evident from the succession of sharp explosions followed by a staccato chatter as his ball bounded from tree to tree. It eventually emerged at a high elevation, closely followed by a great cloud of earth and F/O Judder. At the same time F/Lt. Flaps hacked his way out of the other side. Two strokes brought them about level with P/O Prune, who was practising swings at a safe distance from the ball. As they toiled up, he got his feet on a working basis and swung viciously. The ball struck a cow just off the fairway with a dull soggy sound and dropped. The cow sounded pained and not a little put off. Laughing heartily, F/Lt. Flaps and F/O Judder moved their respective balls a little further up the fairway, and watched with in-
[page break]
Page Twenty-four
terest. P/O Prune was having some difficulty moving the cow from the ball, and was eventually brought to the use of his No. 2 iron, which sent the cow some 250 yards away into the rough. Both opponents agreed that this was an exceptional stroke.
F/O Judder then became aware that he was being peppered with golf balls. A foursome, which had been marking these proceedings with impatience, had opened up a barrage from the tee, and seemed to have got the range. Pausing only to select the best ball, which he exchanged with a rather weathered specimen found in the last rough, F/O Judder fled after his ball. From this point on, P/O Prune’s golf became a little disjointed, and he was last seen about a quarter mile from the fairway, still heading due east. F/Lt. Flaps had worked his way out of a considerable hollow by use of Pilot-Navigator methods, and was presently standing on the green menacing the ball with his putter. Here he was joined by F/O Judder, and together they peered, measured and swung – cursed in unison as their balls met just off the hole and bounded away, necessitating a further two strokes apiece.
Mentally writing off Prune under the heading “Missing While On Active Service,” they gathered their clubs and strode dejectedly for the club-house. F/Lt. Flaps was heard to allege that if the round had not improved his golf, it had at least given him a working knowledge of backwoodsmanship. – JAYS.
[three symbols]
How’s Your Maths?
Answers:
1 – 40, 43-67 inclusive.
2 – 16.
3 – 36.
4 – 427 1/2 miles.
5 – 22 1/2 degrees.
6 – 7.
Young Peter was visiting his grandmother, when his father phoned him to tell him there was a brand new baby sister at home. “That’s nothing,” replied Peter. “Grandma has a gramophone that plays 12 records.”
[four symbols]
At the dinner table, the adults were carrying on a long conversation that left out little three-year-old Elizabeth. Finally she could stand it no longer. Touching her mother’s arm, she inquired timidly, “Remember me.”
[advertisement for Farthing’s Studio]
[page break]
Page Twenty-five
Y.M.C.A. Notes
CINEMA NOTES. A new company is to supply films for the Friday Y.M.C.A. pictures starting September 25th. This should provide a welcome variety, and some improved titles. Included in the coming attractions are: “Topper Takes a Trip,” “Tom Brown’s School Days,” “Lucky Partners” with Ginger Rogers and Ronald Coleman, “The Devil and Miss Jones” with Ginger Rogers again, “History Is Made At Night,” “The Saint Takes Over,” the “Saint” series is always popular, a Lupe Velez picture – “Mexican Spitfire Out West.” On the other circuits for Wednesdays and Fridays are billed such popular titles as “You’ll Never Get Rich,” starring Fred Astaire and his new leading lady, Rita Hayworth; “It Started With Eve,” featuring Deanna Durbin and Charles Laughton, and “Dance Hall,” starring Carol Landis, whose lovely features confront you in nearly every picture magazine you pick up. It looks like a good fall programme for the Cinema fans.
READING ROOM SERVICES. With the addition of lamp shades, carpets, runners, and later possibly a fireplace, it is believed that there will be great difficulty in getting any work done on the Station. Certainly the Reading and Writing Room is a great attraction even during the summer weather, and it will be doubly so during the cool nights to come. There are still many services available here, though it is reported that the postal work will soon be taken over by a postal corps. This will give full postal service to the camp. There is always a supply of magazines for your convenience in the magazine rack, and here, too, are the small games. Are you a checker (pardon me – draughts) player? There are plenty of sets available, and a few keen tournaments are planned for later on. Chess sets are also available. Surprisingly enough, the game of Monopoly seems very popular. To me it has been wrongly named – Monotony would be a better title, but then one man’s meat is another man’s poison – so they say. Airgraph letters are now only six cents if sent by service personnel, and there is also a special letter form for letters to service men which goes airmail for ten cents. These may save you some money.
SPORTS. Probably by the time this goes to press, our Soccer team will have added another cup to that won by the track and field team. All Alberta now will know about Penhold. We are definitely on the map. Already some keen enthusiasts are asking about hockey. The prospects are very good. The tennis courts have given an excellent base to the skating rink, and with an adequate supply of water now, we should have skating much earlier than we did last year. Ample opportunity will be given all to learn and to play Canada’s national sport.
CANTEEN SERVICES. Those so fortunate (?) as to be posted to Innisfail will be pleased to learn that complete canteen services are to be placed there in the near future. The Penhold Canteen, so we are told by men coming from other stations, is the best in Canada. We take a modest bow. At any event, we consider that the place of the Canteen is to serve the men of this Station in the best possible manner. A mobile canteen will soon be taking supplies to the hangars during the morning “break.” Mugs are now provided for your convenience in having tea or coffee. These cost 20 cents, and the deposit is 10 cents. Please regard this as a deposit only; if our supply of mugs runs out, it is likely that we shall have to revert to the old system of having the purchaser supply his own cup.
In all ways we wish to serve you, and will welcome any new ideas or constructive criticism. – A.A.
[five symbols]
Since these notes were written, word has been received of the sudden passing of Mr. John Brooks, manager of the Y.M.C.A. Canteen. He came to the Station in February and has made the Penhold Canteen one of the best in Canada. Though never in good health, his quiet, cheerful manner and efficient business methods impressed all who met him. His passing will be a loss to the Y.M.C.A. Services and to the unit.
[page break]
Page Twenty-six
“D” Flight Frolics - - II
It was 0950 hours, and the atmosphere in the instructors’ room was tense. AF/O Psmith sat by the window, feverishly pushing back the sleeve of his tunic every ten seconds to stare at his wrist watch.
“He won’t make it; he’ll be late!” he was muttering to himself.
Sergeant Leggbuy was making an effort to keep calm by reading extracts from “Little Prudence In Teenie Weenie Land” to myself and F/O Yorker. The latter had been tearing the solo authorisation book into tiny pieces, and the floor was already knee deep in paper flakes.
Standing by the door was LAC Nimblehead, the fleetest pupil in the course. In his hand was clasped a dollar bill, and he was muttering over and over again to himself, “Five bars choc, three bottles grog, six oranges. Five bars choc, three bottles . . . .” His face resembled that of an inexperienced yogi enthusiast trying to place both feet in his left ear.
At 0957 F/Lt. Longhopp came hurtling in on the electric scooter reserved for Flight Commanders.
“One bar choc, two oranges,” he screamed at Nimblehead. That youth disappeared like an arrow, scattering the playing cards with his slipstream.
“Good lad, that,” said Psmith admiringly, “he’s knocked twelve seconds off Bathburn’s record for the distance. Doesn’t spill the grog, either.”
Nimblehead returned from the Y.M.C.A. at 1004 hours. He bore six chocolate bars, three bottles of orangeade, and eight oranges. It is never worth being out of the room when the morning refreshment arrives, for we are a thirsty lot and hungry, entirely without scruples.
On the first day that we dispatched a pupil to the “Y” for refreshment, his return was heralded by a minor civil war. In this scuffle all the bottles of orangeade were overturned, and two oranges, in some highly mysterious fashion, found their way down F/Lt. Longhopp’s neck, where they were severely squashed when he landed on his back on the floor. In addition, Sgt. Leggbuy had his jaw fractured, and we were obliged to do his night flying for him during his sojourn in hospital.
We know better now. We are patient. It is a rule that any man who is not seated, or who moves from his seat during the distribution of the refreshments buys the entire lot for a week. – Satrap.
[four symbols]
HELP WANTED!
It has been the endeavour of all concerned with the magazine to produce the best publication possible. This is only obtained, as everyone realises, (or do they?) by co-operation. I have appealed, times innumerable, for contributions, suggestions, etc. It is worthy of note that to date only one per cent of the airmen on the camp have responded.
From this it would appear that the appeal has fallen on stony ground. If the individual effort is too much, how about a collective one? Therefore, it is to the various sections, which make up the Station, that I address this appeal. The writer of S.H.Q. notes has asked on more than one occasion for sections in the Squadron to supply notes for insertion on that page, without success. I do not expect the very small section to write notes. I look to such sections as: Service Police, M.T., Equipment, Airmen’s Mess, Signals in the H.Q. Squadron. On the Flights, notes from Hangars Numbers one, two, three and four, and the Workshops. Don’t worry about the length of your notes, but do let’s hear from you. It rests with you fellows to keep your section off the black list. – Ed.
[page break]
Page Twenty-seven
“If I Only Had Wings!”
[black and white photograph of man in swimming trunks, leaping in the air with an amusing facial expression]
P.T. - - R.A.F. Style
[advertisement for Meeres & Hicks Electric]
[page break]
Page Twenty-eight
[underlined] For Your Entertainment [/underlined]
R.A.F. Cinema, Penhold
ANNOUNCING: Reduction In Admission Prices
Extra programmes
British Films
MANY and varied are the rumours at present being directed at the Cinema and its organisation. Now, at last, the time has come to announce the plans for the coming Winter season. But first to answer a few of the critics who point out the advantages at other Units, at some of which double feature programmes are played, or free Sunday shows presented, or where more up-to-date films are played. Make no mistake, at some Units, one or all of these claims are true; it is also true that each one of these “advantages” could be tried here with a varying degree of success.
The Cinema at this Camp has but one claim to greatness. Without over-statement of the Films presented or exaggerated claims of showmanship, the pick of the film “entertainment” produced at Hollywood is shown with as quiet an efficiency as can be maintained within the power of the voluntary staff running the Theatre. In addition, the Cinema is organised on a sound financial basis that will enable continuous but unnoticeable improvements to take place as far as the supply position will allow in wartime.
Yes, double features could be booked, but only one showing per night would be possible, with resultant overcrowding and disappointment. Yes, free Sunday shows could be screened, but only at the expense of the week’s filmgoers! Yes, more up-to-date films could be shown, but the aim of this Cinema is to present the type of films that will be most popular, consistent with the varying tastes of the audience, leaving age as a secondary consideration. Also, in view of the proximity of Red Deer, the Trade would not permit showings on the Camp prior to Red Deer, even if such were considered desirable.
I know, you’re still waiting to hear about those future plans. Well – the secret is out. After less than a year, admission prices are once more reduced, the new rates being 15 Cents for Airmen and 20 Cents for Officers and Senior N.C.O.’s. Remember that this has been possible because of the unusual support during the summer months – the attendance figures for July being the highest ever – and in spite of the hundreds who take advantage of the free shows on Mondays and Fridays.
But wait, that is not all – no, not by a long way. Starting next week-end, there will be three films presented each week, in addition to the Y.M.C.A. free shows. For the next few weeks this extra film will be shown on Sunday evenings at the new reduced admission prices, at times to be announced on the display boards.
No, don’t turn the page yet. Even that is not all. Contracts have recently been signed for the presentation of a selection of British films, both new and old, that will undoubtedly be greeted for their popular star casts, and will probably do a great deal to dispel the prevailing impression that all English films are inferior to the Hollywood product.
Remember also that you will still see your most popular Hollywood stars in the pick of the current releases, the coloured cartoons you have judged to be the best, and specially selected interest features; even News that is not really so out-of-date as it sometimes appears. If you don’t believe all this, pick up any recent American magazine with film reviews in it, and count the number of pictures that have been shown here. You are certain to be surprised at the high percentage. Still not convinced? Well, try to count the number of evenings you have left the Recreation Hall disappointed and with the feeling that the Show was not worth seeing. Surely you can count that far!
[page break]
Page Twenty-nine
Yes, criticisms and suggestions are just as welcome as ever. The Staff wish me to conclude this month’s article by adding that their chief desire is to see that the “Show Goes On.” They feel that the Cinema is being run by the support and enthusiasm of the audiences. And so it is and always will be in the entertainment world. I would like to say that I agree with them, but must add that it is by their co-operation that the Cinema is open. It is not a one-man show, and if the Operators decided to have a night off, there would be no show! So, thanks a million, and carry on the good work. – P.J.G.
SEPTEMBER ATTRACTIONS
September 15th – “THE TUTTLES OF TAHITI”
The Players: Charles Laughton and Jon Hall.
The misadventures of a group of irresponsibles, living in Tahiti by none of the rules of thrift and conservation which the world at large obeys, but who enjoy themselves to the full in the harmless routine of their ways. Charles Laughton cheerfully plays the head of the family, knowing little about money and caring less, and Jon Hall is seen as the eldest of several sons who, improvident as their father, go sea fishing when there is gasoline to propel their boat, and do nothing between times. (R.K.O. Radio)
September 17th – “RIO RITA” The Players: Abbott and Costello.
A story isn’t necessary for Messrs. Abbott and Costello to persuade their audience to laugh their heads off! It’s a musical, with attractive singing by John Carroll and Kathryn Grayson, but it’s primarily a comedy and as screamingly funny as ever. (M-G-M)
September 20th – “STARS LOOK DOWN”
The Players: Margaret Lockwood and Michael Redgrave.
Based on the famous novel of the same name by A.J. Cronin, this, the successor to “The Citadel,” provides thrilling drama and startling realism, to open the series of British pictures to be screened during the coming months for your week-end pleasure.
September 22nd – “BEYOND THE BLUE HORIZON”
The Players: Dorothy Lamour and Richard Denning
This Technicolour feature presents Dorothy (Sarong) Lamour in all the thrills and colourful scenes that you expect; jungle settings that provide a fitting background to the exciting climax when a mad elephant appears on the scene. It’s a fanciful safari that will banish the screaming war headlines from your thoughts! (Paramount)
September 24th – “CONFIRM OR DENY”
The Players: Don Ameche and Joan Bennett
A story of the exploits of Newspaper correspondents and the dangers and hardships they face in gathering the War News for readers in America as it happens in Great Britain. Also starring Roddy McDowell as the Office boy of the Press Association, and John Loder as the British Censor, this melodrama of modern journalism contains only a modicum of romance to complete the plot. (20th Century Fox)
September 27th – “OLD BILL AND SON”
The Players: Morland Graham, John Mills and Mary Clare
Released in England during 1941, this comedy of the Army will brighten a dull evening, while Morland Graham re-lives Bruce Bairnsfather’s famous character “Old Bill.” (British)
September 29th – “TO THE SHORES OF TRIPOLI”
The Players: Maureen O’Hara, John Payne and Randolph Scott
The Marines have landed! The scene is San Diego and the high seas with the battleships blazing away at targets in preparation for what the audience knows is to come – all in brilliant Technicolour and nearly all in rhythm to martial music. (20th Century Fox)
FOR AN EVENING’S ENJOYABLE ENTERTAINMENT COME TO THE CAMP CINEMA
[page break]
Page Thirty
[advertisement for H.H. Humber Jeweller and Watchmaker]
[page break]
Page Thirty-one
The Padre’s Notes
CONGRATULATIONS. August brought with it the anniversary of the arrival of the first R.A.F. personnel to this Station. On anniversaries it is usual to wish each other many happy returns, but to offer that greeting to men away from home might not be altogether pleasing. But we do not hesitate to offer our heartiest congratulations on the sure and sound foundations they have laid for those of us who came in later. We should like, too, to say how very much the kind hospitality extended by the people of Red Deer and Alberta generally has been appreciated. Being so far from the homeland, we are all the more mindful of all the effort and kind thought which has gone forth from the people of Canada. We are greatly enheartened by the thought that we start the second year here in an atmosphere so helpful and encouraging. We remember the past for inspiration, but the past and the future are nothing compared with the grim realities of to-day. Let us start the second year at Penhold with the inflexible determination to make it better than the first. Hats off to the past and coats off to the future!
STATION CHAPEL. It has long been the desire of many on this Station to see the setting apart of a room for use as a chapel. I am very happy to be able to tell you that we are now within sight of seeing our hopes realised. It seems well within the bounds of possibility that the Chapel will be ready for use by the beginning of September. We extend our thanks to all who have been responsible for the organisation and completion of the work of structural alterations and decorations. The room will have a seating capacity of 150 and will be large enough to accommodate the average Parade Service. The furnishings have been almost entirely provided by the kindness of the ladies of the Imperial Order Daughters of the Empire in Edmonton. I cannot speak too highly in praise of the generosity of these good people, for they have spared no expense and effort in providing us with the best materials that could be bought. It will be possible to curtain off the Sanctuary of the Chapel and thus provide a room which can be used for purposes other than those which are definitely religious in character. Except when evening meetings are being held there, the Chapel will be available for private devotions, and I hope that many of you will make fullest use of this opportunity of securing a few moments quiet meditation in an environment which will assist our aspirations and strengthen our best thoughts. I am anxious to get together a voluntary fatigue party to care for the furnishings and keep the Chapel clean and tidy. One airman has already volunteered without any prompting, and I hope that others will join him so that his labours may be lightened. It isn’t heavy work, but it will need doing thoroughly and with loving care.
As soon as the Chapel is ready, I want to commence a weekly Bible Class and a weekly Discussion Group.
The Bible Class will serve two purposes, for it will help towards a fuller understanding of the Bible and also provide an opportunity in the middle of the week for Christian fellowship and worship together.
The Discussion Group will give us the chance of sharing our knowledge on moral and political questions with a view to preparing ourselves as en-
[page break]
Page Thirty-two
lightened citizens for the task of reconstruction after the war. Some of us have found that more help can sometimes be derived from free discussion than from formal lectures. We can’t expect a better world unless we ourselves are prepared to become better citizens, and that means more knowledge and a right judgment.
[five symbols]
Thought for the Month
“When in the dim beginnings of the years
God mixed in man the rapture and the tears,
And scattered through his brain the starry stuff,
He said, ‘Behold, yet this is not enough,
For I must test his spirit to make sure
That he can dare the vision and endure.’
“I will withdraw my face,
Veil Me in shadow for a certain space
And leave only a broken clue,
A crevice where the glory glimmers through;
Some whisper from the sky,
Some footprint in the road to track Me by.
“I will leave man to make the fateful guess,
Will leave him torn between the ‘no’ and ‘yes’,
Leave him unresting till he rests in Me
Drawn upward by the choice that makes him free,
Leave him in tragic loneliness to choose
With all on earth to win or all to lose.” – Anonymous.
[advertisement for Associated Grocers Ltd.]
[page break]
The W.E. LORD Co. Ltd.
appreciates the patronage of the Officers and Men of the ROYAL AIR FORCE
And Compliments Them on the Quality and Attractiveness of the Penhold Log.
[advertisement for Red Deer Bottling Co.]
[page break]
OVERSEAS PARCELS
Let Us Help You With Your Parcels
Call in and make up your order, or have us help you do so. You purchase the goods and pay the shipping charges – we supply the packing, prepare and send the parcel. A service we offer gladly to assist you in getting these comforts overseas to your relatives and friends at home.
[advertisement for T. Eaton Co.]
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
RAF Penhold station magazine
Description
An account of the resource
The Penhold Log. Contains many articles including account of trip to United States, station headquarters notes, how Canada became British, boys in the RAF, a cyclist memories, entertainment news, sporting activities (photograph of athletics team), photographs of trail riding and mountains, such is life article, notes on ninth green, Y.M.C.A notes, "D" flight frolics, RSAF Cinema listings, padre's notes and adverts.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Editorial team RAF Penfold
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1942-09
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-09
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Canada
Alberta--Red Deer Region
Alberta
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Format
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Thirty two page printed document with covers.
Conforms To
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Pending text-based transcription. Under review
Publisher
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36 S.F.T.S Penhol
Identifier
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MPriceAP572090-190517-02
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.
Contributor
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Tricia Marshall
entertainment
sport
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1391/24699/EAirMinDunmoreL431004.2.pdf
c9c56e11fce1148565a86b09c00ea962
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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Dunmore, George
G Dunmore
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-05-26
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Dunmore, G
Description
An account of the resource
17 Items concerning Flight Lieutenant George Dunmore DFM (5601) who flew 45 operations as a flight engineer on Lancaster with 83 Squadron at RAF Scampton and then as part of the Pathfinder Force at RAF Wyton. Commissioned in 1944 he continued to serve in the general duties branch as flight engineer and then equipment branch until 1967. The collection contains his logbook, an account of a maximum effort operation, official documents and letters, a history of an individual aircraft, pathfinder certificate, recommendation for DFM, career notes as well as photographs and memorabilia. A sub-collection of 58 photographs of aircraft under repair or being manufactured in factories.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Louise Dunmore and catalogued by Nigel Huckins
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
AIR MINISTRY,
LONDON, W.C.2
A.511681/43/S.10A.
4 October, 1943
Madam,
With reference to your enquiry, I am directed to append herewith details concerning the award of the Distinguished Flying Medal to your husband, as announced in the London Gazette issued on 13th August, 1943:-
[underlined] 635201 Acting Flight Sergeant George DUNMORE, No. 83 Squadron. [/underlined] This airman has participated in a large number of operational sorties against the enemy including a daylight attack on Danzig. He has invariably displayed coolness and resourcefulness in the face of enemy opposition. On one occasion during September, 1942, Flight Sergeant Dunmore’s presence of mind and skill were material factors in the safe return to base of his aircraft [inserted] and [/inserted] its crew.
I am, Madam,
Your obedient Servant,
[signed]
Mrs. Dunmore,
29, Vesta Road,
Brockley,
S.E.4.
[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 to Mrs Louise Dunmore from the Air Ministry
Description
An account of the resource
Passes on the London Gazette citation for George Dunmore’s award of a DFM for participating in a large number of operational sorties including a daylight attack on Danzig. Written in response to an enquiry on her part.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
F E Sheppard
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1943-10-04
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
EAirMinDunmoreL431004
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Civilian
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--London
Poland
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic sea
Poland--Gdańsk
Germany
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943-10-04
1943-08-13
1942-09
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Sue Smith
Distinguished Flying Medal
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/871/10028/EHobbsFJHobbsKM420921-0001.2.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/871/10028/EHobbsFJHobbsKM420921-0002.2.jpg
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Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Hobbs, Frank
Frank James Hobbs
F J Hobbs
Description
An account of the resource
69 items. The collection concerns 1262633 Flight Sergeant Frank James Hobbs a wireless operator with 630 Squadron, RAF East Kirkby, who was killed while on operations in a Lancaster on 16 March 1944. The collection contains his log book, official and family correspondence, official and personal documents, photographs of aircrew, family and his grave and some items of memorabilia. It also includes correspondence from a French gentleman who was witness to his aircraft crash and who returns recovered personal items belonging to Frank Hobbs. <br /><br />The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Barbara Storer and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.<br /><br />Additional information on Frank Hobbs is available via the <a href="https://internationalbcc.co.uk/losses/110858/">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
2016-06-04
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
Hobbs, FJ
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Telegram from Frank Hobbs to Mrs K Hobbs
Description
An account of the resource
Telegram reporting he is fit and well and wishing happy anniversary.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Frank Hobbs
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1942-09-18
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two sided 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
EHobbsFJHobbsKM420921
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
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-09
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.
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/367/5783/PCavalierRG17010010.2.jpg
0603e9543624ecf8a2cb5558e4874f86
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Cavalier, Reginald George. Album one
Description
An account of the resource
57 items. Photograph album showing pictures taken during Reginald George Cavalier's service as a squadron photographer. It includes material from his photographic course training in 1940, and service with 76 Squadron at RAF Middleton St George, and with 88 Squadron and 226 Squadron with 2 Group and 2nd Tactical Air Force at RAF West Raynham. The album also includes target photographs, images of Christmas parties, visits by VIPs including Eisenhower and the King, as well as captured German ordnance and aircraft in France, the Netherlands and Germany.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-04-10
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Cavalier, RG
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Bombing of docks and factories in France
Boston in flight
Description
An account of the resource
Photograph 1 is an air-to-air photograph of a Boston in flight, taken from above and to the front.
Photograph 2 is a vertical photograph of docks and coastline with Cherbourg behind. Captioned 'D.E.107 15-9-42.F8➝'
Photograph 3 and 4 are aerial obliques of a factory in a rural setting. There is smoke coming from a section of the factory. Photograph 3 is captioned 'D.K.107.22-9-42. F8M'.
The page is captioned 'Oct 1942, Bombing of docks and factorys [sic] in France. 107 Sqd Bostons A/C'.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1942-09
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Four b/w photographs on an album page
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
PCavalierRG17010010
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
France
France--Cherbourg
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-09
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Geolocated (cumulative polygon)
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.
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
107 Squadron
aerial photograph
bombing
Boston
target photograph
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1407/26667/SSimpsonHEW180633v10002-0001.2.jpg
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1407/26667/SSimpsonHEW180633v10001.2.jpg
c7adb98d7fa122fb4f95779ee703250a
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
Simpson, Henry
Henry Evan Wade Simpson
H E W Simpson
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2019-03-13
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Simpson, HEW
Description
An account of the resource
42 items. Collection concerns Henry Evan Wade 'Harry' Simpson DFM (1806333 Royal Air Force) a flight engineer on Lancaster of 166 Squadron whose aircraft failed to return on 7/8 June 1944. Collection contains his flying logbook, correspondence, documents and photographs. <br /><br />Additional information on Harry Simpson is available via the <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/121329/">IBCC Losses Database.</a><br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Jean Simpson and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Henry Simpson's RAF Identity card
Description
An account of the resource
Card with head and shoulders photograph and personnel details.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1942-09
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-09
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Four sided printed booklet
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Service material
Photograph
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
SSimpsonHEW180633v10001, SSimpsonHEW180633v10002, SSimpsonHEW180633v10003
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/727/30556/LBrooksHS1357673v10001.1.jpg
a95c8e1022fc82149ef7eeb22a8b03ce
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/727/30556/LBrooksHS1357673v10002.1.jpg
69126a366f47ee7a20481d98f63ac0fd
Dublin Core
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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
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Sergeant Hazell's log book extract
Description
An account of the resource
Lists training 8 sorties at the end of September 1942 and on next page state that killed in action 20 December 1942.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
two b/w photocopies
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LBrooksHS1357673v1
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
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-09
1942-12-20
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
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
9 Squadron
aircrew
bombing
killed in action
Lancaster
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1924/39120/LEdwardsIJ984411v1.2.pdf
0117a6756ce5898483f4816bef061c91
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Edwards, Ivor John
I J Edwards
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-08-20
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Edwards, IJ
Description
An account of the resource
Six items. The collection concerns Ivor John Edwards DFM (b. 1916, 986411 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, memoir, documents and photographs. He flew operations as wireless operator with 7 Squadron.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Ian Gwyn Edwards and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
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
Ivor Edwards observer’s and air gunner’s flying log book.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
LEdwardsIJ984411v1
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
Description
An account of the resource
L J Edwards Air Gunner’s Flying Log Book covering the period from 03 July 1942 to 02 February 1943. Detailing his flying training and operations flown as air gunner/wireless operator. He was stationed at RAF Oakington (7 Squadron). Aircraft flown in was Stirling. He flew on 24 (?) night operations with 7 Squadron. Targets were, as numbered in log book but with some missing, mining, Wilhelmshaven, Terschelling, Duisburg, Hamburg, Dusseldorf, Frankfurt and Cologne. His pilots on operations were Pilot Officer Trench and Wing Commander Mahaddie. This item was sent to the IBCC Digital Archive already in digital form. No better quality copies are available.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Great Britain. Royal Air Force
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Log book and record book
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One booklet
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-07-07
1942-07-08
1942-07-12
1942-07-23
1942-07-25
1942-07-28
1942-07-31
1942-09
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Germany
Great Britain
Netherlands
England--Cambridgeshire
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Wilhelmshaven
Netherlands--Terschelling
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Terry Hancock
7 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
bombing
crash
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Service Order
forced landing
George Cross
mine laying
RAF Oakington
Stirling
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/193/30990/BYeomanHTYeomanHTv1-01.1.pdf
8262794404d2ef0dfee19a3f5bd97a8e
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/193/30990/BYeomanHTYeomanHTv1-02.2.pdf
7e6e96679a1915a0c9b98fb636e9cf11
Dublin Core
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Title
A name given to the resource
Yeoman, Harold
Harold Yeoman
Harold T Yeoman
H T Yeoman
Description
An account of the resource
31 items. Collection concerns Harold Yeoman (b. 1921 1059846 and 104405 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a pilot with 12 Squadron. Collection contains an oral history interview, a memoir, pilot's flying log book, 26 poems, a photograph and details of trail of Malayan collaborator.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Christopher E. Potts and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-10-28
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Yeoman, HT
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
Start of transcription
[underlined] LOOSE ON THE WIND [/underlined]
Harold Yeoman
[page break]
To those who never came back.
[page break]
Their voices, dying as they fly,
Loose on the wind are sown;
The names of men blow soundless by,
My fellows’ and my own.
A.E. Houseman,
“A Shropshire Lad”, XXXVIII.
“And how can a life be loved that hath so may embitterments, [sic] and is subject to so many calamities and miseries? How too can it be called a life, that begetteth [sic] so many deaths and plagues?”
Thomas a Kempis,
“The Imitation of Christ”.
[page break]
[underlined] LOOSE ON THE WIND [/underlined]
Author’s foreword
Never no more
We would never fly like that
Lennie
It makes you think
‘Yes, my darling daughter’
Crewing-up
Images of mortality
Tony
Mind you don’t scratch the paint
Rabbie
Letter home
Low-level
A boxful of broken china
The end of Harry
Silver spoon boy
Intermezzo
Overshoot
First solo
The pepper pot
Approach and landing
Knight’s move
A different kind of love
Sun on a chequered tea-cosy
Photograph in a book
Glossary
[page break]
[underlined] AUTHOR’S FOREWORD [/underlined]
During the years of the Second World War, some 90,000 men, from the British Isles, from the great Dominions overseas and from the countries of Europe overrun by the German enemy, volunteered as aircrew in Bomber Command of the Royal Air Force. Of these men, over 55,000 were to lose their lives and, to this day, more than 20,000 of that total have no known graves. In one particular operation there were more Bomber Command aircrew killed than there were casualties during the entire Battle of Britain.
There were many men whose names will bear for ever an aura of unfading brilliance, men such as Leonard Cheshire, (whom for a brief time I was privileged to know) such as Guy Gibson, or John Searby. There were also the thousands who could not aspire to the greatness of those remarkable men, to their almost unbelievable heights of courage and achievement. To attempt to assess what we in Bomber Command did achieve is no part of my aim. Much greater minds and more highly skilled pens than mine have already done this. This small piece of writing is solely an attempt, through the window of personal recollection, to tell of a few of the incidents which affected me and of a few of the splendid young men whom I was fortunate enough to know and to call my friends. Many, all too many of them, alas, gave their lives as part of the price of our freedom, the freedom from an unspeakable tyranny, that freedom which we now so casually enjoy and take so easily for granted. If, in this small book, I have planted their names like seeds in the garden of future years for even a few eyes other than my own to read, for a few other minds to remember, then I shall have done what I set out to do.
An eminent air historian has recently quoted some words which I wrote to him, words which I now venture to repeat. I said, “We simply had our jobs to do and we tried to do them as best we could.” I believe that sums it up.
Harold Yeoman
November 1994
[page break]
[inserted] [underlined] Never no more [/underlined] [/inserted]
“….. And through the glasse [sic] wyndow [sic]
Shines the sone. [sic]
How should I love, and I so young? …..”
(Anon.)
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[underlined] NEVER NO MORE [/underlined]
There was something icy cold running down my face and a brilliant light was shining into my eyes.
“What on earth?” I heard myself mutter.
I came to rapidly out of a deep sleep and tried to wriggle away from the cold wetness which was finding its way down my pyjama collar, but I could not escape it, nor the blinding glare.
“What’s going on?” I half-shouted, then I saw her hand holding the dripping sponge. Bright sunshine was pouring through my window that winter morning.
A pale, laughing face framed in jet-black hair behind the hand. She was sitting on the side of my bed.
“Betty!” I shouted, “Stop it! What the heck are you doing?”
“Saturday,” she answered brightly, twisting the sponge away from my hand, “Saturday, and it’s your day off. We were going for a walk, do you remember?”
Her dark, lustrous eyes shone with mischief. I wiped my face on the sleeve of my pyjama jacket and shuddered with the cold. I tried to pull the blankets back around me, but she pulled them firmly down again to chest level. What on earth would my parents think, I wondered, a young girl coming into my bedroom – they’d have a fit. It was almost too much for them when I’d insisted on volunteering for aircrew when I was nineteen, but this - !
“I’ve brought you a cup of tea; now hurry up and drink it, ‘cos it’s breakfast time.”
Betty got off the bed, handed me the cup and made for the door.
“Don’t be long now, and if you don’t take me for that walk, I’ll never speak to you again, never no more.”
“What, never, never no more?” I mimicked.
“No, never no more.”
She grinned, but pretended to be in a huff and flounced out, tossing her shiny black hair which gleamed like coal in the morning sunlight. It became a silly, affectionate catch-phrase between us.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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We had arrived at the Knight’s home at almost the same time; Betty from Coventry, after the air-raid, I from Initial Training Wing, to start my flying training at Sywell, a few miles from the centre of Northampton. We had seen the bombing from a safe distance, out of the train windows, on the way up from our I.T.W. at Torquay overnight. We had stopped, miles from anywhere, for hours, it seemed, while the raid progressed. We could hear the Jerries droning overhead and saw the fire on the horizon.
“Someone’s getting a hell of a pasting,” we had said.
Betty, then, was a refugee. Near misses from H.E.s had decided her parents to evacuate her from the shattered and blazing city to the safer home of her aunt and uncle; the R.A.F. billeting authorities had decided to send me to the Knights at the same time. So we quickly became friends; we were both of an age and of similar dispositions, light-hearted, fun-loving, undemanding and contented by nature. Two of a kind, I thought.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
We walked in Abington Park. It was brilliantly sunny but bitterly cold, a wonderful December day. There was snow on the ground, the bare trees were black and stark against the clear winter sky. With my white u/t pilot’s flash in the front of my forage cap I swaggered a little. Why not? I was very proud of it. My buttons gleamed, my boots shone like glass.
“Bags of swank!” our drill Corporal used to shout at us as we marched through Torquay, and we obeyed that command, always. I was proud of myself and I was proud to be walking out with Betty. She was a lovely girl, her face in repose calm and radiant as some Italian Renaissance Madonna in a painting.
“No, I haven’t gone solo yet,” I was saying as we walked, “but I’ve only done nine hours up to now, you know”
“How long will it take you, do you think?”
“Oh, any minute now, but my instructor puts me off a bit, he is rather bad-tempered.”
(‘Can you see that other aircraft?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Well then, are you going to fly round it or through it?’)
“That’s not very nice, is it?”
“No, not very, but I try not to let him put me off.”
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“Will you be getting any leave at Christmas?”
“Don’t suppose so, Betty; I mean to say, I’ve only been in three months altogether and we did get a 48 hour pass from Torquay, you know.”
. . . . . . . . . . . .
The Knights had a radiogram in the lounge of their comfortable semi-detached house.
“Look what I got for Christmas,” Betty exclaimed, holding out a blue-labelled record in its cardboard envelop, “would you like to hear it?”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Hutch.”
I had little or no idea who or what Hutch was, then.
“Yes, please,” I said.
She put the record on and straightened up, standing before me in her simple, grey dress. The creamy, brown voice came out of the loudspeaker and I was immediately seized by some emotion which I had never before experienced.
“That certain night, the night we met,
There was magic abroad in the air,” sang Hutch, and Betty was humming the tune along with him.
“There were angels dining at the Ritz
And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.”
To this day, when I play that on my hi-fi and hear Hutch’s lovely velvet voice and perfect diction, I am back with Betty at Mrs. Knight’s, falling beautifully and adolescently in love with her from the exact moment that she played me that song. I find it, still, an unbearably moving experience, one which brings a lump into my throat and tears to my eyes.
“Did you like that? Do you want to hear the other side?”
“Oh, yes, please, I’d like to.”
On the other side was “All the things you are,” and it couldn’t have fitted my mood better, either. She was all the things which Hutch was singing about.
“That’s a wizard record, Betty,” I said. She smiled happily.
. . . . . . . . . . .
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“Gosh, I’ve never had champagne before, Mr. Knight,” I said.
“Well, you went solo on Christmas Eve, when we were away and now you’ve done your first solo cross-country today, so you can try some, to celebrate, apart from the fact that it’s New Year’s Day, of course.”
“Well, thanks very much, and – cheers!”
“Cheers,” from Mr. Knight, “and happy landings.”
“Chocks away,” Betty said. Now where had she learned that?
“Would you like to hear another new record?”
“Oh, yes, I would, very much. What is it?”
“’You’d be so nice to come home to’, it’s called,” she said, “do you know it?”
“No, I’ve never heard that one.”
She put the record on and I listened as I sipped the unfamiliar but strangely disappointing wine. I thought, “Yes, you would be so nice to come home to, Betty darling.” Maybe it was the wine after all.
But I really didn’t know how to say that sort of thing to her. How did one start? Besides, my mind was still full of the voice of Flying Officer Lines from earlier that wonderful day.
“You don’t need me, do you? I am going to have a sleep. Wake me up if anything goes wrong.”
And pulling out his speaking tube he had wriggled down into the front cockpit, out of the slipstream, that New Year’s morning, as I set course, droning over snowy Sywell in the bitterly cold sunshine. He was a Battle of Britain Hurricane pilot, instructing for a so-called rest, and trusting me, with only thirty hours in my log-book, to fly from Sywell to unknown Cambridge, land, and come back again. If you did the trip without assistance from your instructor it counted as solo time, and I had done that. My cup of happiness was full, that day.
“You’d be paradise to come home to and love”, went the song as the record ended.
I sighed.
“Yes, she would be,” I thought, “but how on earth do you go about actually saying things like that to Betty?”
There were all manner of things I undoubtedly wanted to say to
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her. But I hadn’t even kissed her yet, and you couldn’t say some things without kissing somebody first, could you? Besides, she might not want me to. So how, and when, did, or could, one start? It was very difficult, rather like trying to do a perfect three-point landing.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Every other Friday we were paid. I was rich beyond my wildest imaginings. From the two shillings a day at Torquay I had progressed to no less than five pounds four shillings each fortnight. That was as a mere Leading Aircraftman. What I would be paid if ever I became a Sergeant pilot the imagination simply couldn’t tell me. I used to split the money carefully into equal parts and with one half burning a hole in my pocket and the Friday evening feeling joyously pervading my system my little world was at my feet until Monday morning. I would go into Northampton, to the “Black Boy” in the main square, for a mixed grill and a pint of black-and-tan, sometimes with Len or Eric, sometimes alone. It became the high point of my week.
We would sit and talk flying to our hearts’ content, comparing notes on our experiences. In retrospect how limited they were and how naive we were, and yet how miraculous and other-worldly it seemed to me to know the unutterable thrill of open-cockpit flying in the freezing winter air, strapped tightly into the fragile machine whose engine purred bravely in front of me; the wonder of the view of the blue-green and white hazy landscape spread out below, the icy slipstream on my numbed face, the thrill of the response, under my hands and feet, of the aircraft to small, smooth movements of the controls. There was the magic of the rising, tilting and falling of the snow-covered, mottled, dim countryside, blotched with the smoke of towns, the dazzling red disc of the sun as it set in the haze, the ecstasy of sideslipping [sic] in over the hedge and of smoothly straightening out the glide to set her down for a perfect three-pointer on to the frosty grass near the other Tigers, while a few fellow-pupils watched critically, and while over at the Vickers shed the engines of a great black Wellington rumbled ominously.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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“Are you coming down to the Y.M. tonight, Harold?”
My head was down over my books, in the dining room. I wasn’t finding the theory of flight too easy.
“Oh. Yes, I’ll be along; are you going to be there?”
“Well, I work there there [sic] three nights a week now, you know. Auntie thought I should do something to help the war effort until I’m called up.”
(Called up? I hadn’t thought of that; somehow I couldn’t imagine Betty in uniform.)
“O.K., I’ll see you down there later, then, I’ve got just about an hour’s work to do. Keep a chocolate biscuit for me, will you?”
She waggled her fingers, crinkled her nose smilingly, and went out.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
I landed for the last time at Sywell in a Tiger Moth, sideslipping [sic] off the height and greasing her down on to the grass. I let the aircraft rumble to a halt, then I taxied carefully to the dispersal tents, faced her into wind and switched off. The prop juddered to a stop. An erk ducked down to chock the wheels. Dusk was beginning to fall; I could see Alex Henshaw, Vickers’ Chief Test Pilot, on the circuit in his Spitfire. Everyone always stopped whatever they were doing to watch him fly, it was part of our education. But my eyes always returned to the huge black bulk of the Wellington by their hangar. I pulled out my harness pin and released the straps carefully, so as not to damage the aircraft’s fabric. I sighed and reluctantly, as one would part from a girl, I climbed out of the cockpit. A chapter had ended.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
“I don’t know exactly where, Betty, except that it’s overseas. The lads are all saying Canada, but no-one ever tells us much. I suppose we’ll not know until we get there. There’s a few posted to S.F.T.S.s in England, Hullavington, Cranfield, places like that, but ten of us are definitely on the boat.”
She looked down at her cup of tea. We were sitting together in
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the Y.M.C.A.; she had an hour off duty. The place was full of uniforms, but I scarcely notice them, I only had eyes for her.
“Will it be soon?”
“Next week, they think.”
“Harold - ?”
“Yes, what?”
“Oh, well, nothing. You will write, won’t you?”
“Of course I will, Betty, yes, I’ll write to you as often as I can.”
“What will you be flying?”
“Harvards or Oxfords, I suppose, I’m not really sure.”
“What do you want to go on to, fighters or bombers?”
(Strange, how civilians thought there were only those two categories of pilot, but I suppose the news the press and radio gave concerned mainly those two. After all, they were the types mostly at the sharp end of things. But I thought of Betty, huddled fearfully in the shelter, that night of the Coventry raid and I felt a sudden and great anger that she should have had to endure that. And I thought of the Wellington over at the Vickers hangar at the aerodrome, sinister, powerful, black, and from then on I was never in any doubt.)
“Bombers,” I said firmly, “definitely bombers.”
. . . . . . . . . . .
It is strange that I don’t remember saying goodbye to Betty, nor to the Knights, if it comes to that. I must have done so, of course, but sadly, I cannot bring the occasions to mind.
I did go to Canada. Once we got out west we worked hard and we flew hard, by day and by night. We got no leave, very little time off. We didn’t particularly want any. Things were getting rather urgent back home. Besides, I wanted to hurry back to Betty, and to my parents, too, of course.
I wrote to her as often as I could. She sent me her photograph, smiling and lovely in that grey dress, but I’m afraid I haven’t got it now. I got my wings a few days before my twentieth birthday. In the late summer, after a stopover in Iceland, I was back in England, and with a couple of Canadian chaps, splendid fellows whom I had
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met on the boat, I was posted to a Wellington Operational Training Unit at Bassingbourne, not too far from Northampton. Most of my buddies went on to fighters. As it happened, they had a little more future than us bomber boys. Not much, but a little. Of course, I was longing to see Betty again.
As soon as I had settled in I phoned the Knights one evening. It was an interminable business, repeating their number to different operators, waiting while the line buzzed and crackled, while disembodied and unreal voices spoke unintelligibly to one another in hasty, clipped syllables. In the end, a man’s voice spoke up.
“Is that Mr. Knight?”
“Yes, who is that?”
“It’s Harold.”
“Harold! How are you? Where are you speaking from?”
I told him Bassingbourn. We were allowed to do that so long as we didn’t give the name of our unit.
“How’s Mrs. Knight?”
“Oh, she’s fine, she’s down at the Y.M. this evening, on duty.”
“I see. And Betty, is she still with you?”
There was a slight pause. I thought we must have been cut off. Then he said, “No, she went back home a little while ago. Things are a bit quieter now, you know.”
“Yes, I understand. But how is she? I’d love to see her again.”
“Well, actually, Harold, she’s fine. But look, did you know – did she mention that she’s getting engaged?”
I felt as though I’d flown slap into a mountainside in the dark. I swallowed with difficulty, the perspiration had broken out on my forehead and my hand holding the receiver was trembling.
“No,” I said, “I didn’t know that.”
“Sorry, I didn’t hear what you said.”
“No, I hadn’t heard that.”
“Yes; he’s quite a nice chap, a bit older than she is, works in a car factory, I believe.”
We didn’t talk long after that; I was too stunned to think very straight. I’m afraid I never saw the Knights again, and I am truly sorry, for they were good, nice people and they were extremely kind to me. I made a mess of my flying during the next few days.
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I still think about Betty. I have quite a substantial record collection and after years of fruitless searching I finally got the record of Hutch singing what has become for me a poignant song, that song about the nightingale. And when I play it I can see Betty’s lovely face, pale and calm, like the Madonna, and I can visualise the gleam of the firelight on her jet-black hair, that winter afternoon in Northampton.
I wonder, often I wonder, what became of her. Dear Betty, I shall never forget you for you were my first love. What happened? Where did I go wrong? I don’t know why I should feel so very sad when I think of those days, for they were truly among the happiest of my life.
Sometimes, too, I think of the way she used to laugh, and of her words; I can almost hear her voice speaking to me, as though she were in the room here. But I know I shall never see her again and now, the touching little phrase sounds only like a cry of despair in the night – “Never no more, never no more.”
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] We would never fly like that. [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] WE WOULD NEVER FLY LIKE THAT [/underlined]
After I had described the incident to him, with inevitable, automatic use of a pilot’s illustrative gestures of the hands, he thought briefly about it, then looking directly at me, “You ought to write about it,” he said, “Why don’t you put it on paper?”
The following day I awoke early in the morning, earlier than usual, even for me, with his words still sounding in my ears. And remembering the words with which I had described the events of almost sixty years previously still fresh and vivid in my mind, I took up pencil and paper.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Now, in the dying days of the twentieth century, almost every summer week-end, all over the land, you may buy your ticket for some air display. You may sit in your car with the doors open to admit the pleasant breeze, the warm air, the chatter of the crowd, the over-emphatic loudspeaker announcements, or you may lounge upon your hired camp-chair, your sunglasses shading your eyes as you look upwards into the limitless blue clarity of the sky, and watch, to the accompaniment of the ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ of the hundreds of spectators, the improbable antics of the ugly, purpose-built, monstrously-powered aircraft, meretriciously decorated with advertisements, performing their violent and ugly aerial manoeuvres. To me, the vicious use by their pilots of stick and rudder palls after only a few seconds, and I think, perhaps nostalgically, that I would much rather watch fewer and simpler aerobatics performed by pilots in standard military aircraft. And as I ponder this my thoughts are led back to a day on a Northamptonshire aerodrome when I was beginning my elementary pilot training in the R.A.F.
The time was the sever winter of 1940-41. The Battle of Britain had just been won; Coventry had only very recently been devastated by the Luftwaffe in one catastrophic night raid. I was one of twenty or so young men on our course. Most of us had never seen an aircraft at close quarters until we arrived at No. 6 Elementary Flying Training School. Here, there
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were Tiger Moths – biplanes, gentlemen’s aeroplanes, as I heard them many times described. They were docile, forgiving, vice-less, sensitive to both hands and feet, a sheer joy to handle once the initial strangeness of the sensation of controlling an aircraft in three dimensions had worn off. Most of us, I fancy, could see ahead no further than going solo on them, then completing the course with the required fifty or so flying hours before we went on to the next stage in our training, a Service Flying Training School. But we did not look far into the future; we did not know nor could we imagine what was coming to us. Perhaps, in many cases, this was just as well. All we knew was that we were, each one of us, filled with an unquenchable desire and zeal to qualify eventually as pilots in the finest Air Force in the world, to become – and we thought this and spoke of it without embarrassment or apology to any man – the elite of all the armed forces, an opinion which I will hold with pride today.
So we flew and we studied flying and talked of little else but the theory and practice of flying. We questioned one another. We pored [sic] over pilots’ notes and airmanship notes and navigation books and the Morse Code. We questioned our instructors and our peers on the senior course. And we kept our eyes and ears open, sensitive and receptive to anything, however small, which would assist us in any way to obtain those wings which we longed to be able to wear on our uniforms.
Here at Sywell, the Tiger Moths were, during the day, dispersed around the perimeter of the grass aerodrome, standing in their training yellow and earth-camouflage paint, their R.A.F. roundels standing out bravely, awaiting their next pupils to take them up on whichever exercise they would carry out. We were divided into three Flights, six or seven of the boys on my course in each, with six or seven of the senior course. Each Flight had its ‘office’ in a camouflage-painted bell tent near the hedge. But what drew my eye almost hypnotically when I was standing there, not flying, perhaps watching other pupils performing their ‘circuits and bumps’ until it was my own turn, was the occasional sight of a Wellington, a twin-engined bomber, at that time the biggest we had, standing outside a hangar on the far side of the aerodrome – the Vickers shed, as it was called. It fascinated me constantly and unfailingly, massive in its matt-black dope with its very tall single rudder, standing squat, silent and menacing outside its hangar, contrasting against the snow-covered ground,
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never approached by anyone except the Vickers personnel. What was taking place there I have never known, but all of us well knew who flew it.
He would arrive in his Spitfire, considerately keeping a respectable distance outside the circuit while we pupils took off or landed in our tiger Moths. Then he would slip into a vacant place in the circuit and make his approach and landing, his aircraft, pencil-slim, perfect and graceful in its flight, the focus of all eyes from the ground, its appearance possessed of something of the beauty and poetry of a Bach fugue or a Mozart andante, a Shakespearian sonnet of flowing aerial beauty. The pilot, we learned from some of the senior course who were comparatively old hands on the aerodrome, was Alex Henshaw, Vickers’ Chief Test Pilot, a fact which reduced us tyros, with probably less than thirty flying hours in any of our logbooks, to awestricken silence.
He it would be who would take the Wellington from its place at the Vickers shed, taxi it, ponderously, it seemed to us, into take-off position when all Tiger Moths were well clear, and without fuss send it charging with engines howling at full boost over the bumpy grass field and into the air, leaving traces of oily smoke in its wake from the two Pegasus engines as he eased it over the trees fringing the aerodrome and climbed away. Later, he would return to land, once again showing meticulous consideration of us pupils, and would taxy the bomber to its position by the Vickers shed. I would have not believed them had someone told me that less than a year later I would land and take off here in a more powerful Mark of Wellington on the strength of having seen Alex Henshaw’s performances; I am sure that my audience, if indeed I had one, would have been quite unimpressed by the sight. I know that my own crew, in the tense silence as I scraped over the trees on take-off, were wishing themselves anywhere but with me in my inexperienced disregard for their safety. But it was watching Alex Henshaw that first sowed the seed of an idea in my head that, whereas almost all of the chaps on my course wanted to fly fighters, I thought that I would try my utmost to get on to a bomber Squadron, if only to hit back at those who had so terrified Betty, the niece of the couple on whom
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I was billeted in Northampton, and whom I was beginning to regard as someone more than a friend. A year later I would be wearing my pilot’s wings, having been half way across the world and back to earn them, having joined a Wellington Squadron in Lincolnshire and having survived a fire in the air followed by a barely controllable night descent in the darkness and the final crash-landing on my first operation against the enemy. I would also have gained, then lost, a love.
One afternoon, at Sywell, I was not flying, standing outside the dispersal tent with two or three others of my course, no doubt talking flying, and watching critically the take-offs and landings of a few pupils on circuits and bumps. (How readily I could point out their faults – a slight swing on take-off, a ropey turn, a bumpy landing, or a too-high hold-off; how slow I was to recognise my own failings and correct them, except on the sometimes caustic promptings of Flying Officer J - -, my instructor).
At this stage in our training we could detect instantly any appearance or movement of an aircraft in the sky, no matter how far distant it was – an attribute I have never lost – and we could also quickly and correctly identify it, an ability which, for obvious reasons, was essential by day or by night. But on that bright, very cold afternoon, first there was the distinctive note of the Merlin engine. Our heads turned. Here was the Spitfire with Alex Henshaw, assessing the position of the Tigers on the circuit. He would have been at about 800 feet; I had a splendid view as he cruised gently along, well outside the aerodrome boundary. Then there was a flash of sunlight off the wing as, quite unexpectedly, he rolled the aircraft on to its back and flew, straight and level, but inverted, into wind. We turned our heads and grinned at one another. This was good. This was very good. Exciting stuff. Soon he would roll back and finish his circuit normally. We were wrong. He turned crosswind, still inverted, his rudder pointing grotesquely earthwards. This was becoming quite amazing, an incredible sight. Then, still inverted, he turned again, on to the downwind leg and put his wheels down – or rather, put them up, as we saw them, rising like a snail’s antennae from the duck-egg blue under surface of the Spitfire. Then he turned
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on to the final crosswind leg, still inverted, undercarriage held high, flaps now out, and finally into wind, on to his landing approach.
Spellbound and speechless we watched as he lost height smoothly in the inverted position. What was he going to do? Open her up and roll her out, then go round again on a normal circuit? But no, he continued on his inverted final approach. I hardly dared breathe; the tension in our small group could be felt. Down and down he slipped until we were prepared to see simply anything – but surely not a crash? I could not truly estimate at what height he was, but finally, effortlessly and smoothly, he rolled her out, the engine popping characteristically as he held off at a few feet and set the Spitfire down for a perfect landing on the grass. We exhaled in unison, the tension gone, wonderment taking over.
I have never seen any piece of flying anywhere to approach the silken, wonderful skill of this, and I would be astonished if anyone else has; it was sheer unadulterated Henshaw genius, a sight that I have always remembered with awe, one I shall never forget.
There is a very fine novel, long since out of print, written by an R.A.F. Flight Lieutenant pilot who was killed in 1940. The action takes place at a civilian flying school; in one particular chapter some pupils are watching an instructor putting an aircraft through its paces on a rigorous test flight and one of them speaks some words which precisely matched my thoughts as I watched that incredible inverted circuit – “We’ll none of us ever fly like that.”
I am sure that none of us standing there on that wartime winter day ever did and I would be astounded if anyone else did, or could. It was flying by a genius; even the gods must have smiled to see it.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Lennie [/underlined] [/inserted]
[page break]
[underlined] LENNIE [/underlined]
In those days, full-backs wore number 1, right wing threequarters threw into lineouts and wore number 2, and so on, down to number 15 at wing forward. Lennie wore number 2 in my local rugby club’s first team, and also in the County side. As an aspiring wing threequarter [sic] myself, although just into my teens, Lennie, when I watched the team’s every home game, wide-eyed on the open side of the exposed pitch, in whatever weather, Lennie became one of my boyhood heroes.
He was not by any means one of your greyhound-type hard-running winger, for he carried, in retrospect, perhaps a pound or two too much weight to be numbered with them. But he was as elusive as a well-greased eel. Although in defence, and in particular, his rather feeble kicking, he was slightly suspect, with ball in hand every spectator, whether at club or County match, unconsciously sat up or stood straighter, in anticipation of his jinking, sidestepping runs up the touchline, soldier-erect, dark head thrown back, mouth slightly open. I wonder how often in his career he heard the encouraging shouts of the crowd, “Come on, Lennie!”
The recollection of a particular incident in one particular match, against the strongest club side in the county still remains vividly with me. In all but the highest grade of rugby, receiving the ball as a wing threequarter [sic] within ten or fifteen yards of one’s own corner flag meant that there was no choice. One kicked for touch, hoping to gain at least twenty or so yards. Especially so when one was pitted against the most efficient and successful team for miles around, and even more so when one was faced by the opposing winger, who in this case was an English international. But on this occasion Lennie eschewed the safe option. Perhaps it was that he himself knew that his kicking was rather weak.
About a hundred yards from his opponent’s line and faced by a rapidly advancing and grimly competent opponent, he set off to run, up the appreciable slope of his home ground. With a jink and a sidestep he evaded the oncoming International, who skidded and was left floundering. Urged on by the home crowd, myself included, he ran, sidestepped, swerved and tricked his way through the opponents’ entire team, his lately evaded marker in breathless and fruitless pursuit. He finally rounded the fullback and scored wide out to the left, after a solo effort of more than 120 yards. It brought the house down, especially as the England ‘cap’
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was finally left prone and exhausted in his wake. I have watched and played rugby for very many years and I honestly believe that I have rarely seen a finer individual try scored.
Came the war. Players and spectators alike of the necessary ages were scattered all over the world, many never again to see or handle a rugby ball. Very early in 1941, my elementary flying training – and Betty – left behind, the latter with some heartache, I and several other LACs from Sywell found ourselves en route for we knew not where to continue our training, gathered like so many shepherdless sheep in midwinter in a large and bleak Nissen hut at RAF Wilmslow, an overseas embarkation depot. There must have been fifty or so of us in the hut, sitting upon our respective beds, while a Corporal at one end lectured us on some topic relevant to our impending departure, then called us forward, alphabetically, of course – I was used to being the last in any roll-call – to hand us some sheet of instructions. Awaiting my turn I watched idly while others hurried forward to the Corporal’s desk, then about-turned and went back to their places. Watched idly, that is, until a name I only half-heard was called, and a well-built dark man trotted, on his toes, up the aisle to the Corporal. I started up with a stifled exclamation, recognising the way he ran. It was Lennie, Lennie C - - of W - - R.F.C. I could scarcely believe my eyes. For a second or two the forage cap with the white flash of u/t aircrew almost deceived me.
As soon as we were left to our own devices I walked along the hut and across to his bed-space.
“Excuse me, but you are Lennie C - -, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
He looked curiously at me.
“I thought so, I’ve often watched you play, at W - -.”
He looked surprised and pleased. I mentioned my cousin, who played in the same team. To meet someone from one’s own home town in the Service was a reasonably infrequent happening, and because of that, all the more welcome. He told me he was under training as a Navigator. We stuck together, despite the disparity in our ages – he was about ten years my senior – through our dismal stay at Wilmslow, then via Gourock and a ridiculously small ship to Iceland where we trans-shipped
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to an armed Merchant Cruiser. This was more of a morale-boosting title than anything else; the ship was a medium-sized passenger cruise vessel with two quite small guns which, at a guess, might have just about managed to sink an empty wooden barrel, but not much else. The news finally filtered down to us that we were heading for Canada. On setting out from Reykjavik we looked around for our convoy. There was none. We were to cross the Atlantic alone, with two paltry guns to defend ourselves against whatever there might be in the way of U-boats, pocket battleships or a combination of both. This was a very real threat. The ‘Bismarck’ was later to sink ‘Hood’ and itself to be sunk in the North Atlantic. We slept and lived, about 150 of us, I suppose, on the floor of what had been the Recreation Room with about twelve inches of so-called bed-space between mattresses. Half way across the Atlantic, in a February storm, the engines packed up and we tossed, helpless, for twenty four hours, a sitting target for the Kriegsmarine. Then at last we heard the welcome rumbling from the bowels of the ship.
An LAC whose bed-space was near to Lennie’s and mine then reported that he felt unwell. Chickenpox was diagnosed, and the M.O., looking for all the world like an S.S. man selecting victims for the concentration camp, ordered that several of us, including Lennie, Brian S - , who had been on my course at Sywell, and myself, were to be sent into quarantine when we arrived in Canada. Brian, as it happened, was also a rugby man, having played for Broughton Park.
We duly and thankfully docked in Halifax, Nova Scotia and after, I’m afraid, gorging ourselves on steaks and chocolate, which we had never seen since before September 1939, about twenty of us, including two or three Fleet Air Arm airmen, to our eyes bizarre in their bell-bottomed trousers and flapping collars, were put on the train for Cape Breton Island, in particular for the small R.C.A.F. Station of North Sydney.
Our quarantine turned out to be farcical. After twenty four hours on the camp we were informed, amazingly, that we could please ourselves where we went and whom we met, until further notice. We looked at one another in astonishment – then proceeded to enjoy ourselves while we could. Our duties, such as they were, consisted of one night duty in six when three of us were left in charge of the kitchen and served meals to the RCAF airmen
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who were on guard duty and fire picquet. The civilian cooks, who had never met anyone from the U.K., ensure that we were fed like fighting cocks, providing us with quantities of steaks, eggs and milk. Out of camp, the streets, cafes and cinemas of North Sydney and of Sydney itself were open to us. Lifts in cars belonging to the local people were there for the asking, and the friendly Nova Scotians, learning of our arrival, took us to their hearts and into their homes. They were astonished that despite the deep snow on the ground, we seldom, if ever, wore our great coats. The cold was so dry compared with that in England, and we were physically in such prime condition that we felt no discomfort, whereas our Canadian hosts went about muffled up in greatcoats and fur hats with ear-flaps. Our stay there was as good as an extended leave.
Off the pitch, most rugby players are determined to do their utmost to ensure that breweries never go out of business. Lennie was no exception. When a group of us were out together he drank his beer slowly but steadily, became more and more relaxed and laughed a good deal, sometimes uncontrollably. He never became objectionable or aggressive, never used bad language and was always amenable to our advice that perhaps he had had sufficient and it was time to return to camp. Being a mere tyro, at the age on [sic] nineteen I drank sparingly and with considerable discretion, my mental sights being fixed over the horizon, on the next stage of my flying training and the eventual gaining of my wings. So I took it upon myself, on several occasions, to steer Lennie, muscular but curiously boneless, laughing at only he knew what, safely into our barrack hut and on to his bed, where I covered him, still in uniform, with his blankets, where he would fall peacefully asleep. Lennie, even with several beers inside him, never did the slightest harm to anyone.
Of course, the idyll had to come to an end. After several very pleasant weeks, our posting came through. Brian and I and some others were destined for Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, No. 32 S.F.T.S., while Lennie was posted to Goodrich, Ontario, a Navigational Training School. I remember how we shook hands when we said ‘cheerio’. His smile was as broad as ever, and his hand, I recall vividly, was large and surprisingly soft.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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It must have been on one of my leaves from Moreton-in-the-Marsh towards the end of 1942 when my father, who was on the committee of the local rugby club, gave me the news. Lennie had been shot down and was missing. He believed that it had happened off the Norwegian coast. It was yet another blow to me following the loss of my own crew. I had recently had a reply from the Commanding Officer of my Squadron in response to a letter I had written him, that my crew must now all be presumed dead. I felt that the bottom had dropped out of my life and I was nearing the end of my tether. I was suffering deeply, as was my flying, and I sensed that my forthcoming Medical Board would be the end of a chapter. I went about cocooned in silent grief so intense that it amounted to permanent depression, which was only temporarily assuaged by drinking far more than I ever saw Lennie drink. From what little my father had gleaned from his informant at the clubhouse I surmised that Lennie must have been on some squadron in Coastal Command. For some reason I visualised him on Whitleys.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Years passed. I will not say that I had forgotten Lennie; occasionally some memory of those days would float unbidden into my mind and I would visualise him as I had last known him on Cape Breton Island, always smiling, playfully light-hearted, completely harmless. Then a friend gave me a cutting from a local newspaper with a photograph of the successful rugby team of the immediate pre-war years. Lennie smiled up at me from the middle of the front row of players, next to another young man who had been shot down into the sea off the Dutch coast as a wireless operator in a Blenheim on a daylight shipping strike. I was impelled to ask the friend whether any information could be obtained from the Internet as to what had happened to Lennie, and when it was he had died. Within days I knew enough to be able to consult a series of volumes of casualties of Bomber Command. For Lennie had not been on a Coastal Command Squadron as I had surmised, and he had not been shot down off Norway.
He was the Navigator of one of six Wellingtons from a Bomber Squadron at Mildenhall, (where much later, J – ended her career in the W.A.A.F. as a Base Watchkeeper), detailed to attack shipping, in daylight, on the Dortmund-Ems Canal in North-west Germany on a September afternoon in 1942.
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On reading this, I could hardly believe that Wellingtons were being used on daylight operations at that time; I had thought that the crippling loses [sic] that they suffered on such attacks in the early days of the war had meant their transfer solely to night bombing. (On my telling M – about these circumstances, she said ‘Suicide raid’. That was about the size of it.) Mr. Chorley’s painstakingly collated and amazingly detailed book gives the bare bones of the tragic story. Four and a half hours after taking off, presumably on their way back to Mildenhall, and within sight of the Dutch coast and the comparative safety of the North Sea, his aircraft was attacked by a Luftwaffe Focke-Wulfe 190, a formidable fighter aircraft. The wireless operator was killed in the attack and the aircraft was set on fire. The two gunners managed to bale out and became prisoners of war. The account says that Lennie was last seen using a fire extinguisher, bravely trying to put out the fire which was raging inside the fuselage of the Wellington.
The blazing aircraft crashed into what was then the Zuider Zee; the bodies of the wireless operator and the pilot were recovered and subsequently interred in a cemetery in Amsterdam, but Lennie’s body was never found and, having no known grave, his name is recorded on the Runnymede Memorial along with twenty thousand others whose remains were never recovered.
So died a hero who for a brief time was my friend.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] It makes you think [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] IT MAKES YOU THINK [/underlined]
“Mail up!”
We jumped off our beds and hurried towards the door at the end of the barrack hut. At least, some of us did. The majority stayed where they were, on their beds, pretending to read, cleaning buttons, pottering about. There could be almost no chance of mail for them, for they were Norwegian, and their homeland was under German occupation. They accepted this lack of mail, as they did much else, with considerable stoicism.
We who were the fortunate ones gathered around the R.C.A.F. airman who called out the names on the envelopes, and who, while looking down at the handful of letters he held, handed us our mail without a glance. There was one for me. I looked at the postmark. Coventry. My heart bounded when I saw that. There was two-thirds of the width of Canada and all the Atlantic Ocean between us; she was back in devastated Coventry, I in smaller and completely peaceful Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, under training as a fighter pilot.
I walked slowly back to my bed, savouring the sight of her handwriting, feeling the texture of the envelope smooth under my fingers. I sat down quietly, as far as one could be quiet in a hut with twenty-nine other blokes. In deference to us, the Norwegian lads did keep quiet as we read our mail. I held the unopened letter a long time in my hand, gazing at her rounded, shapely writing. I wanted this moment of pleasure to last as long as possible.
At the time I was with her, under the same roof, being so caught up in the novelty and the thrill of flying, I didn’t realise what was happening to me, or to her, and it was all too foolishly late that I had become slowly aware of it. After we had parted, when I was at the Embarkation Depot en route for Canada, and when I had time to take stock of myself, it was only then that it dawned slowly upon me that I had fallen in love with her, and that I wouldn’t see her again for the best, or the worst part of six months at least. Oh, Betty, I thought, the time I so stupidly wasted. Would I ever have the chance again?
I sighed, and looked at her photograph on my locker. She was
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smiling at me enigmatically, her mouth curving slightly up at the corners, her dark eyes holding more than a hint of mischief, the gleaming mass of her ebony hair framing the soft pallor of her calm face. Slowly and carefully I opened the envelope. I turned to the last sheet, looked at the end of the letter first, fearful that it might say only “yours sincerely” or some such. It did not. The words were there that I wanted to read. I lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and luxuriously, and started from the beginning.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Tim spoke up from across the gangway between the beds, his English idiomatic and only very faintly accented.
“I hope she still loves you, but come on, we have flying to do.”
“O.K., Tim, I’ll be right with you.”
I tucked the letter into my top left-hand tunic pocket, carefully buttoning the flap. Soren and Aage, next to Tim, both stood up. What opposites they were, I thought, Soren cheerful, muscular, blond, extrovert, while Aage was gaunt and rather silent, and toothy, with melancholy eyes which flickered nervously around him. We made our way up to the flights; it was going to be another hot day. Already the air was filled with the tearing rasp of the Harvards’ Wasp engines as the fitters ran them up in preparation for a long day’s flying.
We turned into ‘F’ Flight crewroom at the front of one of the hangars and looked at the flying detail pinned up on the board, next to the Coke machine. Aage was due off on a cross-country to Swift Current and back at 0900, while Tim, Soren and I had an hour’s formation flying at 1000. Lower down the list I saw that I was due on the Link Trainer at 1500 for blind-flying simulation, and to round off the day, or rather, the night, one and a half solo night-flying hours at 2100. It was going to be a long day, as well as a hot one. Aage, now bent over a map, pencilling careful lines, was to take over my aircraft, I saw, when I landed after night-flying.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
After the snowy, tree-fringed grass field at Sywell it was a novelty to have these sun-baked runways, even more so when there were two parallel ones with a narrow grass strip in between, the whole field being patterned by this double triangle of concrete strips.
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We took it in turns to lead our formation of three. Station-changing, as we had no R/T, was indicated by hand-signals from the leader. Soren was to lead first with me as his number two and Tim, three. Then I would take over the lead, and finally, Tim. I followed Soren’s bright yellow Harvard out as he taxied on to the perimeter and turned towards the end of the runways in use. He took the right-hand runway of the pair and edged across to the left of it, braked and stopped. I gave him ten yards clearance and took the right-hand edge of the same runway. Tim stopped level with me, alone on the left-hand runway. I saw Soren slide the canopy shut and start rolling, and I followed, pushing the throttle firmly up to the stop. I never got used to the tremendous feeling of exhilaration as the power surged on. I lifted the tail and kept straight with small pushes of my feet on the rudder-bar. As I chased after Soren I could see Tim out of the corner of my eye, keeping abreast of me.
Suddenly Soren was airborne, then I followed, climbing into the summer sky. To maintain station, the rules of tidy and correct flying were suspended. You used no bank on your small turns to get into position, but skidded gently across on rudder only. It felt all wrong, it was like being told deliberately to mis-spell a word one had known and used for years. When I had first practised formation with F/O Sparks in the front cockpit I had been frightened out of my wits to see two other aircraft each within ten yards of me. But one was soon conditioned to accept this, and very quickly one learned the gentle art of close formation flying, when your own wing was actually tucked in to the space between the leader’s wing and his tailplane, so that any forward or backward relative movement meant a collision. But provided you watched him like a hawk, and kept station by means of constant throttle and rudder juggling, you got by. It became great fun, and the early thoughts of comprehensive and devastating collisions were soon forgotten.
So I tucked myself right in on Soren’s starboard side and stayed there while he climbed, turned or glided. We flew four basic formations, vic, echelon starboard, echelon port and line astern. The echelons looked great and the line astern gave you a bit of relaxation, for numbers two and three were slightly lower than the aircraft in front,
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to keep out of the turbulence of his slipstream. Where we were heading was not my worry, nor Tim’s. Soren was in charge of that side of things while he was leading. He gave the signal to change leaders. I skidded away from him and opened the throttle to draw ahead. He skated in to my left and Tim crossed to my right, as number two. Back to cruising revs as they snuggled themselves in tightly against me. I looked down at the baked prairie landscape and saw that Soren had headed us back towards Moose Jaw to make it easy for me. I grinned and mentally thanked him. I started to sing loudly to myself as we flew, running through the repertoire of the popular songs we were always playing on the juke box at Smoky Joe’s cafe, just outside the camp gates, I felt on top of the world – a letter from Betty, a great day for flying and the formation going like a dream. I led them around until my time was up and signalled Tim to take it from there, over Regina Beach on Last Mountain Lake, at four thousand feet.
I slid into number three position in the vic and tucked myself in tightly into Tim’s port side. He led us around in a turn to port, back towards base. We never did steepish turns in vic formation, it was too difficult for the man low down on the inside to keep station as he had to cut his airspeed back so much. Tim tightened the turn and climbed a bit as he did so. Watch it, Tim, I thought. Still tighter; I dared not look at my airspeed. Still tighter, and my controls were starting to feel sloppy, approaching the stall; I dared not throttle back any further or I would stall off the turn and go into a spin, and a Harvard lost nine hundred feet per turn once they did spin. Out of it! I shoved throttle on as I winged over and dived out of the formation, swearing to myself as I did so. The wretch! Playing silly buggers like that!
All on my own in the bright morning sky I screamed round in a steep turn to port, with plenty of power on, nearly blacking myself out in the process. I yanked the seat tighter against the straps to bind my stomach firmly in and keep the blood in my head, stopping the grey-out. I eased out of the turn. Five thousand feet. Now, where the hell were they? Then I saw them, now about six miles away, orbiting innocently. I flew over to them and sat just off
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Tim’s port wingtip, shaking my fist at him, which only made him throw back his head and laugh as he made come-in motions with his hand. I went in, tight. We formed up again into a sedate vic and finished the detail, as usual, in echelon port, about two miles from the field, when we did our line-shoot party piece – a swift wing-over to port in rapid succession and a dive on each other’s tails into the circuit, making sure we were well clear of the more sedate pupils going about their quiet business.
When we had landed, taxied in and switched off, I collared Tim.
“Damn you!” I said, pretending to be about to sling a punch at him, “What the hell do you think you were playing at? Trying to make me spin in, were you?”
“No danger,” he replied, laughing, “you had bags of height – can’t take it, eh?”
Soren chimed in, smiling broadly.
“We thought you’d just decided to go home.”
“Wait till I’m leader, next time, you two mad so-and-so’s,” I said threateningly, “I’ll turn you both inside out!”
All the same, I threw Tim a Sweet Cap; Soren didn’t smoke. We strolled back to ‘F’ Flight crew-room where I’m glad to say that Tim bought the cold Cokes. It was a hot morning.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
The Link Trainer Sergeant was a stocky little R.C.A.F. man who looked like a middleweight boxer.
“Don’t forget to reset your gyro-compass every ten minutes or so or you’ll be way to hell out at the end. Got your flight card? Do all your turns at Rate two and let’s have a nice neat pattern on my chart at the finish. Give me the O.K. when you’re ready and I’ll tell you when I’m switching on so you can punch the clock.”
“Right oh, Sergeant,” I said.
I climbed into the little dummy aeroplane on its concertina-like base. I pulled over the hood, plugged in the intercom in the darkness and propped up the flight card near the small lamp on the instrument panel. I felt the lurch as he energised the system; the instruments
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came to life with a sigh.
“I’ve put you at a thousand feet,” he said, “do you read that?”
“Check,” I replied, “turning on to 045 Magnetic, now.”
“Got you. Just watch your height as well as your timings, won’t you, bud?”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
I was flying the awkward Maltese Cross pattern, the idea being to finish exactly where you started, after the completion of the twelve legs. The instructor had a wheeled “crab” which inked in the line of your track on his chart. At the end, you should have drawn a perfect Maltese Cross, but it took forty minutes, approximately, of solid, grinding concentration on your instruments alone.
“Switching on – now!” came his voice, and I hit the stop-watch.
After what seemed like hours I did my final Rate 2 turn on to my original course. I straightened it up, timed a careful one minute, then called out, “Finish – now!”
He acknowledged and switched me off. The needles sagged to their stops. I took off my headphones and opened the hood and side door.
“O.K.,” the Sergeant said, “come right over here and have a look-see. Not bad at all.”
I went over to his glass-topped table. My pattern was about ten inches across and I had finished about an eighth of an inch from where I had started. It looked pretty damn good to me, and for an instant I thought about Tink’s brother in his Hampden.
“Yes,” I said, feeling rather pleased, “just a bit out, Sergeant.”
He grinned.
“You’re doing O.K., buddy,” he said agreeably, “now how’s about seeing if L.A.C. Briggs is outside, eh?”
“O.K., Sergeant,” I said.
He had just made my day.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
I lay back on my bed after the evening meal and read the letter once again. The hut was quiet. Those who weren’t night flying had gone to Smoky Joe’s or into town for an evening meal. The few of
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us on the night flying detail were reading, writing letters or dozing on our beds, waiting for the darkness. There was no sign of either Tim or Soren, while Aage was actually sound asleep.
She wrote, “I miss you here, I miss our walks in the park. I wonder if you will be posted somewhere near when you come back, where we can meet? Do you still want to go on to bombers, like you told me? Will it be very dangerous? Whatever happens, I shall pray for you, as I do now, that God will keep you. I have always said what has to be, will be, but I feel he will keep you safe…..” She went on to say she would be spending some time with her Aunt and Uncle in Northampton, as her parents still felt happier with her over there.
I folded the letter slowly and thought about Betty and the simple, almost idyllic happiness of life in those days six months ago. Tink, on the bed next to me, motioned to me and across at Aage, grinning, imitating his open mouth and his posture, his ungainly sprawl. Tink, the single-minded, I thought, hero-worshipping his brother flying his Hampden over Germany, and who could hardly wait to get on to the same Squadron. A faraway look would come into his eyes when he spoke about it; “When I get on Hampdens,” he would always be saying, and his broad, boyish face would be raised to the sky, “When I get on Hampdens with my brother –“
But looking at Aage had made me feel tired, too. I yawned, then lit a cigarette and grinned at him. Tink was from Coalville in Leicestershire; I wonder often what became of him.
An hour later I was taxying my Harvard out in the darkness, the flarepath away to my right looking very long and very far away. Night flying without a navigator and entirely without radio consisted, at Moose Jaw, of circuits and bumps – and of not getting lost. There was no blackout and you could see the town for miles, no bother at all. But if the visibility went, you got down out of it, quick. So far, it never had; the prairie nights were wonderfully clear.
I got my green from the A.C.P. and, nicely central between the flares, opened her up. We charged down the runway and floated off
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easily. I had done quite a few of these night flying stints before, and found I had taken to it naturally, much more so than I did to aerobatics, for example. Undercart up, throttle back to climbing power, keep the gyro on 0, shut the canopy, and up to 1000 feet. Level off, throttle back to cruising, turn port to 270. There’s the flarepath down over my left shoulder. Keep the wings level, watch the artificial horizon. Rate one turn downwind, heading 180, throttle back a bit, then wheels down when we’re opposite the middle of the flarepath. Greens on the panel as the wheels lock. There’s the A.C.P. giving me a green on the Alldis lamp. Crosswind on to 090. Bit of flap. Drop the nose and turn in. Watch the airspeed, open the canopy. Engine noise surges in. Switch on the landing light and hold her there. Nice approach, I think. Now, hold off and let her sink the last four feet. The flares merge into a line. Hold it there. A bump and a rumble. We’re down.
Keep her straight, flaps up, headlamp off. Touch of brake, not too much. Fine, now turn off the runway along the glim-lit perimeter track and back to the take-off position again. There’s someone else up, I can see his nav. lights. Wonder who it is? I rumble along the peri. track to head back for the end of the runway. Must say, I can see Tink’s point, I’d rather like a bash on Hampdens myself. After all, they’re what I wanted when I first thought about joining up, except that my ambitions were no higher than to be a gunner.
“Will it be very dangerous?”
God knows, Betty, but as you say, what has to be will be, and there is no turning back, one must simply live for and through the minute, even the second, and do what has to be done, enduring what has to be endured with fortitude.
Something’s irritating me, and I can’t think what, except there’s something here which shouldn’t be. My God! Yes! The cockpit is full of red light, now it’s flashing off and on, urgently. Stop. Tread on the brakes. She creaks and jerks to an abrupt halt. The red light stops flashing at me and someone taxies past me in the opposite direction. Wow! So that’s what the red was all about?
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Must stop this day-dreaming. Only two more circuits and I can pack it in, hand over to Aage and hit the sack. I’ll be about ready for it, too.
There’s my green. Hope he doesn’t report me for taxying through a red. It was only a dozen yards – I think. Oh, well, can’t do a thing about it now. No harm done, so here goes, back to my take-off point. Turn on to the runway, uncage the gyro on 0, open her up. We’re off again.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Turn on to 180, see the stars sliding around. Between the field and the town, now. Nice and easy, purring along, last landing coming up, then into the pit.
“I miss you here, I miss our walks in the park.”
I wish I were meeting you after this, Betty, ‘you’d be so nice to come home to’ – I wonder if you still play that record? ‘To come home to and love.’
Coming home – the lights of home – lights – lights – lights! What the hell’s going on? All those lights, ahead, and coming straight for me? Hell! Get the stick back, you’re in a dive, heading straight for the town! You’ve been asleep, you bloody fool. Come on, come on, ease out. The lights slide below me. Thank God for that. I risk a look at the altimeter – 500 feet. God. Another few seconds, and that would have been it, smack into the town centre, curtains. I reach up and slam the canopy open, letting the cold night air flood in, taking deep breaths to wake myself up. I climb cautiously back to circuit height, select wheels down and duly get my green from the A.C.P., as though nothing at all had happened. I turn across wind, edging towards the flarepath. Shove the nose down, turn port, full flap, headlamp on, heading straight in. I land, thankfully, and exhale with relief. Aage is ready and waiting to take over the kite as I dump my ‘chute, blinking in the bright light of the crewroom, and fill in the Authorisation Book.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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The murmur of voices nearby awoke me. I pulled the bedclothes around my ears, but it was no good. I was awake, back to life again. I sat up, yawned, looked at my watch – 0820. Still in time for breakfast, if I hurried. Brian, Tim, Tink and Soren were in a huddle across the other side of the hut, talking in hushed voices, looking solemn. Two strange erks were standing near Aage’s bed. I was puzzled.
“Hey, Tink!” I called, sitting on the edge of my bed and yawning again, “Tink!”
He looked over his shoulder and came across to me. I nodded towards the strangers.
“What’s cooking?” I asked.
“It’s Aage.”
“Aage? What about him?”
“He’s dead. He crashed, night flying, last night.”
“He what?” I gasped, fully awake in an instant, “He crashed? How the hell did it happen?”
Tink shrugged.
“No-one knows, he just went in, about four miles away, that’s all we know.”
“Christ,” I whispered, “poor old Aage. He’s definitely - ?”
“Oh, yes,” Tink said, “no doubt about it, I’m afraid.”
I said, quietly, “He took over my kite, last night, you know.”
Tink said, “Was it O.K. when you had it?”
“Of course, no trouble at all.”
I didn’t want to mention my falling asleep, not even to Tink. He sighed.
“Makes you think, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” I answered, remembering the lights rushing towards me, “it certainly makes you think.”
(‘What has to be, will be.’)
“Mail up!” someone shouted, and there was a clatter of feet hurrying down the hut. There would be no mail for Aage. Another day had begun.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] “Yes, my darling daughter” [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] “YES, MY DARLING DAUGHTER” [/underlined]
“What was it you did yesterday?” Flying Officer Sparks asked, “advanced formation, am I right?”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, wondering what was in store for me that morning. He pinched his lower lip between thumb and finger and frowned with silent concentration, his black moustache looking more luxuriant than ever.
“Well now, I think you’d better do some steep turns, climbing turns and a forced landing. An hour, solo. Take 2614. Don’t do all your turns to port, you don’t want to give yourself a left-handed bias, and watch you don’t black yourself out in your steep turns. Now. Forced landings. Don’t touch down anywhere, you only do that with an instructor. Don’t go below a hundred feet, and thirdly, don’t cheat and have a field picked ready, close your throttle at random when you’re doing something else. If you do ever have an engine failure you won’t be able to pick and choose the time or the place. All right? Any questions?”
“I take it I keep my undercarriage up, sir?”
“Yes, better a belly landing and a bent prop than a somersault if you try a wheels down landing on an unknown surface. Anything else?”
“No, sir.”
“Right, off you go, then.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I came to attention, about-turned smartly and went out of the Instructors’ Office into the pupils’ crewroom of ‘F’ Flight, No. 32 Service Flying Training School, Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, on the Canadian prairies.
I felt buoyant that morning; I was feeling very fit and happy and I knew I was flying well. It was a beautiful early summer day with a few puffs of fair-weather cumulus at about five thousand feet, with a light breeze to temper the already growing heat. The constant drone of Harvards filled the air, punctuated by the fierce, ear-splitting howl and crackle of the high-speed propeller tips as one fled down the runway like a scalded cat, tail up, and took off, flashing yellow in the sunlight and tucking its wheels neatly up as it left
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the runway.
Tim and Soren, two of the twenty or so Norwegians on our course – in fact, the R.A.F. were in the minority on Course 32 – were sitting in the crewroom. They completed my formation of three when we flew, and we were great buddies. Tim looked up and grinned.
“No formation for us this morning, eh?”
“No, not this morning, Tim. I hear that you’re grounded, anyhow, for trying to make me spin in off a turn!”
I was joking, of course, and Tim knew it; on’s [sic] loyalty to one’s formation was absolute. Tim laughed hugely, his lean, brown face, normally rather grave, was transformed.
“Anyhow,” I said, “he’s not fit to fly with a face like that,” and I pointed to Soren, who was feeding a nickel into the juke box. There was a thud, and out came the seductive voice of Dinah Shore.
“Mother, may I go out dancing?
Yes, my darling daughter.
Mother, may I try romancing?
Yes, my darling daughter – “
It was practically our course signature tune at Moose Jaw, everybody sang, whistled or hummed it and selected it on whatever juke box was handiest, whether here in the crewroom or out at Smoky Joe’s, the cafe at the camp gates, on the dust road which led to town. Soren looked up. He had a bottle of coke in one hand, a split lip and a discoloured right eye. He grinned at me.
“Ah, but it was just a friendly little fight with a couple of Canadians, nothing serious at all.”
Soren’s favourite occupation on his evenings out was to have several drinks then find someone to fight. Strangely enough, he never fought with any R.A.F. bloke.
“See you later, then,” I said to them. Tim gave a vague wave, Sorne’s eyes were already shut as he lay full length on a convenient bench, arms crossed on his chest, his mop of incredibly blond hair gleaming in the sun which poured in through the window.
“What if there’s a moon, mother darling, and it’s shining on the water?” I sang to myself as I crossed the expanse of concrete
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in front of the hangars, under the blazing sun, my parachute bumping against the backs of my knees, the morning breeze finding its way pleasantly inside my unbuckled helmet. It was so hot that we were able to fly in shirtsleeves. Up at eight or ten thousand feet it was delightfully cool, but at ground level the temperature could climb to the 120’s in the sun by afternoon.
I found 2614 among the half dozen kites parked in line facing the hangar. Someone had thoughtfully left the canopy open to minimise the heat in the cockpit. I checked that the pitot-head cover was off, I didn’t want to get airborne and find that the airspeed indicator was out of action. Then I climbed in off the port wing-root, clicking the leg-straps of my ‘chute into the quick-release box as I did so. An erk was standing by with the starter trolley. I did up my safety harness while I was busy with the pre-start cockpit check. I operated the priming pump and shouted “Contact!”, switching on the ignition, and with the stick held firmly back into my stomach I pressed the starter switch. The propeller staggered, jumped, staggered again, then caught as the engine roared into life. the prop-tips became a yellow semi-circular blur in front of my eyes. The erk wheeled away the trolley, parking it to one side where I could see it.
I tested the controls for the full movement and ran up the engine, buckled my helmet securely and pulled the seat up hard against the straps, waving away the chocks. The erk gave me the thumbs-up. I toed the brakes off, opened the throttle a little, and we rolled. I taxied with exaggerated care, knowing that F/O Sparks was probably watching me. I had been told off by him once or twice for taxying carelessly. So I ruddered the nose meticulously, each way in turn, at 45 degrees to my direction of travel, which enabled me to see ahead, to the sides of the big 450 horse-power radial engine. A taxying accident was a very serious matter indeed, and a Court Martial was the automatic sequel.
I arrived at the end of the twin runways in use and squinted up into the flare; no-one was on his approach. A final check on the windsock and on the cockpit settings, then I turned on to the runway, pushing on a little rudder to ensure I was absolutely in
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line and central. I set the gyro to ‘0’ and uncaged it, then glanced up to make doubly certain that the canopy was fully back, just in case anything went wrong on take-off and I had to get out in a hurry. Then a final deep breath and we were off. I eased open the throttle to its fullest extent. We rolled, rumbling over the runway, keeping straight with small pushes on the rudder. The engine note rose to a deafening howl and the pressure on the stick increased as we gathered speed and as I eased the stick central. We were in a flying attitude, tail up and charging down the runway which was vanishing with amazing rapidity under the nose of the aircraft. At 65, a slight backward pressure on the stick – not quite ready. At 70, a bump or two, then the incredibly smoothness of being airborne.
I whipped up the wheels, holding the nose just above the horizon to pick up speed, then I throttled back to climbing boost and revs, and reaching up, slid the canopy shut. It was a bit quieter then, and I could relax a little. I adjusted the climbing angle to give me 100 m.p.h., saw with satisfaction that the gyro was still on ‘0’, and did a quick check on all the instrument readings, going swiftly round the cockpit in a clockwise direction. The altimeter slowly wound around its way towards the cotton-wool cumulus.
“Mother, may I go out dancing?
Yes, my darling daughter,” I sang loudly to myself.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
“How right he was,” I thought as I brought her smoothly out of a steep turn, “you can black yourself out in one of these.”
I had tightened the turn gradually, to the left, which I could do without conscious effort, toeing on top rudder to keep the nose pushing around the horizon, the stick fairly tightly into my stomach to tighten the turn in on itself. As the rate-of-turn indicator hovered around the 3 1/2 mark I could feel myself being crushed down into the seat, my cheeks were being pulled downwards, and the instruments had become rather fuzzy as the ‘g’ took hold of the blood in my brain, sucking it down out of my head. Then, as I came out of the turn and the ‘g’ decreased, I stretched myself against the straps as the pressure slackened, and bared my teeth in a mirthless grin
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to restore my features to their correct shape.
“Forced landing next,” I said to myself as I slowly but firmly closed the throttle, stopping it just before the place where the undercarriage warning horn would sound. I was at about six thousand feet, to the west of Moose Jaw. Several miles away, to the north-east, I could see another Harvard stooging along, probably on a cross-country, and away to the north a civil DC3 was flying the beam from Regina to Swift Current. I gently pushed the nose down into the quietness, selected flaps down and hand-pumped on 15 degrees. In a real engine failure you would have to do it this way, the hard way. I slid the canopy open and was all set to pick what would laughingly be called my ‘field’; in this part of the world what passed for a field was rather rare.
The prairie lay below in its muted colours, the occasional yellow dust road straight as a string, the sun flashing briefly on some watercourse. About thirty miles to starboard there seemed to be some line-squalls building up already above the low hills which marked the border of Canada with the neutral U.S.A. I put the kite into a shallow glide. Then I saw my field, a green, squarish paddock with two white buildings in one corner, a dirt road leading up to them. I settled the airspeed on 80 and turned towards the paddock, losing height slowly but steadily in a succession of well-banked turns like the descending hairpins of a mountain road. The green postage stamp of the paddock grew larger. From the smoke of a small fire somewhere on the prairie I saw I would be roughly into wind on my final approach. The white buildings grew into the size of matchboxes.
“What a God-forsaken place,” I thought, “imagine being stuck out here, miles from anywhere, no town, no trees, lots of damn-all connected by roads.”
Then I notice a movement near the house. One figure was standing just outside it, then it was joined by another. Still I glided down, mentally noting airspeed and altimeter readings with quick glances, checking and assessing my position in relation to the paddock. I used to sideslip Tigers with contemptuous ease to get them into the
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field at Sywell, it became my trademark before I left there, but I’d never tried to sideslip a Harvard. Come to think, perhaps this wasn’t the time to start. The horizon had lifted quite a lot. I was going to make it all right, I thought. The prop windmilled ahead of me and I had the urge to open the throttle to make sure that the engine was still functioning; it seemed an age since I had cut the power off. I dropped the nose and did a final turn to port. Airspeed back to 80, pump down full flap, line up, into wind, on to the paddock.
It was a man and a girl standing there watching me, the sun gleaming on their upturned faces. The man was pointing upwards, towards me, he had put his arm protectively around the girl’s shoulders. His daughter, I thought. I imagined them speaking to one another in their slightly harsh Canadian voices, anxious as to what was going to happen next to the aircraft, to me – and to them and their home. I saw the girl give a small wave of the hand, nervously, encouragingly, almost as though she were trying to placate some force, to stave off a possible disaster, and I felt a pang of guilt, knowing that they would be thinking that I was in trouble. Two ordinary people, the tenor of their lonely lives disturbed as never before, by my so casual and uncaring intrusion.
Altitude 150 feet. Airspeed 80. It was, if I said it myself, a honey of an approach, I could have put her down with no trouble at all. They were both waving now and I could distinguish their features. I had them firmly fixed in my mind as father and daughter. Perhaps he was a widower, living out his hard life on the land which his ancestors had farmed since the Indians had left, perhaps his pretty daughter had sacrificed her youth, her prospects and hopes of marriage, to look after her father and help on their farm, burying herself in their lonely world. They were remote there from everything of violence, receiving news of the war over the radio from professionally cheerful and brash newsreaders, couched in terms that they could merely imperfectly comprehend: Europe was far away, dominated by some tyrant of whom they knew little, opposed only by distant and defiant English cousins whom they had never seen, and whose ways were as strange and unknown to them as those of the biblical characters of whom perhaps they read daily at the end of their quiet evenings together.
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I saw him clasp her to himself protectively, and I saw also that I was now below 100 feet. Firmly, I opened the throttle fully. The engine surged with power, its roar doubly deafening after the long glide down. I eased the nose up and gently started to milk off the flap. The house slid beneath my port wing. I saw, out of the corner of my eye, the two figures. He was greying, slightly stooped, in brown bib-and-brace overalls, she a slim girl in a vivid blue frock, her dark hair like a halo round her face. I suddenly thought of Betty. They stood, their arms around each other, as I flew over them.
Then I had the strange and unaccountably peaceful feeling that in those few minutes I had known them all my life. It was as though time itself had become distorted, elongated, to envelop the three of us in some temporal vacuum in a cul-de-sac off the normal path of consciousness, where the clock of the world stood still and where we had, in some mysterious way, experienced a fragment chipped off the endless expanse of eternity, wherein the three of us had been united as one.
The horizon sank away below the Harvard’s nose. I was back again in my element after those eerie few seconds. I looked down at them for the last time. She was standing with both hands pressed to her face. Then her father slowly raised his right hand, as though in benediction. I climbed away into the summer sunshine. And I sang, to no-one but myself, but thinking of the girl down there –
“Mother, must I keep on dancing?
“Yes, my darling daughter!”
I turned the Harvard’s nose for home.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Crewing-up [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] CREWING-UP [/underlined]
Although there are many things which happened at that time when we looked directly into “the bright face of danger”, there are some, and regrettably, some of the most important, the recollection of which steadfastly eludes me. This of course pains me greatly, as the men I was about to meet were destined in those six all too short months to leave an indelible and now poignant impression upon my memory.
My recurring faint recollection is somehow associated with being in a group of other pilots, pupils at 11 O.T.U., Bassingbourne, not far from Cambridge, quite near to the place of execution of Dick Turpin at Caxton Gibbet, and later to become an American Flying Fortress base. We were gathered at the end of one of the hangars in the morning sunshine, practising what little skills we had acquired on the use of the sextant, taking sun-sights and from them plotting the latitude of our position, which was, of course, easily checked by our, at that stage in our training, benign instructors. Perhaps their thoughts were couched in similar terms to those which Connie was to use in conversation with me a year or more later, and in totally different circumstances and surroundings – “They don’t know what’s coming to them, poor sods, do they, Yoicks?”
None of us knew what was coming, for better or for worse, to us, and I was certainly not to know that within the hour I was to meet, and for the next six months – (was it really as little as that?) – become associated with and know intimately five of the finest men, in my opinion, who ever walked the earth. Men who became closer to me, closer to each other, than brothers, than my and their own flesh and blood, men who were mutually supportive in the intangible but unyielding bond which perhaps only aircrew or ex-aircrew can comprehend, men, four of whom had already entered the last six months of their short lives.
We put away our sextants, thankfully, in most cases. There were about twenty of us pilots on the course, both from the United
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Kingdom and the Dominions. My own particular friends were Charlie from Newcastle, Hi-lo, a rugged, rangy Canadian and the man who was to become his Observer, a cheerful Australian named Laurie, and also Roddy, another Canadian, smiling and lively, whom I often addressed, attempting, not unkindly, to imitate his accent, as Raddy. He, Hi-lo and Laurie were soon to be posted with me to 12 Squadron. All three were also soon to die.
We had completed our introduction to the Wellington under the tutelage of ‘screened’ ex-operational pilots, on somewhat battle-weary ex-Squadron aircraft. The inevitable ‘circuits and bumps’ – a few of the bumps quite heavy – had been the order of the day, and of the night, a fortnight of them. I astonished myself by going solo on what were in my eyes monstrously large twin-engined aircraft, having gained my wings on single engined Harvards, in less than three hours. Perhaps it was due not so much to skill and ability as to confidence, or perhaps over-confidence. Looking back on it now it never ceases to astound me and I have to consult my log book to verify the figure of a mere two hours and forty five minutes instruction.
One interesting feature of this fortnight was that before we flew at night we practised what were known as ‘day-night’ landings. Flying in broad daylight with an instructor as safety pilot, we wore specially tinted goggles which gave the impression of surrounding darkness, while the runway was marked by sodium lights which showed up brightly and gave us the line of approach and landing. It was a novel and rather weird experience, but a very useful one, preparing us for the real thing, flying at night in much-reduced visibility, our eyes fixed almost exclusively on the blind-flying panel of A.S.I., altimeter, turn and bank indicator, gyro compass, artificial horizon, and rate of climb and dive indicator.
And so, to one degree or another proficient enough pilots of the Wellington, we were ready to be crewed up.
‘George’, as automatic pilots were universally known, were rare pieces of equipment in late 1941, so every Wellington was crewed by
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two pilots who shared the manual flying (of anything up to 7 1/2 hours on some operations) and one of whom was designated as captain of the aircraft, almost invariably addressed as ‘skipper’ or more usually ‘skip’. Once in the air, however, the pilot was virtually under the orders of his Observer, a misnomer if ever there was one, as he was in no position, huddled in his tiny compartment with his plotting chart and maps, his parallel ruler and sharpened pencils, constantly reading his super-accurate navigation watch, his ‘slave’ altimeter and airspeed indicator, to observe anything outside the aircraft. No pilot, however privately doubtful he might be of the Observer’s statement of the aircraft’s position relative to the earth, or of his instructions to alter course on to a given heading at a certain time, ever had the temerity to question him as to these matters except in the mildest and most oblique of terms. To do otherwise was to risk a most sarcastic reply, usually culminating in the curt riposte, “You just do the flying and let me do the navigating.” Later, on the Squadron I was to learn that Observers as a clan – and a Freemasonlike clan they were, dabbling in the impenetrable mysteries of running fixes, square searches, back-bearings, drifts and suchlike – were sometimes irreverently known as the Two-Seventy Boys, after their alleged persistent habit of, having bombed some German target and being urgently asked by the pilot for a course “to get the Hell out of here”, would airily answer, “Just steer two-seventy,” that being West. The Observer was also the crew member who released the bombs, his bomb selector panel down in the starboard side of the aircraft’s nose being somewhat inappropriately known as the Mickey Mouse, for a reason I never discovered, directing the pilot from his prone position between the front turret and the pilot’s feet on the rudder pedals with what was usually a breathless series of instructions, “Left, left”, “Right” or “Steady”, the word “left” always being repeated so as not to be confused with “right” against the various external and internal noises of a bomber aircraft. Current at the time was a somewhat school-boyish joke that one Observer had so far forgotten himself in the excitement of the bombing run to call urgently to the pilot, “Back a bit!”
The remaining three crew members each wore the air gunner’s ‘AG’ half-wing on his chest. But one, in addition, had the cluster of
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lightning flashes of a wireless operator on his sleeve and was invariably referred to, not by the official designation of wireless operator/air gunner but with the racy and succinct abbreviation ‘WopAG’. His was the task of obtaining as many bearings on radio stations, both R.A.F. and, if he was able, B.B.C. and German civilian stations such as Hamburg or Deutschlandsender and pass the information to the Observer in the next compartment. He must also, at designated times, listen out to messages from his base aerodrome and also his Group Headquarters. In addition, in emergency, he could attempt to obtain a course to steer to any given bomber station by requesting from them a QDM, the code for that information. But this was regarded as being rather infra dig.
The two ‘straight AGs’, as the other gunners were known, occupied their respective gun turrets with a few inches to spare, one at the front and one at the rear of the aircraft, the coldest positions, despite their electrically heated leather Irvin suits. In the ‘tail-end Charlie’s’ case it was the loneliest position in the aircraft and the most hazardous if attacked by a Luftwaffe night-fighter, but the safest if a sudden crash-landing became necessary, or if the order to bale out was given in some dire emergency, when he simply rotated his turret through ninety degrees, clipped on his parachute, jettisoned the turret doors and fell out backwards. Each turret was equipped with two .303 inch Browning guns, lovingly maintained and cared for by their users, pitifully inadequate when compared to the cannon of the German night-fighters.
To be in the firing line of these Luftwaffe cannon was not at all pleasant. Although never, fortunately, experiencing it in the air, Charlie, my room-mate, and I, billeted in Kneesworth Hall close to the aerodrome, on the old Roman road of Ermine Street, were quietly writing letters one evening in our first-floor room when we heard, and ignored, the noise of the air-raid siren from the village. Bassingbourn was one of the nearest training aerodromes, and certainly the nearest bomber O.T.U., to the east coast, although a fair distance from it. But this fact must have been well known to the enemy, who paid us periodic visits. One aircraft, in fact – I believe it was a Junkers 88 – either by design or mischance actually landed at
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Steeple Morden, our satellite aerodrome and became the property of H.M. Government and the Air Ministry, subsequently appearing as part of the circus of captured German aircraft in flying condition which we once saw flying out of Duxford, a nearby fighter station, where they were based, and heavily escorted by a squadron of Spitfires indulging in some plain and fancy flying around them to discourage curious onlookers such as we, who might have gone so far as to try to shoot them down, if in sufficiently rash a mood. However, to return to Kneesworth Hall and the air raid warning. Charlie and I carried on with our respective writing until we were suddenly aware of a strange aircraft engine noise becoming rapidly louder, accompanied by the loud and staccato banging of cannon-fire as the German intruder shot-up the road, the village and approaches to the aerodrome. Our letters were swiftly thrown aside as we, with violent expletives, flung ourselves under our respective beds. My future rear gunner also had a tale to tell concerning an attack by an intruder.
The taking of sun-sights over, we were instructed to gather in one of the hangars to be crewed up. There was, as I recall, no formal procedure attached to this important and far-reaching event. One of two instructors acted somewhat like shepherds directing straggling sheep to make up a group of six which was to be a crew. There must have been a hundred or more aircrew of all categories milling around rather haphazardly until, perhaps, a beckoning hand, a lifted eyebrow or a resigned grin bonded one man to another or to a group as yet incomplete. The whole procedure, if indeed it could be graced by that term, seemed to be quite without organisation, the complete antithesis of all previous group activities I had experienced since putting on my uniform eleven months before. Here, there was no falling-in in threes, or lining up alphabetically. (And how I used to long for anyone named Young who would replace me, the invariable and forlorn last man in any line for whatever was to be received or done.)
“You lookin’ f’r ‘n Observer?”
He was tallish, rather sallow and thin-faced, in Australian dark blue uniform with its black buttons, Sergeant’s chevrons on his sleeves, the winged ‘0’ above his breast pocket.
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“Sure. Glad to have you,” I said.
This was Colin, more often than not simply ‘Col’. He was to guide us unfailingly through the skies, friendly skies by day and night, then through the hostile moonlit spaces over Germany and Occupied Europe. Col, from Randwick, near Sydney, with his baritone voice which quite often suddenly creaked, almost breaking as he spoke, with his wry sense of humour, his sudden, almost apologetic half-stifled laughter, his strange, colourful vocabulary – “Take five!” His term, sometimes sarcastically uttered, of approval. And when he suspected that I or some other member of the crew was trying to kid him – “Aw, don’t come the raw prawn!” A single man, his father working for the Australian Broadcasting Corporation.
Later, one night on ops with the Squadron to Kiel where the Gneisenau was skulking after its dash up the Channel from Brest with the Scharnhorst and Prinz Eugen, Col performed a wonderfully accurate piece of navigation. It was on an occasion, of which there were several, when the Met. forecast was completely inaccurate, which we feared when we entered cloud at 600 feet after take-off. We climbed slowly until we could climb no more in the thin air and reached 20,500 feet, still in cloud, a faint blur of moonlight showing above us. We bombed the centre of the flak concentration in the target area, completely blind, but saw several large explosions which we duly reported on our interrogation back at base. Losing height slowly on the way back and with an unwelcome passenger in the shape of the 1000 pound bomb which had hung-up, I broke cloud at something around 1000 feet on return, a mere four miles south of our intended position, to see the welcome finger of Spurn Head down to starboard and the four red obstruction lights of a radar station near Cleethorpes gleaming ahead. Over seven hours in cloud and an error of only four miles, thanks to Col’s abilities. It was on this raid, by Wellingtons, 68 in total, of our No. 1 Group, that the Gneisenau was so badly damaged that she never sailed again from her berth. Many of her crew were killed. Perhaps it was our bombs that had done the damage, who knows.
I once found Col, on an op, being quietly sick into a tin at the side of his plotting-table, his face ashen, but carrying on despite that.
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Such was his dauntless spirit. He had my unspoken sympathy as a fellow-sufferer.
A pale, poker-faced and very quiet Royal Canadian Air Force sergeant pilot attached himself to us. Elmer, as the rest of the crew came to christen him, was silent to a degree, but despite that somehow exuded a quiet if somewhat forlorn determination. When we reached the Squadron in October he joined Mike Duder’s crew. Five of the six of them were killed when, damaged by flak over Essen on Mike’s 29th trip, his last but one of his tour had he completed it, they were finished off by a night-fighter and crashed in Holland. It was not until many years later that I learned a little more about Elmer. Although in the R.C.A.F., he was not, in fact, a Canadian, but a citizen of the United States of American, from St. Paul, Minnesota. Before Pearl Harbor [sic] he had an urge to fly against the Germans, possibly because of his Central European forbears. He volunteered for the U.S. Air Force as a pilot and underwent his initial training. Unfortunately, like many others, he had trouble with his landings and was failed. He returned home undeterred, with his desire to become a pilot undimmed. To raise money for the course of action upon which he had decided, he took a job in a sweet factory and augmented his wages by working as a petrol pump attendant. He then travelled to Canada and enlisted in the R.C.A.F. This time he successfully completed his training and got his long-desired wings. All this I learned years later when I was able to trace his sister-in-law and with a residual sense of guilt over my at times impatient, if not downright snappy instructions to him in the air, I have attempted to salve my conscience by having several times visited his grave, and those of his crew, in a war cemetery in a small, neat town in the Netherlands.
The ‘father’ of our crew was Mick, our Wop/AG, the only married man amongst us. In peacetime – or ‘civvy street’ as it was invariably known – he had worked at Lucas’ in Birmingham and was knowledgeable on most things electrical and mechanical, owning a small Ford car as well as a motor cycle. The former was later well used on stand-down nights on the Squadron for trips into G.Y. (as Grimsby was known) and I once had the doubtful pleasure of a hair-raising pillion ride
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over snow-covered skating rink minor roads, on his motor cycle, also into Grimsby, which was almost as nerve-wracking to me as a trip to Essen. Mick (this was not his given name) was tallish, fairly well-built, with a high forehead, a studious manner, a slight ‘Brummy’ accent and an unconsciously querulous voice. It was he, I think, who christened me ‘Harry’, by which name I became known by the rest of the crew, and the use of which, after their loss, I have strongly discouraged. Mick had done part of his training somewhere in Lincolnshire and had frequented, and knew the landlady, Edna, of the Market Hotel on Yarborough Road in G.Y., which became a home from home for us on stand-down nights. He had a habit concerning which Col and I wryly complained on several occasions, of, on being asked over the intercom. for some information, would testily reply, “Hey, shut up, I’m listening out to Group.” We met his wife once, in the ‘Market’, Mick proudly introducing her to us all, a shy, rather self-effacing girl, soon to become a widow.
Our gunners were a wonderfully contrasted pair. Johnnie, from a small Suffolk town – and again, not his given name – in the front turret, was slim, neat in appearance, quiet of speech and demeanour, moderate in his choice of words and apparently completely without fear. No matter what the circumstances, his voice over the intercom. was as calm and measured as though he were indulging in casual conversation over a glass of beer. On the way to Essen one night we were suddenly coned in a dozen or more searchlights and the German flak gunners got to work on us. Cookie was hurling the aircraft all over the sky in his attempts to get us out of the mess, and I was being hurled all over the interior of the aircraft, which was lit up as bright as day. In a steep dive, attempting to escape from the combined attack of searchlights and flak bursts, Johnnie, without being told, opened fire with several short bursts from his twin Brownings on the searchlight batteries, and immediately we were freed from them as they snapped out as though all controlled by a single switch. Johnnie bought himself no beer the next time we went to the ‘Market’.
In contrast to Johnnie’s urbanity there was Tommy, our cockney rear gunner. I am still looking for Tommy, still seeking to discover what became of him after he was admitted to hospital after a few ops with us, whether even today, somewhere, he is alive. J – would have
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described him, had she, like me, had the good fortune to know him, as being like Tigger, a very bouncy animal. Although not tall, he was built like a boxer or a rugby prop forward, solid, chunky – even more so when kitted up in his Irvin suit – with a gleaming broad red face, scarred in one place, topped by rather long and slightly untidy Brylcreemed hair, his face almost always split in a broad grin. He was cheerful, cocky, good-humoured, never short of a quip, lively and effervescent, and he was a tonic to us all when things were going against us.
He laughingly described to us one incident in which he was involved while in his training Flight in the weeks before coming into the crew. He had been on a night cross-country involving an air-to-sea firing exercise, aiming, presumably, at a flame float which they dropped in the English Channel. Several other gunners were taken along on the trip and after Tommy had fired his allotted number of rounds he retired to the rest bed half way down the Wellington’s fuselage, unplugged his intercom., closed his eyes and fell asleep, the padded earpieces of his helmet dulling the noise of the engines and of the rattle of the Brownings fired by his fellow-pupils. He awoke with a start, someone shaking him violently and yelling in his ear, “Bale out! Bale out!” The aircraft was being jinked around the sky in evasive action from the attack of a German fighter. By the time Tommy had collected his wits, found and clipped on his parachute and jumped through the open escape hatch, the aircraft was down to approximately 600 feet, the lowest safe altitude to allow a parachute to open. No sooner had it done so than he was down to earth, to the softest of all possible landings – in a haystack.
He had no idea where he was, nor what had happened to the aircraft or to the others in it, and certainly no idea of the planned route of the cross-country flight.
“I hadn’t a bloody clue where the hell I was,” he told us, “could’ve been in France, Germany England, any bloody where.”
So he collected his deployed parachute into his arms and in the darkness plodded away from the scene of his sudden and fortuitous landing upon the earth. The unfamiliar countryside was silent and
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dark. He came upon a ditch under a hedge and rightly decided to spend the night there. In the morning he would take stock of his position. In the ditch, he rolled himself into his parachute, comfortably warm inside his leather Irvin suit and once more slept.
In the morning, at daylight, he cautiously emerged to size up the situation. On the other side of the hedge was a narrow road. Keeping well hidden, he awaited developments. Presently, the distant sound of voices alerted him and two men dressed in farm-workers’ clothes came walking along the lane. Tommy strained his ears to catch their conversation, to determine what language they were speaking. To his relief he heard familiar English words. Tommy emerged and, perhaps too quickly, confronted them. But startled as they were by his sudden appearance and flying clothing, they were soon convinced of his nationality when he employed his colourful vocabulary to some effect. They directed him to the nearest house where he received some much-needed refreshment and telephoned his flight Commander at Bassingbourn.
On our evenings out at the ‘Market’ in G.Y. he always made a point of collecting small empty ginger ale bottles after one or other of us – often it was I – had added the contents to our gin. These he would take along on our next op., storing them handily in his already cramped rear turret ready for use. We had heard it said that if caught in searchlights, a couple of empty bottles thrown out would, during their descent, scream like falling bombs and cause the searchlight crew to douse their light, and one night on the approach to the Happy Valley, as the Ruhr, with the somewhat black humour of bomber crews, was known, when we were trapped in searchlights he proved, by throwing out a few bottles, that this was no old wives’ tale. It worked like a charm and we slipped through the defences and on to Essen.
(Soon afterwards, on leave, I was relating this to an elderly and very unworldly female relation, who, to my amazement and vast amusement was alarmed and scandalised, wide-eyed and open mouthed. “Oh! But you might have killed somebody!” she exclaimed.)
I have made several attempts to find out whether Tommy survived the war. In correspondence with a contemporary Squadron member, he
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wrote to say that he had a copy of a Squadron Battle Order in which Tommy’s name appeared in relation to an operation, as rear gunner in some crew whose names were unfamiliar to me, but that Tommy’s name had been crossed out in pencil and another substituted. Whatever the significance of that, neither he nor I could tell after the lapse of time. A message on the Internet, placed by my Dutch friends, has produced no result.
Are you out there somewhere, Tommy? If so, you and I are the only two survivors of the six who came together on that sunny August day in the echoing hangar at Bassingbourn those years ago. I miss you all, more than words can express; I think of you every day that passes, and I never cease to grieve for you, nor ever shall.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[underlined] Enemy coast [/underlined]
Through cockpit window now,
The lemon-slice of moon,
Some random stars
Pricked in a hemisphere of indigo.
Ahead, the coastline waits –
Pale, wavering beams
As innocent as death
Rehearse the adagio ballet
Which will transfix us
On pinnacles of light
For ravening guns.
But for a space
In this brief, breathless safety,
Poised high above the metal
Of the neutral sea,
We hang in vacuum,
Scattered like moths,
Mute castaways in sky.
Until, inevitable, we penetrate
The charnel-house of dreams,
That swift unveiling of Apocalypse
Familiar to us
As the routine holocaust
Which other men call night.
H.Y.
June 1991
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[inserted] [underlined] Images of mortality [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] IMAGES OF MORTALITY [/underlined]
Someone, once, to whom I had been talking – perhaps, it must be admitted, at rather too great length – of my time at Binbrook, cut across my words impatiently with, “Ah, yes, but you were at an impressionable age then.”
Not being by nature argumentative I let the comment pass, and the subject was rapidly changed. But the memory of that remark has remained with me. Broadly, I would not dispute its accuracy, for surely, at whatever age one is, one should be, and should remain, impressionable. But here, the implication seemed to be that the events I had been speaking of were not of such importance to have remained so strongly in my memory as they had done. I was then, and still find myself now, a little annoyed by that viewpoint. The happenings of that period of time were of considerable importance to us participants, and the young men, or youths, as some of us were who were involved, were all, in their own individual ways remarkable to one extent or another, by any standards of unbiased judgement. But perhaps my bias is showing.
Be that as it may, when I think of Binbrook now, there comes into my mind a cascade of kaleidoscopic impressions of scenes, small scenes maybe, and of faces and voices, images of places and of people fixed into my memory like the black and white snapshots secured in an album of photographs.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
It was a shock to me when I saw it for the first time, walking up the road from the Mess towards the hangars. Being a peacetime Station – only just – Binbrook was equipped with the standard pattern of permanent buildings, including a row of what had been married quarters – a few semi-detached, two-storied houses. For some seconds I couldn’t think what had happened over there when I saw that most of the top storey of one of the houses had been shattered and was broken off. I halted in my stride, quite appalled at the unexpected and shocking sight. My first thought, an almost instinctive reaction in those days, was “enemy action”, then it slowly dawned on me that
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this was not so, that the building had, horrifyingly, been struck by one of our own aircraft, either on taking off or on landing, using the short runway. Who it had been, and what casualties had resulted, I never knew. I was too shaken to ask and no-one, certainly, ever volunteered the information. It was not a topic of conversation one indulged in or dwelled upon. But similar incidents were to involve my room-mate, Johnny Stickings, and I was to escape the same fate by only a few scant feet, and by the grace of God.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Johnny had been somewhat longer on the Squadron than I, an Observer in Sergeant O’Connell’s crew. He was short, rather chunky and pale, with straight hair the colour of dark sand. I think we were both much of a type, for while we never went around together, we were perfectly pleasant towards one another and quite happy to be sharing a room, never getting in each other’s way or on each other’s nerves.
One winter’s morning I woke to find his bed still neatly made up and unslept in. At breakfast I heard that his aircraft had crashed the previous night, coming back from an op., on Wilhelmshaven, I believe. As far as anyone could tell me there had been both casualties and survivors. It was later that day when I returned to the room, and found Johnny in bed.
As I recall, he seemed rather dazed and quiet, as well he might have been. He went into few details of the incident; possibly his conscious mind was shying away from the harrowing experience, or perhaps he had been given a sedative. What he did tell me was that when the aircraft crashed he remembered being thrown clear. He had been flung bodily into a small wooden hut on some farmland in Lincolnshire. The hut had collapsed around him and he was only discovered lying in its wreckage by chance, when one of the rescue party noticed the demolished building.
For several years, on the anniversary of the crash, there was an entry in the memorials in the “Daily Telegraph”, to Sergeants O’Connell, Parsons, Laing and Delaney, signed “Johnny”. Then one year the entry no longer appeared.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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Life on the Squadron produced, naturally, shocks to one’s nervous system. Shocks which one could reasonably expect as part and parcel of the normal run of operational flying, and which to one extent or another were predictable. It was the unexpected ones which shook one more violently than the rest; the dazzling blue of a searchlight out of nowhere which flicked unerringly and tenaciously on to one’s aircraft, the long uneventful silence of flying through a black winter’s night being suddenly shattered by a flakburst just off the wingtip. These were things which could set the pulse, in an instant, racing to twice its normal speed.
But there was an incident which occurred in, of all places, the ablutions of the Officers’ Mess, an incident which was so completely unexpected and, at the time, heaven forgive me, so utterly shocking, that it froze me into complete immobility, open-mouthed, horrified, and, for an instant, uncomprehending.
Apart from, as they are termed, the usual offices, in the dimly-lit stone-floored rooms, there were, naturally, a row of washbasins. I was washing my hands at one end of this row one evening when I heard a soft footstep nearby and I distinguished a figure in the feeble blue light which served to illuminate the place. What was so shocking was the face, a random patchwork of different shades of vivid red, white and pink, two long vertical cuts from the ends of the mouth to the chin, the eyelids unnaturally lifeless and mis-shapen, the hair of the head in isolated tufts falling at random on the skull over the brow.
As he moved, I recovered myself and muttered some vague greeting as I went hurriedly out, back to the normality of the well-lit, noisy anteroom. It was a while before I recovered from this un-nerving encounter. Someone subsequently told me about Eddie. He was a burn case, one of McIndoe’s ‘guinea pigs’. A pilot, he had crashed, taking off in a Hampden. The aircraft had burst into flames. The Hampden’s cockpit was notoriously difficult to get out of in a hurry and he had fried in his own greases until he was rescued. Richard Hillary, in his well-known book ‘The Last Enemy’, described Eddie as the worst-burned man in the R.A.F. He was now a pilot in the Target Towing
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Flight, flying drogue-towing Lysanders on gunnery practices.
Possibly because we both frequented the games room a fair amount, he and I slowly drifted together. No-one made any sympathetic noises towards Eddie, that was definitely not done, and no-one made the slightest concession towards him either. He played against me often at table-tennis, with a controlled ferocity which could have only have been born of the desire to live his spared life completely to the full. Frequently, a clump of his dark auburn hair would flop uncontrollably down over his eyes, to expose an area of shiny red scalp, upon which hair would never again grow, one of the numerous grafts on his head and face, the skin having been taken, he told me, mostly from his thighs. He would damn it cheerfully and push it roughly back again with his sudden slash of a broad grin, which never reached his lashless and expressionless eyes.
I had detected some accent which I could not place. One day while we were sitting together in the anteroom, chatting, he mentioned that he was a South African.
“Oh?” I said, “Where from? I’ve got relations out there.”
“Where do they live?”
I named the town.
“Well I’ll be damned,” he said, “that’s where I’m from; what’s their name?”
I told him.
“Have you a cousin called Edna?”
“Why, yes,” I said, astonishment growing every second.
“I used to go around with her,” he laughed, “it’s a small world, isn’t it?”
Eddie, I am glad to say, survived the war. There is a photograph of him, among others of McIndoe’s ‘Army’, in a book named ‘Churchill’s Few.’
. . . . . . . . . . . .
What can one say of Teddy Bairstow? Only that, had he lived fifty years before his time he would have been described, I am sure, as ‘A Card’ or as ‘A Character’.
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Unlike Tony Payne or Jim Heyworth, for example, he was physically unimpressive; very thin-faced and pale, sparse hair brushed sideways across his head, but with eyes as bright as those of the fox’s head of our mascot. It was his voice, however, which one remembers best, grating, strident and penetrative in its broad Yorkshire accents. When he was in the room, everyone knew it, and the place seemed filled with his jovial, but somehow, rueful, almost apprehensive presence.
Teddy had a stock phrase which he used whenever anyone asked him, for example, what sort of a trip he had had. He would lift his voice in both pitch and volume and exclaim to the world at large, “Ee! ‘twere a shaky do!” He had, to everyone’s knowledge, at least one very shaky do. Coming back from some op, he found, for one reason or another, that he wasn’t going to make it back to Binbrook. But he was reasonably close, he had crossed the Lincolnshire coast, and decided he would force-land his aircraft. But no wheels-up-belly-landing, as he should have done, for Teddy. Incredibly, he did a normal landing, if it could be described in those terms, undercarriage down, in the darkness, into a field near Louth, and got away with it without nosing over into a disastrous cartwheel. Few would have survived to tell the tale – Sergeant O’Connell certainly had not done so – but everyone agreed with Teddy’s usual comment. ‘Twere indeed a shaky do.
Towards the end of February Teddy’s luck ran out. We went after the German pocket-battleship Gneisenau in Kiel Docks, where it was holed up after escaping up the Channel. Teddy did not come back.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Somehow, it happened that Eric and I tended to gravitate together to play billiards or table tennis in the Mess games room, and for the odd glass of beer. It was, I think, possibly because like me, he was the only one of commissioned rank in his crew, apart from Abey, that is, who was his pilot and our Flight Commander, a Squadron Leader, very much senior in rank to both of us. Eric was Abey’s Observer, tall, well built, unfailingly polite, his manner polished and urbane, yet by no means superior. We got along very well; I enjoyed his company, and I like to think he enjoyed mine.
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It was one afternoon when we had a stand-down. Frequently, my crew and I would go in to Grimsby, to the cinema, then to the “Market” for a meal with Edna, the landlady, possibly stay the night, and come back in time to report to the Flights next morning. We usually managed to cram ourselves into Mick’s, our wireless operator’s, Ford. However, on this particular afternoon, possibly because we were broke, there were no such arrangements. I happened to bump into Eric in a corridor, in the Mess. We said “hello”, then he stopped suddenly and said, “I say, are you interested in music?”
“Yes, I am, rather,” I said, not knowing what to expect.
“Well, look, I’m just going along to old Doug’s room, he’s going to play some records – would you like to come along? I’m sure he won’t mind.”
So I went. Doug was pleased to see us both. He wound up his portable gramophone and put on Tchaikovsky’s ‘Valse des Fleurs’. I can never hear that lovely, lilting piece without thinking of that afternoon in Doug Langley’s room, lost in the beauty of discovery of orchestral music, and remembering Doug himself, with his light-ginger hair and luxuriant moustache, sitting, eyes closed, head thrown back, as Eric and I listened attentively. From there, on a subsequent stand-down night we went to a real symphony concert, my first ever, in Grimsby, and a whole new and wonderful world had opened up for me, thanks to Eric and Doug.
Abey’s crew went missing on Kiel, the same night as Teddy Bairstow. It was years later that I knew that Eric, and indeed, the rest of the crew, had survived. Desperate for contacts after J – ‘s death, I hunted through telephone directories until I found his name, and contacted him. After a few phone calls, and the exchange of several long letters, I met him in London. Being the men we are, it was an affectionate but undemonstrative greeting, a handshake and smiles rather than arms around shoulders and tears.
His was a simple story. With quite typical frankness he told me, and M – who was with me, that it was all his fault that they had got shot down. There had, he said, been some fault in his navigation, a very common thing in those days when navigational aids were almost nil, when such things as Gee and H2S had never been heard of. On the way to Kiel they had strayed over Sylt, a notorious hot spot of an island off the Danish-German coast.
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They were hit be flak in their starboard engine, which put it out of action. After a discussion as to the alternatives open to them, Abey had turned for home, in the fond hope that one good engine would be sufficient to carry them to the English coast. It was not to be; they were losing too much height to be able to make it back across the wide and inhospitable North Sea. The next option was to turn round again, fly across enemy-occupied Denmark and try to get to Sweden, where they would bale out and be interned for the duration. Again, their loss of height eventually ruled this out, they would never have a hope of reaching any Swedish territory. The third and final option was to bale out over Denmark. This they did, one after the other, successfully, over the island of Funen. They were all immediately taken prisoner. Eric and Abey finished up in the notorious prison campo Stalag Luft III, Sagan, the scene of the “Wooden Horse” tunnel – and of the murder of fifty aircrew officer prisoners by the Germans.
Eric, to my and to M – ‘s fascination, produced an album of pencil sketches he had made on odd scraps of paper, of prison-camp life. I asked him how he had been treated as a P.o.W., those three and more years that he spent behind the wire. Typically, again, he said, “Oh, I didn’t have too bad a time, really, you know.”
What could one say in reply to that? I simply shook my head in wonder. Of course, among others, we mentioned Teddy Bairstow. He and his crew had not been so fortunate. Nor had Doug Langley, whose grave I found, quite by accident, in a quiet cemetery in norther Holland a short time afterwards.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
I returned to Binbrook after many years. But only to the village. I had already found the Market Hotel in Grimsby where I went so often with my crew. I had stood for several minutes, looking up at the windows of the rooms we used to have, and remembering kindly Edna, who treated us like sons. Remembering Col, and Mick, and Johnnie, of my original crew. Remembering Cookie, our skipper, and Mac, our rear gunner, the Canadians among us. Thinking of the man I never knew, Rae, the man who had taken my place, the man who had died instead of me.
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When I arrived at Binbrook, I found I could barely contain my emotion. I recovered myself to some extent while I drank a cup of coffee in the Marquis of Granby, the well-remembered pub in the village. I stood for a long time at the top of the hill, on the road which led down into the valley and up again to the now deserted and silent aerodrome. I stood, remembering again, seeing, across the distance, visions of the Wellingtons I and my friends had flown, parked in their dispersals, the movement of men around them, and their faces, hearing their long-stilled voices. But I could go no closer to them than that. There were too many memories, too many ghosts.
On that fine morning the images of mortality were too real to be borne.
. . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Tony [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] TONY [/underlined]
At the time when I subscribed to ‘Readers’ Digest’ there would appear in each issue a short article entitled ‘The Most Unforgettable Character I Have Ever Met’. I find that this description could fittingly apply to Tony Payne.
When I had the privilege of knowing him, Tony, at the age of 21, was already a veteran in terms of ability and experience, looked up to almost in reverence as one of the elite pilots on the Squadron.
And whenever I recall the Officers’ Mess at Binbrook with its high-ceilinged anteroom just across the main corridor from the dining room, with the eternal, homely smell of coffee from the big urn near to the door, I can visualise Tony as he was so often, standing slightly to one side of the fire, pewter tankard in hand, holding court, as it were, the focal point of all eyes and conversation, eternally smiling and cheerful, his crisp, clear voice sounding above the music from the worn record on the radiogram which would be softly playing a catchy little tune, a favourite of his, called ‘The Cuckoo’. I have never heard it, or heard of it, even, since that time, but I could never forget it, as it was almost Tony’s signature tune. But Tony was entering the last six months of his life.
He had the gift of holding everyone’s attention by his witty observations on most things operational – and non-operational, his words rolling brightly and optimistically off his tongue, his eyes shining with the pleasure of living for the moment, and that moment alone, of good company and comradeship.
Once we were discussing a particular trip. (They were always ‘trips’, occasionally ‘ops’ but never ‘sorties’ or ‘missions’). Someone was describing our attempts to locate some target in Germany one night recently. There had been only sporadic gunfire aimed at us whn [sic] we arrived at about 20,000 feet, and that gunfire, we knew, was not necessarily from the immediate area of the target.
“What did you think about it, Tony?” someone asked. Tony beamed at the question, leaned slightly forward and declaimed with mock solemnity and a judicial air, “Ah! Then I knew that something was afoot!” he said.
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Among his many friends, or ‘familiars’ as they might have once been known, (a description singularly appropriate), was the Senior Flying Control Officer (or ‘Regional Control Officer’ in the terminology then in force) Flight Lieutenant Bradshaw, “Bradders” to everyone. He was old enough to be Tony’s and our father, a World War I pilot beribboned with the ‘Pip, Squeak and Wilfred’ campaign ribbons of that conflict, slightly portly, fairly short in stature, of equable temperament and genial in manner, his iron-grey to white hair meticulously trimmed. A great deal of repartee was invariably exchanged by the two, doubtless born of their mutual affection despite the disparity in their ages.
To our delight one day, Tony hurried into the anteroom in a state of high glee, carrying a small, brown-paper wrapped parcel the size of a large book.
“Wait till you see this, you types!” he crowed to his audience, which included Bradders, who was as intrigued as the rest of us. Tony slowly, tantalisingly slowly, unwrapped his mysterious parcel then dramatically held up its contents for all to see. It was a gilt-framed oil painting of a side-whiskered old man in a country churchyard, his foot upon the shoulder of a spade, a battered old felt hat on his head. The frame bore the title – ‘Old Bradshaw, the village sexton’. It brought the house down and it was ceremoniously hung on the anteroom wall near to the portrait of Flying Officer Donald Garland, one of the Squadron’s two posthumous Victoria Cross recipients, and near also to the mounted fox’s head, our Squadron badge, which had been presented to ‘Abey’, Squadron Leader Abraham, our Flight Commander, on his posting from a Polish O.T.U. where he had been instructing, to 12 Squadron.
At about this time the Air Ministry commissioned Eric Kennington, a noted war artist, to make portraits of outstanding aircrew members, many in Bomber Command, and Tony was one of those selected to sit for him. He sat in his usual place at one end of the anteroom fireplace while Kennington went about his work. The Mess kept a respectful silence while this was proceeding, conversing only in whispers and never attempting to peer over the artist’s shoulder. Some time later, the finished portrait was hung in a place of honour on the wall, to Tony’s laughing embarrassment.
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It was only within these last few years that during a telephone conversation with Eric, my friend, fellow-survivor and table tennis and billiards opponent of those days, who had been Squadron Leader Abraham’s Observer when they were shot down over Denmark, that he asked me if I remembered Tony’s portrait, and whether I knew what happened to it. I confessed that I had almost forgotten about it and did not have any idea what had become of it. But his question touched off in me a desire to find out. It seemed logical that in the first instance I should consult my local Library to see whether they might possibly have any book of the Kennington portraits. It did have such a book, and they brought it out to me. Unfortunately, Tony’s likeness was not among the hundred or so reproduced, but he was mentioned in the index of all the portraits which the artist had undertaken. Where next? I decided that the obvious next step was to contact the R.A.F. Museum at Hendon. There I struck gold. They had the original portrait in storage and swiftly sent me a photo-copy. I obtained two copies, one of which I sent to Eric. Today, a sizeable and well-produced copy of Tony’s portrait hang on my wall where I can look on it with a mixture of affection, pleasure and great sadness, as well as a sense of honour that such a fine man and such a fine pilot could have wanted me to join his crew. I was more than a little surprised when he did so and have often wondered what prompted him to approach me. It was prior to his finishing his first tour, and I have described the incident and its calamitous sequel in the next chapter.
His crew, on his first tour with us, must truly have been quite exceptional. To have completed their tour made them exceptional enough. The chances of that were a considerable way short of evens. There was an example of their ‘press on regardless’ spirit and of the brilliant navigation of Tony’s Observer, Sergeant Dooley, a dapper, smiling little Englishman, on one of our trips to Kiel to bomb the pocket-battleship Gneisenau.
We rarely had an accurate Met. forecast on the trips we did in that winter of 1941-42, and on this night the conditions turned out to be worse than even the Met. Officer had forecast. We took off in the darkness and gloom and entered heavy cloud at 600 feet We climbed
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steadily out over the North Sea but at 20,500 feet we had still not reached clear air. With our bomb load we could climb no higher. We were somewhere in the top of the cloud mass, the moon a faint blur of light on our starboard bow. Below and around us were numerous gun-flashes from the flak defences of Kiel, and as obtaining a visual pinpoint was obviously impossible we bombed the centre of the flak concentration. We turned for home, still in cloud. After over three hours of manual flying, concentrating solely on the instrument panel in front of me, and losing height slowly down to 1,000 feet, I became aware that we had finally reached the cloudbase. Then to my relief and delight I pinpointed Spurn Head, our crossing-in point, about four miles to starboard, and saw the four red obstruction lights of the radar station near Cleethorpes dead ahead. We heartily congratulated Col on his navigation – seven hours plus in cloud and only four miles off track at the end of it.
But Sergeant Dooley and Tony had outshone us. Like us, finding the target in Kiel docks completely cloud-covered he had refused the opportunity to bomb blind as most of us had done. They set course for the Baltic Sea, topped the cloud and found moonlight – and stars. Flying straight and level, which one had to do to take astro-shots of the various stars on the astrograph chart, and which one could safely do over the sea, but which was a most unhealthy undertaking over hostile territory, Sergeant Dooley obtained an astro fix of their exact position. He then plotted a dead-reckoning track and course to the target, some distance away, and when their E.T.A. was up, bombed on that. The Squadron Navigation Officer subsequently re-plotted his whole log and found that they had been ‘spot-on’ the target. Such was the ability and experience of Tony and his crew.
When his tour was finally over and he had a well-deserved D.F.C. to his credit he was posted away to some hush-hush job at an aerodrome on Salisbury Plain, and both the Mess and B Flight Office were the poorer and less colourful for his going.
My final meeting with him before my posting and his shockingly unexpected and untimely death was a few weeks after he had left the Squadron at the end of his tour. He appeared one day, cheerful and unchanged as ever, in the anteroom one lunchtime. He had flown up,
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unofficially, one guessed, in a small, twin-engined trainer. He was, he told us, flying all sorts of kites, at all sorts of heights, mostly over the Channel. He alleged that ‘they’, whoever they might be, and he did nothing to enlighten us on that, even wanted him to fly inverted on occasions. Beyond that he said nothing, and we did not ask him too many questions. He mentioned that although he had flown up to see us in the Oxford, one of the several aircraft at the secret establishment, he would have preferred something else – “I wanted to come in the Walrus”, he chuckled, naming an antiquated and noisy single-pusher-engined flying boat, usually operated by the Fleet Air Arm.
“I’d love to have taxied up to the Watch Office and chucked the anchor out!”
He left us after a cheerful lunch and went for ever out of my life, for which I am greatly the poorer.
It seems that he came back to 12, without a crew, for a second tour and was insistent on taking part in the first 1,000 bomber raid, that on Cologne, with a completely new crew. His was the first aircraft to be shot down that night. It happened over the outskirts of Amsterdam. How he came to be there will always remain a mystery to me, as the route planned for that night to Cologne lay over the estuary of the Scheldt, mush [sic] further south, its numerous islands providing invaluable pinpoints.
He and all his crew are buried in beautifully tended graves in a shady part of Amsterdam’s New Eastern Cemetery, which I have several times visited.
On one visit to Amsterdam I had contacted a Dutchman who had formed part of the team of volunteers who had excavated the remains of C-Charlie, Tony’s aircraft on that fatal night in May 1942. I was able to visit the crash site in the suburb of Badhoevedorp. A small museum of remembrance had been created in some old underground fortifications on the outskirts of the city where were reverently displayed several small identifiable components of the aircraft, as well as one or two pathetic personal belongings of the crew. I was offered, and accepted, a small section of the geodetic construction of the Wellington and this now has a place of honour in my living room, where Tony, from his portrait, appears to be looking down upon it.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Mind you don’t scratch the paint [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] MIND YOU DON’T SCRATCH THE PAINT [/underlined]
After what happened that night to his beloved Z-Zebra when we, for the first and only time, were being allowed to fly it on ops, I could have quite understood if Tony had never wanted to have anything to do with me, or with any of the crew, again.
But instead, after it was all over, for some time afterwards, whenever he happened to see me in the anteroom there would come into his eyes a gleam of what I could only interpret as amusement, but something more besides; this was a look of amusement mingled with a knowledge and appreciation of our good fortune, the look which perhaps a proud parent gives to his offspring as he sees him emerge from the last obstacle of a tricky course in the school sports and run triumphantly towards the finishing line, a “by-God-you’ve-done-it” look. A fanciful idea maybe, but the more I look back on it, the more I am sure that was what it was.
It was when we had already done a handful of ops, I remember, and when he himself must have been well on towards finishing his tour – remarkable enough in itself – and quite some while after the events which led to his, and our, final trip in ‘Z’ that he caught my eye and beckoned me over, one day when there was no flying, in the mess at Binbrook. He and I were both standing among the small crowd of aircrew officers near the fireplace, tankards in our hands, nearly all of us smoking, under the gaze of the portrait of Donald Garland, V.C., and of the fox’s mask mounted on its wooden shield.
And when I had made my way towards him he paid me a great and surprising compliment, he who was without doubt one of the finest of the many fine pilots on the Squadron.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
But the story, of course, starts some time before that, when we were very much the new boys, before I and the rest of the crew had been blooded on ops. When we had arrived on the Squadron from our Operational Training Unit at Bassingbourn, Elmer, my co-pilot,
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had been allocated to Mike Duder’s crew, while the rest of us had been taken over, as it were, by Ralph, a pilot who had a few ops already to his credit. We settled down comfortably enough with him and went through the final stages of our familiarisation and training on the Mark II Wellington in preparation for our first operation together. This landmark in one’s flying career was something which I, at any rate, had looked forward to – if that is the correct form of words – with a mixture of curiosity, awe and a certain degree of apprehension tinged with excitement; I regarded it as a large step into a completely unknown world. Just how hazardous a step it would turn out to be I was soon to discover.
At that time, my logbook tells me, we had no aircraft which we could really regard as our own, perhaps because we were a fresher crew, I don’t know. However, we had flown seven different aircraft since joining ‘B’ Flight. One morning we reported as usual, to the Flights. I had the privilege of using, along with others, Abey’s, our Flight Commander’s, office as a sort of mini-crewroom. It was late November and we sat around talking, shop mostly, until about ten o’clock, when Abey’s phone rang. All conversation stopped. We knew what it would be – either another stand-down, or a target. It was a target, for freshers only. It would not be named until briefing that afternoon, of course, but I was fairly certain it would be one of the French Channel ports.
Abey nodded to me pleasantly and said, “Let the rest of your crew know, will you?” Then he looked quickly at the blackboard fixed to the wall facing him and said, “Look, I think you’d better take Z-Zebra, Tony’s aircraft – he’s off to Buck House tomorrow to collect his gong from the King.”
Tony Payne wasn’t in the Flight Office at the time, I suppose he had been told by Abey that he wouldn’t be required in any case; an appointment with His Majesty would naturally take priority over anything. So it was lunchtime when we’d done our quite uneventful night flying test on ‘Z’, that I saw him in the Mess. Or rather, that he saw me, and made a bee-line for me.
“What’s this I hear, then?” he asked.
I grinned at him.
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“You mean about Z-Zebra?”
“Yes, I mean about Z-Zebra. My Z-Zebra. You’re not actually going to fly my kite, are you? On ops? God!”
There was a look of mock-horror on his face.
“Well, that’s what Abey said, so that’s what we’re doing. Don’t worry, Tony, we won’t bend it, or anything.”
“Bend it? You’d better not! If you so much as scratch the paint I shall deal with you all personally, one at a time, when you come back, you mark my words!”
We both knew he was kidding, but I knew, too, that ‘Z’ was the apple of Tony’s eye and that it had served him well. I hoped that it would serve as [sic] well, too.
Briefing was in the early afternoon. I cannot recall that there were many of us there, three crews at most is my recollection. The target was Cherbourg docks, time on target 2100 to 2130, bomb-load seven five hundred pounders, high explosive, route Base – Reading – Bognor Regis – target and return the same way. I felt nothing other than curious anticipation, once the time of take-off drew nearer. I think the thought that we were in ‘Z’ boosted my morale. Tony’s aircraft must be good, for he was good, the best. That followed; ‘Z’ wouldn’t let us down. The trip was going to be, if not the proverbial piece of cake, then quite O.K., quite straightforward, a nice one to start us off, of that I was confident.
It was a Saturday evening and dusk was falling as I went up to the Flights and opened my locker in Abey’s office. He was there, of course, looking quietly on at the small handful of us putting on our kit for the op. I started to struggle into my flying kit. Roll-necked sweater under my tunic, brown padded inner suit from neck to ankle, like a tightly fitting eiderdown, old school scarf, which, while I would never have admitted it, was my good-luck talisman. Pale green, slightly faded canvas outer flying suit with fur collar, wool-lined leather flying boots, parachute harness, Mae West and, lastly, ‘chute and helmet, which I carried. I checked that I had the issued silk handkerchief, printed very finely with a map of France, just in case, and I touched the reassuring small miniature compass,
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sewn into my brevet, another aid to evasion if forced to bale out.
I joined Ralph and the lads in the hangar. There was a continuous buzz of conversation, the odd burst of laughter. Ralph was smiling with rather forced cheerfulness, no doubt wondering how his new crew would cope. Col, our Aussie Observer, looked more sallow than usual and was chewing gum rapidly. His Australian twang, when he spoke, was more pronounced, it seemed to me. Mick, the wireless op., looked worried, as usual, and said nothing, while Tommy, our rear gunner, was completely unconcerned and grinning from ear to ear. Johnnie, who would occupy the front turret, was his calm and quite imperturbable self, almost, I realised, the complete antithesis of Tommy.
Ralph said quickly, “Let’s go, then,” and we strolled out of the chilly, pale blue lighting of the hangar into the darkness. We climbed awkwardly into the waiting crew-bus parked on the perimeter track. A half moon was beginning to show, flitting in and out of the scattered clouds which were drifting out to sea from off the Lincolnshire Wolds. It was cold, and despite my flying kit, I shivered a little. Col was still chewing stolidly, his face expressionless. There was a little desultory conversation as the bus rolled towards the dispersals, but the night’s op was not mentioned.
“Z-Zebra,” called the W.A.A.F. driver through the little window at the front of the bus. We started to clamber stiffly down the back steps, reluctant to leave the companionable shelter of the vehicle.
“Have a good trip!”
Someone from another crew shouted the conventional but oddly reassuring words, which were invariably used to send a crew on their way.
“You too,” one of us replied.
Z-Zebra loomed over us in the semi-darkness. The crew bus rumbled away. The silence was intense, almost tangible. The ground-crew stood around, blowing on their hands and beating their arms around their bodies against the cold. There were muted greetings. Col and I walked several yards away from the kite, lit cigarettes from my case and took a dozen or so quick draws before stamping them out.
“Come on, let’s get started,” I muttered, and we clambered up the red ladder which jutted down from Z’s nose. Johnnie was handing
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the pigeon in its ventilated box carefully up to Mick.
We struggled in, heavily and clumsily, each to his position. I hoisted myself over the main spar and stood in the astrodome, reaching down to plug in my intercom lead, and I found the hot-air hose, aiming it to blow on to my body once the engines had been started. The port engine suddenly stammered and roared into life, then the starboard. We heard Ralph blow twice into his mike to test the intercom, then he spoke.
“Everyone O.K? Harry?”
“O.K., skip,” I said.
“Col?”
“Yeah, skip.”
“Mick?”
O.K.”
“Johnnie?”
“O.K., skipper.” Johnnie was always punctilious and correct.
“Tommy? All right at the back there?”
“Yes, fine, skip.”
“Right, I’ll take it there and do the bombing run, Harry, you can bring us back.”
“O.K., skip,” I said.
Ralph’s mike clicked off. There was an increased roar from the port enging, [sic] shaking the whole kite, then from the starboard, as Ralph ran them up, checking the power, the magnetos, the oil pressure and the engine temperatures. The kite was shivering like a nervous racehorse at the starting gate, waiting for the off. A lull, then I felt a lurch as we moved slowly out of dispersal. The hangars, topped by their red obstruction lights, slid by, then we were at the end of the runway in use. Behind us I could see the nav. lights of the other aircraft which were to share the night sky with us over Cherbourg. A green Alldis light flashed directly on to us – dah, dah, di-di, - Z.
“You’ve got your green, skipper,” I said. We were on our way.
“O.K., here we go, hold on to your hats.”
Johnnie appeared alongside me and grinned rather wolfishly; the front
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gunner went into his turret only when we were safely airborne. Ralph opened up the throttles against the brakes to lift the tail a little. Z-Zebra jerked and strained, then suddenly we surged forward, the engines howling. The Drem lighting of the flarepath smudged past, faster and faster as we charged down the runway. The bar of lights with the two goose-neck flares at the far end slid towards us, then suddenly all vibration ceased; we were airborne, we were on our way.
Johnnie gave me the thumbs-up and vanished up front to go into his turret. In a few seconds he called up to say he was in position. I felt and heard Ralph throttling back to settle into the long climb to operational height; we would aim to be at 20,000 feet over the target. He began a turn to port to bring us back over the centre of the aerodrome to set course accurately for Reading.
The night was clear, some cloud showing vaguely out to sea, a blaze of stars everywhere, with the half moon as yet low on the port beam. There were several flashing red beacons to be seen, scattered over the dim landscape like lurid and sinister fireflies, but no-one bothered to read their Morse letters on the way out; coming home, it would be another matter, they would be looked for and read as eagerly as one used to read the familiar names on railway stations on the way back from a holiday. From the astrodome the mainplanes were pale in the faint moonlight, the exhaust stubs glowed redly. The rudder was a tall finger behind us, under which sat Tommy in his turret, a lonely place. I could see the guns rotating from side to side as he kept watch. There was little sensation of height or speed as the engines roared steadily under climbing power, the passage of time seemed suspended and there was a sense of complete detachment from the earth and from all things on it. Conversation was limited to the essential minimum.
Ralph came up, eventually, on the intercom.
“Oxygen on, please, Harry, ten thousand feet.”
I acknowledged, unplugged my intercom and left my position, going forward over the main spar to where just behind the Observer’s compartment the oxygen bottles were in racks up on the port side of the
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fuselage. I screwed open the valves on each one and returned to the astrodome.
“Oxygen on, skipper.”
I plugged in the bayonet fitting of my oxygen tube to the nearest socket and clipped the mask on my helmet securely to cover my nose and mouth. After a while, “Glow on the deck, dead ahead, skipper,” Johnnie said. I went forward quickly to stand beside Ralph.
“Looks like Reading,” I said, “they always did have a lousy blackout. See those two lines of lights? The railway station. Wouldn’t that slay you? I don’t know how they don’t get bombed to hell.”
“Useful for us, anyhow,” Ralph replied, “we’re dead on track and two minutes to E.T.A., too. Good for you, Col,” he called.
The faint glow of Reading vanished under the nose. The moon was a bit higher now. Col gave the new course for Bognor. I took a deep breath of oxygen and holding it in my lungs as long as I could, went back to the astrodome. Tommy spoke up, rather fractiously.
“Bloody cold back here.”
“Shut up a minute, Tommy,” I heard Mick say, “I’m listening out to Group.”
No-one spoke for a while. Then I caught a glimpse of a white flashing beacon to starboard. These were very useful; Observers kept a list of them coded with their actual Latitude and Longitude positions. I switched on my mike.
“Occult flashing R Robert about five miles to starboard, Col,” I said.
Then, “That’s peculiar,” I thought, “I didn’t hear my own voice saying that.”
I checked my intercom switch and repeated what I’d said. Still nothing. I moved over to the intercom point at the flarechute and plugged in. I blew into my mike – dead as mutton. Taking a gulp of oxygen I went forward to Col’s desk and banged him on the shoulder. He looked up in surprise. I undid his helmet and shouted in his ear.
“Is your intercom working?”
He thumbed the switch and I saw his lips moving. Then he shrugged his shoulders expressively.
“Bloody thing’s crook,” he shouted.
After another gulp of oxygen I went forward to yell in Ralph’s ear.
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“Intercom’s u/s!”
I saw Ralph check his mike, then he nodded, the corners of his mouth turned down ruefully.
“Not a sausage,” he shouted, “see if Mick can fix it.”
I pushed through the door into Mick’s compartment. He beat me to it.
“Intercom’s u/s, R/T, too.”
“See if you can fix it!”
Mick nodded.
I went forward again to Ralph, who had scribbled a note on a message pad.
‘If no joy in 15 min. we jettison and abort.’
Without the intercom we would be completely cut off from one another, an impossible situation. I settled into the second pilot’s position alongside Ralph, thinking that I might as well stay up front for a while. Ralph was writing something again, letting the trimmers fly the aircraft while he did so.
‘Tell the gunners,’ I read, and gave him the thumbs-up. More oxygen, then I ducked under the instrument panel, past the bomb-sight, treading gingerly on the bottom escape hatch, and quickly opened the front turret doors.
My God, I thought, it’s freezing cold in here.
Johnnie twisted himself round and looked at me questioningly.
“Intercom’s gone for a Burton,” I shouted, “we may have to scrub it.”
He raised his eyebrows and nodded.
Half way back down the fuselage I saw the rear turret doors opening and Tommy emerged, slightly red in the face.
“My bloody intercom’s u/s,” he shouted, looking aggrieved.
I told him the situation quickly and he went back into his turret. I bent over Mick, who was fiddling with the intricacies of the radio equipment.
“Any joy?” I shouted.
Mick grimaced and shook his head.
“Keep trying, Mick.”
When I went back to Ralph he leaned over and shouted, “If Mick can’t fix it by Bognor, we’ll jettison ten miles out to sea and go home.”
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I wrote a note for Col and passed it to him. I was already hoarse with shouting and tired from moving around the aircraft on scanty oxygen.
Still we climbed. Bognor was now below us, I could distinguish the shape of the south coast, the Isle of Wight. Col came forward and made book-opening movements of his hands to Ralph who nodded and selected the bomb-door switch to ‘open’. Col ducked down to the bombsight. I wondered idly whether there were any convoys below; even though the bombs would be dropped ‘safe’ they wouldn’t like five hundred pounds of solid metal from this height. There was a slight shudder as the bombs went. Col came back.
“Bloody waste,” he shouted.
Ralph nodded as he closed the bomb-doors.
He shouted to me, “We might as well get down lower where we can come off oxygen. Get a course from Col, will you?”
I did so and set it on the compass for Ralph, who did a wide turn to port, losing height steadily. The altimeter slowly unwound.
When we passed through ten thousand feet I turned off the bottles and went the rounds of the crew, telling each one we were on the way home. Their reactions were muted, impassive. Soon we were down to two thousand feet, droning over the dim November landscape. There were no beacons to be seen anywhere in this area. I stood alongside Ralph, wondering if I would get a chance to fly ‘Z’ soon, but perhaps he didn’t like the thought of passing messages himself; the journey from front turret to rear, for example, was a bit of an obstacle race.
Quite suddenly, I noticed that the starboard engine temperature was up. I tapped Ralph on the arm and pointed to it. He nodded slowly, we droned onwards. I looked out of my side window, through the arc of the propeller, mere inches away, at the starboard engine. Was it my imagination, or was there a whitish mist streaming back from it? Ralph had levelled off at a thousand feet. Col came in and handed him a note of E.TA. Reading. The starboard engine temperature was higher, and now the oil pressure was decidedly down, too.
We’ve got trouble, damn it, I thought, and I saw there was now
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no doubt at all about the trail of vapour from the engine.
“Looks like a glycol leak,” I told Ralph, who stared grimly ahead and nodded. Then he turned to me.
“Get Mick on the W/T to base, returning early, intercom and R/T u/s, glycol leak starboard engine.”
I gave him the thumbs-up, seized a message pad and wrote it down, then went aft and handed it to Mick, who was sitting glumly at his table. He looked at the note, raised his eyebrows and frowned, then started to tap out the message on the Morse key.
Up front again I saw that the vapour leak from the engine was now streaked with red, and angry looking sparks were flying back over the engine nacelle and the trailing edge of the mainplane. I nudged Ralph, who leaned over to look, then grimaced. Now, the engine temperature was very high and the oil pressure had slumped even further. Z-Zebra was in real trouble. As is the way in flying, events thereafter moved in a downward spiral from bad to desperate with sickening rapidity. A lick of flame spat out of the engine, over the starboard mainplane, then horrifyingly, like the tail of a rocket, the flame shot back towards the rear turret.
“Fire!” I yelled in Ralph’s ear.
I pressed the extinguisher button on the instrument panel. Ralph chopped the starboard throttle back and hauled the wheel over to counteract the lurch and swing. I looked at the flames which were now pouring out of the duff engine, over the cowling and the trailing edge of the mainplane. Suddenly Tommy appeared at my side.
“Hey! There’s a hell of a lot of sparks flying past my turret!”
“Yes, we’re on fire, but we’re trying to get it out,” I shouted back at him.
Tommy’s eyes opened wide when he saw the blazing engine.
“Jesus bloody Christ,” he said, in awe.
We were now below 1000 feet. Ralph had opened up the port engine to try to maintain height, but we were turning slowly to starboard the whole time. I thought about the best part of 375 gallons of petrol in the starboard wing-tank, then about the western edge of London and its balloon barrage, somewhere very close to us. We
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were in one hell of a mess, I thought, and it began to dawn on me that the situation could well kill us all. I tried not to think too hard about that. Ralph was wrestling with Z-Zebra, trying to keep it on some sort of a course, but it appeared to be useless.
“Poop off some reds,” he yelled, “and look out for a flarepath!”
I hurried aft.
“Put the I.F.F. on Stud 3,” I shouted to Mick, above the howl of the good engine, and nodding glumly, Mick switched to this distress frequency which would show up as a distinctively shaped trace on all ground radar sets. I quickly found some double-red Verey cartridges and got the signal pistol down from its fixture in the roof of the fuselage. I loaded the cartridges and shot them off one at a time.
“Can’t do much more now,” I said to myself, and hoped for the sight of a flarepath, a directing searchlight, or anything that would help us. I went forward again. We were still losing height and I realised that we were too low to bale out. But the fire had died down and I sighed with relief at that. The prop windmilled slowly and uselessly. I wished that Z-Zebra had been fitted with propeller feathering devices, but it was useless wishing thoughts like that. I peered intently at the starboard wing; there didn’t seem to be any fire there, thank God, otherwise we would simply blow up in mid-air and that would be that. Now, the immediate problem was how we were going to get back on to the ground in approximately one piece; there wasn’t a flarepath or a beacon to be seen anywhere.
I felt completely helpless and at the mercy of a capricious and malignant fate which I could do nothing to influence. It was like being in a paper bag going down a waterfall. Ralph’s face was grim as he struggled to keep straight and to maintain altitude. I heaved a length of wrapped elastic from my parachute stowage and tied the wheel fully over to the left, to take the load off Ralph a little. He nodded his thanks. Another length of elastic; I tied the rudder bar over to the geodetics. That was all I could do.
I looked out again. Still no sign of friendly lights and the treetops were looking damned close now. The port engine exhaust stubs were bright red due to the punishment the engine was taking and I knew it was just a matter of minutes before we hit something. I thought, “This is a hell of a shaky do.” Then, ahead, I saw an interruption in the dark skyline and I was puzzled as to what it
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could be. I took a glance as [sic] the A.S.I., just under 100 m.p.h., much too near stalling speed for comfort. I hardly dared look at the altimeter, it showed a mere 200 feet now. The curious, dim outlines on the skyline grew slowly larger as we staggered on. That was about it, Z-Zebra was simply staggering along and sinking through the air, almost on the point of stalling, when we would drop like a stone. I was holding the wheel over to port, helping Ralph all I could. Keep height and we lost speed; keep speed and we lost height. That was the quite hopeless situation.
The jagged skyline, which was now beginning to fill the windscreen, resolved itself horrifyingly, in the dim moonlight, into buildings. A town, and worst of all, a town with a tall, thick chimney, dead ahead.
“Jesus Christ,” I thought, “we’ve bloody well had it now, we’re going to hit that bloody chimney.”
100 feet on the altimeter. Now we were over the town, churning over the roofs at 90 miles an hour. The streets looked so close that I could have put out a hand to touch them. The chimney loomed nearer, the black roofs skated away behind us, apparently just below the floor of the fuselage. I thought of the people in those houses, cringing as they heard the hideous noise just above their heads, praying that the aircraft wouldn’t hit them in a cataclysm of bricks, rubble and blazing petrol. I was sweating as I frantically heaved at the wheel to try to help Ralph. His eyes were staring as though he were hypnotised by the sight of the chimney. With agonising slowness it slid towards us, slightly to starboard now, it seemed, then just beyond the starboard wingtip, a handful of yards away. I shut my eyes for a second, hardly daring to believe that we had missed it.
“Thank Christ for that!” I yelled at Ralph. We were over open fields again. Ralph shouted desperately, “I’ll have to put it down soon, get them into crash positions!”
I hurried to the front turret, collected Johnnie, who was as pleasant and imperturbable as though he was sitting in an armchair in the Mess. he would have had a grandstand view of the whole thing, up to now. Together, we grabbed Mick and Col. The three of them lay on the floor of the fuselage, hands clasped behind their necks.
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I hurried, stumbling, to the rear turret and wrenched open the doors.
“Crash landing, any minute now!” I yelled at Tommy. He would sit tight, his was the safest place in the kite in this situation. I almost envied him. I rushed forward again and took a final glance out of the windscreen. We were at treetop level. Then I went back to join Mick, Col and Johnnie. There was not enough room for me to lie down, so I stood sideways on, taking a firm grip on the geodetics, and hoped for the best.
Suddenly the port engine was throttled right back. This was it, I thought. A few seconds’ silence, which seemed like a month, then a tremendous impact. A cool smell of newly-torn earth filled the aircraft. I hear, unbelievably, a long burst of machine gun fire and could see red tracer flying ahead of us. I couldn’t think what was going on; surely we weren’t being shot at? The kite bucketed along, everything twisting and grinding, the deceleration fantastic. I could hardly stay upright. The smell of ploughed earth was beautiful, almost intoxicating. I hung on grimly, and after what seemed an age, we finally lurched to a halt. For an instant there was total, blissful silence.
“Everyone out, quick!” I shouted.
The three of them hurried forward where I could see Ralph’s legs vanishing through the escape hatch above the pilot’s seat. Tommy came staggering from the rear of the fuselage, clutching his forehead.
“You O.K.?” I asked him.
“Hit me bloody head on some broken sodding geodetics,” he said angrily.
“Hurry up and get out in case the bloody kite goes up,” I said urgently, and I pushed him forward, ahead of me. He climbed out of the top hatch via the pilot’s seat; I was hard on his heels. I could hear Johnnie telling someone, in his clear, modulated voice, that he had forgotten to put the safety-catch of his guns on to ‘safe’, the impact of the crash had set them firing. I hoped vaguely that no-one had been hurt. It was years later that I learned that one bullet had gone through a child’s bedroom window as her mother was putting her to bed; the bullet had embedded itself in the mattress without harming the little girl.
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I followed Tommy up and out. I was swinging my legs over the edge of the escape hatch, on to the top of Z-Zebra, when I saw a spurt of flame from the port engine. The strain had been too much for it.
“Port engine’s on fire!” I shouted to them, “get to hell out of it!”
I jumped back inside the cockpit, quickly found the port fire-extinguisher button and jabbed my thumb hard on it, swearing softly under my breath. Then I clambered out again, found the port mainplane under my feet and walked down it on to the field.
The aircraft looked like a landed whale, its props bent grotesquely backwards, its back dismally broken, with the rudder towering up at an odd angle, its wings now spread uselessly across the stubble and the broad rut which we had gouged out of the field trailing back towards the hedge, between some tall trees. The crew were grouped together twenty yards away.
“Come on, Harry!” someone shouted.
A man was running over the field towards us, I could see the steam of his panting breaths in the moonlight as he got nearer and heard him excitedly saying something about ‘the biggest field in the district’. The moon shone palely through the trees which we had missed and the air was sweet as wine. I lit a cigarette and joined the others.
“Are you O.K.?” Col asked. I nodded.
“Bloody fine landing, Ralph,” I said, “damn good show.”
We followed the man over the stubble, towards the broken hedge, then to an Auxiliary Fire Station on the outskirts of St. Albans, where we had come down.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
“Look,” Tony said confidentially, “you know I’ve got …… as my co-pilot?”
“Yes,” I said, wondering what was coming next.
“Well, between you and me, I’m really not all that happy with him. Would you like to come into my crew? I can fix it with Abey, if you would.”
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When I recovered from my astonishment it didn’t take me long to decide. I shook my head.
“No, thanks, Tony, no, really, I wouldn’t want to leave my own crew, you know.”
“Oh, well, I can quite understand that. I just thought - . But if you do change your mind, there’s a place for you with me, any time.”
I thanked him. I have never forgotten the honour he did me.
As I have said, Tony took the wrecking of Z-Zebra quite well, all things being considered. Shortly afterwards, he finished his tour. His crew were posted away, while he himself went on to some hush-hush flying, somewhere on Salisbury Plain, we heard, involving several different types of aircraft. It was something, we guessed, in connection with the development of radar and its applications. He paid us a visit once, in an Anson.
“I wanted to come up in a Walrus,” he said, naming a slow, noisy and out-of-date small flying-boat, “and throw out the anchor in front of the Watch Office!”
We had a jocular half hour with him in front of the ante-room fire.
Tony Payne came back to the Squadron for his second tour of ops. He took a new crew, on their first trip, on the Thousand Bomber raid on Cologne. His was the first aircraft to be shot down that night. He was hit by flak over Ijmuiden, on the Dutch Coast and the aircraft blew up over Badhoevedorp, on the outskirts of Amsterdam, killing him and the whole crew. They are buried together in a beautiful shady spot in Amsterdam East Cemetery, their graves lovingly kept and cared for. I have visited the place where they fell; I have seen the place where they now lie at peace. Most of the aircraft was salvaged recently by some caring Dutch people, and I have a fragment of it on my bookshelf, to remind me of the man that was Tony. Not that I need much reminding.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Rabbie [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] RABBIE [/underlined]
He was the sort of bloke one took to automatically if one was of a fairly quiet disposition, for he himself was quiet almost to the point of being self-effacing. On the ground, that is. But in the air – well, that was another matter. On the evidence that I had, at least, it seemed that another side of his nature took over.
In build, he was perhaps an inch or so taller than me, well made, with rather thick, limp, fairish hair, quite piercingly blue eyes and a mobile mouth which always carried the trace of a smile, as though he were laughing inwardly at some secret joke. His manner of speaking was strange until you got used to it; he would start a sentence then lower his eyes almost apologetically, as though he were afraid you were becoming bored with what he was saying. His voice was quite deep, very quiet, and his utterances were staccato, like short bursts of machine-gun fire, punctuated by little nervous laughs, almost sniggers. Now and again he would stammer slightly, and now and again a trace of his native soft Scots accent would ripple the surface of his halting, quietly spoken sentences.
It was I who first called him Rabbie, on account of this inflexion of voice, which, when he became animated, would show more prominently. I think he secretly rather liked the name; there weren’t many Scotsmen on the Squadron as far as I knew, and certainly, there weren’t many in ‘B’ Flight. We became friendly, and although on stand-down trips to G.Y., as we invariably called Grimsby, crews usually went as crews, on nights when we stayed in the Mess he and I, more often than not, would gravitate together, along with Eric. Possible because the three of us where a shade quieter types than, say, Tony or Teddy Bairstow.
I don’t know how it came about that I flew to Pershore with him – he had done his O.T.U. there, it seemed, and on a stand-down day he got permission from Abey to do a cross-country there. He must have asked me if I would like a ride; anyhow, I went along with him. He had his own co-pilot, Sandy, with him, and his crew. It was then I discovered the other side of Rabbie. I had only been on the Squadron a fortnight and everything was new and a bit strange.
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Rabbie and most of the others were comparatively old hands, and whereas I was a strictly-by-the-book pilot, I soon found that there were others who weren’t. Like that day, when I flew with Rabbie. One normally did cross-countries at a sober and sedate height, say between two and six thousand feet. Perhaps for a few minutes, now and again, one might have a crazy fit and beat up a train or something or other, but unauthorised low flying was a Court Martial offence, and all pilots had been repeatedly warned of that fact ever since they started flying at E.F.T.S.
We went off in Barred C, Abey’s own aircraft, and once we’d cleared the circuit, quite simply, it was a hundred feet maximum all the way. To begin with, I was shaken rigid, I’d never known anything quite like it; such sustained, hair-raising excitement, spiced with the occasional bad fright. Trees, villages, hills, hedges, they all streamed by; very little was said among the crew. When I’d collected my scattered wits and realised that this was second nature to all of them, I began to enjoy it a little more. We landed at Pershore, Rabbie said hello to one or two old friends, we lunched, took off again and came back at the same height, all the way. I was getting used to it by this time, but I still swallowed hard once or twice.
When we had landed and taxied in I came down the ladder after most of them. Rabbie and the crew were doing what we usually did then, taking off helmets, sorting out the navigation stuff, looking for some transport back to the Flights. As we lit cigarettes, and with his little secret smile, Rabbie said to me, “Enjoy it?”
“Rabbie,” I said to him, “excuse me for asking, but do you always do your cross-countries at nought feet?”
He gave his little sniggering laugh and looked down.
“Well, no,” he said softly, “but you have to let your hair down now and again.”
Some of it must have rubbed off on Sandy, too, except that he gave himself a bad fright. It really could have been quite a shaky do. Several of us were in ‘B’ Flight office one afternoon, doing nothing in particular. We had a couple of kites on, that night,
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but most of us had been stood down too late to go into G.Y. The phone rang and Abey answered it, his face, as usual, giving nothing away. He looked across at the blackboard as he listened and our eyes followed his, wondering.
“That’s right, E-Edward,” he said, and rang off.
The board said, ‘E’ – Sgt. Sanders – Local flying – airborne 1420.’
“We’d better go and see this,” Abey said calmly, straightening a few things on his desk, “Sandy may be in a bit of bother, it appears that he’s hit something south of here. He’s coming in now.”
We piled into the Flight van and hared out to dispersal. Just then, we saw ‘E’ land, quite a reasonable one, too. We breathed again. Then, as we waited, he taxied in and we could see that where the port half of his windscreen had been there was just a jagged hole. The air-intake on his port engine looked peculiar, too, it was half bunged up with something greyish. Sandy stopped in his dispersal and cut the engines. The ladder came down and he climbed down it a bit tentatively, looking decidedly sheepish when he saw the reception committee.
He and Abey talked rather quietly together while the crew climbed down and stood around, fiddling with their ‘chutes and navigation stuff, surreptitiously brushing what looked very like feathers from off themselves and trying to look unconcerned. Someone who had overheard the conversation muttered, “Been low-flying over the Wash and hit a bunch of seagulls.” We grinned at [sic] bit at that, once we knew they were all O.K. Abey’s poker face said nothing as he turned away from Sandy. Then someone nearby said, “Hey, Sandy, what’s wrong with your face?” and when we looked closely we could see a piece of pink seagull flesh sticking to his cheek. Sandy put a hand up to his face, then had a look at what he had collected. Slowly, his eyes rolled up, his knees buckled and he fell at our feet in a dead faint. Abey, good type that he was, hushed it all up.
Not long afterwards, a handful of our kites went as part of a smallish force to attack one of the north German ports. It might have been Emden. Rabbie was on it; I wasn’t. Next morning, after breakfast, Teddy put his head around the door of the ante-room, his eyes starting out of his thin, pale face.
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“Hey!” he exclaimed, “You want to have a look at Rabbie’s kite, he’s had a right shaky do!”
He tore off out, to tell someone else. Quickly, we made our way up to the Flights. ‘E’ was parked right outside ‘B’ Flight hangar, and most of the starboard mainplane out board of the engine just wasn’t there. The wing finished in a ragged, twisted jumble of geodetics. Obviously, they had had a very narrow escape indeed from a burst of flak. I climbed aboard. The wheel was tied over to port with a chunk of rope. I found Rabbie, poking idly about at this and that.
“Dodging the photographic bod,” he said with an apologetic grin. There was one of the photographic section erks outside now, fussing about with a camera, taking pictures of ‘E’. Rabbie looked paler than usual, thoughtful.
“How the hell did you manage to get it back like this?” I asked.
“Oh,” he said, with his nervous little snigger, “it wasn’t too b-bad, Sandy and I tied the wheel over a bit,” and nodded towards it.
The photo erk had gone and the sightseers had thinned out to two or three. I climbed out, chatting to Rabbie, but as we talked, I could see something different. There was something in his eyes that I’d never seen there before, a distant, almost other-worldly expression.
When I left the Squadron I lost touch with everyone, including, at times, myself. It was a long time afterwards, and I was talking to Eric on the telephone. We had reached the “Do you remember” and “What happened to” stage.
“By the way,” I asked him, “what ever happened to Rabbie?”
“Rabbie?” Eric replied, “Oh, I’m afraid he was shot down, you know.”
It had happened near the Dutch town of Beverwijk. Rabbie had finished up as a P.o.W with Eric and Abey, then had been repatriated on account of injuries to his hands, Eric said. Some of his crew had been killed.
In June 1989 a Dutch air-war historian took me to a beautifully-kept cemetery in the small town of Bergen, near Alkmaar, to visit the graves of a contemporary crew of ‘B’ Flight whom I had known.
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As I was turning to leave, my eye, quite by chance, noticed another name on a nearby tombstone, one which I immediately recognised, that of our Commanding Officer, who had gone missing while I was with the Squadron. Very near to him and to the others was yet another familiar name, that of Sandy.
Each name of all the aircrew, some 200 of them, who are buried there, is inscribed upon the bells of the local church, just across the way. One of the bells is perpetually silent, representing those who could not be identified. And one bell bears the inscription – “I sound for those who fell for freedom.”
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Letter home [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] LETTER HOME [/underlined]
I wonder how many premonitions the average person has during his or her lifetime. It’s not the sort of topic which crops up very much in normal conversation, so I don’t think it can happen all that often. But when it does, and you believe you are being given a glimpse of the future, it can be quite weird and rather frightening. So far, I can recall three instances personally. One was at a very long interval of time, one was just the opposite, while the third - . That is what the letter home was about.
A week or two ago I was watching a debate from the House of Commons on television. There was a fairly sparse attendance, the subject became rather mundane and my attention, frankly, was beginning to wander. I looked along the green leather seats where the numerous absentees would normally have sat. Surely, I thought, surely seats like those had played some part in my life at some time?
Then I had it – they were the colour of the wooden-framed armchairs in the anteroom of the Mess at Binbrook. And I was immediately reminded of the first, and very strong, premonition I had had there, and was coping with, as I sat in one of those chairs, almost alone in the quiet room on that winter’s night, waiting to take off on a raid over Germany – and not expecting to come back.
Looking into my logbook now, I can narrow it down to one of four dates, but the actual date is of no importance. The premonition I had, though, was important, very important to me, very gradual, but extremely strong.
Abey, our Flight Commander in ‘B’ Flight was, in every sense of the word, a gentleman. He was then in charge of eight or ten crews of six men each which comprised ‘B’ Flight, and he had, among many other things, the responsibility of selecting crews under his command for any operations on any particular night, or day. Fortunately, the latter were scarce enough. Sometimes the choice was simple, if a maximum effort was called for by Command or Group, he simple sent everyone whose aircraft was serviceable. But sometimes
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he had to choose, and no-one envied him that, nor ever queried his choice. Querying things like that is something that happens in films, usually bad ones. If a “fresher” target was specified for the night’s operations then novice crews, who had done up to four of five ops were selected to go. If he had any choice at all, any crew due for leave went on leave, that same morning. He did his job well and fairly; he was a very considerate man.
On the day of which I write, our crew had done three trips, one of which had had an abrupt and near-catastrophic ending. A “fresher” was called for that night, so we were “on”, in S for Sugar. I have been wondering, recounting this, trying to remember what my reactions were during the time of an op, from the first knowledge that I was going, that night, to some unknown target, whose location and identity would not be known until briefing that afternoon, until the moment after one’s return, sitting down thankfully, tired and strained, into a chair, with a mug of coffee and rum in one hand and a cigarette in the other, for interrogation after the trip. When we would look around the room to see who was seated at the other tables with the Intelligence Officers, recounting their stories of the night’s experiences. However, although I readily confess that not a single trip went by when I was not to some extent frightened, quite often very frightened indeed, my first reaction on being told that I was among those who were on that night’s operations was one of intense excitement, of being immediately strung up to a very high pitch, reactions accelerated beyond their normal speed, like those of a sprinter on his starting blocks, alert for the sound of the pistol which will launch him on his rapid way.
We did our night flying test in S for Sugar as soon as we knew we were operating that night. It was winter, but not too bad a winter until then. This particular morning was cold and cloudy with a breeze from the south-west, the odd spot of rain in the wind, a typical winter’s morning in Lincolnshire, in fact. We flew around for a while to test that everything in the aircraft was working properly, except for the bomb-release mechanism and the guns. We weren’t bombed up yet, of course, and we would test the guns over the sea once we were on our way that night. I was still quite strung up with excitement
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and anticipation. None of us thought or said very much about the target, it was bound to be one of the French Channel ports, the docks, or course, and they were reckoned to be a piece of cake – straight in from the sea, open the bomb doors, press the tit and then home, James.
Briefing was at 1430 hours. By that time the weather wasn’t so good. The cloudbase was down, the wind was getting up and it was colder. At briefing there was ourselves and a handful of others. The target wasn’t one of the Channel ports, it was Wilhelmshaven, on the north German coast, not what we had expected, and quite a tough target. Weather prospects were moderate to fairly poor, with a front coming across which we would have to contend with, a risk of icing. It didn’t sound all that funny. But there it was.
The excitement of the morning had worn off and I was beginning to feel a bit deflated when I went back to the Mess after briefing. There was nothing to be done until teatime, and takeoff was fairly late, to catch the late moon. About five hours to kill. As I thought about it like that I realised that the expression could be taken more than one way, and I didn’t like one way very much. I went back to my room with the sense of deflation sliding quickly downwards towards a feeling of depressive foreboding. It was not as though the target was the toughest one in the book, tough enough by any standards, but no long stretch of enemy territory to be crossed there and back. Not exactly, as we had thought, the reasonably easy one we had expected, but not as bad as it might have been. Or so I tried to tell myself.
The foreboding grew inside me the longer I sat in my room. I was alone; Frank Coles, my room-mate, was Squadron Signals Leader and usually had things to do even when the rest of us were free. Out of the window I could see that the weather was steadily worsening, which added to my unease. I sat there, smoking, and trying to read. It was useless. I became more and more certain that this trip was the one I wasn’t coming back from, that we were going to be shot down. Once I had arrived at that realisation I found I was almost able to visualise it happening; I had already seen it happen to others nearby. But tonight it was going to happen to us, and that would be the end of me.
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There was nothing I could do about it; I had to go through with it, it had to be faced. The only practical thing I should now see to was to write a letter home, to my parents. The trouble was that I had very little idea what I wanted to say to them. For several reasons, I felt they hadn’t had the time to get to know very much about me, as an individual. But still, I felt I owed them this letter.
So I wrote to them. It was a very short letter, I remember, but its exact contents I cannot recall. I know I started in the conventional way – “by the time you read this you will know I have been reported missing,” and so on, and I know that after I had addressed the envelope I added, “To be forwarded only in the event of my failing to return from an operation.”
By the time I had stewed over this wretched little piece of writing it was teatime. There was still no sign of Frank. I was glad of some company in the Mess, although there weren’t all that many in, with only the freshers operating. So I had tea. It was usually a high tea if there were ops on. On this evening, as on many others, there were kippers, toast and tea. Surprisingly, I found I was very hungry. I think I was determined to enjoy what was going to be my last meal. So I savoured every morsel. As dusk fell I stretched myself out in front of the roaring fire in an armchair in the anteroom to await the time to go up to the Flights to get dressed for the trip. The armchair had wooden arms and sides with a green leather padded seat and back.
Every time the tannoy went with some commonplace announcement that someone was wanted at his Flight or Section I would jump a little and stiffen when the W.A.A.F. said, “Attention, please, attention, please,” and then slump down again when I heard that it wasn’t ops being scrubbed. There weren’t many people in the anteroom, and as the fireplace was at one end and I was very close to it, I couldn’t really see who was in the room with me. I was concentrating on absorbing, I think, every scrap of physical comfort I could from the heat of the fire, in what I now firmly believed to be the last few dwindling hours of my life. I could hear sleet or snow spitting as it dropped down the chimney on to the fire.
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I was seeing all sorts of strange pictures in the glowing coals. What they were I didn’t know, faces mostly, it seemed, but whose, I couldn’t distinguish. I started as one of the Mess waiters drew the big curtains across the blacked-out windows. Seeing me in battledress and roll-necked sweater and knowing that I was “on”, he gave me a half-smile as he piled some more coal on to the fire. The heat on my legs died as he did so.
“Is it still sleeting?” I asked him.
“Yes, sir,” he answered quietly, “still sleeting.”
Tactfully, he didn’t add “It’s a rotten night to be on ops,” or anything like that, but I knew that was what he was thinking. I nodded. He walked quietly away about his business and we left it at that. The wind was starting to get up quite a lot now. I could hear the slap of the sleet hitting the window like a wet cloth in the gusts. Surely they would scrub it? In an hour or so we were due to take off for Wilhelmshaven. I wondered what the weather was like over there, whether they were thinking that it was such a bad night that they were safe from R.A.F. raids. Then I thought about the letter. Was I being stupid? Was this all a lot of childish, hysterical nonsense, over-dramatising oneself? I still thought not; I was still convinced in my own mind.
Why did one write such things? I mused. It made no difference, really, to the outcome, someone would die, someone would be bereaved, that was all there was to it. I wondered how many people I knew actually wrote them, too. I suppose one reason for writing a last letter was to say a final goodbye to someone who was dear to one, but I think also it was to prove to oneself that one was ready and spiritually prepared to leave this life, to give up all those things regarded hitherto as important and to enter a new existence, to meet again one’s friends who were already there, like going from one room of a house to another via the dark passage which we call death. There was a Sergeant pilot in ‘B’ Flight, whom I knew quite well, Norman Spray. He left a letter for his mother. He went missing on a raid the following spring and his words of parting from his mother were so memorable that they found their way on to the page of a national newspaper which I happened to read. I am sure he was an exceptional person to have written in the way he did.
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The minutes ticked slowly by. Hypnotised by the heat from the fire and, I suppose, subconsciously withdrawing from what I believed were my final hours, I think I must have dozed for a few minutes. The tannoy announcement jerked me back to complete wakefulness. The W.A.A.F. said, “All night flying is cancelled, repeat, all night flying is cancelled.”
I immediately started to shiver uncontrollably, despite the fire’s heat. I moved my body around in the chair to try to stop the shakes, to try to hide them in case someone should see. I fidgeted around, stretched, blew my nose, then looked around the ante-room to see whether anyone was watching me. There were one or two ground staff Officers, and Teddy, Eric and Doug, the first two talking quietly over their beer, Doug reading a book, absently stroking his luxuriant ginger moustache with the back of his hand, an unconscious gesture which we all knew well. Outside, the wind moaned, the sleet was still tapping on the window, as though someone were asking quietly to be let in, perhaps like the messenger of Death itself. For not long afterwards, He would claim two of those three.
I took something of a grip on myself and pressed the bell at the side of the fireplace. When the steward came I ordered a beer. I could hardly believe this was happening. He was the man who had drawn the curtains earlier. He took my order, then hesitated and said, not looking directly at me, “You’ll not be sorry, sir, about the scrub, not on a night like this?”
“No, I’m not,” I said, “not on a night like this.”
The shakes had just about stopped by then. I went across to Eric and had a chat and another beer. Neither of us said much about the scrub, he hadn’t been on, anyhow, being in Abey’s crew. I certainly didn’t complain about it. Eventually I went up to my room and furtively tore up the letter into small pieces. I don’t think Frank noticed anything, if he guessed what I was doing he was too tactful to mention it. Then I undressed and got into bed. I was probably going to live for another twenty-four hours.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Low-level [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] LOW-LEVEL [/underlined]
By the third day, those of us who were in the know were getting a little twitchy.
When you are briefed no less than three days in a row for the same target, when you are told it is to be a low-level night attack, when you learn that the whole thing is so hush-hush that only pilots and Observers are to know what the target is until after you are airborne, you only need one scrub to make you jump a bit at loud noises.
After the second briefing, when there was another scrub, and the following day, when there was a third identical briefing, you could have almost cut slices of the tension out of the air with a knife. To begin with, nothing in that city had ever been bombed before. When we knew where it was to be, we looked at each other with eyebrows raised. For very good reasons, we had to go in low and make one hundred per cent certain that we were going to hit the target when the Observer pressed the bomb-release. If we were not certain, then, ‘dummy run’ and round again. No trouble in that, we were told, there were no defences worth speaking of, only a couple of light flak guns at the airport some distance away. Just avoid that, and we shouldn’t have any bother.
So we were told at the briefings, all three of them. Did we believe it could possibly be true? We made ourselves believe it, I think, but it took some doing. Weren’t we used to the Channel Ports, to Kiel, to Essen and the Ruhr, where, in all conscience it was deadly enough at twenty thousand feet at night, let alone at – what was to be our bombing height? – two thousand five hundred feet, straight and level down a corridor of flares?
We would have liked to believe it, certainly. It sounded so – different, so well organised. 235 aircraft, which to us was one hell of a lot, including some Manchesters and four-engined Stirlings and Halifaxes. The first wave was going to drop flares, and keep dropping them so that the whole place would be well lit up, and once
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they'd done that and let go some incendiaries and cookies to start the ball rolling, then the second wave, which was us, would come in and stoke the place up with high explosive, as low as the safety height, 1,000 feet per 1,000 pounds of the heaviest bomb, permitted. If there hadn’t been some Manchesters carrying 2,000 pounders, in our wave, we would have been down around 1,000 feet, I suppose.
What was going through the minds of Mick, our wireless op. in S-Sugar, and Johnnie and Bill, the gunners, being completely in the dark as to what it was all about, I could only guess. But they accepted the situation stoically, and never asked one question. Except when we were clambering out of the transport at dispersal, really on our way, on the third evening, then Mick, who was a married man, said quietly to Cookie, “Is this a suicide effort, skip?” I believe he was recalling those two posthumous V.C.s our Squadron had won less then [sic] two years before, when we had lost five out of five Fairey Battles trying to stop the German advance through the Low Countries. Anyhow, Cookie shook his head.
“No, Mick, it’s not a suicide effort, at least not if I can help it!”
I’m afraid I couldn’t resist mischievously chipping in then, just as we were sorting ourselves out in the dusk of that early March evening under the shadow of S-Sugar’s nose in the quietness of our dispersal.
“You won’t be needing your oxygen mask, though,” I said.
Mick’s eyes widened. It was a bit cruel of me.
“You’re kidding, Harry, aren’t you?”
“No, pukka gen,” I laughed.
“Oh, bloody hell,” Mick said, his Brummy accent very pronounced.
Col, our Aussie Observer, came to the rescue.
“Don’t let it worry yer, Mick,” he said, “it’s going to be a piece of cake. Or so they say, anyhow.”
I was hoping this didn’t fall into the category of famous last words, as we climbed aboard. I found I was yawning quite a lot, while a muscle in my back was trying to do something all on its own.
We took up our positions in the kite. As co-pilot, mine was in the Wimpy’s astrodome until Cookie wanted me to fly it, or needed
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a hand with something up front. I checked the intercom point, saw we had a flare handy in case we had to do a bit of target-finding ourselves, and I groaned inwardly when I saw the stack of nickels, as our propaganda leaflets were known, which I was going to have to shove out over northern France. I took one out of the nearest bundle and saw a cartoon of a depraved and vicious-looking S.S. man, headed, ‘Personalité de l’ordre nouveau.’ I hoped I didn’t meet him later that night in some French gaol.
Faintly through my helmet I heard someone shout “Contact port!” and the engine shuddered into life with a roar, bluish flames spitting out of the exhausts. Then that tune, which remained obsessively with me throughout that night, and which, ever since, has evoked such vivid memories of it, started going through my head – ‘The last time I saw Paris’. Now we were rumbling around the perimeter track. The black shapes of the hangars, topped by their red obstruction lights, came and went. A little group of four or five W.A.A.F.s near the end of the runway waved to us as we passed them. A dazzling green light flashed three dots, our aircraft letter, at us, Cookie opened the throttles and the tail lifted. Then we were charging down the runway, the Drem lighting whipping past the wingtips as the Merlins’ roar rose to a howl at full throttle.
When we had turned on to the course for Reading, our first pinpoint, Cookie checked that everyone was O.K. Then he said, calmly over the intercom, “Now I can tell you where we’re going. It’s the Renault factory in Paris and it’s a low-level do, two to three thousand feet, and there’ll be bags of flares so we can bomb spot on.” There was stunned silence, then Johnnie said coolly, “Paris? That sounds like fun.”
The tension was released and we all laughed immoderately. Cookie told them about the lack of defences, how the crossing-in point had been carefully chosen at the mouth of the Somme, near Abbeville, and how we had to be very sure not to drop anything outside the target area, in case of casualties to the French population.
“I’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower,” Mick said.
From the rear turret Bill, our Canadian gunner, drawled, “Don’t worry, at our height you’ll be able to count the bloody rivets!”
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The evening was clear as our home beacon slowly fell away behind us. It seemed strange to be cruising easily along at about five thousand feet; usually we climbed steadily all the way to whichever target we were bound for. There wasn’t much talk over the intercom, I think the boys were busy digesting the news about the target – and the bombing height. Then the moon came up, huge, brilliant and impersonal, a beautiful sight, away to port. Reading was, as always, easy to find, the railway station was like a dimly-lit flarepath, but it gave us a good pinpoint, however much it might have helped the Luftwaffe. We crossed the south coast dead on track and E.T.A. and headed out over the Channel. Cookie switched off the navigation lights. Shortly afterwards, Mick reported that he had switched off the I.F.F. We were on our own now.
In only a few minutes it seemed, Johnnie said, “Enemy coast ahead, skipper.” I peered forward from the astrodome. The pewter colour of the Channel showed a faint line of dirty white a few miles ahead of us. A few degrees to starboard some light flak was going up, and I reported it for Col to log.
“Probably Le Tréport”, I said, “they always put on a firework display for us.”
Johnnie said, “I can see a big estuary dead ahead.”
“O.K., Johnnie,” Col replied, “let’s know when we cross the coast. Next course one seven two magnetic, skip.”
Then Johnnie said calmly, “Anyone see an exhaust almost dead ahead, same height?”
I hurried forward to stand beside Cookie, and we both saw it at once, a point of orange light, straight ahead of us, and nastily at our own height.
“We’ll keep an eye on him,” Cookie said, “I don’t want to be formating [sic] on a goddam 109.”
“Nickels due out in five minutes, Harry,” Col told me.
“O.K., Col, thanks,”
I went aft again, to the flare chute. I heard Cookie say, “That fighter’s still going our way, we must be bloody close to him. I’m going to alter course a bit to try to lose him, then fly parallel to our proper track. Turning ten degrees starboard now, Col.”
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In the darkness of the fuselage I unlocked and extended the flare chute and started pushing the bundles of leaflets out. Once free of the aircraft the slipstream would release each bundle from its elastic band and spread them all over the countryside below. In a little while I heard Cookie say, “That bloody fighter’s still there, damn him to hell.”
Johnnie said, “We’re catching him up a bit, too, skipper.”
“That’s bloody impossible,” Cookie exclaimed angrily. He sounded rather exasperated.
I finished the nickelling, stuffed a couple into my pockets for souvenirs, brought the flare chute in and went forward again, past Mick, who gave me a thumbs-up, and Col. Johnnie had been quite right, that glowing point of red light was definitely larger now. The countryside under the rising moon was a leaden blur, now and again shot with a vein of silver as the moonlight reflected off a river.
“How long to the target, Col?” Cookie asked.
“E.T.A. eighteen minutes.”
The light was really getting quite a bit bigger now and we were still heading straight towards it. Suddenly, it all became clear to me.
“Hey, Cookie!” I exclaimed, “that’s no fighter exhaust, it’s the bloody target!”
There was a moment’s silence, then, “Jesus!” Cookie said in awe, “You could be right, Harry, you could just be right, at that. Check our course, Col, one seven two magnetic, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, that’s it skip, one seven two.”
Now we could see it. It was a fire on the ground, like a huge, glowing ember alone in the darkness. I went back to the astrodome. A pinpoint of white light hung above the glow, like a star, then a second, a third, a fourth. The flares were going down, dropped by the markers, for us. Cookie called out, “O.K., fellers, this looks like it, but we want to be good and sure where we bomb.” As we flew towards the blaze Johnnie said, “I can see the Seine, the fire’s right on it.”
Col said, “Part of the works is on a sort of banana-shaped island
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in the river, we’ve got to fly slap over it.”
We could see almost a dozen flares now, brilliant, whitish-yellow, and trailing rope-like white smoke as they slowly sank towards the ground, suspended from their parachutes. I could dimly see buildings below us. Cookie was turning S-Sugar gently to come in from the south-west; all the action was now on our port beam, then on our port bow.
Suddenly, away to starboard, two light flak guns pumped a few rounds of coloured tracer upwards, but there could have been no aircraft anywhere near them.
“Light flak away to starboard, skip,” I said, “only a few rounds, I think they’ve gone down to the stores to get some more ammo.”
“Just keep an eye on it, Harry.”
I was humming the words of that song to myself,
“The last time I saw Paris,
I saw her in the Spring….”
We were heading straight in now, flares on either side of our nose. The ground was almost invisible against the glare ahead from the fire and the lines of flares hanging in the sky. Col said, “Coming forward, skip.”
A few more rounds of tracer hosed up, away to starboard, but I didn’t even bother to report it. The lack of opposition near at hand was quite uncanny; we certainly weren’t used to this sort of thing. I was searching the sky for fighters, tracer, heavy flak-bursts, but there was nothing. Just the flares, dozens of them now. We were right among them, flying straight and level down a well-lit avenue.
I saw a dim shape loom up, dead ahead, growing rapidly and menacingly larger every second.
“Turn port, skip, quick!” I shouted.
Cookie yanked her nose round. A Hampden, bomb-doors open, hurtled past us on a reciprocal course, obviously completely disobeying briefing instructions as to the direction of the bombing run. He was almost close enough to read his identification letters.
“The stupid bastard,” said Cookie, “what the hell’s he doing?”
“Bomb doors open, skip,” Col said tightly.
“Bomb doors open, Col!”
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The inferno had vanished under our nose. There was a long silence while Col directed our track up to the target. I peered down, but I could only see a jumble of city buildings; I was trying to find the Arc de Triomphe.
“I’ve got that island coming up,” Col said, his excitement showing in his voice, “left, left, steady, right a bit, steady, steady – bombs gone!”
I felt the rumbling jolt as we dropped our load on the Renault factory.
“Bomb doors closed,” Cookie called.
“Oh, bloody marvellous!” Bill almost shouted from the rear turret, “spot on, Col, you got the first one bang on the island and the rest of the stick went right across the factory, I saw them bursting!”
Some distance ahead there was a sudden flash from the ground, a yellowish fire which turned redder and spread out, in a bend of the Seine.
“Some poor sod’s bought it, about one o’clock, five miles,” I said.
“Yeah,” said Cookie, I can see it. Don’t know what the hell he was doing up there.”
I looked back at the target, now a sea of flame beneath the brilliance of the unearthly light of the flares and the moon. A sudden eruption of flame shot up from the factory as I watched.
“Christ! Did you see that?” Bill called, “someone’s hit a goddam petrol tank or something.” We learned later that one of our Flight Commanders, Squadron Leader Jackson, had scored a direct hit on a large gas holder; it was that we had seen.
But the other fire, the burning kite on the ground in the bend of the river, drew our eyes to it as I took over the controls from Cookie.
“Poor sods,” Johnnie said quietly, “I hope they got out of it.”
We droned on over northern France, heading for Abbeville and home. But the excitements of the evening were not over yet. Half way to the French coast Johnnie reported a light flashing from the ground, to starboard of our track. I looked across between the nose and the mainplane and saw it, a square of yellow light, bravely flashing
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di-di-di-dah, “V for Victory”. Col came up to look.
“Good on yer, mate,” he said laconically. Those people down there in Beauvais were risking their lives by signalling to us their appreciation and encouragement, and I felt a strong bond had been forged between them, whoever they were, and us, in S-Sugar.
We flew on towards the mouth of the Somme. Bill said he could still see the target burning, many miles behind us now, and we were riding on the crest of a wave at the obvious success of the attack. We’d never known anything like it before and we hoped we would know many like it again. And as the Renault factory burned in Paris and the V’s flashed out from Beauvais I became aware that perhaps, after many disappointments, we were now beginning to win.
There was much elation as we flew homewards in “S”. We were a cheerful and buoyant crew, that night of all nights. I never dreamed that five short weeks hence I alone, of the six of us in the crew, would be the only one left alive.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] A boxful of broken china [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] A BOXFUL OF BROKEN CHINA [/underlined]
It had happened to Abey’s crew already (although I was not to know this until some years later), and no doubt it had happened to others whom I had known.
It was a common enough occurrence in those days, when we had simply to rely upon dead reckoning navigation with a bit of astro thrown in – there was nothing else to rely on, then – that at one time or another you would stray off track, fly unwittingly over a defended area, and get thoroughly well shot at. I use the words ‘thoroughly well’ advisedly, in the full knowledge that I shall be treading on many corns when I say that the German flak and searchlights left our own standing at the post when it came to accuracy and effectiveness. On several nights while at Binbrook, after our own air-raid sirens had sounded, we would troop out of the Mess to watch the progress of a raid on Hull and, so to speak, compare notes on the Luftwaffe’s reception with what we received, over Germany. We were all left in no doubt as to which target we would have chosen to be over, and would retire to the anteroom when the all-clear sounded, shaking our heads sadly and making rueful and derisive comments concerning the lack of effectiveness of our ack-ack gunners and searchlight crews compared to their German counterparts.
There were well-known hot spots over the other side, places whose names sent a slight chill up one’s spine when they were mentioned. Places such as Essen, or anywhere in the Ruhr, if it came to that, Hamburg, Heligoland, Sylt or Kiel. The list was a long one and the toll taken by those guns of unwitting tresspassers [sic] over their territory was heavy.
But no such reputation attached itself to a town called Lübeck, which we, among 2345 aircraft, were to attack one night late in March 1942.
“Lübeck?” we whispered to one another at briefing that day, “Lübeck? Never heard of it.”
We had it pointed out to us by our Intelligence Officer at the briefing, a bit beyond Kiel, a bit beyond Hamburg and between the two, almost on the Baltic coast. The defences, we were told, were
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believed to be negligible. Oh, yes? Well, we’d heard that about the Renault factory in Paris and that turned out to be true, so why shouldn’t this one be the same? Our confidence was very high after that Renault attack and this one was beginning to sound quite good. It was going to be largely a fire-raising raid. There were a lot of wooden buildings in the town, apparently. This really was beginning to sound very interesting, the chance to do to a German city what they had done on fifty-odd nights in succession to London. However, we were to carry an all-high explosive load in S for Sugar. We were warned, of course, of the proximity to our route of the defences, which we all knew about, of Kiel and Hamburg, but no-one really needed telling about those. We had experienced the Kiel defences twice before recently, once when 64 of us Wellingtons of 1 Group had put the battle-cruiser Gneisenau out of action for the rest of the war. I often wonder which of us it was that hit it, for I remember seeing some quite big explosions that night.
So, as far as the trip to Lübeck was concerned our crew, at least, were in a fairly happy mood. Looking back, I am sure that on that night, while not one of the six of us would have admitted it for fear of tempting whatever fates might be looking down upon us, we were each secretly thinking that this trip, this particular, and possibly only trip we would do, was going to go some way towards approaching the proverbial ‘piece of cake’. One could describe a trip in those terms while drinking, in a post-operational flood of euphoria, one’s mug of rum-laced coffee, waiting for interrogation, bacon and egg, and then bed, but no-one ever had the temerity to voice those words about any target before take-off. Not at any price. Fate was not there to be tempted in such a careless and impertinent manner.
The buoyant mood of the crew of S for Sugar was not in any way diminished when we gathered in B Flight hangar, all kitted up and ready – almost eager – to go. Mick, Johnnie and Col were standing near the crewroom door, looking amused about something, and with a fairly large cardboard carton half-hidden by their flying-booted legs. They had obviously said something to Cookie, now commissioned and doing his first op. as a P/O, for he was showing a lot of very white teeth in his amusement.
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“What’s going on?” I asked, puzzled. Such levity was very unusual before an op., we were invariably rather silent and very tense. Mick nodded towards the box.
“Present for the Jerries, from the Sergeants’ Mess,” he said in his Brummy accent, a broad grin splitting his face.
“What the hell have you got there?” I asked.
“Boxful of broken china,” Col said, “we’re going to chuck it out over the target. It’s all got the R.A.F. crest on, too.”
“Christ, you’re a mad lot of so-and-so’s,” I said through my laughter. Had I known it, I wasn’t going to laugh again for some time after that.
Recalling it now, although I cannot obviously tell where or how the navigation went wrong, it must have done so, somewhere along the line. Perhaps the reason was simply plain fatigue which led to our being off track and flying into trouble. Fatigue which, even as young, fit men, was inevitable when one realises that while the Lübeck raid took place on 28th March, this was our third operation in four nights. It almost alarms me now, to think of it as I write. We had taken off late on the evening of the 25th, the target being Essen, never any picnic. We had bombed what we believed to be Essen, but we had seen, remarked upon among ourselves at the time, and reported at our interrogation, that many aircraft seemed to be bombing much too far west, at Duisburg, we believed. But there were those among the Squadron aircrews who laughingly insisted that we had bombed too far east, perhaps Bochum, or even Dortmund. We still didn’t think so; we believed we had been in the right place and that the main force of the attack had hit Duisburg.
Apparently ‘Butch’ Harris thought so too, for after a few hours’ sleep we were awakened, fully awakened, with the news that ops were on again that night, the 26th. At briefing we learned the target. Essen again, time on target before midnight. It was a sticky trip, and we lost two of our crews, making three lost in the two nights. I have often wondered how many ex-aircrew are alive today who can say, “I was twice over Essen within twenty-four hours, and live to tell the tale.”
So, after the double attack on Essen, twenty-four hours’ rest
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and we were off to Lübeck, the piece-of-cake target compared to Essen, the wooden town which would burn like Hell itself. Provided we got there to see it, which, in the event, we didn’t.
It seemed that no sooner had we crossed the enemy coast, somewhere in Schleswig-Holstein, that a huge, bluish searchlight suddenly snapped on, and pinned us as surely as a dart hitting the bullseye. And not only one, but about a dozen followed. Then the flak started. Cookie was flying S for Sugar, I was in the astrodome. What use I was I don’t really know, except to try to see if there were any fighters about to attack us. Which was ridiculous, with all the flak they were throwing up at us. In any case, I couldn’t see a thing for the dazzling and horrifying glare of all those lights.
Cookie threw the Wellington about as though it were a Spitfire. The sensation was like that of being on a high-speed roller-coaster which had gone mad. And all the time, the intense, bluish flood of light which lit up the interior of the fuselage like day and the thumping of the flak-bursts around us. We had the sky all to ourselves, and, it seemed, all the defences of northern Germany were telling us that this time we weren’t going to make it back home. I was hanging on to whatever I could to stay standing upright in the astrodome, striving to see beyond the lights, to see whether there was a gap anywhere which Cookie could aim for. One second I would be pressed down on to the floor as he pulled out of a steep dive, the next, I would be hanging in mid-air, fighting against the negative ‘g’ and clutching wildly at the geodetics as he topped a climbing turn then put S for Sugar into another screaming dive. We carried one flare, heavy and cylindrical, four of five feet long. This suddenly left its stowage with the violent manoeuvres and hit me flush in the chest, almost knocking me to the floor. I managed to grab it before it damaged the aircraft and somehow secured it again.
I was, of course, frightened, but not uncontrollably so. As the shellbursts thudded around us my fear was climbing steadily, like the mercury in a thermometer on a hot day. I felt I was useless in the astrodome and longed to be doing something active. Quickly I unplugged my intercom and oxygen and clawed my way forward, to see if I could do anything to help Cookie, perhaps to take over
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if he was hit. Col was sitting with both hands clutching at the navigation table, looking rather sick and staring straight ahead of him, while Mick was fiddling with his radio, doing goodness knows what, I thought. I reached the cockpit, where Cookie was wrestling with the controls, his face shiny with sweat, his jaw tightly clamped. He glanced down at me as I plugged in my intercom. Dive, turn, climb, turn, dive – we were corkscrewing all over the sky, losing height all the time. Then Cookie snapped on his intercom switch.
“Col, get rid of the bloody bombs.”
Col came forward, his face looking ashen in the awesome light. A few seconds later I felt the bombs go with a thud. I thought, “I hope they kill somebody, destroy something down there, after what they’re doing to us.”
My fear had now risen to such a pitch it amounted almost to ecstasy.
“Get your chutes on everybody,” Cookie half-shouted over the intercom, “stand by to bale out.”
I obeyed, gladly, and wrenched open the escape hatch near to where I was standing. As I did so, a hole appeared in the aircraft’s fabric skin at my side and I wondered how much damage we had taken. It seemed it was merely a question of a second or two before we were hit and blown to pieces or set on fire, before I and the rest of the lads were torn apart by an exploding shell. They could not go on missing us for ever. I was impatient for the order to bale out; I felt I had had enough of this experience. At the same time I felt a deep sadness that I might be going to die without having led a complete life, a life in which I had not experienced many things. I had never known the love of a woman; I had never even had a steady girl friend.
Through the open escape hatch I could see the earth, a huge forest, stretching away under the moonlight. Still the lights and the flakbursts hammering at us, the smell of cordite. At that moment I came to accept that I was going to die, and at the same time, I now realise that I lost altogether, and for ever, the fear of death. Not the fear of pain, of great pain, which I still possess, but the fear of dying, of the flight into the unknown world of
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the hereafter. I am convinced that in those seconds, a corner of the veil was lifted and I was granted a glimpse of the boundless quietude of eternity. A great and mysterious calm flooded over me, enfolded me in a sensation of complete and deep peace. I now understand what the prayer means when it speaks of ‘the peace which passeth all understanding’. I could not then and cannot now understand it, but I am certain that at that moment, when I felt I was standing poised on the brink of death, the Almighty reached out His hand to me and I responded and touched it with mine. The memory of the incredible sensation of smoothly passing, as it were, through the fear barrier to another dimension, one of all-embracing calm, is one which has remained with me all my life.
Then suddenly it was quiet. Utter quiet – and darkness. We were through it, we had got away. There was the forest below us, and a stretch of water. The Baltic? It could only be. Cookie was almost drooping over the controls now, physically spent, nearly, I knew, at the point of exhaustion. He had saved all our lives.
“Take over, Harry, for Christ’s sake,” he said, and almost dropped out of the left-hand seat. I climbed quickly up into it and took the controls. Someone slammed shut the escape hatch and I inhaled deeply, very, very deeply, hardly able to believe we were still alive, still flying.
We were at a mere 2,0000 feet. Cautiously but quickly I tested the controls for movement and response. Satisfactory. Almost incredible, I thought.
“Col, where d’you reckon we are?” I asked.
“I know where we’ve been, right enough, Harry,” he said, “slap over Kiel.”
“Look, then, I think we’re a bit east or south-east of it now,” I told him, “I’ll steer three-one-five for the time being if you’ll give me a course to take us to that big point of land on the Danish North Sea Coast – you know the one I mean? Near Esbjerg?”
He knew it. He gave me the course and I started to climb; the more height we had, the better for us, in case of further trouble. We had lost thirteen thousand feet in all that evasive action but we needed to get at least some of it back. I had everyone make a check around the aircraft, but apart from a few minor holes we were intact, and there were no injuries of any sort. It seemed
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unbelievable that we could have survived the pounding we had taken with such negligible damage.
In the brilliant moonlight I saw the Danish coast creeping towards us, with the glint of the welcoming North Sea beyond. Esbjerg harbour was sliding beneath our nose; about eight ships were anchored there – and we hadn’t one single bomb left for them. I cursed aloud; they would have been sitting ducks for us. Not a shot was fired at us as I dived S for Sugar gently out to sea.
On the way back I discussed with Col where he thought we had been caught at first; he reckoned we had been trapped over Flensburg and then handed on, from cone to cone of searchlights until we were firmly into the Kiel defences, like a fly in a spider’s web. I was sure his assessment was correct as we had arrived over Esbjerg exactly as we had planned. I settled down to the long, thoughtful flight home. As usual, there was almost complete silence all the way. I am certain that there was not one among us who was not offering up a silent prayer of thanks.
After we had landed, switched off the engines and climbed stiffly down the ladder, we gathered in a group to congratulate Cookie. He was quite matter-of-fact about his marvellous effort. Then Mick said, in that edgy voice of his, “But listen here, Cookie, we used to have decent trips when you were a Sergeant, I hope all your trips as a P/O aren’t going to be like this one.”
He little knew that two short weeks and three trips later, he, Cookie and the rest of them, apart from me, would be dead, in unknown graves.
Then, inconsequentially, I remembered something.
“Hey! What happened to that boxful of china?” I asked.
The tension was easing.
“Oh, that?” Col said, “don’t worry, Harry, we’ll drop it on the blighters on our next trip, get our own back for tonight. Anyhow,” he added, “I’ll bet it’s the first time Kiel’s been dive-bombed by a single kite!”
I recall, with crystal clarity, waling down to interrogation. Col and I were together, he on my right, the others a few paces behind
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us. The moonlight was intensely bright and the hangars and the buildings of the Station stood out sharp and grey under its flood of cold light. There was not another soul to be seen and there was only the sound of our footsteps on the roads which led down from the hangars to the Headquarters buildings. I felt that I did not want to speak now, I did not want to break the spell of the feeling of that great “peace, from the wild heart of clamour” which was pervading my whole being, enfolding me in the purity of its white light, like that of the moon, shining down from God’s heaven on those whom he had spared that night, the night of the Lübeck raid.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] The end of Harry [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] THE END OF HARRY [/underlined]
“And the king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate, and wept: and as he went, thus he said, O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son!”
II Samuel 18, v.33.
“Crews were given a forecast of clear weather over Essen but cloud was met instead. The bombing force became scattered and suffered heavily from the Ruhr Flak defences….. 7 Wellingtons, 5 Hampdens, 1 Halifax, 1 Manchester lost ….”
Martin Middlebrook and Chris Everitt,
The Bomber Command War Diaries.
I open my log-book to refresh my memory of that trip. The entry lies there in red ink, under my fingers, as clear as the day on which it was written, as is now my recollection of the night, which comes flooding back to me.
The date. We were in M for Mother. “Operations, Cologne. Diesel engine factory attacked with 4000 lb. bomb. Moderate heavy flak and searchlights in area, mostly on west side of town. Good weather.” A pencilled note, “263 aircraft in attack; 179 Wellingtons, 44 Hampdens, 11 Manchesters, 29 Stirlings. A new record for a force to a single target. 4 Wellingtons and 1 Hampden lost.” We got off lightly that night. Sometimes, like one we did to Essen, it was ten per cent. It was the last night I ever flew as one of Cookie’s crew.
We approached Bonn from the north-west at about twenty thousand feet, into the brilliant light of the moon, dead ahead. The sight was fantastic, beyond all imagining. We were just off the edge of a solid sheet of strato-cumulus at about ten thousand feet, stretching as far south and east as the eye could see, lit brilliantly white by the moon, and with its north edge, nearest us, as well-defined as the edge of an immense shelf. Out of this layer there towered
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a huge cumulo-nimbus, rearing up, its north side jet black, like a gigantic tombstone, to about 15 or 16 thousand feet and casting a tremendous shadow over the Rhineland. To the north of this cloud-shelf it was crystal-clear, hundreds of stars shone brightly and the Rhine writhed and gleamed like a thread of silver below us. We turned north, to track along it, the fifteen or so miles to Cologne.
We could see it ahead. There were six or eight searchlight cones, with a dozen to twenty lights in each, probing, leaning, searching the sky for a victim to pin like a sliver moth in the beams. Every now and again the cones would re-form to close the inviting gaps between them. Each cone would split in half, the lights from one half leaning one way, and the other half the other way, to join the neighbouring cones, which performed the same manoeuvre, to form new cones. It was hideously fascinating, almost hypnotic, to watch. There would seem to be no way through. The dozens of red flashes of the flakbursts, seen distantly, grew larger and more menacing as we approached. Light flak was hosing up, strings of red, green, orange and white, and below everything, the fires, three or four smallish ones, growing larger all the time. Big, bright, slow flashes as cookies exploded among the flames. We were tensed up as we carried ours in. M-Mother had been specially modified to carry the two-ton bomb which protruded some way below the belly of the kite, the bomb-doors of which had been removed. A single hit from a piece of shrapnel on the cookie’s thin, exposed casing and – the mind shied away from it.
So we felt naked with this inches beneath us as we edged through the searchlights, to the right of the Rhine, weaving constantly through the flak, which we could hear, thumping around us over the roar of the engines. We could see it flashing close to us on all sides. In our imaginations the cookie was growing in size; they could hardly miss it, I thought. More fires started below, a stick of bombs rippled redly across the darkened city, then another. Some incendiaries went down in a yellow splash. Or was it an aircraft going in? Still, the slow, bright flashes of the cookies going down on to Cologne. Col went forward. We could hear his harsh breathing over the intercom as he directed us into the bombing run, guiding M-Mother so that the target slid down between the wires of the bomb-sight.
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“Bomb gone!”
The kite thumped upwards as the cookie left us on its journey of destruction. A tight turn to starboard and we were heading back the way we had come, towards the surrealist cloudscape, the enormous, abrupt shelf with the grotesque tower looming up out of it.
On the way back Cookie called me up on the intercom.
“Will you take over, Harry?”
Someone else said, “come on, Harry, get us home.”
It sounded like Mick, the wireless op. Up to now I had always got them home. I had never in my life been called “Harry” by anyone until we were crewed up at O.T.U. But from them I would have happily accepted any nickname they cared to bestow on me. So we flew on through the night, and I got them home.
When we landed I found the M.O. waiting. He was usually to be seen somewhere in the background. This time, he singled me out and detached me from the weary crews who were standing around, clutching their helmets, drinking their rum-laced coffee, rubbing their faces and eyes to clear their fatigue before they were interrogated.
“How did it go?”
“O.K., Doc.”
“Any trouble?”
“The trip, or me?”
“You.”
“No more than usual.”
“Take your pill?”
“Yes.”
“No effect?”
“No.”
“Take this one, now. Get some sleep and see me in the morning after breakfast.”
“O.K., Doc.”
He slapped my shoulder and trudged off. I went into interrogation with the crew, lighting another cigarette as I did so. Ewart Davies was the Int. Officer at our table. We liked him. He didn’t push us too hard for answers, he was quick, quiet, and had some idea what it was like. He knew we wanted our egg and bacon – and bed. As we walked towards the table, Johnnie, our front gunner, gave me a
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quizzical look. Mac, now our rear gunner since Tommy had gone into hospital, was telling him how he’d chucked some empty bottles out over the target to fox the searchlights; it had worked, too. Gunners were a special breed, and had a special bond.
Next morning, I saw the Doc. He made no bones about it and came straight to the point.
“Come in, sit down. Now then, your grounded until you can have a Medical Board, and as soon as you can pack you’re going on six days’ sick leave.”
I felt as though someone had slammed a brick on to the back of my head. I had flown and lived with my crew for eight months. We had shared much together; more than that perhaps. We had shared everything from hilarious evenings in the “Market” to staring into the face of imminent death, where our expectation of life seemed to be measured in seconds. They had become indispensable to me, we were part of one another, our relationship uniquely deep. We knew one another’s strengths, and weaknesses. Where there was a weakness, and there were few, strength was drawn from the others. Where there was strength, we each drew from it fortitude and endurance. We were closer to each other than brothers and there was an unspoken-of bond of the deepest affection between us all which was greater in its way than anything else in the world of human experience. I was stunned to think I was being parted from them; it was something I had never imagined could possibly happen. Our lives were so much intermingled and we were so completely unified and interdependent that I couldn’t imagine life without Cookie, Col, Mick, Johnnie and Mac.
In a daze, I collected some kit together, saw the Adj. about my travel warrant and found Johnnie. He, of all the crew, was closest to me. We would always sit next to one another on our sessions in the “Market”; he was very quiet, absolutely imperturbable, the personification of steadfastness and quiet courage. Somehow I got to Grimsby, then to Doncaster. On Doncaster station I was surprised to meet Ewart, who had so many times gently interrogated us. Normally so ebullient, he too was now subdued.
“Posted to Northern Ireland,” he said ruefully, in his harsh Welsh
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voice, “Hell’s bells, I never wanted to leave 1 Group, but you’ll be back, don’t you worry.”
Nearly three years later I was to meet him in Malaya. We had much to tell each other then. But now, we were both thoroughly depressed. He saw me on to my train, we shook hands, wished each other “Happy landings” and I looked back at him as the train pulled out, a slight figure, smoking the inevitable cigarette in its long holder, hunched miserably on the end of the platform.
The sick leave was anything but cheerful. I was tired, moody and tense. I developed some new and unpleasant symptoms which I kept to myself. I slept fitfully, ate little, snapped at my parents and listened avidly to every news bulleting on the radio for word of bomber operations. There was a raid on Hamburg, five missing. I drank in the local pub, alone, more than I was accustomed to, lay in bed late, walked alone on the cliffs where I used to go with Ivor on his leaves from the R.A.F. Three of my friends were on the verge of call-up for aircrew and Ivor and another school friend, Connie, had already gone to Stirling squadrons which were being formed and expanded. Of these five, four were soon to die, but there was no knowing that at the time. I looked out the first three and let them eagerly pick my brains, it gave me some relief to be able to talk flying and it filled some of the dreadful blanks in the leave.
I was working it all out. I would apply to go on to night fighters, to get some of my own back, or on to Coastal Command Whitleys. The morning before I was due back off leave I heard the B.B.C. news bulletin.
“Last night, strong forces of Bomber Command attacked the Krupp’s works in Essen and other targets in Western Germany and Occupied France. Much damage was done and large fires were caused. From all these operations sixteen of our aircraft failed to return.”
I found my hands were clenched tightly. Essen. That was an old enemy; we had been twice in and out of its massive and savage defences inside twenty-four hours not so long ago, and it had cost us three of our crews, including our Commanding Officer, in the process. To this day I cannot say or hear that evil name, Essen, without a shiver going down my spine.
My parents saw me off at the station. I was glad to go back;
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I felt like a fish out of water away from a bomber station, it was my life. I was anxious to hear the latest gen., and to get my medical board over and done with, to know what was to become of me. The local train crawled from Doncaster to Grimsby; I found transport there to take me to Binbrook.
My room-mate Johnny Stickings had crashed in January when one engine had failed on the way back from Wilhelmshaven, and he and the only other survivor had been taken to hospital. A little later, another Observer and a good friend, Eric, had gone missing with Abey, our Flight Commander, on Kiel, along with Teddy Bairstow and his crew. I had been moved in with Eric’s room-mate Frank, to keep up our morale, I supposed.
I walked along the empty corridor in the Mess. Someone came out of the ante-room and passed me, a pilot whom I didn’t know. I wondered about him, who he was, who he was replacing. We said “hello”. I went up the stairs and turned left to my room. I opened the door and there was Frank, with his fresh complexion and almost Grecian good looks, putting away his laundry.
“Hiya, Frank,” I said, “what’s the gen?”
“Oh, hello, Harry,” he replied, looking up, “how do you feel? Did you have a good leave?”
“So-so,” I said, “but what’s the gen?”
He cleared his throat.
“Look, Harry,” he said, “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you. Cookie, your crew, they went missing on Essen two nights ago.”
“Oh, Christ, Frank, no,” I said, dropping on to my bed, “Oh, God, they didn’t. Is there any news of them?”
He shook his head slowly.
“No, I’m afraid not. They went to Hamburg the other night and got back O.K. with everybody else, then they were on Essen and they didn’t come back, I’m afraid. They were in H-Harry, there was nothing heard from them after they took off. I’m terribly sorry.”
I put my head down into my hands; I was beyond speech. I heard Frank go out of the room very quietly. I thought, “I’ve let them down. I’ve failed them completely. I wasn’t with them to get them back home this one time when they needed me more than ever. I wish
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to God I had gone with them.”
And I wondered who had taken my place. Whoever you were, I thought, I would have you heavy on my conscience for the rest of my life, I would forever walk with your ghost at my side. I knew it was the end of something unique and very wonderful in my life, as though a great light had suddenly failed. It was the end of being called “Harry”. To this day I have never permitted anyone else to call me by that name, their name for me. H-Harry was gone for ever, taking them all with it to their eternity, and their own Harry had died with it, and with them.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Silver spoon boy [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] SILVER SPOON BOY [/underlined]
It’s not a part of the city I’m in very often, but a short while ago, after a lunch engagement, I found myself passing the narrow-fronted shop in the busy street which once was the cafe where I had met him for the last time.
I stopped for a minute or so, oblivious to the intense, grim-faced pedestrians brushing past me, and to the traffic as it roared by. And I remembered that day more clearly, it seemed to me, for in that area, while the occupants of the shops and offices have obviously changed many times, the upper facades of the Victorian buildings have remained virtually unaltered – as have my recollections of Jack.
So indeed has the mystery surrounding him, how he came to be in the R.A.F., what happened to him then, and why the man who might have answered my questions would not do so.
There seems to have been no actual beginning to our friendship, it was simply one of those things which developed out of nothing. Since we were merely children at the time I suppose we must have seen each other in the road, probably each of us with a parent, perhaps eventually spoken a few casual words, but looking back now I cannot put any sort of a date upon it. I suppose friendships are like that. My memories of the house we lived in then are intermingled, woven like the coloured threads of a tapestry, with the recollections of the lads I knew at that time – of Alan, of Norman and Peter, and of Jack himself, who lived nearest to me of them all.
He was an only child of quite well-to-do parents. His father was a tall, big-boned, genial man, fond of country pursuits. Jack’s mother was a pleasantly relaxed, comfortably built lady with shrewd eyes, a good amateur pianist who also had rather a fine contralto voice. Jack was very much the son of his parents, cheerful, almost jaunty in manner, generous to a degree and quite undemanding – this last perhaps because he had most things that an only child of fairly well-off parents could wish for. But although he was a boy whom I had heard described, somewhat jealously perhaps, as having been born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he was not by any means a spoiled child.
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Like most other boys of my age I lived an intensely active life, physically in top gear from morning till night. But there appeared to be a shadow across Jack’s life. He was frequently absent from school, and on those occasions when I called at his house I would be told by his mother that he was in bed, unwell. These vague illnesses were, more often than not, described as ‘overgrowing his strength’, but eventually there were hints of a weak heart. He began to be excused games at school and their doctor’s car appeared fairly regularly at their front door. Yet he was never anything else but buoyant and cheerful and I never remember seeing him look or behave very differently from a normal, healthy lad. My own parents, at those times when I told them that Jack was poorly, would give each other meaning looks and would now and again make veiled and half-audible remarks about some doctors who knew when they were on to a good thing. These bouts of malaise never seemed to alter in their frequency, and it became accepted, gradually but inevitably, in the small coterie of friends I had as a young teenager, that Jack was perhaps a little less fit than the rest of us.
Jack’s father, as I have mentioned,. Was interested in country life, and in particular, in shooting; he owned a beautiful and gentle-natured black Labrador, by name Prince. Jack’s uncle was a farmer near to the small country town of B - , some sixty miles away, and close to some good shooting. It was only natural that Jack’s family should spend most of their holidays there. One summer it happened that my parents were going through a period of considerable financial stringency; there had never been any luxuries in my life, but now, even the necessities were scarce.
Then Jack’s father, perhaps being aware of our circumstances, and being the generous man he was, casually asked me if I would like to spend two weeks of the summer holidays with them on the farm. My parents readily and gratefully agreed; I was in the seventh heaven of delight. It was an idyllic fortnight, the car drive there and back were memorable adventures enough, to me, at any rate, without anything further. We had the run of the marginal land on which Jack’s uncle grazed his stock, the scenery was very agreeable, there was impromptu cricket to be played, drives in the country and to
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wonderful, deserted beaches nearby. The discordant note, as far as I was concerned at any rate, was sounded by the early-morning shoot which I attended, crouched unhappily in the butts near the sea’s edge in the half-light of a chilly dawn, while Jack’s father blazed away at the beautiful and harmless ducks and we regaled ourselves with bottles of cold tea, which were regarded by the others, at least, as something of both ritual and delicacy. A little while ago I found, at the bottom of a drawer, a photograph, startlingly clear, of Jack and me standing against a haystack during that holiday, two gawky youths grinning into the camera, with me holding Jack’s cricket bat. I was to visit the farm once again.
When the war came, the little crowd of my friends and I, apart from Jack, went our various ways. It is difficult now to place the events of that time in their correct sequence, the constantly recurring pain of many recollections has tended to blur the outlines, but never to soften the impacts of those tragic times. The two events connected with Jack, I am now astonished to realise, were separated by almost three years of war – in my mind they seemed to be telescoped together, their perspective foreshortened by the passage of time.
Strangely enough, my own family’s ancestors had some connections with B - , and my father, who was always much more interested in the family tree than I ever was, had paid one or two visits to the place over the years to search the parish register for reference to our name and to contemplate the inscriptions on our forebears’ tombstones in the shady churchyard on the side of the hill.
My father was quite obviously under considerable stress during the war; the office where he worked was constantly understaffed as more and more men were called up into the Forces. There were also frequent Air Raid Precautions duties which he could not neglect, nor would ever have dreamed of doing so. In addition, my mother’s health was beginning to fail, and they had two sons in the forces, one of whom was engaged in duties where the chances of eventual survival were rated as about two in five.
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Early in 1942 my own crew, in my absence on sick leave, were reported missing on a raid over the Ruhr. I think my parents must have noticed the effect this had upon me, for they decided that on my next leave we could go to B – for a few days, staying at the hotel in the small market place, if I was agreeable. I thanked them, and thought it might be a good idea. It was late spring when we went, with blue and white quiet skies and sunlight pleasantly shining on the grey stone buildings. The hotel was almost empty; B - , while on the main road, was also between two county-towns which drew the local people like the twin poles of a magnet.
Released from operational flying I embarked upon what was to be several months of drinking far more than was good for me, in an attempt to dull the agony of mind and self-recrimination I was undergoing. This must have been painfully apparent to my parents, and must have caused them considerable heartache, but – and I shall always be grateful to their memories for this – they uttered no word of reproach.
How we spent our time there I cannot remember, perhaps I was in a constant alcoholic haze. The only event I can recall with any clarity was the afternoon we visited Jack’s uncle’s farm and I introduced my parents to Mr. Brown, his wife and his two daughters. I remember it as having the appearance and atmosphere of a scene in a stage play. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion, gestures seemed limp and exaggerated and we sat like figures in a tableau against the backdrop of the scarcely-remembered living room of the farmhouse, small-windowed, lit by an oil-lamp, a heavy, dark red tasselled tablecloth draped over the massive dining table. Outside, I could see the shelter-belt of firs waving lazily in the breeze, hypnotic in their motion. My parents and the Brown family sat stiffly in their best clothes. What they talked about, I have no recollection; I said not more than perhaps a dozen words. I remember that one of Jack’s cousins kept looking curiously in my direction from time to time. Jack, now working in a branch of the same bank as his father, was, naturally, mentioned. I hadn’t seen him for quite some time, but someone said he would like to meet me when we went back home, before I returned to my unit.
The arrangements were made. My parents and I got off the bus at its city terminus in the Haymarket. They would make their way to the railway station and so home, I would join them later, to pack my kit at the end of my leave, as that day was my last.
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I remember feeling released and lighter in spirit when I left them, and guilty because I did so, but the sense of freedom was pleasant after a week when it had been necessary to cork down my feelings tightly and be on my best behaviour. Yet I almost dreaded going back to my unit, a Bomber Group Headquarters, where I had been given a sinecure of a job while I waited for a medical board, for the news that I might receive of the fate of the crew of H-Harry. As I walked through the grey city streets it seemed as though I were treading the razor-edged ridge of a mountain in a high wind.
We had arranged to meet at a little cafe on one of the main streets. Jack was standing outside, smartly dressed, tall, looking well and, as usual, cheerful. We shook hands.
“Hello,” he said, “nice to see you again. How are you?”
I lit a cigarette as we walked into the quiet cafe.
“So-so,” I replied, “a lot has happened since I saw you last.”
We sat at a small table, ordered coffee and biscuits. I looked at him and said, “You’ll have heard about my crew, have you?”
He looked down at his cup and nodded. I thought he appeared more adult than I’d ever noticed before.
“Yes,” he replied, “I had heard. How do I tell you how sorry I am?”
“Don’t try,” I said, “it’s O.K., I know.”
He asked, uncomfortably, “Do you think they could be prisoners?”
“I don’t know; it’s nearly two months now, no-one’s heard anything?”
We sat silently for a few minutes, traffic noise falling on our ears. Then he said tentatively, looking at the wings on my chest, “Are you finished flying, for good, I mean?”
I shrugged.
“Not as far as I know. I’ve got six months off then I’ll be having another medical board and we’ll see what they say then. I’ll probably go back on ops, I should think; after all, I’ve only done half a tour, I think I owe somebody something.”
“Do you think they’ll send you back again?” he asked, surprised.
“Oh, yes, they can do anything, you know,” I said, “there’s a bloke on the Squadron who’s completely flak-happy and he’s still operating.”
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He looked at me.
“What do you mean, ‘flak-happy’?”
“He’s round the bend,” I said shortly, “got the twitch, call it what you like.”
Jack shook his head wonderingly.
“But they let him go on flying?”
“Sure they do; he’s a damn good gunner and an experienced one, too. He’s not afraid of man or beast. Of course,“ I said, “there is another side to it – he could be dead by now. It’s a while since I saw him, and anything could have happened in that time. It depends on the targets you get. It depends on a hell of a lot of things.”
Jack swallowed hard.
I asked him if he’d seen anything of Alan or Peter.
“They’ve both volunteered for aircrew,” he said. I thought he sounded a bit wistful and I could tell what he was thinking.
“Listen,” I said firmly, “when I went and stuck my neck out I didn’t do it as a dare to the rest of you, you know, there are other ways of getting yourselves into trouble. And don’t you go losing any sleep about not being fit, it’s not your fault, and when the time comes you’ll be shoved into something which will be useful to the war effort, I’ve no doubt at all.”
He looked at my wings again.
“I hope so,” he replied, “it’s not a great deal of fun feeling left out of things.”
We finished our coffee. He insisted on paying for them, saying that he was a rich war-profiteer. He was probably getting a lot less than me, but it was no use arguing, I didn’t have a lot of time, and neither did he. I suddenly thought of that and said to him, “Anyhow, what are you doing here, skiving off during working hours? Shouldn’t you be drawing up balance sheets or something?”
He looked at me a bit sheepishly, squinting into the sunshine as we stood on the pavement with the pedestrians hurrying by around us.
“Oh, I asked the Manager for an hour off,” he said airily, “told him I was meeting a pilot on leave from the R.A.F. He said to tell you to drop one for him.”
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We shook hands.
“Take care of yourself,” he said, “and I hope you’ll have some good news soon.”
“Thanks, so do I.” I could hear the pessimism in my own voice. I looked at my watch. “Well, it’s been great seeing you; until next time, then, so long, Jack.”
It was some time later when I learned, with feelings of complete astonishment, almost disbelief, that not only was Jack now in the R.A.F., but that he had been accepted for aircrew training. I had to read my parents’ letter several times before I could begin to grasp what they were telling me.
Many months went by. I had been stationed at Tuddenham, in Suffolk, for a year, watching the almost nightly operations of, originally, the Squadron’s Stirlings, then their Lancasters; by day seeing the vast fleets of American Fortresses and Liberators forming up overhead to carry on the round-the-clock bombing of German cities. Late on a February afternoon I stepped out of the Tuddenham mail van, on which I had hitched a lift, at the aerodrome gates of Mildenhall, our parent station. The daylight was already fading and there was comparative silence; the Fortresses were back at their East Anglian bases and our Lancasters were waiting, poised to go that night.
I stood watching the roadway which led up to the barrier at the guardroom, chatting to the Service Policeman on duty. I recognised J – ‘s walk when she was far away. The S.P., who knew her, wished us a good leave, saluted and turned away. J – and I had met and worked together in the Operations Room of a bomber station in east Yorkshire, around the time of the Battle of Hamburg. But after a blissful few months I had been posted to Tuddenham, then, quite amazingly, following a bleak interval without her, she had been posted to the Base Operations Room at Mildenhall, a small handful of miles away. Everyone who knew us thought that one or other of us had somehow wangled things; in point of fact it was simply unbelievably good luck. In addition, it was a considerable feather in her cap as Mildenhall was one of the key stations in Bomber Command.
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Consequently, we saw one another several times a week when she, of course, should have been catching up on her sleep after long and hectic hours of night duty when operations were on. Now we were going on leave together; three days at my home then three at hers.
A lorry, known to all as the Liberty Wagon, took us to the nearest railway station at Shippea Hill, along with a dozen or so others, then we caught a local train to Ely. We had a meal there and took the overnight train home. We arrived before breakfast the following morning. When we had freshened up and had breakfast, my mother, who looked paler and more drawn than when I had last seen her three months before, looked at me across the table and said quietly, “I hardly know how to tell you this; it’s so awful, when you and J – have just started your leave.”
I couldn’t guess what was coming, but I steeled myself for whatever it might be.
“What is it, mother?”
She bit her lip then said, eyes averted, “I’m afraid it’s bad news, it’s Jack, he was killed two days ago.”
I felt my mouth open and close, then I reached slowly for a cigarette.
“But – was he on ops? I didn’t know he’d got as far as that, I thought he was still training.”
Mother nodded.
“As far as I know, he was killed training, night flying.”
She paused.
“You will go and see his parents, won’t you? They’re terribly upset, naturally.”
“Of course I’ll go,” I said, “of course I will.”
I went to see them that afternoon, after I had screwed up my courage to the limit for what I knew would be an ordeal for all of us. The tension in their house was almost tangible, their grief hung on the air like a cloud. They knew little about it except that Jack was dead; he had been a Navigator on Wellingtons at an Operational Training Unit in the Midlands whose name, Husband’s Bosworth, rang a bell with me when they told me. His pilot was also from our area;
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they had flown into a hill near a village in Northamptonshire. His funeral was here, tomorrow, would I come? It was unthinkable, of course, that I would not. His father paced the room incessantly, never meeting my eyes, Jack’s mother, her face bloated with weeping, tore at a handkerchief in her deep armchair in the corner. Their beautiful piano, black and shining, would remain unplayed for a long time, I knew, and her voice, which I had so often heard in Schumann lieder, would be silent now. The dog lay across the hearthrug, his eyes following first one speaker, then the other; I felt he knew what had happened to his beloved young master.
I met the cortege at the massive stone and iron gateway of the cemetery the following afternoon. The late winter sun was sinking and it was bitterly cold under the fading colour of an almost cloudless sky. I was the only non-relation there; as the hearse came slowly up to the gates through an avenue of trees I gave it the finest salute I had ever given to any senior officer. When I went home in the deepening dusk J – was alone in the living room, sitting in the firelight. I kissed her gently, holding her to me.
That evening, as I felt I must, I went to see Jack’s parents again. They were sitting alone, quieter than before, and with the calm of resignation beginning to possess them. Prince’s tail thumped the hearthrug twice as I walked into the room, his eyebrows lifted and fell as he looked at me, his chin across his folded paws. Jack’s photograph smiled cheerfully down from the mantelpiece. I told them I had come to say au revoir. His father thanked me for being there that afternoon, then, “Do you think you could possibly do something for us?”
“If I can, of course,” I said, glad to be moving on to practicalities.
“You know Jack was stationed at Husband’s Bosworth when – it happened, don’t you?”
“I didn’t know at the time,” I said, a bit uncomfortably, thinking that I should have done. We had seldom written to one another; one didn’t have much time nor the mental quietude in Bomber Command to do very much in the way of letter-writing, except to one’s girlfriend.
He went on.
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“Do you know anyone there? In your job I thought perhaps you might know someone who could tell us just what happened. We know so little, just what his C.O.’s letter told us, not very much at all. But if you could, perhaps, speak to someone?”
Jack’s mother dabbed at her eyes.
“Actually, I do know someone there, as it happens,” I said, “a chap I worked with at Tuddenham until recently was posted there as Adjutant; I’m sure he’ll be able to tell me something.”
He brightened slightly.
“That’s good,” he said, “really quite a coincidence. What sort of chap is he? You really think he would be able to help?”
I described George, avuncular, knowledgeable, but on occasions fiery and quite outspoken.
“I’ll phone him as soon as I can after I get back to Tuddenham, and get in touch with you.”
“I’ll be glad to pay any expense involved, if there is any,” he said, “and don’t get yourself into trouble on our account, will you? But – we would like to know something, of course.”
“Don’t worry about that,” I told him, “there’ll be no expense, and no trouble at all.”
I said goodbye to them. I was not to know that I would never see them again.
The first day back from leave I rang George quite confidently. He sounded his usual self, brisk, affable as ever, but perhaps slightly fussed. Had he trodden on a few toes already, I wondered? After the conventional greetings were over, I came to the point.
“George, I’ll tell you why I’m ringing you – it’s about a crash you had a week or so ago, the pilot was Sergeant - - . Well, I was a friend of the Navigator. I’ve just come back from his funeral at home and his parents were wondering If you could give them, through me, any further details of how it happened.”
There was an abrupt and surprising change in his manner.
“Is that why you rang me? To ask me that? I can’t tell them any more than was in the letter to them. I’m surprised at them asking you to do this.”
“O.K., then, George,” I said calmly, “if that’s how it is then I’m very sorry to have bothered you.”
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I rang off. I was extremely puzzled and quite troubled by his unexpected reaction; we had always been, and still are, good friends and our working relationship was never anything less than co-operative and mutually accommodating. That evening I wrote to Jack’s father, telling him briefly that I had been unable to obtain any further facts about the crash. He did not reply.
For various reasons, and to my lasting shame, I did not visit the graves of Jack, and of Peter, Connie and Roly, another classmate, all Bomber Command aircrew casualties, for several years. But after having stood in that busy street, gazing at what had been the cafe, and remembering Jack and I as we had been then, both of us in the prime of youth, an inner compulsion drove me to do so. I could find the graves of all of those who were buried there except one – Jack. I visited and revisited the place where I thought I had stood at his funeral, searching the tombstones round about for his name, but to no avail. I had heard that his parents had moved to B – on Mr. Henderson’s retirement and I was almost on the point of becoming convinced that they had had Jack re-interred there.
Eventually, after several fruitless searches, and as a last resort, I decided to go to the cemetery office to make enquiries. In a few minutes I had found it, about a hundred yards away from the place where I had been looking. There was a solid, low grey headstone with a substantial curb. There was the name, Flying Officer John Henderson, ‘killed in a flying accident 3rd February 1945.’ So very near to the end of the war, I thought sadly. The lettering was now so faded as to be almost illegible. Underneath his name were those of both his parents. The grave itself was completely bare, not a flower, not a blade of grass, not even a weed, only the cold, wet earth under the leaden sky.
I stood for several minutes in the silence, remembering them, but especially remembering Jack, incidents from our friendship returning vividly to mind. And I wondered about many things, the questions now long unanswered. Was he really the semi-invalid he had always been made out to be? How then had he passed his aircrew medical? Why did they crash that night? Had he – God forbid – made a navigational
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error? Why had George been so brusque and annoyed at my question?
There were no answers to be found in the rustling of the cold breeze among the fallen, russet leaves, and I thought that there never would be, that I would never know. But worse, I wondered would there be anyone left to remember Jack when I was no longer able to remember, or would his name disappear completely, both from his gravestone and from the memories of everyone who might have known him on earth?
I took the Remembrance Day poppy out of my lapel and pressed it into the sodden, bare earth below his name. Then on that grey afternoon I spoke a few words to him, very quietly, but knowing that somewhere, he would hear. And as the winter dusk was falling I turned away.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
I did not expect that I should be writing a sequel to this, but a sequel there is, one long-delayed…
Obviously, I have thought very many times about Jack since his fatal crash and I have visited his grave very many times also. But rarely, if ever, have I dreamed about him. Until a few nights ago, that is, more than fifty-one years since he was killed. It was a dream which was so vivid and so poignant – that realisation was with me even as I was dreaming it – that it has stayed with me, haunted me and disturbed me ever since the early morning when, in this heartbreaking dream, I recognised Jack, from a great distance, walking towards me on a riverside path. There were iron railings on my right, a river was nearby, at my left hand, the path curving slightly from my left to the right. For some reason I was quite sure I was on the riverside at Stratford-upon-Avon. I have been there twice, once during the war, with Connie and Shep, when we were at Moreton-in-the-Marsh together, and once on a brief visit when I was on holiday at Malvern. Yes, this was Stratford, I was positive. And I knew it was Jack approaching, I could distinguish his
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features, his walk, his tall, upright figure. He was as I never saw him in life, in uniform, his peaked cap at a slight angle on his head, the Navigator’s half-wing above his breast pocket. There he was, coming briskly towards me, smiling, the Jack I knew of old. And he was with a girl. Her features I could not distinguish as she approached me with him; they were walking close together, arm in arm. Even in my dream I could feel a lump in my throat as I watched them. They stopped in front of me. I heard Jack say, “This is Janet”, and I could see now that she was smiling, a radiant, pure smile, full of utter delight and joy.
They turned together and walked slowly in the direction that I was going. It had turned slightly misty. I was fascinated by Jack’s girl Janet, wondering what sort of person she was; I could not take my eyes off her. She wore a small, round hat of the pillbox type, and a brownish, quite long, heavy coat. Her lips were full, I saw, and pink; here eyes shone with a wonderful radiance, such as I have rarely seen. I had the overwhelming sensation of their happiness with one another. Then the girl, Janet, looked at me directly, her arm still through Jack’s, and gave me her wonderful smile, so full of bliss.
“We are going to be married,” she said, “next year.”
At that moment she looked as lovely as anyone I have ever seen. But immediately, as though I had been submerged by a wave from the sea, I felt an immense sorrow engulf me, because, as I awoke slowly, with the vision of that lovely, loving couple in my brain, even in my dream I knew that their marriage could never, never be. For Jack was to die; Jack was dead.
It is a dream I shall have in my mind until the day of my own death, until Jack and I meet once more and – God alone knows whether there ever was a girl named Janet – perhaps I might meet that girl who I dreamed was going to marry my oldest and closest friend, The Silver Spoon Boy, the boy who gave everything he ever possessed. ‘Too full already is the grave, Of fellows who were young and brave, And died because they were.’
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Intermezzo [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] INTERMEZZO [/underlined]
“Sign here? And here? That it? O.K., Sergeant. Now, what have I signed for? Oh, I see, one brand-new Wimpy in mint condition with full certificate of airworthiness and rarin’ to go. HD 966, isn’t it? Where do I find her? That it, over there by the dispersal hut? O.K., thanks. Probably be back tomorrow for another. Cheerio.”
“Here we are, on this beautiful morning. HD 966. Plenty of juice, Corporal? Well, I’m not going as far as John o’ Groats, thanks, just to Moreton-in-the-Marsh. Pitot head cover off? Fine.”
“There’s only me. Up the ladder. God, it’s hot in here. Haul the ladder up, stow it next to the bomb-sight. Slam the escape-hatch door. Stamp it down firmly, to be sure. Hell, the heat. Slide open the windows, that’s better. Shove my chute into the stowage. Into the driver’s seat, check brakes on. Push and pull the controls about to test for full movement. Shove the rudder to and fro with my feet. All free. Fine. Check the petrol gauges. Enough.”
“Undercart lever down and locked. Flaps neutral. Bomb doors closed. Switch on the undercart lights. There we are, three greens. Undercart warning horn? God, that’s loud. Never mind. Main petrol cock on, balance cock down.”
“Now. Throttles closed, boost override normal, mixture rich, pitch levers fully fine, superchargers medium. O.K. So – ignition on, open throttle an inch. There we are. Now, yell out of the window. Contact port! Press the starter button. That’s it, got her! Hell! What a row, wish I’d brought my helmet after all. Shut the window. No, damn, not yet. Contact starboard! Press the button. There she goes. Come on, come on. Now shut the window. It’s a bit cooler now, anyhow.”
“Oil pressure O.K., all temperatures O.K. So, what’re you waiting for? Run them up. Port engine first. What a bloody noise. Pitch controls O.K., revs down and up again. Give her plus four boost. This is going to be damn noisy. Here goes. Throttle back, boost override in. Now for it. Open right up. Hell, it’s awful. Plus
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nine and threequarters. Fair enough. Throttle back smoothly. Not too quick. Override out. Now the starboard engine. Stick my fingers in that ear. Pitch control O.K. Plus four boost. Mag drop? ……”
“All O.K., then. Brake pressure? Right up. Try each wheel. O.K. So it should be, too, brand new kite. There goes the Anson with those A.T.A. girls. God, shook me when that blonde brought the Halifax in. Cool as you please, all five foot nothing of her. Damn good landing, too. Smashing blonde, like to see her again. Like to – hey, steady on! Back to business. Test the flaps. Right down. Now up again. Fine. Where’s he taken the starter trolley? Oh. Over there, well away from me. See they haven’t got that bloody Whitley moved yet. Bit off-putting, that, finding a pranged Whitley over a hump in the runway, just after you’ve landed. Plenty of room, though, at least it’s on the grass. Well, come on, let’s get back to Moreton, might have half a can if there’s no more flying today.”
“Chocks away. Wave hands across each other where the erk can see. There he goes with the port chock. Now the starboard. Thumbs up from him. And from me. Little bit of throttle, hold the yoke well back. Here we go. Taxy out over the grass. Bumpy. Wish they’d get another runway put in, too. The one they have got isn’t even into the prevailing wind. Using it today, though, I see. Not much wind at all, but the Anson used it. Lovely sunny day. Swing the nose about a bit, never know what’s ahead. Would hate to prang a Spit or something. What’s that Oxford doing? Coming in. Trundle up to the end of the runway, opposite the line of trees. Bit off-putting they are, too, when you’re approaching to land. Park, crosswind. Brakes on. Relax and watch him come in. Wheels down, crosswind, losing height. Bit bumpy over the trees, of course. Flaps down, now he’s turning in. Nice steady approach. Oh, Christ, here’s a Spit coming in next, what a bind. I’ll have to wait a bit. Yes, he’s put his undercart down. Damn!”
”Float her down, boy, float her down. Now, watch it. Not bad, not bad at all. Over-correcting a bit on his rudder on the runway. Never mind, nice landing, though. Open up my throttles to clear the plugs of oil. Yoke hard back. What a row. There we are, sounds
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O.K. Now throttle back and wait for the Spit. Quick check round the dials again. Set the altimeter to zero. Gyro to zero and leave it caged. Where is he? Oh, here he comes, hellish fast. God! That was a split-arse turn and no mistake. Full flap. Well, he is heading in approximately the right direction. Whoof! He’s down. A bit wheel-y, but never mind, he’s in one piece and still rolling. Now beat it, chum, and let a real kite take off. No-one else in the circuit? Thank bloody goodness. Wait a tick, where’s my friend in that Spit? Oh, there he goes, taxying to the Watch Office. Fighter boys – I don’t know!”
Here we go then. Flap fifteen degrees. Brakes off. Port throttle to turn on to the runway. Hope the far end’s clear. Suppose they would poop off a red if it wasn’t. Nice and central Brakes on. Uncage gyro on 0. Now hold your hat. Open both throttles steadily against the brakes. What a bloody row. Yoke back, now let it go to central. Not too far, not too far. More throttle. Hold the brakes on. She’s shuddering like hell, wants to jump off the runway. Lift the tail just a bit more. Now. Full throttle and brakes off. Here we go – and how! We’re really rolling. Shove those throttles forward against the stops. Touch of rudder against the swing. Fine. Hold it there.”
“Feels great. Love take-offs, tremendous sense of power. Hellish noise, too. Airspeed? 50. Nice and straight, shove the tail well up, a real 3 Group takeoff. Touch of rudder again. 65. Over the hump. Gi-doying! Nearly airborne then! Plus nine and threequarters on both, 3000 revs. Wizard. 75. Runway clear and pouring back underneath. There’s that Whitley. Plenty of room. 80. Almost ready. Still bags of room. Come on, come on. Ease back a bit. Trying hard to go, almost a bounce then. Now? Now she’s off. Airborne. Keep her straight, wheels up. Pick your field in case an engine cuts. Right, got one. Lights out as the wheels come up. Then red, red, red. All up and locked. Throttle back to climbing boost. Revs back to 2600. Airspeed 120. Overrides out. 200 feet. Gyro still on 0. Take half the flap off. Watch it, now. 300 feet. All flap off. Slight sink there, feels horrible. Keep climbing. Everything sounds good. Quick look around the panel. All O.K.
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“1000 feet. Level off. Cruising boost and revs. Select weak mixture on both. Rate 2 turn to port. There’s the Oxford just taking off. Spit’s parked at the Watch Office, next to the Hali. The Hali – God! That girl was a smasher. Cirencester just below the port wing. Now the railway. And there’s the Fosse Way. Follow it home, no bother. The Romans knew how to build roads. Excuse me, Centurion, but there’s an enemy chariot on your tail! Weave left, Lucius Quintus – now! Weather’s wizard, just a few puffs of cloud at 1500 feet. No hurry. Throttle back to economical cruising boost and revs. Try the trimmers. Feet off the rudder. Nice, keeps straight. Feet on again. Hands off. Bit nose heavy. Just a touch on the trimmer. Try again. There we are, perfect, no wing-drop, no pitching, no yawing. Flies herself and purrs like a sewing machine, she’s a beaut. Check the magnetic compass. Heading 037. Cage the gyro, set to 037, uncage. Check around the panel. Zero boost, 1850 revs, airspeed 150, altimeter 1000 feet, temps. and pressures O.K. and steady. Fosse Way sliding along under the port wing. Vis thirty to forty miles, 2/10 cumulus at 1500 feet. God’s in his heaven and all that.”
“What a view, all greens and hazy blues. Fields, trees, hedges, pale little villages. Lovely country. Must really explore it soon. Good as being on leave. I’m lucky. Bit lonely in these kites all on your own, though. Used to five other bods nattering. Nearly four months now. I wonder if there’s any news yet. Write to the Squadron tonight, see if there’s anything come through from the Red Cross.”
“Kite at 10 o’clock, slightly higher. Twin. Oxford, heading for Little Rissington, I’ll bet. Wonder who’ll take this Wimpy over. Couple of weeks and it could be bombing Tobruk or somewhere. Long stooge out there. Portreath – Gib – Malta – Canal Zone. Blow their luck. Wonder what the chop rate is out there. Better than we had, I’ll bet. Spit. at nine o’clock, high, heading East. Going like a bat out of hell. Clipped-wing job. Boy! Is he pouring on the coal. Wonder if he’s a P.R.U. type. Climbing hard, too. There he goes. Berlin by lunchtime at 40 thousand plus, I’ll bet. Nothing to touch him. Take his pictures, stuff the nose down and come home with 450 on the clock. Not a thing near him. That’s the life.”
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“Stow-on-the-Wold coming up below. Must go back to that pub some time. Wonder if I’ll hear anything from the police. No rear light. Jam had no front light. Both tight as newts. Tried to tell the flattie we were a tandem which had just come apart, wouldn’t believe us. Hell, couldn’t even pronounce it, I called it a damned ‘un, could hardly talk for laughing. We’d had a few that night! Blasted nuisance, though, expect we’ll be fined ten bob each. Shan’t go to court, though, write them a pitiful letter. Got no ident letters yet, how about doing a beat-up at nought feet? Oh, hell, can’t be bothered. Too hot, anyhow, slide the window open a bit more. Wouldn’t want to drop off to sleep like I did that night at Moose Jaw. Shaky do, that. Never mind, still alive and kicking.”
“Should write home tonight, really. Can’t be bothered to do that, either. Write to Betty? Oh, Christ, what’s the use? She’s hooked up to that other bloke, whoever he is. Don’t even know his name. Hell and damnation, why didn’t I - ? What’s the bloody use of moaning about it? But, God, she was nice. Wizard girl. There were angels dining at the Ritz - . Oh, for God’s sake, stop it. She’s gone, she’s gone, you’ve bloody had it, you missed your chance. Just stop thinking about her. Forget it. Oh, hell, why didn’t - ? Christ! Forget it, can’t you? Think of something else. Yes. Yes. What? I know. Let’s have a song.”
“Ops in a Wimpy, ops in a Wimpy,
Who’ll come on ops in a Wimpy with me?
And the rear gunner laughed as they pranged it on the hangar roof,
Who’ll come on ops in a Wimpy with me?”
“There we are, Moreton dead ahead. Long runway end on to me. Two kites on the circuit. God, I’m ready for a bite of lunch. Wonder what it is? I’ll do this right, otherwise the Boss will chew me off.”
“Into wind over the runway in use. Good look-see at the Signals Area, then a copybook circuit. Here we go. Signal for transport by pushing the revs up and down again. Makes a nice howl, hear it for miles. Oh, hell, I expect I’ll get chewed off for that, though.”
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Blast him, why does he hate my guts? Those other two Wimpies have gone, must have landed. Yes, can see one taxying. Reduce airspeed to 140. No signals out except the landing-T and that’s O.K. Crosswind leg. There’s the van leaving the Flight Office, good-oh, he’s heard it. Turn port, downwind. Throttle back to 120. 120 it is. Lock off, select wheels down. Red lights out. Green, green, green. Down and locked. Ready for crosswind.”
“Rate 1 1/2 turn to port, now. Nice. Select flap 15 degrees. Stop. Lever to neutral. Push a bit to compensate for the flap. Now the approach. Full flap. Shove the nose down. Rate 1 1/2 turn to port again. Watch the airspeed. Back to 95. Pitch fully fine. The van’s heading for dispersal down there. Keep the speed at 95. Dead in line with the runway, height just nice. Carry on, carry on. Losing height nicely, speed dead on 95. Trees rushing by. Lower and lower. Throttle right back. Push the nose down a bit more. Ten feet, now level off. Lovely, sinking down beautifully. Airspeed falling off as the runway comes up. Clunk! We’re down, what a beaut. Have we landed, my good man? I didn’t feel a bloody thing. Keep straight with the rudder. No brake, plenty of room. Slowing down now. Flaps up. Turn right at the peri. track. There we are.”
“Van’s waiting for me. Good-oh. Follow it round to whichever dispersal. Go on, then, after you, I’m waiting. That’s better. Get well ahead, where I can see you. That’s it. Weave the nose a bit. Not too rough with the throttles. Bit of brake now. O.K., I see which dispersal. Bit more brake. Slow right down. Turn into dispersal and swing round into wind in one go, with the starboard throttle. Flashy! Throttle back, straighten her up. There’s an erk with the chocks. Roll to a stop. Brakes on and locked. Pull up the cut-outs to stop the engines. That’s it, piece of cake.”
“Ain’t it gone quiet? Out of the seat. Where’s my chute? Yank open the escape hatch and shove the ladder down. Just nice time for lunch. Wotcher, Loopy, thanks for the lift. Did you witness my absolutely superb landing? No? Well, you missed a treat. How’s the Boss? What was that? Do what to him? Not me, old boy, it’s
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a Court Martial offence, and besides, it’s immoral. Come on, let’s go for lunch. What about the White Hart tonight? By the way, you missed a treat at Kemble this morning. I was just standing there, waiting until this kite was ready, when a Hali. comes into the circuit. Lovely approach and landing, taxies in, stops, and what do you think, out steps this A.T.A. pilot. Wait a minute, wait a minute, this one was a dame, and a wizard blonde at that. Now just let me describe her to you in some detail, you lascivious, drooling Australian, while I permit you to drive me to the Mess. Well, now, she was about five foot six, and her figure…..”
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Overshoot [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] OVERSHOOT [/underlined]
In that glorious summer they had decided that I could do some non-operational flying, so they posted me away from Group Headquarters at Bawtry Hall, where I’d been playing about with a bit of admin. work, a lot of cricket, and, between drinking sessions, flirting with a couple of W.A.A.F.s.
Bawtry had been very pleasant but it was distinctly stuffy after the Squadron. I was the only recently operational aircrew there and I always had the feeling that they were waiting uneasily and suspiciously for me to start swinging from the chandelier, or to come rushing up to someone very senior and snip his tie off at the knot. What really made it for me was the brief moment when I happened to look across the anteroom one day – where Group Captains and other wingless wonders were two a penny, with bags of fruit salad to be seen on their chests, though – I looked across and saw him standing there, quite quietly. It was “Babe” Learoyd, and he had only one medal ribbon, that of the Victoria Cross.
It was a bit strange when I found myself back on a Wellington Station again, even more so because this one, an O.T.U. at Moreton-in-the-Marsh, was set in lovely pastoral countryside, a complete contrast to my Squadron’s base on top of the Lincolnshire Wolds. As I was back on flying, I decided that instead of getting drunk every night I’d better cut it down a bit, to every other night, if I wanted to survive, of course, which was debatable. I suppose that was oversimplifying it, because if I misjudged something and pranged, I would possibly write myself off, but I might take a few quite innocent people with me, which wasn’t by any means O.K.
However, I needed something to knock me senseless at night, because I was still getting nightmares. In the end, I would usually fight myself awake, distressed and sweating, and lie wide-eyed, until the summer dawn at last came palely to my window and I heard the distant whistle of the first train as it wound its way through the trees and by the little brooks down to Adlestrop and Oxford.
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That train and the railway station in the small market town gradually became to me symbols of ordinary, carefree life, of freedom and safety from sudden death, symbols I was desperate to hang on to. Eventually, the station became so central and vital a part of these imaginings that I lived in considerable and constant anxiety lest one of our aircraft while using the short runway which pointed directly towards it, should crash on to it and destroy my only link with the sanity of the outside world.
I wasn’t posted to the actual O.T.U. in Moreton, but to No. 1446 Ferry Flight. Basically, the idea was that we picked up brand-new Wimpies from Kemble, about half an hour’s flying time away, flew them solo, following the Fosse Way, back to Moreton, then handed them over to pupil crews from the O.T.U. who would do one or two cross-countries in them and then fly them out to the Middle East, in hops, of course, to reinforce the Squadrons in the Western Desert. Sometimes they were straight bombers, nevertheless looking strange in their sand-coloured camouflage, sometimes “T.B.s”, torpedo-bombers, with the front turret area faired in by fabric and the torpedo firing-button on the control yoke, and sometimes they were pure white Mark VIII “sticklebacks”, bristling with A.S.V. radar aerials, low-level radar altimeters and the like.
One morning I had collected a T.B. from Kemble and was bringing it in to Moreton. No bother at all. Except on my approach to land I seemed to be coming in a bit steeply, I thought. I checked the airspeed, 95, correct. I checked the flap-setting – yes, I had full flap on, and wheels down. Looked at the A.S.I. again. Still 95. But, hell, I thought suddenly, it’s graduated in knots. Frantic mental calculations to convert knots to m.p.h. Ease back on the control column a bit. Multiply by five, divide by six, I concluded. Say, 80. So, bring the speed back to 80 indicated. I should have checked before take-off, of course. After all, this was a T.B., a nautical job. Looks right now, I thought, except that I’m floating a bit while the airspeed drops off, using a bit more runway to get her in. No panic, though. I got her down quite nicely and didn’t go anywhere near the far hedge. Quite a good landing, too, though I says it as shouldn’t.
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But, just my luck, Squadron Leader --- had noticed it.
“That’s not a bloody Spit you just brought in, you know, Junior,” was his greeting as I walked into the Flight Office. I sighed inwardly. Here we go again, I thought.
“No, sir.”
What the hell were you doing? Trying to land at Little Rissington?”
“Just came in a bit fast, sir, that’s all.”
“You should’ve gone round again, done an overshoot.”
“Well, sir, I don’t much like overshoots on Wimpies.”
He grunted.
“Don’t like overshoots,” he said acidly, “Are you a competent pilot, or not?”
“Yes, sir, I am, but I don’t like taking unnecessary risks.”
To tell the truth, I hated overshoots completely. You had to shove on full throttle when you decided you weren’t going to make it, and with the full flap you already had on, the nose tried to come up and stall you at fifty feet. So you pushed the nose down with all your strength and some frantic adjustment of the elevator trimmer – three hands would have been useful about then – to pick up some speed before you even thought of climbing away to have another shot at a landing. Then, while keeping straight you had to milk off seventy degrees of flap a little at a time – and she wasn’t at all fond of that process. She wanted to give up the whole idea and just sit down hard into a field, to sink wearily on to the deck and spread herself, and you, around the county. You had to be damn careful not to take off too much flap in too much of a hurry when those big trees came nearer, or when those hills started to look rather adjacent. At night, of course, you couldn’t see them at all, but you knew they were lurking somewhere handy. If you were in a hurry about taking the flap off, then, you went down like a grand piano from a fourth-storey window, and you’d had it. No, overshoots were definitely not for me, thank you very much, not unless they were absolutely essential, and I knew that I knew, to the foot, when they were. I’d never been wrong yet.
“Well, watch it in future, Junior, and don’t set the pupils a bad example.”
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I could quite understand why Loopy had been within an ace of punching him in the face, a few days previously. It wasn’t only the things he said, it was the way in which he said them. Before I could reply he went on, “You might be interested to know that we’ve got the S.I.O.’s son taking a kite out to Gib. soon, he’s done his circuits and bumps and he’s crewed up. His father had a word with me at lunchtime yesterday.”
As I only knew the Senior Intelligence Officer vaguely by sight I merely murmured something non-commital [sic] and asked if there was anything else. I was told, reluctantly, no, there wasn’t, so I saluted and drifted out to have a word or two with Dim and Loopy.
A few days later there was a gap in the flow of kites from Kemble, and as Loopy and I had done all the compass and loop-swinging on those we’d recently collected I took myself off to the Intelligence Library. I was standing at one of the high, sloping library desks, reading one of the magazines, when out of the corner of my eye I saw someone come in and stand at a desk about six feet to my left. I took no notice of him but carried on reading Tee Emm or whatever it was. When I had finished, I turned to go – and recognised him.
“Christ! It’s Connie, isn’t it?” I exclaimed.
I had last seen him in the Sixth Form at school, five years ago. Five thousand years ago.
“Yoicks!” he said, greeting me by the nickname I’d almost forgotten. Connie wasn’t his real name, either, but he’d always been called that at school because, it was said, he had a sister of that name who was more beautiful than the moon and all the stars. A shame I never met her. We shook hands vigorously.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked.
“Been posted to something called a Ferry Flight,” he replied.
“Bloody marvellous! I’m in that, too; come into the madhouse!”
“Well, blow me,” Connie said, “it’s a small world, isn’t it?”
We celebrated that night, in traditional fashion, with several pints apiece. It was great to have him with me, he was jaunty, carefree, entertaining and likeable. I had noticed, of course, that he had the ribbon of the D.F.M. One day, as we walked through some nearby town on a half-day off, I noticed too that his battledress was ripped,
[page break]
just below his ribs, on one side.
“By the way,” I said, “do you know you’ve torn your battledress?”
I pointed to the damage. He laughed heartily.
“That’s my line-shoot, I’m not repairing that, Yoicks – got that over Turin from a cannon-shell. Never felt a thing!”
It was about this time that I discovered the poems of A.E. Housman and, on free afternoons, I would lie on the unkempt lawn of the little cottage where I had my room, out beyond the Four Shires Stone, and would read his poems long into the drowsy, high-summer afternoons, their words tinged with the sadness that I had learned. And as I lay there, the supple, vivid wasps would tunnel and plunder the ripe plums I had picked off the little tree under whose shade I rested. There was constantly to be heard, with the persistence of a Purcell ground, the noise of the Wellingtons on the circuit, two miles away, over the lush green Gloucestershire landscape, hazy with heat, the sound rising and falling on the consciousness like the breathing of some sleeping giant.
At length I would pick myself up, stiffly, feeling the skin of my face taut with the sun, and put the poetry away. Then in the incipient twilight I would stroll down the road towards the sinking sun to meet Connie, to have dinner in the Mess and to slip easily into the comfortable routine of an evening’s drinking with him, and perhaps with Dim, Loopy, Pants or Mervyn, in the anteroom, or down at the White Hart in the village. I would see Connie’s dark hair fall across his forehead, his heavy black brows lift and lower expressively over his mischievous eyes as he told some humorous story of his days and nights on his Squadron at Downham Market. Sometimes, when we were flush, he and I would catch a train to one of the neighbouring market towns, to embark on an evening’s pub crawl, laughing at each other and at ourselves as the beer took effect, and as the darkness slowly fell, un-noticed; each of us drowning our private memories.
Once, a bunch of O.T.U. pupil crews came into a pub where we were sitting – was it in Evesham? – obviously on an end-of-course party before they went their various ways to join their bomber Squadrons. They joked a lot, sang a bit and indulged in some mild, laughing horseplay. Connie, who like me had been watching them, suddenly
[page break]
grew solemn.
“Poor sods,” he said gravely, “they don’t know what’s coming to them, do they, Yoicks?”
Poor Connie, too. He himself had not long to go. Just over a year later he was killed, at the controls of his Stirling, where, had he known that he must die, he would have wished to be, I think.
Eventually, wherever I had been, I would fall into bed, my brain dulled by the alcohol, but neverthless [sic] conscious enough to dread what the night might hold for me, waiting for the nightmares to come again.
There was one kite in the circuit, wheels down, as I strolled towards the Mess for dinner as twilight was beginning to fall. It was yet another lovely evening, and what with the idyllic existence and Connie’s new-found friendship, I was feeling that as far as I was concerned, I could stay here until further notice, despite Squadron Leader --- and his unpleasant little ways.
I was quite near to the Four Shires Stone when I heard the sudden howl as the kite’s engines were opened up to full throttle. Should we go to the White Hart with Loopy and Dim tonight, I wondered, or have a bit of a session in the Mess? Just then there was a loud thump and a silence, another thump, and I saw a telltale column of black smoke erupting over the hedges and treetops ahead and slightly to my left, a mile or so away, I guessed. The kite had overshot and gone in.
“Jesus!” I said, and broke into a run down the road. I was panting and sweating along when suddenly the Flight van screeched to a halt beside me, going the same way. Squadron Leader --- was driving.
“Get in, Junior,” he yelled, “We’ve got to get them out!”
He let in the clutch and drove fiercely down the empty road. The pillar of smoke grew bigger as we got nearer. Then I saw the gap in the hedge and the smashed tree where it had hit. At the far edge of the field the shattered Wimpy burned savagely. We skidded to a stop and flung our doors open. As I ran through the gap in the hedge and across the field, --- raced around the front of the van to join me. I could feel the heat on the surface of my eyes from
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the wall of leaping flame. The kite’s geodetics were like smashed and twisted bones stripped of their flesh. I ran on, over the cratered and churned earth. There was a reek of petrol, of ploughed earth, and of something else, sweetish, sickly, burned. An engine lay to one side, the prop grotesquely curled back.
Suddenly there was a ‘whumph!’ and I found myself on the ground. A petrol tank had exploded. I got up again and went towards the inferno that was raging under the smoke-pall. I splashed through a pool of something. I could hear Squadron Leader --- cursing somewhere nearby; I was gasping and sobbing for breath.. [sic] Then the oxygen bottles started to explode and bits of metal went screaming viciously past me. I tripped and fell heavily. And I saw I had fallen over something smoothly cylindrical, like an oversize sausage, bright brown, and with a smouldering flying boot at the end of it. A few feet away lay an untidy, horribly incomplete bundle of something in what looked like Air Force blue, lying terribly still under the stinking glare. I was retching, on all fours, unable to move further. I dimly heard another explosion nearby, sounding curiously soft, there was a blast of hot air on my face, and then there were the bells of the approaching fire-tender and ambulance.
I was being dragged by my shoulder. It was ---.
“Come on,” he panted, “we’ll never get near it. They’ve had it, poor bastards.”
We must have made our way back to the van as the rescue vehicles arrived; I don’t remember much about that part. I was leaning up against the side of the van and wiping my face with a shaking hand when I heard --- say, “Now I’ve got to go and tell the S.I.O. that his son was flying – that.”
“Oh, Christ,” I groaned.
“Let’s go,” he said, “Let’s get to hell out of here.”
He switched on the engine of the Utility as the black funeral pall of smoke spread over the sky, and thinning, smudged the sunset dirtily.
I read an article in a magazine recently. The writer had been visiting some place which had impressed her. She concluded with
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the words, “But you never lose an experience like that. You carry it around with you.”
Yes. And sometimes you feel you need just a little help to carry it just a little further.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] First Solo [/underlined] [/inserted]
[page break]
[underlined] FIRST SOLO [/underlined]
I drank some more beer and said to Connie, “The trouble with Shep is that he’s far too damned opinionated, and what’s much worse, he’s far too often right. You just can’t knock him down, can you?”
Afetr [sic] several pints in the White Hart I was feeling less in control than I might have been, but having given vent to that penetrating observation I felt quite foolishly and inordinately pleased with myself. Connie, who had also had several, perhaps for different reasons, looked at me a trifle owlishly.
“I say, Yoicks,” he said, slurring just a little, “that’s rather good. You’re dead right.”
“If you don’t mind, Connie,” I said, “I’d rather you didn’t use that word.”
“What word? What have I said?”
“Dead,” I replied.
At the time, Connie and I were busy settling into our new routine in ‘X’ Flight of the O.T.U. at Moreton-in-the-Marsh. The powers-that-be had decided that there were too many pilots in Ferry Flight just across the way, and not enough utility pilots in ‘X’ Flight. Squadron Leader ---, with barely disguised joy, had promptly nominated me for transfer. And perhaps because he knew Connie and I were close friends, he had selected him to accompany me.
“Utility” was the word for it. We flew Wellingtons on fighter affiliation exercises and on air-to-air gunnery, one pilot and a kite full of A.G.s who took it in turns to man the turrets. Fighter affiliation was by common accord reckoned to be gen stuff, that is, approximating to the real thing – mock attacks by the ‘X’ Flight Defiant, convincingly hurled around the sky by Cliff, at which the gunners “fired” their camera-guns. But the air-to-air lark, I always thought, was of very doubtful value. Our Lysander flew straight and level, towing on a cautiously long cable, a canvas drogue, at which the gunners fired live ammo. with prodigal enthusiasm. Doubtful value? I might have said “pointless” instead. How many Me109s or 110s obligingly flew alongside you at a convenient distance and invited
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you to have a shot at them? It was damn noisy, too, with both your turrets blazing away, and the smell of cordite lingered on your battledress for days.
Most of the time the Defiant or the Lysander, whichever was in action, was flown by Cliff. He was tallish, lean, dark-haired and casual, a Canadian Flight Sergeant, but a man who might have stepped straight out of a Western film. Like Connie, he too was entering the last few months of his life. Cliff, the casual, was soon to be killed over Hamburg in his Pathfinder Lancaster.
The other occasional pilot on the two single-engined kites was Hank, an American, a Flying Officer in the R.A.F., also casual and easy-going, but suave, where Cliff was slightly flinty. The two were inseparable, if only as inveterate gamblers. I learned a lot about the gentle art of shooting craps from Cliff and Hank. On days when there was no flying, when Bill, Connie and I would be lecturing the O.T.U. pupils on Flying Control systems, emergency procedures, dinghy drill and airfield lighting and also, in my case, on the layout of the multifarious internal fittings of the Wellington, Cliff and Hank would retire to a quiet corner of the hangar. Gambling was strictly prohibited by the R.A.F., of course, but the rattle of dice would faintly be heard, punctuated by urgent cries of “Box cars!” “Baby needs new shoes!” or “Two little rows of rabbit-shit!” Money was never seen to change hands, but now and again it was apparent, from the obvious tension which was building up between them, that the stakes were high.
Our happy little Flight was genially run by an Irish Flight Lieutenant named Bill. Bill was the very antithises [sic] of Squadron Leader --- whom I’d just left behind. He was a tall, gangling, rather awkward-looking pilot who affected a slightly vague nonchalance about life in general. One of his endearing little foibles was that he seldom, if ever, referred to an aircraft by its proper name. It was commonplace that all Wellingtons were Wimpies, and fairly common that Lysanders were Lizzies, but he extended these nicknames by referring to our Defiant as a Deefy.
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I sat in on his introductory lecture to a new Course, a dummy run for me before I took over the conducting of the wedding ceremony of sprog crews to the Wimpy. They had all come off Oxfords and it was a bit awe-inspiring at first to be confronted by the size and complexity of the Wellington at close quarters. Bill’s opening remarks were memorable. He lurched up on to the dais, which was, in our hangar, alongside a complete Wellington fuselage, stripped of its fabric, and also near a separate cockpit taken from another kite. He looked slowly around the faces in front of him, as though surprised to find himself there at all, then lit a cigarette, exhaled, beamed happily at our new charges, coughed softly, and in an unbelievably broad Ulster accent uttered the following pearl of wisdom and deep scientific truth.
“Well, now. This here – this here is a Wimpy, and –“ patting a mainplane as one would a favourite dog, and lowering his voice confidentially as he leaned forward earnestly towards them – “these are the wings. Now you’ll be wondering what keeps them on. But don’t you be worrying yourselves about that, ‘cos it’s ahll [sic] ahrganised.” [sic]
After that, he had our pupils in the hollow of his hand; they adored him, as we all did. Dear old Bill. Old? He was about twenty three.
Bill, Hank, Cliff, Connie and me. A nice mixture; one Northern Irishman, one American, a Canadian and two Englishmen. Then into our happy little world stepped a newcomer. Shep. Correction – he did not step, he never stepped. He would barge, blunder, or he would push, but step? No. However, he arrived, all right. That was the system all over. ‘X’ Flight had needed two pilots, so it got three. Shep was a stocky, powerful little Yorkshireman, darkish hair thinning a bit, snub-nosed, built like a prop forward and always with a challenging look shining from his eyes, as though to tell the world, “I’m only five foot six but don’t let that fool you, I’m little and good and I’m worth two of you.” In his manner of speaking he was blunt and earthy to the point of rudeness, but almost everything he said was accompanied by that challenging look and a grin, which took the edge off most of his outrageous remarks. While none of us, except perhaps Bill, were saints as regards our language, which was, when circumstances demanded it, bespattered with words we wouldn’t normally use in mixed
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company, not to mention the odd spot of blasphemy, Shep’s outpourings were liberally garnished with a single oath, namely, “bloody”, which, at times, he rather over-used, I’m afraid.
Like Connie, he had been on Stirlings in 3 Group, or rather, “them bloody Stirlin’s” and, of course, when he realised that he and Connie had that in common he attached himself firmly to the two of us. So our placid little duo became a slightly turbulent trio. Express an opinion which didn’t match Shep’s and, “Ah’m tellin’ you, you’re bloody wrong. Now listen ‘ere – “ and one would be corrected in no uncertain way.
On an occasion when flying was scrubbed for a couple of days due to bad weather, we found ourselves in the city of Oxford. We had a meal, and we also had several beers. When it came to the time to go for the train back to Moreton it was growing dusk and it became necessary to find our slightly alcoholic way from an unfamiliar side street to the railway station. There developed a slight divergence of opinion as to the correct course to steer; Connie and I were all for heading in a certain direction, but not so Shep. Oh, no.
“It’s not that bloody way, Ah’m tellin’ you, Ah’m bloody sure we passed that big buildin’ over there when we came in.”
Meekly, we followed him. And arrived at the railway station in a few minutes. That was Shep all over. A trip to Stratford-on-Avon followed, one Sunday, and we were regaled with a lecture on bloody Shakespeare, and also bloody Ann Hathaway. The trouble was that Connie and I were both reasonably ignorant about Shakespeare and all his works and couldn’t contradict, or even argue with Shep. It was a trifle frustrating, to say the least, at times.
I seem to recall that it was my idea in the first instance, to have a bash at the single-engined kites which we owned. I had been up with a crowd of gunners on fighter affil., no evasive action, of course, to give them practice in getting the Defiant in their sights long enough to get a picture of it. It was simply a question of flying a straight-line track along the line of the range for about forty miles and back again, while all the gunners had a shot. To be honest, it was pretty damn boring, except when one of the pupils,
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despite all my previous entreaties and warnings, would clumsily heave himself in or out of the rear turret and give the undoubtedly adjacent and awkwardly placed main elevator control shaft a hearty push or shove, whereupon we were all hurled up to the roof or on to the floor amid a torrent of curses, depending on whether the kite was forced suddenly into a climb or a dive. It broke the grinding monotony of straight and level flight, though, and once back into the correct attitude everyone had a good laugh about it, including me. Needless to say, the exercise was conducted at a very respectable altitude to allow for such eventualities, and also to give Cliff free rein to throw the Deefy around with considerable abandon.
I was stooging along at about six thousand feet on a day of pleasant sunshine while all this was going on around me, watching Cliff out of the corner of my eye as he screamed across and down beyond my starboard wingtip in a near-vertical bank which he would then convert into a steep turn and a rocket-like climb, before coming in at me again from some new angle. I was thinking that it was pretty to watch, and that he should have been a fighter boy. I thought also that I might well have been one, too, had I not had two early love-affairs, a distant one with the Wellington across the field at Sywell, the other with Betty who had suffered under the German bombing of her home town. But the germ of an idea was growing as the morning progressed and as I day-dreamed, holding the Wimpy on course over the placid Gloucestershire landscape while the white puffs of cumulus drifted lazily by on their summer way.
When I’d finally finished the detail and landed back at Moreton I disgorged my crew of gunners and wandered into Bill’s office. He was sitting there doing his best to look like Lon Chaney on one of his off-days.
“Hello, Bill,” I said, “have you got a minute?”
“Sure, Junior, me boy,” he replied, “and what would be on your mind, now?”
“Well, it’s like this,” I said thoughtfully, “I’ve been watching Hank and Cliff having all the fun chucking the Deefy and the Lizzie about –“ he had me doing it by this time – “ – and I was thinking I’d like to have a bash on them, too. I did my S.F.T.S. on Harvards,
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you know.”
“Did you now?” he answered thoughtfully, “well, well, let’s see.”
He lowered his voice confidentially and looked around conspiratorially. He pretended to be watching a Wimpy on the circuit.
“As a matter of fact,” he said quietly, “a little bird tells me that Hank might be leaving us soon.”
“Oh?” I said, not wanting to appear to be too inquisitive, and waited for him to go on.
“Yes,” he said, “apparently the Chief Instructor came across him and Cliffy rolling the bones in a quiet corner, and poor old Hank, him being the senior and an Officer and all, is going to be sent to the place where they send naughty boys.”
“But what a bloody stupid waste,” I exclaimed, “Hank’s a damn fine pilot. He goes and sticks his neck right out, volunteers for the R.A.F. when he had no need to, being a Yank, and just because he rolls a couple of dice they’re going to kick him up the backside. It seems damned childish to me.”
“Oh, he won’t be grounded for good, or anything like that, he’ll just do drill and P.T. and parades and so forth for a couple of weeks, then they’ll send him back on flying, somewhere. Anyhow, the point is, I could use another pilot or two for the Deefy and the Lizzie, so you and Connie and Shep might as well have a go. It wouldn’t be fair on them if I said O.K. to you and not to the other two.”
“No, of course not,” I said.
“There’s no dual controls, you realise that, don’t you, Junior? You’ll have to pick it up from a ride or two in the back seat and read up the Pilot’s Notes a bit.”
“I’ve already been genning up on them,” I grinned, “I think I know where all the taps are, it’s just a question of getting the feel of the things.”
“You crafty so-and-so,” Bill said, smiling. “O.K., then, you fix it all up with Cliffy and I’ll have a word with the other two. H’m. Is that the time? Neither of us are flying this afternoon, so how about a quick noggin before lunch?”
“Sound suggestion, Bill,” I said.
We walked up to the Mess together; I was feeling slightly excited at the thought of getting a couple of new types in my log-book. I suppose I liked the challenge.
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It was strange to be sitting jammed into the four-gun turret of the Defiant while Cliff flew it around the circuit and gave me the gen.
“She’s a bit of a heavy sonofabitch,” he drawled, “but she’s got no vices if you treat her right.”
To be honest, I couldn’t see anything of what went on in the cockpit in front of me, all I could do was to form some idea of the distances on the circuit, where to start reducing speed and where to put the wheels and flaps down, and to watch the landing attitude, of course. He did a couple of circuits and bumps for me and that was all we had time for on that session.
Soon afterwards, he gave me a ride in the Lysander. That was quite an entertaining experience. It was an ugly-looking parasol-wing kite with a big, chattery radial engine, wonderful visibility due to the high wing, a fixed undercart and ultra-short take-off and landing runs. It was fitted with God knows what in the way of trick slots and flaps. Take-off was incredible, it made me want to laugh out loud.
“The important thing,” said Cliff as we stood ticking over, ready to roll, “is to make sure you’ve got your elevator trim central for take-off – this wheel right here.”
I leaned over his shoulder and looked at the aluminium wheel down below his left elbow. It was the size of a small, thick dinner-plate, with a bright red mark painted across the rim as a datum.
“If you don’t have that centralised, like it is now, you’ll try to loop as soon as she gets airborne, then we’ll be having a whip-round for a goddam wreath for you. So watch it, bud.”
“O.K., Cliff,” I said, “I’ve got you.”
“Let’s go, then, eh?” he said, and opened the throttle. We seemed to be airborne in about fifty yards and climbed like a lift in a hurry. The runway simply dropped away below us. Compared to the Wellington’s take-off it was simply unbelievable.
“Hell’s teeth!” I said, “She really wants to go, doesn’t she?”
“Sure does,” he replied happily.
Landing was equally impressive. It seemed you just closed the throttle and the Lizzie did the rest. She was designed for Army
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co-operation duties, to land in any small, flat field. And, of course, they were used extensively for the cloak-and-dagger stuff, putting in our agents to western Europe by night and picking up others, all by the light of the moon and a couple of hand torches: that must have been quite something.
Cliff turned into wind.
“No undercart to worry about,” he called.
Suddenly there was an almighty ‘clonk’ and I almost snapped the safety harness as I jumped involuntarily.
“What the hell was that?” I asked.
“No danger, just the slots popping out at low speed. Now see, I’ve got the elevator trim wound right back. Get it?”
“O.K.,” I said, “Got it.”
We lowered ourselves down on to the runway and rumbled to a halt in a few yards.
“Bloody marvellous!” I exclaimed, “some kite, isn’t it?”
“Sure is,” said Cliff as we taxied in, “I wouldn’t mind one of these babies for myself, to take back home.”
“No trouble at all,” I replied, “they’ll be two a penny after the war, and with all the cash you’ve won at craps you’ll be able to afford a fleet of them.”
He laughed.
“Aw, well, we’ll have to see, when the time comes,” he said.
The time never came, of course.
You can guess who organised himself the first solo. You’re right, it was Shep.
“Ah’m flyin’ the bloody Lizzie in ten minutes,” he announced loudly, one day soon after, bustling into the hangar and crashing open his locker door.
“How’d you fix that?” Connie asked.
“Ah, well, Ah’m the best bloody pilot around here so Bill said it was only right Ah should have first bloody crack before either of you clumsy buggers bent it.”
“Get the Line-Book out!” I shouted, “Just listen to that – best pilot? You’re just a ham-fisted bus driver, you four-engined types are all alike!”
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“Steady on, Yoicks,” Connie said, “don’t include us all in that.”
“Well, some of you are ham-fisted,” I said. “Anyhow, let’s go and witness this demonstration of immaculate, text-book flying by our modest friend here.”
Shep grinned and slung his chute over his shoulder, then the three of us wandered down to the peri. track where our Lizzie was standing on the grass, looking quite docile and waiting for her pilot. Shep buckled his chute straps into the harness quick-release box, pulled on his helmet and heaved himself into the cockpit. Connie and I lit cigarettes while he started her up, ran up the engine and taxied out for take-off.
“When are you going to have a shot?” Connie asked.
“Tomorrow, in the Lizzie,” I replied, “I’m quite looking forward to it.”
Shep was ready for take-off. He opened her up and the bright yellow Lysander quivered and tolled, then she was airborne, climbing steeply and joyously. He took her nicely around the circuit, a much smaller one than the Wellington’s, of course. Connie and I watched critically, smoking and chatting. As he was on his landing approach Bill drifted along.
“How’s he doing?” he asked.
“Bang on,” I said, “just coming in now.”
Shep landed and taxied round to the start of the runway again. He had done all right, we agreed. No reason why I shouldn’t, too, I thought. Hurry up, tomorrow.
He stopped to let a Wimpy take off. The contrast was grotesque, the bomber using most of the runway and climbing very shallowly away over the trees as it tucked its wheels up, leaving behind it a blur of oily, brownish-black smoke.
Shep moved on to the runway into position for takeoff. It was a lovely afternoon, hardly any wind, a few puffs of cumulus at about four thousand feet. There was a slight haze over the low hills beyond the railway station. We heard him open her up and she rolled. He’d hardly got the tail up before he was airborne, nose-high. Then he was climbing steeply, the engine howling, the kite hanging on its prop.
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“Oh, sweet Jesus!” Bill said, very distinctly, next to me. I simply stopped breathing and watched. We were going to see Shep die in front of our eyes and were completely unable to do a thing to help him. Then, at the moment when it seemed he would inevitably stall and crash into the middle of the aerodrome from less than a hundred feet, he somehow got the nose down, and as he did so, painfully raised the starboard wing. The crazy, fatal climb changed slowly, so terribly slowly, into a steep turn to port. Shep was in a series of tight turns, at full throttle, right over the centre of the runway at about fifty feet. Gradually, the turns slackened, the note of the screaming engine eased. He flew over us, very low, still turning to port, but now more or less in control, obviously winding the trimmer frantically forward.
“Bloody hell!” Connie gasped, “I thought he’d had it that time.” I could only gulp and nod. I felt for a cigarette with hands which were shaking so much I could hardly open the case. My knees felt like water. Bill sighed and said quietly, “I’m afraid he didn’t do his cockpit drill. He forgot the elevator trim.”
We said nothing, but watched as Shep came in to land.
“Let’s go,” Bill said.
We went back to the Flight Office. Five minutes later Shep bustled in, a bit red in the face. He dumped his chute and helmet on to a chair.
“Bloody Lizzies!” he exploded wrathfully, “that bloody trimmer wants modifying, it’s a bloody menace!”
We could only look at one another in silence and amazement. Surely he would admit to being in the wrong, just this once?
Next day, Bill called for Connie and I and silently handed us a memo from the Chief Instructor.
“With immediate effect,” it said, “Lysander and Defiant aircraft of ‘X’ Flight will be flown only by the following personnel.
F/L W. McCaughan,
F/O H. Ross,
F/Sgt C. Shnier.”
Bill, Hank and Cliff. I handed the memo back to Bill.
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“Yes, Bill,” I said, “O.K., fair enough.”
So we flew Wimpies up and down the range and liked it, and we watched Cliff hurling the Defiant into gloriously abandoned manoeuvres in the late summer sky while we flew straight and level. And we gritted our teeth, and we liked it. But now and again I had a sneaking little thought – I wondered what would have happened if that had been me up there instead of Shep. Would I still be bouncing around, like he still was, or …..?
I know, of course, what became of poor Connie, and every year on the anniversary of the day it happened, I visit him where he lies. What happened to Shep, I don’t know, but I’m prepared to bet that whatever it was, he would have had the last word, or, as he would put it, the last bloody word. But really, he wasn’t such a bad bloke. As I said to Connie, you just couldn’t knock him down, that was all.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] The pepper pot [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] THE PEPPER POT [/underlined]
It must have been a surprise to Connie as, just when we were about to climb up the ladder into the Wimpy one fine morning, he saw me fold into a heap at his feet. I can’t say it was much of a surprise to me, I hadn’t been feeling too brilliant for some time before that.
Things then moved very quickly. The M.O. saw me and whipped me off to London for a medical board, where I was told quite pleasantly that my flying days were over as far as the Royal Air Force was concerned, and I was asked what I would like to do. No promises, of course. I said, “Intelligence, in Bomber Command.” That seemed to them a reasonable idea, as far as I could make out.
Then followed several completely idle weeks in Brighton in mid-winter, waiting to see what was going to happen to me. My days’ work consisted of reporting to the Adjutant in the Metropole at nine a.m., asking, “Anything for me?” being told, “No”, and that was it until next morning, when the routine was repeated. I was billeted in a little hotel on King’s Road, facing the sea, with three or four other R.A.F. types and one or two R.A.A.F types. There were a few civilians there, too, among them the comedian Max Miller, who, off-stage seemed to me to be distinctly un-funny, if not downright anti-social.
I made friends with a couple of other pilots, Aussies, John Alexander and Don Benn, who were on their way home. Don had crashed in a Beaufighter and injured his legs – his M.O. had said he should play some golf to strengthen them. As he had been a stockman in outback Queensland, the idea of his playing golf was rather amusing both to him and to me. But, as an utter tyro myself, I agreed to go around the lovely course, up on the Downs near Rottingdean, with him. At night, John and I would paint the town red in a mild sort of way, sometimes exercising the legs of the local police force. I caught a glimpse, one day, of Hank Ross, doing penance, marching in a squad of aircrew types along the front. It depressed me greatly. Hank looked desperately unhappy. I waved to him and he acknowledged
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me with only a sad little smile. I thought that if he had waved back, he would probably have been sent to the Tower. It still seemed desperately unjust. I never saw Hank again.
Eventually my course came through, to an Intelligence training centre in a big old house in Highgate. Some fairly hush-hush stuff went on there and we were forbidden to talk to anyone who wasn’t on our own course of about twenty. But one evening, in the anteroom, I was delighted and amazed to see dear old Tim, and made a bee-line for him, rules or no rules. We chatted for a few minutes until someone intervened. Next day I was kept behind after a lecture and given a severe reprimand, and although I saw Tim several times after that, I never spoke to him again while we were there. Not until we met, at Niagara Falls, almost fifty years later – two survivors.
During this time, Alan was called up for training amd [sic] I discovered he had reported to an Aircrew Reception Centre at St. John’s Wood. We met for half a day, had a long talk, a visit to the flicks and a meal at a strange and deserted Greek restaurant somewhere near Covent Garden.
The end of March found me posted as an Intelligence Officer to Linton-on-Ouse, where there were two Halifax Squadrons, one commanded, as I discovered when I arrived, by Wing Commander Leonard Cheshire. Soon afterwards, the Canadians were about to take over Linton and I accompanied one of the Squadrons to Holme-on-Spalding-Moor, in east Yorkshire. After a couple of weeks there, the S.I.O. decided that they were rather short-handed at the satellite Station, Breighton, where the other Squadron from Linton had settled in. So there, among the farm buildings of the nondescript but not unpleasant hamlet of Breighton, I put down roots for a few months. And there I met J - .
. . . . . . . . . . . .
I was pinning up the bombing photos of the previous night’s raid when I noticed he was there again. the Intelligence Library, no matter how we tried to dress it up, was never all that well-populated, and that morning was no exception. The photos usually drew a few
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interested crew members, Tee Emm was invariably popular, but the other stuff was really a bit on the dull side. There wasn’t, for example, a tremendous rush for the Bomber Command Intelligence Digest. Most of the crews, anyhow, were sleeping off last night’s trip, or last night’s session in the local, whichever was applicable.
This little gunner, though, I had seen him in there several times before, always at the same table near the door. It made me wonder. I suppose it was rather obtuse of me not to have cottoned, especially in view of my own feelings about J - . Anyhow, when I had put up the photos I went over to him, more out of curiosity than anything.
“Hello,” I said to him, “did you want something?”
He hesitated, then said, “I suppose – “
“Yes?”
“I suppose Sergeant S – isn’t on duty, is she?
I saw it all, then. One of our W.A.A.F. Watchkeepers, Billie S – was very much sought after for dates, and, it must be admitted, slightly blasé about the whole business. Rumour had it she was the daughter of a fairly high-ranking Army Officer in the Middle East. She was an extremely pleasant girl, blue-eyed, blonde and very nicely shaped, with a calm, almost angelic manner and a vibrant, husky voice which could send the odd shiver up your spine when she used it in conjunction with those big blue eyes of hers. But not my type. Now J - , one of the other two Watchkeepers, she was a different matter entirely. I had the feeling I was going to like Breighton very much indeed, even though I’d only been there just over a week.
“Sergeant S - ?” I said to him, “do you want to see her?”
(Bloody silly question, I thought, of course he did.)
“Well, if I could, just for a minute, if it’s no trouble.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
I went back into the Ops. Room. Billie was purring at someone on the telephone and even then, unconsciously using her china-blue eyes expressively. Apart from her, there was only Margaret, one of the Int. Clerks, writing industriously. Billie hung up finally. I said, “Billie, there’s a gunner in the Int. Library would like
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a word with you.”
She wrinkled her nose just a little and said, “who is it, sir? Not that Sergeant P - ?”
“Don’t know his name,” I replied, “smallish chap, though, in Sergeant – ‘s crew, if I remember rightly.”
“Yes, that sounds like him, Johnny P - ,” she answered, with a faint sigh. She shrugged her shoulders and with a lift of her immaculately plucked eyebrows she said, “Would you mind, very much, sir?”
She sounded resigned.
“No, you go right ahead,” I said with a grin, “mind he doesn’t chew your ears off, though.”
She laughed quietly and went out, smoothing down her skirt over her hips as she went. Margaret was smiling quietly to herself and I cleared my throat rather noisily and started to sort out a pile of new target maps, mostly of Hamburg, I noticed. My tea had gone cold and I cursed it. Margaret looked up and laughed.
“Shall I get you some more, sir?”
“If you wouldn’t mind, Margaret, there’s a dear.”
She went out into the little store-room-cum-kitchen between the Ops. Room and the Int. Library, which we had been told recently to empty as far as possible. This had intrigued us greatly, but we asked no questions.
Billie came back, patting her blonde hair and looking a little flushed.
“Well,” I said, “have you been fighting like a tigress for your honour?”
“Oh, nothing like that, sir,” she replied with a smile, and left it at that, which was fair enough. Nothing at all to do with me, really. Margaret came back with teas all round. The war could continue. Billie got behind her switchboard, handed me a cigarette and did her usual pocket-emptying routine in search of a comb or a lipstick or something, as I lit her cigarette. The stuff that girl carried around with her.
The moon period came around and there weren’t any ops for a few days. Funny to think that when I had been operating a full moon was popularly known as a “bombers’ moon”. Now it was shunned as
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being too helpful to the German night-fighters. We more or less caught up with the outstanding stuff; the Watchkeepers got the S.D. 300 slap up to date and Pam spent a bit of time in the Library putting up some new stuff on the notice boards and going over some bomb-plots with the crews from the photos they had come back with. She mentioned casually that one of the gunners seemed to be spending a lot of time in there. I merely said “Oh, yes?” and looked blankly at her.
I got to know J – a little better during this time, and I knew that this was it. I was very pleased to see that she didn’t have an engagement ring on her finger. Our conversations progressed imperceptibly from one hundred per cent “shop” to a slightly more personal level. I found I was looking forward more and more to the times when she would be on duty, and I tried to fiddle it so that I was on at the same times. I also found that I was looking forward less than usual to my next leave, which would take me away from her for a week.
One afternoon, when things were quiet, I asked J – how Billie was coping with Johnny.
“Well, he’s very persistent,” she said, “he wants a date with her, but she’s doing her best to stall him off. Poor kid, what he really wants is his mother, you know.”
I nodded thoughtfully; I hadn’t seen it quite like that.
“So is Billie going to date him?” I asked.
“Well, I don’t know what she’ll decide,” J – said, “she’s tried her best to head him off, and all that, but he just shakes his head and keeps asking her to go out with him just once; what can she do?”
“Knowing Billie, I’m sure she’ll think of something,” I said, and we smiled at one another. I little suspected what in fact she was thinking of. Had I known, I would have slept less at nights than I was already doing, for various reasons.
Of course, I was thinking along the lines of asking J – for a date, too, but I was worried about rushing things. I had to pick my moment and I wasn’t sure just how to recognise when it had come. I would lie awake thinking it over, and thinking about J - , which just shows you what sort of state I was in.
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Two or three nights later I was on duty with Freda, the third of the Watchkeepers. Our aircraft had just gone off and we were relaxing a bit and wondering if we’d get any early returns. Freda had just finished phoning the captains’ names and take-off times through to Base at Holme-on-Spalding-Moor, along the road about eight miles, when the phone rang.
“It’s Billie, for you, sir,” Freda said.
“For me, Freda?”
“Yes, sir, she asked for you.”
I thought Billie must have forgotten to finish something on her last shift and wanted to square it with me, or get Freda to do it while she was on duty.
“Hello, Billie,” I said into the phone, “what’s the gen?”
“Oh, hello, sir,” came her creamy, purring voice, “can I ask you a favour?”
I still thought it was going to be something to do with work.
“Of course,” I answered blithely, little knowing that my whole life was in the process of being changed from that very second.
“Well, sir, I’ve got a date with someone tomorrow night, and to be perfectly honest about it, I’d rather make it into a foursome. So would you be willing to come along?”
“Hell’s teeth, Billie,” I said, “this is a bit of a surprise, isn’t it? But never mind, yes, O.K., you can count me in on it.”
“Oh, thank you very much, I knew you wouldn’t let me down, it’s such a load off my mind. You’re sure you’ve no objections?”
“No, of course I don’t mind, I’m game for anything,” I said brightly. “It isn’t Johnny, by any chance, is it?”
“Well, sir, as a matter of fact, it is,” she said confidentially. “I couldn’t very well get out of it and I thought it would be best if I tried to organise a foursome – the Londesborough Arms in Selby, if that’s all right with you. By the way, I’ve got some transport laid on from the W.A.A.F. guardroom to get us there, seven o’clock, assuming there’s a stand-down, of course, but we’ll have to make our own way back, so it’s bikes all round. We can push them on to the lorry to go to Selby.”
“Sounds bang-on,” I said.
Billie started to make end-of-conversation noises and was obviously about to hang up on me.
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“Just hold on a sec., Billie,” I chipped in quickly, “there’s just one small detail I’d like to get clear – who am I taking along?”
“Oh, don’t you worry about that, sir,” she said airily, “I’m sure I can find someone nice for you. Thank you very much indeed.”
She put the phone down.
I lit a cigarette and drank a mug of tea thoughtfully, letting my imagination give me a pleasant few minutes until we got a call from Flying Control that we had an early return coming back. So, for the time being, at any rate, I put the thought of my blind date aside. When the main body of our aircraft came back, one of the crews I interrogated happened to be that of Johnny P - . His pilot was a chunky bloke with a staccato manner. Johnny just sat there quietly smoking and saying nothing, but looking silently into infinity, as though he’d never seen me, or his crew, before. It was a bit weird. Finally, Pam, Derek and I got the Raid Report completed and bunged it off to Holme by D.R. I got to bed about 0400.
I was awake again with just about enough time to cycle down to breakfast. It was a miserable morning, ten-tenths low cloud and raining like the clappers. But J – was on duty and the day seemed to brighten when I saw here. Pam was photo-plotting as hard as she could and I got my head down, alongside her, over the mosaic photograph, about four feet by three, of last night’s target. No-one said very much. The blackboard had been cleaned off, in readiness for the next one. The photo-plotting took a long time, there was so little ground detail on the crews’ pictures due to cloud-cover over the target. About ten-thirty we got a stand-down through; J – phoned it around to those who were concerned. Buy lunch time we’d only plotted about half a dozen photos. One thing about the Ruhr – if you missed the aiming-point you usually hit something or other in the way of a built-up area. It was a consolation.
At lunchtime the rain had eased and there were even a few breaks in the cloud to the west. Derek took over from me about two-thirty and promptly plotted one of the photos to within a couple of hundred yards of the A.P., from a sliver of ground detail you could hardly see.
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“Beginner’s luck,” I said laughingly, and went off for a sleep. I hit the mattress and knew no more for a couple of hours. When I awoke, it took me a few seconds to remember that I was going on a blind date that evening, but suddenly I felt unreasonably, unaccountably happy, swept along by a wave of well-being which had me whistling “Tuxedo Junction” and singing snatches of “Sally Brown” as I got myself spruced up and into my best blue. I don’t know why I should have felt like that; possibly as someone once said, the mood of flying men changes with the weather, and outside, I saw that the sky had cleared to a beautiful evening.
“Sally Brown is a bright mulatto,” I sang,
“Way, hey, we roll and go –
“She drinks rum and chews tobacco,
“Spend my money on Sally Brown!”
Which started me wondering, again, who my date would be. I honestly hadn’t a clue, Billie had given me no inkling whatsoever, but I trusted her implicitly not to saddle me with some worthy but plain girl who would spend the evening painfully tongue-tied and twisting her fingers together. Never mind, I thought, it’s quite a change for me and at least we might all have one or two laughs together and try to forget about ops and casualties for a couple of hours. At five to seven I was trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, twenty yards or so from the W.A.A.F. guardroom, and trying also to think up a convincing story to tell the W.A.A.F. (G) Officer if she should appear and want to know what I was doing. As I was looking at my watch for the third or fourth time I heard a soft, musical voice say, “Hello, are we each other’s date?” and there she was, there was J - , looking quite wonderful.
My heart skipped a couple of beats, I could feel myself blushing scarlet and I found I was grinning foolishly. I managed to stammer something trite, or perhaps merely stupid. Anyhow, J – laughed, and I laughed with her, more or less in relief. I felt a bridge had been crossed, or at least, built.
Everything happened pretty swiftly after that. Billie and Johnny P – cycled breathlessly up, a fifteen-hundredweight lorry with several
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assorted aircrew on board screeched to a halt, and accompanied by a chorus of piercing wolf-whistles, Johnny and I loaded the four cycles on to the lorry, helped the girls up and scrambled aboard ourselves. Loud cries of “Let’s get airborne!” and “Chocks away!” and we were off, racing over the wet roads under the trees, through the village, being thrown companionably and tightly against one another as the driver took corners at some speed, and away to Selby, the nearest town of any size.
It turned out to be rather a dingy little place, I thought, but the pub itself was clean and surprisingly quiet, no Breighton types, or indeed no uniforms at all, apart from ours, to be seen. The evening went by in a blur which was only partly due to the intake of alcohol. Billie was her usual polished and poised self and Johnny never took his eyes off her. He looked like a thirsty man approaching an oasis. Such an unremarkable little chap to look at, a mere five feet six or seven, mousy, rather untidy brown hair, slim built like we all were on wartime rations and high levels of stress, but with an infectious grin which would suddenly light up his plain features.
What J – and I talked about I cannot for the life of me remember; I was completely bowled over by the simple fact of listening to her cool, musical voice. I think we talked about books and cricket, but had we simply sat in silence, that would have ensured my complete happiness, merely to be at her side, in her charming company. Considering the rationing position, we had a very good meal in the small, half-empty dining room. I remember how spotlessly white the tablecloth was. Johnny demonstrated his talents as an amateur conjuror, palming small objects and plucking them out of our ears, and so on. We had all had two or three drinks by then and our laughter came fairly freely. He did one small, silly trick with the chromium pepper pot, holding it between his fingers and rushing it down towards the table in the representation of a bomb’s rushing it down towards the table in the representation of a bomb’s trajectory, with the accompanying piercing whistle. We all duly made “boom” noises when it hit the cloth – except that it didn’t, it was no longer to be seen.
Eventually it was time to go. We undid the locks on our cycles in the twilight of the summer evening, and by tacit agreement, split
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up into two couples. J – and I didn’t hurry, tomorrow could take care of itself and we never saw Billie and Johnny again that evening. On the way back we stopped at a field-gate by the edge of a copse and leaned our elbows on the top bar, side by side, to watch the sickle moon slowly rise. One or two aircraft droned distantly in the starry vault of the darkening sky and we followed the nav. lights of one of them until they vanished into the haze and all was silent again, except for some small animal rustling his nocturnal way through the undergrowth. We didn’t talk much, I think we were both content with the magic of the still night and with each other’s presence and new-found companionship.
As we stood there, I tentatively put my arm around her shoulders and that small overture was not repulsed. We talked about Johnny.
“Do you know any of his crew?” I asked J - .
“Some of them,” she answered, “they seem nice lads. Johnny’s lucky to have a crew like that.”
“Yes,” I said, “he is. It’s a very special sort of relationship, there’s nothing quite like it.”
She turned to look at me.
“Your own crew, do you keep in touch with them?”
So I told her. She put a hand on my arm.
“I’m dreadfully sorry, I really had no idea that had happened.”
We cycled back to Breighton. I felt a great peace stealing over me. We stopped at the now deserted road by the W.A.A.F. guardroom.
“It’s been a lovely evening,” J – said, “thank you so much for it.”
“I’m the one who should thank you,” I said, “for putting up with me.”
She shook her head.
“Don’t say that, please. Anyhow, I must go now.”
She hesitated. Her lips, when I kissed her, were cool and sweet, like dew on a rosebud.
The next morning Base Ops., in the shape of Flight Lieutenant Smith, came on the phone.
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“Is that you, Breighton?” he asked in his dried-up schoolmaster’s voice. He would seldom, if ever, call you by your own name, you were only “Breighton” to him. I sometimes wondered what he called his pupils and more especially, whether he called his wife by her surname. So I was always deliberately and exaggeratedly casual in reply to him, just to irritate him.
“Yeah, Smithy, this is the Acting Unpaid Senior Int./Ops Officer, at your service. What can I do you for?”
Smithy was not amused. He sniffed loudly.
“We’re sending you some parcels. Store them in your little kitchen place, or whatever you call it. Don’t open them. That’s important, but keep them under lock and key until you’re told what to do with them, and keep the key on your person at all times. Is that understood?”
“Cloak and dagger stuff, eh, Smithy?”
He sniffed again and went on.
“Expect them in about half an hour. They go under the name “Window.” Is that quite clear, Breighton?”
“Yeah, I’ve got it.”
He rang off and I mused a little, wondering what on earth it could be that was so secret and new.
A sheeted-over lorry arrived from Holme and we started to unload the innocent-looking brown-paper parcels, the size of shoe boxes, and quite heavy, too. We all pitched in and got the lorry emptied eventually. By this time you could just about squeeze up to the sink in there to make the tea. Which one of the girls did, as we needed some by then. I dutifully locked the door on the bundles but I could see this was going to be a real bind, so we laid on tea-making facilities with the W.A.A.F.s in the telephone exchange, next to the Ops Room, and moved our few mugs and kettle and so on in with them.
When things had quietened down and I thought no-one would notice particularly, I slipped quietly in to the Window Store, as I was now mentally calling it, locked the door carefully behind me and took down one of the parcels. Very carefully I made a small slit in one corner of the wrapping paper so that it would look like accidental damage. I looked inside. There were hundreds, or perhaps thousands,
[page break]
of what seemed to be paper strips, about an inch wide and a foot or so long, matt black on one side, silvered on the other. My first thought was that they were some new form of incendiary device. I sniffed them – no smell. What on earth could they be? Was it something to dazzle the searchlights, then? In that case, why weren’t both sides shiny? I could get no further with my theorising, but as it happened I was somewhere on approximately the right lines. I carefully replaced the bundle and went back into the Ops Room, not forgetting to lock the door behind me as I left the thousands of bundles of Window. I put on an innocent expression and started to whistle “Sally Brown”.
“Quite a nice day out there,” I said. I wonder if I fooled them.
The mysterious Window wasn’t a mystery for much longer. A couple of days later we got a target through, quite early on, which was a sign that the weather was going to be settled. Hamburg. Hence all those new target maps. And when the operational gen came through, bomb load, route and timings and so on, right at the end was the magic word Window. It was to be carried by all aircraft. The number of bundles per aircraft was stated, as were the points on the route where dropping was to start and finish. The dropping height and the rate of dropping was stated, everything was laid down. Then we guessed it. It was a radar-foxing thing.
“Let’s hope it works,” we said to one another.
Derek did the briefing and I went along to listen, sensing that this might be an historic occasion. The Station Commander stood up on the platform first, and conversation stopped abruptly. He looked slowly around the blacked out briefing room in the Nissen hut. You could have heard a pin drop.
“Gentlemen,” he said, very slowly and quietly, “the intention of tonight’s operation is to destroy the city of Hamburg.”
The silence was so intense you could almost feel it. He went on to say that they would be carrying a new device which would save us many casualties if it was used strictly in accordance with instructions, and he told them about Window, which was designed to swamp the enemy radar screens with hundreds of false echoes, each one looking like a four-engined bomber.
Well, as far as Breighton was concerned, it worked like a charm that night. When the crews came back, and the Squadron’s all did,
[page break]
they were highly elated about the results of the attack and the lack of opposition. Few fighters had been sighted, flak was wildly inaccurate and spasmodic and the searchlights were completely disorganised and erratic. The photographs proved their elation was well-founded.
Three days later it was Hamburg again, and my turn to brief them. I caught a glimpse of Johnny, sitting about three rows back, still with that distant look on his face, as though this had nothing to do with him. I mentioned this to J – when we met on night duty, the first time I had seen her since the night we had gone to Selby.
“I’ve noticed it, too,” she said, “I don’t know what it is with him. Maybe it’s because of Billie, of course, he’s absolutely overboard for her. She’s changed too, she’s gone much quieter than she was.”
“Yes, I’d noticed that,” I said, “funny what love does to you, isn’t it?”
I gave J – a sideways look. She had coloured just a little, but smiled and said nothing. We were in the lull before take-off time. We talked about the possible effects of Window on this second raid on Hamburg. We did not know it at the time, of course, but this night was to be known as the night of the fire-storm, when hurricane-force winds, caused by the immense uprush of air from the fires, were to sweep their flame-saturated way through the city, even uprooting trees which had stood in their path. And there were still two further raids to come in the next week, plus an American daylight attack thrown in for good measure.
“Did you notice the bomb-load was almost all incendiaries?” I asked J - .
“Yes, I did,” she replied, “I wouldn’t be in Hamburg tonight for all the tea in China; imagine, almost eight hundred aircraft with full loads of incendiaries.”
“Make them think a bit,” I said. “You know, J - , what I can’t understand is why they just don’t give in now, surrender while they’ve still got some towns which are fit to live in; it’s quite obvious that we’re just going to work our way through the list one by one and flatten all his cities – I can’t think why he will just allow this to happen.”
We talked, smoked and drank tea far into the night. When they came back, the crews’ elation was now tinged with awe. No-one had
[page break]
ever seen such tremendous fires, “a sea of flame” was a common description by the crews, with a smoke pall towering to above twenty thousand feet; you could smell it in the aircraft, some said.
It was either on one of the big Hamburg raids or very soon afterwards that Johnny P – ‘s crew did not come back. I have to admit, in shame, that they were, as far as my feelings were concerned, just one of the many that we lost – all good, brave lads, but now almost anonymous in their terrible numbers, like the headstones in a war-graves cemetery seen from a distance. I knew only few of them personally; when it happened, I felt the pang of the loss, but the impact was not so great, God forgive me, as that of the loss of a crew on my own Squadron, of men whom I had been flying alongside, or with. Perhaps there is a limit to the sorrow one can truly absorb and bear, perhaps a saturation point is reached when the loss of men becomes a ghastly normality, where the mind begins to accept it as part of the natural order of things. But later – then it will suddenly all strike home in some unguarded moment, with full savage impact, as it has done, many times since.
When the last crew had been interrogated the night that Johnny went missing I saw Billie standing to one side, pale as chalk, gazing wordlessly at the faces around her, waiting for Johnny, who would never bother her again. I went over to her and touched her shoulder.
“Try to get some sleep, Billie,” I said, “he may have landed away, you know.”
It was all I could say. She nodded miserably.
She was on duty next morning, when we started the photo-plotting, tense, deadly pale, her eyes haunted by heaven knows what dreadful visions. I had given her a cigarette and taken one myself when the clerk handed me something or other and distracted my efforts to produce my lighter. Billie said quietly, “I’ll get mine,” and, typically, dumped a load of stuff from her pocket on to the desk. It wasn’t a lighter which she’d got out, though, it was a chromium pepper pot. I froze. She clapped a handkerchief to her mouth and rushed blindly out of the Ops Room as we sat silent and motionless.
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Later that day I met J – outside the village church.
“Shall we go inside?” she said.
We stepped into the dimness of the nave. My mind was still on Johnny.
“The way he looked,” I said softly to J - , “do you think perhaps he knew?”
“Perhaps,” she said, “perhaps he did.”
It was cool and quiet in there. J – knelt in a pew and bowed her head; I knelt alongside her so that our sleeves touched. Somehow, I felt I needed that nearness of her. A Prayer Book was at each place; there was just enough light left to read. I opened the book and came upon Psalm 91.
“Thou shalt not be afraid for any terror by night: nor for the arrow that flieth by day. A thousand shall fall beside thee, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee.”
J – ‘s face was calm, next to me, as I thought of Johnny, and of all the others. After a while I closed the book and slowly stood up. I took J – gently by the hand and we walked out, shutting the heavy oak door behind us, into the dim, evening green-ness of the churchyard and the faraway sound of engines in the summer twilight, as the first stars were beginning to appear.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Approach and Landing. [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] APPROACH AND LANDING [/underlined]
With the inevitablity [sic] of an experience of déja vu, it unrolled itself with preordained certainty in my dream, as completely familiar as the action of a film one has seen often before, slowly remembering it in all its detail, and on waking and thinking afresh about it, I realised with some surprise that I had never written about, or even spoken to anyone about this particular event – since the time that J – and I talked about it, that is – one which both at the time it happened and since that time, I had always privately marvelled – and shuddered at what might have been.
At night in the Ops. Room at Breighton, once 78 Squadron’s Halifaxes had taken off there was little to do for whoever was on duty. Normally there was one Int./Ops. Officer – that is, Pam, Derek or myself – one duty Watchkeeper, a W.A.A.F. Sergeant, Billie, Freda or J - , and an Ops. Clerk. There was time to catch up on all sorts of things which of necessity had to be shelved during the process of assisting perhaps twenty or so aircraft to take off, adequately prepared and correctly informed, to bomb some target in the Third Reich. There was, naturally, time to chat, time to drink tea and to smoke endless cigarettes while the hours crawled by until the tension of the time of the first aircraft due into the circuit approached. And when J – and I were on duty together (and I took some pains to ensure that we often were) the conversations were naturally more relaxed, more personal.
It was on one such occasion, when the names of people one had known in the Service were casually dropped into the talk like snowflakes on to a pond, to exist for an instant and then to vanish and to be almost forgotten, that one name struck a chord between us.
I mentioned F – ‘s name quite casually, as that of someone I had known well by sight but not personally, a pilot on our sister Squadron at Binbrook eighteen months before, and who was the central character in a very highly skilled but very high-risk piece of flying which I had witnessed from, literally, a grandstand seat, and which, these many years later, was the subject of my dream.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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At Binbrook, when operations were on, it was necessary to have what was termed a Despatching Officer, one who was not flying on that operation. He was provided with a light van and a driver, and was to ensure that in this van there was contained every conceivable piece of necessary equipment which any member of any crew flying on the operation was likely to find to be unserviceable or to have forgotten prior to takeoff – articles such as flying helmet, goggles, oxygen mask, intercom. leads, the various essential maps and charts, and so on. In the event of a sudden radio call from an aircraft to the Flying Control Officer on duty in the Watch Office that some such was required. The Despatching Officer would be driven rapidly to the relevant aircraft’s dispersal to deliver the required piece of equipment.
On one particular late winter’s afternoon, although both Squadrons were operating, my own crew was not among those detailed. And I was designated on the Battle Order as Despatching Officer. There was, as it happened, no call for my services and the Wellingtons started to take off, using one of the shorter runs, roughly north-west to south-east and passing within two or three hundred yards of the Watch Office. Once that I was certain that nothing was required, I went into the Watch Office and up on to the balcony to watch the aircraft taking off, bound for some target – I cannot recall which – across the North Sea.. All had left the ground and were on their way, vanishing into the evening sky to the east, when there was a call over the R/T from one of them which had just crossed the English coast. It was that piloted by F - .
One of his main undercarriage wheels, the port wheel, could not be retracted. He was climbing away with one wheel locked into the ‘up’ position and one which would not join it. Apparently he could neither retract the wheel which was locked down nor lower again the wheel that was retracted. He was carrying a 4000 lb. High Capacity blast bomb, irreverently and casually known to us as a ‘Cookie’. His Commanding Officer, watching take-off from the Watch Office, called him up on the R/T and ordered him to jettison the Cookie into the North Sea, then to return to the aerodrome to attempt what would have been, in any case, a fairly hazardous
[page break]
landing with a full petrol load. But it was the only possible and sensible procedure in these unfortunate and unhappy circumstances.
But F – was very much his own man. I knew him, from a distance, almost as the reincarnation of a cavalier of King Charles’ day, dark, good looking, dashing, individualistic, the complete extrovert. He might well have served as the model for Frans Hals’ “The Laughing Cavalier”. He replied – to his C.O., mark you – that he intended to bring his bomb back with him. Then, apparently, Wing Commander K - , his C.O. and he exchanged words and observations of some sort. But F - , literally in the driving seat, was adamant and persuasive enough to have his way. We waited rather breathlessly for what might transpire, as well as what his C.O. might say to him, should he, in fact manage to return safely.
After a short while, all the aircraft operating having cleared the area, we heard the note of F – ‘s Twin Wasp engines, as noisy as four Harvards, which is saying something. He appeared on the circuit, a grotesque and unsettling sight. To those of us who have flown aircraft, especially Wellingtons, it is an almost unconscious reaction on seeing any aircraft in the air, to project oneself, as it were, into the cockpit, holding the controls, glancing at the blind-flying panel’s telltale instruments, and in this case, in F – ‘s case, seeing the wretched sight of one green light and two reds in the trio of small undercarriage warning light on the dashboard.
There were now five or six of us on the Watch Office balcony and we watched tensely as F – steadily made his circuit and, throttling back, commenced his final approach. His particular aircraft, in common with a few on both Squadrons’ strengths, had been modified to carry a ‘cookie’, which was essentially a railway locomotive boiler, thin-skinned and packed with high explosive. The bomb was too deep to be accommodated in the normal Wellington bomb-bay, so the modification consisted in suspending it in a rectangular hole like an upturned, lidless coffin without bomb-doors, in the underside of the aircraft. And the bomb was by no means flush with the aircraft’s belly, it protruded, throughout its entire length, by several inches, horrifyingly open to flak, machine gun bullets, cannon-shells – or a belly landing. The sensitivity of the weapon was legendary, the name “blockbuster” applied
[page break]
to it by the press was completely apposite.
So F – made his approach, one wheel up, one down, a grotesque and unpleasant sight, the cookie protruding ominously. Why we stood there watching, goodness only knows. Perhaps we were simply too fascinated to move or perhaps we were quite unthinking as to what the outcome might be, should there be an accident, a bad landing, and the cookie were to explode. If that had been the case, I would not be writing this. Or perhaps we were just plain stupid or reckless not to have sought cover.
The aircraft slowly slid down its final approach in the quickly-fading daylight. We watched and waited, almost holding our breath. I remember lighting a cigarette with a hand which was not altogether steady. Then, holding the starboard wing over the ‘missing’ wheel well up, F – touched down, it must have been lightly, on the port wheel only, the engines throttled back to a tick-over. Miraculously, he kept the aircraft straight. We hardly dared look at the protruding cookie. As the Wellington slowed the starboard wing slowly drooped, and finally, at the end of the aircraft’s run, the wing finally scraped the runway, the Wellington slewed around through ninety degrees to starboard and came to a lopsided rest. The fire tender and ‘blood wagon’ raced up, but neither, thankfully, were needed.
It would be trite to say that we breathed again but I am sure that there were some of us who in the final seconds of the touch-down and landing run were actually holding our breath. We stood there, the small group of us, on the balcony, potentially exposed to what would have been a blast-wave of killing proportions not only for us, but for many quite far distant from the runway. Perhaps the fact that we stayed to watch was even due a degree of professional interest in the expertise of one of our peers. But the visual memory of F – ‘s landing that evening has remained with me as something at which to marvel.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
“Oh! Did you know F - , then?” J – asked, that night in the quiet Ops. Room at Breighton.
[page break]
“Only by sight” I replied, then I told her about the landing.
“I will never forget that, I assure you. You knew him, too, then?” I added. J – nodded.
“Oh yes, who didn’t? He was quite a character, wasn’t he?”
“’Was’?”
“Yes. Perhaps you didn’t know he had been killed at --- .” She named an aerodrome not too far distant.
Apparently F – had taken off on a non-operational flight. On board was also an A.T.A. girl pilot and the aircraft had, for some unknown reason, crashed, killing everyone on board. J – mentioned that there was a certain theory concerning something which might have been a contributory factor to the tragedy. I will not set down here what that theory was. But I shall continue to remember F – as I knew him at Binbrook, debonair, dashing, cavalier-like and above all, just that bit larger than life, and possessed of flying skills to which few of us could ever hope to aspire.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] Knight’s move [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] KNIGHT’S MOVE [/underlined]
“One sang in the evening
Before the light was gone:
And the earth was lush with plenty
Where the sun shone.
The sound in the twilight
Went: and the earth all thin
Leans to a wind of winter,
The sun gone in.
One song the less to sing
And a singer less
Who sleeps all in the lush of plenty
And summer dress.”
“Casualty”
from “Selected Poems” by
Squadron Leader John Pudney.
Once I had seen the hangar, intact, black and huge, just over the hedge as I rounded the bend of the lane, everything seemed to fall into place, even after so many years.
Everything, except, of course, that J – was gone. I shut my eyes for a moment and forced my thoughts away from her. God knew what became of Pam, and as for Derek, I never heard of him for years after I left Breighton. But now I had, for the first time, come back. Seeking what? I could find no answer to that in my mind, except that I had obeyed some inner compulsion to revisit the place and that somehow it seemed to bring me some peace and calm of spirit to be back there amid the quiet hedges, the ruined buildings, the memories, and the silent, empty sky, where among so many losses I had, with deep feelings of the unique guilt of the survivor, found
[page break]
my personal happiness when so many had lost everything, for ever.
I walked down the empty road in the warm October sunshine, past what remained of the East-West runway, and marvelled at the utter silence. The little river at the edge of the road slipped silently over its green weeds and I remembered Gerry, how he had aborted a takeoff one night, smashed through the hedge and across the road and had finished up with the aircraft’s nose almost in that river. Amazingly, they had missed everything solid and had all walked away from it. I smiled to myself as I recalled how everyone in the Mess had kidded him about it the following morning.
The Mess itself was till there, pretty well intact. One or two broken panes in the windows, the buff-coloured walls reflecting the warmth of the sun, the porch by now overgrown with tall weeds around which a bee idly buzzed. Now, no bicycles leaned against its walls, there was no C.O.’s car parked, no battledressed figures walked in and out, calling to one another – there was just the brilliant sunshine and the utter silence. And then, as I visualised the inside of the Mess, its layout, its half-remembered faces; I thought of the events of such another day of sunshine all that time ago. I saw the interior of the anteroom, the small table with the chessmen on their board, the young bomb-aimer sitting opposite me, frowning with concentration as we played, then looking at his watch and standing up reluctantly, the cracked record, “I’ve gotta gal, in Kalamazoo”. “Shall we finish it tomorrow?” I had said to him.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
My part of the briefing came second, as usual, after the Wingco had told them the target and shown them over the route on the wall-map. Most of the crews weren’t really interested in the industries, population or the other standard Intelligence gen which I served up to them, and I didn’t blame them; their main concern was what the defences were like – and, privately, whether they would get back. They were silent when I pointed out the flak and searchlight belt around the target, and a few night-fighter aerodromes near to their route. There were one or two whistles when I told them
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how many aircraft were on that night; it was quite a big effort and craftily organised so that there were two targets, the stream of kites splitting up abreast of and between the two towns, then turning away from each other to attack their respective targets some sixty miles apart. There were also elaborate Mosquito spoof attacks to draw off the enemy fighters from the main force.
“We hope that will fox the defences,” I concluded.
When briefing was over I left the hubbub and snatches of nervous laughter from the crews and cycled down to the Ops Room in the summer afternoon to try to finish plotting last night’s bombing photos. One of our Halifaxes was on his landing approach, another was on the downwind leg with his undercart lowered. One of their engines was slightly desynchronised and it made a throbbing note above the steady roar. The sun was very bright, the trees were a deep green above the huts and the houses of the village and it was warm.
One of the bombing photos was holding us up. There was only a small fragment of ground detail, more or less one block of houses, visible in the usual mess of smoke, cloud, bomb bursts, flak and fires. Pam was having a go at it when I arrived.
“Any luck?” I asked, throwing my cap on the table.
“Not yet,” she said, “but it must be somewhere near the aiming point because there’s so much going on in the photograph.”
We stewed over the mosaic for a time, trying to fit the photo in, which would enable us to discover where the aircraft had dropped his load of bombs. Pam looked along the approach side to the A.P., I took the exit side. Finally, I had it placed.
“Oh, good,” Pam said rather wearily, and stretched.
I measured the distance carefully.
“Can you give him a ring in the Mess, Freda?” I asked the duty Watchkeeper, “he’ll be wanting to know. Tell whoever you speak to that they were about a thousand yards from the A.P., would you?”
After that, we generally tidied up from last night’s effort, and as far as we could, from tonight’s preparations. I did a last minute check that the Pundit was in the right place and set to flash the correct letters, and that the resin lights on the aircraft were the correct colour combination. About six o’clock I went down to the Mess, put my feet up and relaxed. There were several battledressed and white sweatered chaps clumping about in their heavy, soft-soled flying boots, trying not to smoke too much, mostly a bit pale and rather quiet.
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Dinner was much as usual, no-one had very much to say to anyone else, at least among the crews who were on. Derek came in and said he was going up to relieve Pam on duty.
“See you before take-off,” I told him.
“What the heck for?” Derek asked, “there’s no need – why don’t you get some sleeping hours in till they come back?”
“Oh, I don’t know; I might as well be up there,” I said, not wanting him to know that J – and I had a sort of thing starting. I hoped so, anyhow. She would be taking over from Freda about now. I’d taken her out a couple of times and I thought she was pretty wizard; we seemed to speak the same language. Had to be a bit careful, though, the R.A.F. was touchy about male Officer – W.A.A.F. N.C.O. relationships. You could easily find that one of you was suddenly posted to Sullom Voe or somewhere like that, and the other to Portreath, or worse still, overseas.
I went into the anteroom. Someone had the radiogram going. It was Glenn Miller and the Chattanooga choo-choo on Track 29. I settled down with Tee Emm at a table where someone had left the chess board and pieces, and was chuckling over P/O Prune’s latest effort when a voice said, “Do you play?”
I looked up. He was a P/O Bomb-aimer, rather stocky, darkish, with his name on the small brown leather patch sewn above the top right-hand pocket of his battledress, his white, roll-necked sweater and half-wing looked rather new, I thought.
“Sure,” I said, “but not very well, I’m afraid. I’ll give you a game, though, if you like.”
“I’m not very good myself,” he said.
As we were setting out the pieces, “Who are you with?” I asked. He named his skipper.
“He’s good; flies these Hallies like Spits!” he said, laughing. For an instant, the lines of stress on his face were smoothed out in the snatched and fleeting relaxation of the moment, so that instead of looking like a young man, he looked like a very young one.
“Yes, I know the name,” I said, “I think I’ve plotted one or two of your photos recently. How many have you done?”
“Six”, he answered.
There was nothing I could say to that. Thirty trips was a hell
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of a way off when you’d done six.
He chose white from the two pawns I held in my closed fists.
“Off you go, then,” I said.
He opened conventionally enough, pawn to king’s fourth, pawn to queen’s third, and so on, and as we played I could tell we were both about the same calibre, on the poor side of indifferent. After a while, he started looking at his watch a lot and I could see his concentration was beginning to fade, but his knight was going to have my bishop and rook neatly forked, so I knew I was in for a bit of trouble. He sighed and said, “That’s about it for now, I’m afraid, I’ll have to get weaving up to the Flights.”
I said, “O.K., then, shall we finish it tomorrow? I’ll make a note of the positions, if you like.”
“Yes,” he said, “fine,” and got to his feet. “Thanks for the game.”
“Enjoyed it,” I said, and gave him the usual and universal Bomber Command envoi, “Have a good trip.”
“Sure, thanks,” he said, gave a half-wave and went out.
I watched him go. He looked rather like a schoolboy who had been sent for by the Head. A slightly cracked record on the radiogram was now telling us that someone liked her looks when he carried her books in Kalamazoo. I wondered idly where that was. I made a copy of the position on the chessboard and went out of the Mess. It was a beautiful summer evening, the sun was starting to dip now and there were some streaks of altostratus in the north-west. A faint breeze brought the twittering of sparrows; a blackbird nearer at hand was giving a few clarinet notes, intent on practising the first bar of his eventual good-night song. A Halifax droned over, to the east, high, probably setting off on a night cross-country or a Bullseye. His engines made a hollow, booming roar in the clear evening air. Then the Tannoy came to life with a hum and with a leap of the heart I heard J – ‘s voice come over, telling someone he was wanted at his Flight Office.
I cycled up the quiet road through the hamlet, which was companionably and inextricably mixed up with the Station’s huts, and turned right at the tall gable-end of a house on to the narrow concrete road which, in a few hundred yards beyond the W.A.A.F. site, came to the Ops Room.
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The sentry gave me a cheery “Good evening, sir,” and I went inside to the strip-lighting, the huge wall-blackboard, the central plotting table and the long desk with the telephones. Derek, J – and little Edith, one of the Int. Clerks, were on duty. I saluted and said, “Hiya, folks, everything under control?” It was. Edith was finishing writing up the captains and aircraft letters on the big blackboard and it looked impressive. You started to imagine the bomb-load from that lot going down on to a built-up area, and what it would do. Then you stopped imagining. I got busy with some paper-work, tying up loose ends and amending some S.D.s, then the clerk made some tea. J – ‘s phone was pretty quiet – it usually was a couple of hours or so before take-off – she was writing a letter, I think, and Derek was sorting out the mosaics alphabetically and sliding them back into the big drawer below the table.
“Time we had a new one for Hamburg,” he said, “this one’s about had it.”
“So’s Hamburg,” I said, “if it come to that,” and we grinned.
We drank tea, smoked and chatted a bit, mostly about our next leave. Derek was whistling “Room 504” off and on, and rather badly. There wasn’t a lot to do now except wait for a scrub, which we knew wouldn’t happen when there was a big summer high over western Europe. Odd calls came in to J – requesting Tannoy messages; she put them out and logged them all.
I went outside for a while to look at the sky. The Ops Room was windowless and the lighting and general fug got you down rather after a time, especially as we all smoked like chimneys. It was about nine o’clock. I looked over the cornfield which was just outside the Ops Room door. The corn was ripe, grown high, ready for harvest; the sky was very beautiful, pale green almost in one place, some stars showing, complete stillness.
“Calm before the storm,” I thought, rather tritely. I breathed the cooling air gratefully. Somewhere in the distance the blackbird was firing his short bursts of evening song. It was all very peaceful and the war seemed a hell of a long way off.
The sentry seemed fidgety, he was probably wishing I would hurry up and go in again so that he could have a quiet smoke himself.
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“Nice night,” I said to him.
Back in the Ops Room I felt we were completely insulated from the outside world. Until the phone rang.
“Ops, Breighton,” J – said. She listened, then put the phone down.
“Flying Control,” she said to me, “they’re taxying out. First off should be any minute now.”
“O.K.,” I said, “I might as well chalk them up.”
I was feeling a little strung-up; it would give me something to do. In a little while the phone rang again.
“Ops, Breighton….. right, sir, thank you.”
J – turned to me.
“B – Baker airborne 2149.”
I chalked up the time opposite ‘B’. After that, the phone went at very short intervals, until they had all gone. In the Ops Room we never heard a thing, only the hum of the air-conditioning and the buzz of the strip-lighting.
I imagined them doing their gentle climbing turns to port and setting course over the centre of the aerodrome, the Navigators carefully logging the time, the gunners in their turrets watchful for other aircraft, then climbing steadily away towards Southwold where they crossed out for the North Sea, the enemy coast and whatever lay in wait for them beyond, on the other side.
When they’d all gone, the Wingco came in for a chat. He was a good type and we all liked him. He and Derek shared an interest in painting, and after a while he took Derek off to the Mess for a drink. There wouldn’t have been much for Derek to do behind his desk, anyhow.
“Can you cope?” Derek asked, as he went.
“Of course,” I said, hiding my elation that J – and I would be able to have a talk. The clerk slipped off into the Int. Library, I think she sensed that three was a crowd. After a while, the phone rang again.
“Ops, Breighton….. yes, thank you, I’ve got that.”
She turned to me again.
“Flying Control. Early return, F – Fox, starboard inner u/s. I’ll phone the Wingco in the Mess.”
While she was doing so, I went outside again. It was quite dark now, and countless stars were showing. They had put the Sandra Lights on for
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F – Fox. In a little while I heard him coming from the south, then he came into the circuit with his nav. lights on, flashed ‘F’ on his downward ident. light and slid down on to the runway behind the H.Q. huts, his three engines popping as he throttled back. In the stillness I heard the screech of his tyres as they bit the runway, then his engine-note faded into silence. In a minute or two I heard his bursts of throttle as he taxied into dispersal. He would have jettisoned his load, and most of his petrol, into the sea. J – had logged his time of landing on the board.
“I’ve told the Wingco,” she said.
We swopped childhoods, parents and early Service days for a while, then I decided to go and have a sleep in the Window Store, on the bench. I must have been tired and slept very soundly, because I was awakened by knocking on the door and Edith’s timid voice calling, “First aircraft overhead, sir.”
I shivered as I swung my legs down off the bench and on to the stone floor; I always shivered when I heard those words, wondering how it had gone. Had they had much opposition? That was always my first thought. Had there been much fighter activity? What had the flak been like, and the searchlights? I never thought much about the target; what seemed to matter to me was whether they were all back.
I went into the Ops Room and lit a cigarette, passing my case around. Derek was back.
“Here’s Rip van Winkle,” he said, “come to muck things up for us.”
“Get knotted,” I grinned, “and let’s have my fags back.”
He threw my case back at me and I disappointed him by catching it. The phone rang; J – answered it. The first one had landed safely. Derek said, “I’ll get along and start the interrogations, Pam’s on, too.”
“O.K., Derek,” I told him, “I’ll be down later,” and he left.
He still had “Room 504” on his mind and it still sounded no better. The phone rang again, it was another one landed. They kept coming in steadily and whoever was nearest the blackboard chalked them up. By quarter to six we had them all back but two. I took a quick
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look around. The clerk was in the far corner collecting empty cups. I said to J - , quietly, “Can you meet me tonight? Seven o’clock? We’ll go to the Plough, if you like.”
She nodded.
“Yes,” she breathed, and smiled briefly. She still looked wizard, I thought, even at six o’clock in the morning after a long night duty. For a while we let our thoughts take possession of us. Then the phone broke the silence again. One of the two had landed away, in 3 Group. That left just one outstanding.
The minutes ticked by. Then I said the usual thing, one of us always said it at times like this.
“He could have landed away, too, and they haven’t told us yet.”
But there was actually only fifteen minutes left before his endurance, on the night’s petrol load, ran out. I went outside, restlessly. The Sandra Lights looked desolate in a vivid and rigid cone above the aerodrome, waiting in the silence which had now enveloped everything. Dawn was starting to break. It looked like being another perfect summer morning. Far away, a door slammed and someone whistled, loudly and jauntily. Probably one of the returned crews, just off to bed. The sky, lightening, seemed immense, the stars had faded and the trees were motionless. In a little while I went back inside.
“Anything, J - ?”
She shook her head. I looked at my watch. Time was up, and more. We were quite quiet for a long while. Then I said, “I was playing chess with his bomb-aimer just before they went. Let’s hope to God they are P.o.W.s”. We still sat, waiting. When I knew it was quite hopeless I said to J – “You’d better phone the Wingco and the Padre. I’m going to see about the photographs. See you this evening, then, goodnight, J - .”
“Goodnight, or rather, good morning,” she said.
I walked out of the Ops Room into the early morning with a feeling of weariness and desolation. What was it all about? I thought. It was quite cool outside; I reached for a cigarette and my hand found a piece of paper in my pocket. It was the sketch of the chess board. I looked at if for a minute or so, then I said,
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“Good luck, wherever you are.”
I screwed the paper into a ball and dropped it into the waist-high corn, and I thought of the seven men who might be lying amidst the wreckage of their aircraft somewhere across the sea. It was growing light now and a faint breeze stirred the ripened heads of the wheat. Somewhere, the blackbird was starting to sing. The Sandra lights had been put out. There was nothing left for me to do. I shivered, and turned away.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
With an effort I dragged my thoughts back to the reality of the present, and I realised it was already time to go. The sun was dazzlingly low, but its warmth still lingered and there was a faint scent of late roses as I walked up through the hamlet, towards the gable-end and the road to the Ops Room. An old man was stiffly tending his patch of front garden, and looked up as I said “Good evening.”
“Been a fine day,” he said. He saw my rucksack. “Have you come far?” he added.
“Yes,” I said, “I’ve come a very long way,” and I walked on, into the silence and the shadows of the gathering twilight.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
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[inserted] [underlined] A different kind of love. [/underlined] [/inserted]
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[underlined] A DIFFERENT KIND OF LOVE [/underlined
“’Tis sure small matter for wonder
If sorrow is with one still”
(A.E. Housman)
Temporization, delaying tactics, putting-off. Call it what you will. I try to justify it be telling myself that whatever one calls it – and I am fairly certain we have all of us been guilty of it at some time – it is a human failing, and the guilt one feels, if one should feel guilt at some action or lack of action if it affects only oneself, has been felt by many another person. And should one indeed experience feelings of guilt if whatever the reason for the “putting-off” it affects only oneself? But I am afraid that in the circumstances which I have finally decided and brought myself to the point of describing, at least one other person must have felt some hurt, almost certainly deep hurt, and this is what has concerned me for a very long time. The thought and the concern I have felt is something which comes into my mind for no apparent reason at intervals of time, like the aching of a doubtful tooth which one knows will prove difficult and extremely painful of extraction. The moral points having been made, it is time for me to elaborate, sparing, I hope, no detail, least of all sparing nothing of the sad story of my own actions which undoubtedly started the whole business. These events, I know, will be re-lived in my mind, as they have been over the years, for days on end, producing invariably feelings of deep sadness and of ineradicable guilt.
I think it is worthy of mention that in the closing months of my career in the R.A.F. I was successively Adjutant of two units. The first of these was the unhappiest unit I had encountered, and the second, which followed immediately afterwards was without doubt the happiest one; one where I felt that those around me were like-minded. I went, at the behest of the powers-that-were in South East Asia Command, from one to the other on receipt of the appropriate signal, teleprinted on to paper, simply by walking from one tent to
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another on a crowded-to-capacity aerodrome near Rangoon, the Japanese surrender having thankfully taken place a few hours before. I met some of my new fellow-Officers and took to them immediately. First impressions were confirmed over the next days, weeks and months. On the final posting of my R.A.F. career I had arrived on a unit which was the most agreeable I had experienced in six years. I think that was understandable when one considers that I would wake in the mornings knowing that there was no war being fought, that no-one was going to be killed among those around me, no-one was going to go missing on operations and that one would not find an empty bed across one’s room in the morning, no empty chair in the Mess, no letters to be written to next-of-kin.
From the tented camp, where conditions were, to put it mildly, primitive, we were, after a few days, put on board a small paddle-steamer and left Rangoon for where we knew not. On this small ship I was to meet people with whom I was to work and play very happily for almost the last year of my service in the R.A.F. and with a few of whom I was to form enduring friendships, now alas, terminated by the inevitable and merciless passage of time.
It was on this ship too, where I first became acquainted with the music of Elgar. One morning as we were steaming southwards – we knew that much! – I was coming down a short flight of stairs leading to what, in terms of a house in England, would be described as a hallway or lobby. Some music was being played on a gramophone there and I was so struck by its grave beauty that I stood stock still on the stairway until it had ended. Then, moved by it and marvelling at its beauty I went up to the Equipment Officer who was playing it on his wind-up gramophone. This was at the time of 78 r.p.m. shellac records, of course. I asked him what he had just been playing and he was more than pleased to tell me that it was a movement from Elgar’s Enigma Variations, called Nimrod and explained the significance of that title. Little did I know that I was to hear the same music, in vastly different circumstances very soon, the recollection of which would have the power to move me deeply for years afterwards, not only because of the music itself, but because of the player of it and what the player meant – and still means – to me.
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We soon learned that we were heading for the island of Penang, of which most of us had heard, but that was all, as part of Operation Zipper, the British occupation, or rather re-occupation, of what was then Malaya, after the Japanese surrender and withdrawal. We were to be, in fact, the first R.A.F. unit to land in Malaya. And so it was. We arrived at the quayside of Georgetown, the principal town, under the massive shadow of the battleship H.M.S. Nelson, anchored next to us. Over the next few days we found our quarters in an old army cantonment on a wooded hillside, at Sungei Glugor, and took possession of the small aerodrome at Bayan Lepas in readiness for the arrival of a Spitfire squadron and a detachment of two Beaufighters from Burma. We hunted for furniture for the empty and deserted cantonment and found ample in the abandoned dwelling houses on the island. We readily imagined what must have happened to the original occupants during the Japanese occupation.
Within days we had the Station operating and thanks to the Royal Signals, in contact with our parent formations at Kuala Lumpur and Singapore. The Spitfires and Beaufighters duly arrived. We were an operational formation.
Now that I was settled into a permanent location I had the time and facilities to write a letter to J – every day, as she did to me. We had been engaged to be married for just under two years and there was a clear agreement between us that we would not be married until after we were both settled into civilian life again. Never did either of us doubt the promises made to one another and despite the time and distance which separated us, neither of us doubted the fidelity or behaviour of the other. J – was a W.A.A.F. Sergeant on an operational bomber station, now thankfully converted to peaceful purposes, and she was surrounded by some hundreds of both W.A.A.F. and R.A.F. personnel. As for me, my surroundings were peopled exclusively by men. The relationship between J – and I was firmly founded on mutual trust.
It had been decided that we should participate in a Service of Thanksgiving in one of the churches in Georgetown, and the arrangements were soon made, as were the arrangements for a victory march-past of all the armed services in Georgetown’s Victoria Park.
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I suppose there were over 100 of us to attend the service, which was held in the Chinese Methodist Church on a pleasant evening. A sizeable Chinese contingent were also present, men and women, all beautifully dressed in white. I was near to the right hand end of a pew fairly near to the front of the church, and as I took my place the organ was being played. To my amazement and delight I immediately recognised the tune as none other but ‘Nimrod’, which I had only recently come to know and which had made such an impression on me on the boat coming down from Rangoon. Smiling to myself, I looked up and to my right to see if it was one of our number who was the organist. My further surprise was that it was not anyone that I knew, but someone I took to be a Chinese youth in a white surplice. And then I saw that I was again mistaken; the organist was a Chinese girl in a long white dress. As she finished ‘Nimrod’ she moved almost seamlessly into a Chopin E Minor Prelude whose tune, full of yearning, almost brought tears into my eyes.
The service itself was jointly conducted by a Chinese clergyman about 50 years old and of almost ascetic appearance, and our own Methodist Padre. During the service an announcement was made that light refreshments would be served in the church hall afterwards and I determined to be there, partly from personal preference and partly because as Wing Adjutant it would obviously be my duty not to return immediately to the cantonment at Glugor but to show a degree of sociability towards the local people who were our hosts.
It dawned on me that since I had left England more than six months previously I had never seen a member of the opposite sex in that time, nor even heard a female voice. My mother, on my embarkation leave and J – immediately prior to my going on leave, had been the last two women to whom I had spoken.
I wondered, as, the service over, I went into the fairly crowded church hall, whether the girl organist would be there so that I could tell her how I had enjoyed and been moved by her choice of music. She was indeed there, one of those serving refreshments at a line of tables at one side of the hall. I was extremely pleased, went straight across to her, and smiling, spoke to her, complimenting
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her on her playing.
She smiled depracatingly [sic] and brushed away with her hand one side of the curtain of her collar-length black hair from her face, a gesture which, so characteristic of her, I have recalled very many times since. Her voice was soft, musical and charmingly accented, reminding me forcibly of J – ‘s own voice. She apologised for not having played well; she said she was out of practice. These few seconds were the start of an utterly delightful, all-too-brief, but quite unforgettable friendship. It became a friendship, and only that. Nothing more. During the time that I knew her I never once touched her, not even to shake hands when eventually I left Malaya for good. (‘For good’? I was in two minds about that. I felt I was being torn apart). My promises to J – were unbreakable and at no time did I think even of the possibility of breaking them. We were engaged to be married; we would be married as soon as it could be managed when I returned to the U.K. Strangely, I have only just discovered some poignantly applicable words in a chanson by the 14th century Guillaume de Machaut –
‘…. in a foreign land,
You who bear sweetness and beauty
White and red like a rose or lily ….
The radiance of your virtue
Shines brighter than the Pole Star ….
Fair one, elegant, frank and comely,
Imbued with all modesty of demeanour.’
I was not alone in making a friend in the local community; there were at least two other Officers to my knowledge who formed attachments of one sort or the other while we were on the island.
And at home? J - , in her daily letters to me occasionally mentioned going to dances on the aerodrome where she was stationed and I presumed that obviously she danced in the arms of men. But I trusted her as implicitly as I hope she trusted me. She mentioned two men, both Australian pilots, by their nicknames. One of them was killed, with all his crew, when they crashed within sight of the aerodrome on returning from an op. No reason for the crash was ever
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established. But to my discredit I could not help feeling a twinge - - perhaps more than that – of jealousy whenever I read their names in her letters. And some time after J – and I were married, while we were once talking about wartime days and nights, quite out of the blue she said, only half-jokingly, “If I hadn’t married you I would have married an Australian”. I remember that I smiled but said nothing. What could I say?
I find it difficult now to describe Chiau Yong adequately as I saw her then and as I think of her now, without using trite phrases or words which in this age of cynicism would be sneered at or greeted with unbelieving or sarcastic laughter. But then, and over the weeks which followed I was charmed by her placid nature, her smiling, childlike innocence, her undoubted beauty and her impish sense of humour.
That evening in the church hall, as I chatted to her, standing as we were at opposite sides of the table of refreshments, I felt a growing happiness which I had not known for a long time stealing over me and calming me, as though the war, with all the tragedies which I had seen and experienced, had never taken place.
When, regretfully, it was time for me to go I had learned her name and that she was the daughter of the clergyman whose church this was. I had also, hesitantly and tentatively, expecting nothing except possibly a polite rebuff, asked if I might see her again by coming to hear her organ practice, whenever that might be. She shyly consented and I felt, as I left the hall, that my feet were hardly touching the ground. I think I must have been smiling foolishly, but fortunately no-one commented as we boarded the gharries to return to Glugor.
As often as I possibly could I went to the church and sat in a pew near to the front, where I could see her sitting at the organ console, while she practised, content to listen to the music she made and to watch her as she played, quite unperturbed that I was there, a few feet away from her, listening and watching. Sometimes I went with her into her home, where she played the piano for me. And often we talked. Her English was truly excellent, somewhat reminiscent in her use of words and phrases of the Victorian era, but none the less lucid and charming to hear spoken
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in her soft, lilting voice. We talked about the music she played; she asked what sort of music I liked. We talked a little about our respective backgrounds. She was keen to learn anything about England. I mentioned one or two of my wartime experiences but asked for no details of hers or of her family’s under the Japanese occupation. I developed an interest to scratch the surface of knowledge of the Chinese language. Her own dialect, and that of her mother, who spoke no English, unlike her father and her sister, was Hokkien. She and her sister, who joined us on one occasion when we sat talking, amused themselves and entertained me by translating my name into written Chinese ideographs, which they pronounced as ‘Yo-min’. Whenever Chiau Yong wished to draw my attention to something or ask me a question, it was always prefaced by her saying ‘Mister Yo-min….’ . I suppose in her strict upbringing, which I assumed she had had, the use of my Christian name would have been seen as unduly familiar.
She taught me the numerals from one to ten and chuckled delightfully behind her small hand at my unavailing efforts to pronounce the words for ‘one’ and ‘seven’ correctly. To my ears they sounded identical; I am afraid that I was an obtuse pupil. I asked her about her own name; she told me that it meant ‘shining countenance’ which, I thought, could not have been more appropriate. As to her age, I never enquired. I would have put her as being slightly younger than I. I was 24 at the time, she would be possibly around 20, I thought.
I met her parents on at least one occasion. They very kindly invited me to come to their home for an evening meal, which I was glad and honoured to do. Two things stand out clearly in my mind about that occasion: the number of different languages spoken around the table and the sense of peacefulness which surrounded us. Her mother, a quiet middle-aged lady, simply dressed in black, spoke only Hokkien which, if she addressed me, was translated by Chiau Yong, as was my reply to her mother. Her father, the minister, spoke excellent English in a calm and measured manner. Her sister, Chiau Gian and her rather quiet younger brother spoke English too, for my benefit. Chiau Yong, who had told me that she was learning Mandarin, the classical Chinese tongue, spoke in English, of course, to me, in Hokkien to her mother and in Malay to the houseboy who appeared from time to time on his domestic errands.
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After I had visited their home on several occasions to see Chiau Yong and to hear her play, I was slightly surprised when one afternoon, as we were talking together, a pilot from the Spitfire squadron which had arrived came into the room. I knew D – P – well enough to talk to, but I thought, in my limited understanding of such things, he did not fit into my preconceived idea of what a fighter pilot should be like. He was, from what I had seen of him in the Mess, not only slightly older-looking than the other pilots, with somewhat thinning hair, but also of a quieter disposition than most of the others. However, a Spitfire pilot he was, whatever ideas I had formed about the differences between them and bomber pilots such as I had been. I gathered he had come to see Chiau Yong’s father, and not being interested in the reason for his visit I promptly forgot about him after we had exchanged polite enough greetings on this and on one or two further occasions when he came to the house to see Mr. Ng.
I knew that my time on the island and indeed in the R.A.F. must shortly come to an end. Being an administrative officer, as Adjutant, I could almost forecast when my time would come to ‘get on the boat’ and while others around me were obviously in a fever of impatience to get back to ‘civvy street’, as it was always called, I found my own state of mind to be more in the nature of calm acceptance, knowing that while I would be returning to J - , whom I loved and to whom I would be married, somehow, somewhere and at some time, I had spent a quarter of my life and almost all my adult life in R.A.F. uniform and would find things difficult or indeed incomprehensible.
At about this time our unit, 185 Wing, received orders to move across to the mainland, into Province Wellesley, to become R.A.F. Station Butterworth, leaving very good and well-appointed accommodation for something not quite so commodious. But there was a very good ferry service between Butterworth (which local people knew as Mata Kuching) and Georgetown, so I was still within easy reach of the town, its cafes, good sports facilities which were well used by us all, and above all, still within easy reach of Chiau Yong.
Towards the end of my service at Butterworth, on one visit to her, she suggested that we take a cycle ride to see some nearby parts
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of the island which were strange to me, and this we did for a couple of hours, along deserted roads, up hillsides, almost always under the cover of trees with their blossoms, so exotic to my eyes, with their birdsong, and the chattering and calling of monkeys and chipmunks.
The idyll had to end. I think my unconscious mind has, as a defence mechanism, obliterated the recollection of our goodbyes, for I can remember not one single thing about it. It is as though it had never happened. But it must have done, of course. I returned to England, a stranger to a strange land. Standards had changed, attitudes had changed, there was no longer the feeling of one-ness, of co-operation and togetherness which the war had engendered. It seemed now as though it were ‘every man for himself and damn the others’. I let a decent interval of two or three days pass as I settled in at home with my parents then I travelled south to be with J - . It was a happy but strange reunion. Strange to see her in civilian clothes, strange to see her leave to catch an early train to Brighton to work for the South Eastern Gas Board. All our talk was of when, where and how we were going to be married and where we would live. In the end, with the willing help of my parents, I found very basic accommodation in my home town, as I had agreed with J – that I needed to return to my old occupation and to obtain a necessary qualification as soon as possible.
J – and I were married in the autumn from her aunt’s home in Surrey and after our honeymoon in Edinburgh we were thrust into the realities of married life in cramped surroundings, comprehensive rationing, with a shared kitchen, and where even the basics of living necessitated stringent saving on my salary, with all of which J – coped amazingly well. I had to study hard in the evenings in the same small living room where J – was usually reading or knitting, deprived of the radio so as not to disturb me. Settling down at work was none too easy. My superiors were a man who had somehow missed the first World War and who was too old for the Second, his deputy, who had tried hard to dissuade me from volunteering for aircrew on the grounds that I would be probably be instrumental in killing people and who himself, had he not been reserved from military service as a key employee would have been compelled to describe himself as a conscientious objector. There were also two ex-R.A.F. men, who in six years of service had attained the respective ranks of Corporal
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and of Leading Aircraftman. Perhaps because I had outranked them it became apparent that any particularly physically dirty or awkward job was allocated to me. I accepted the situation as a continuation of military discipline, as I did when the office clerk, a lady of mature years, when I politely declined to do part of her far less than arduous work for her (so that she would have more time for gossiping, I suspected), told me rather angrily and unimaginatively that since “I’d been away” I had changed, which I thought was something of an understatement. I never talked of my wartime experiences and no-one asked me a single question. All they knew was that I had flown aeroplanes, been over Germany and finished my career in the Far East. The rest was silence.
Having neither a telephone nor a car I kept in touch with friends I had made in the R.A.F. by letter and rarely did a week go by without news from someone, either in the U.K. or some other part of the globe. My correspondents, of course, included Chiau Yong, whom I had told in a letter that I was finally married, and had given her my address. I certainly had not forgotten her and whenever I thought of her I smiled mentally at the remembrance of her charming company and her music-making.
At this time, although of course there was no means of knowing it, J – was sickening for a serious, potentially fatal illness, which within months was to take her into sanatoria for more than a year of her young life. Whether this slow decline in her health, coupled with the novelty of her surroundings and circumstances contributed to the short and low-key breakfast table conversation which took place between us I do not know, but I suspect it might have done so.
I remember vividly that it was a Saturday morning. There were two letters for us, one for J – and one for me, which, to my delight I saw was from Chiau Yong. We opened our respective mail at the breakfast table. The letter was typical of Chiau Yong’s nature – pleasant, equable, written in beautiful English and containing some mildly jocular reference to something I must have once said to her about settling down into civilian life. It contained no word of love; it ended without those conventional little crosses which were the well-known signs for kisses. I would have been astonished beyond measure if it had done so. J – had finished reading her own letter. I smiled across the table and said “From Chiau Yong. Read it, darling”.
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She took it without a word and read it expressionlessly. I had no inkling of what was to come as she handed the letter unsmilingly back to me. Looking directly at me, she said “I don’t think it’s right that she should be writing to a married man like that and I think you should tell her so”.
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. I was completely taken aback with shock and surprise. I had known J – for more than three years during which time we had seen eye-to-eye on almost everything and no word of disagreement had ever passed between us. But I recovered my composure quickly and knowing that one’s wife must come first in everything, I said “All right”.
I immediately left the table, got the writing pad and sitting down again in front of J – I wrote the cruellest words that I have ever in my whole life composed. My opening words are to this day burned into my memory.
“Dear Chiau Yong”, I wrote, “In England, a married man does not write letters to another girl”. And I continued briefly that the correspondence between us must now stop. It took about three minutes. I handed the letter wordlessly to J – who read it and gave it back to me with a nod. “Yes,” she said.
Chiau Yong’s name was never again mentioned during our married life, but I cannot and would not pretend that, happily married as we were for almost 40 years, I never thought of Chiau Yong. For I have thought of her often and I have been deeply and bitterly troubled that I must have been the cause of her suffering so much shock and pain so unexpectedly and, in my eyes, without any reason, and certainly not by any misdeed of hers, intentional or otherwise. I have prayed again and again over the years, and still do, that she might have eventually forgiven me. I never saw her again; I never heard from her again. Whether she is alive or dead, was or is happy or unhappy, I do not know, but I do know that she brought light and sweetness in unbelievable measure into my life and that our short and beautiful friendship was as innocent in every respect as any relationship could be.
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There is a curious and disturbingly bitter postscript to this unhappy episode in my life. J –‘s parents lived in Worthing and naturally she wanted to see them and her unmarried younger sister whenever she could. We had not much money, but by dint of hard saving we were able to spend two or three weeks every summer, usually during the Worthing Cricket Week, with her parents. One summer’s day, not all that many years before she died, J – and I were walking through the park near to the Worthing sea front. We left the park and crossed the road, going towards Lancing, still near to the sea. On the corner stood a church whose denomination I did not know – until I read on a notice board erected near to the church door, “Minister – D. P. –“ I looked away quickly before my shock and astonishment became too obvious. It could only have been the Spitfire pilot from Penang who used to visit Chiau Yong’s father, presumably for some sort of guidance or instruction as to his post war vocation. If things had been other than they were I would have gone immediately with J – to seek him out, to talk over the times when we first met, but of course Chiau Yong’s name would have come into our conversation. I walked on in silence, as though nothing untoward had happened, but with my mind in a turmoil. So J – never knew about D – P – , about his nearness and of the memories I still had of sunlit afternoons in the church hall in Georgetown where I would sit talking with that beautiful young girl in her long white dress.
Was I in love with Chiau Yong? Can one be in love with two people at once? Was that possible when I never stopped loving J - ? These are questions I have many times asked myself. The only self-convincing conclusion to which I can reasonably arrive is while there was no element whatsoever of the physical aspect of love in my relationship with her, yet I feel that the affection which I held and hold for her, whatever her feelings might have been for me, was more than mere friendship, that this was a different kind of love. Christ exhorted us to love one another. We were both Christians and I think that this is what He meant us to feel for one another.
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And so now, very often, while I have been writing this belated account of something which has haunted me for a very long time, and very often since I wrote that terrible, wounding letter, I remember with a sort of poignant gratitude and happiness, bitter-sweet happiness, the beauty of her nature and her innocent sweetness and I thank God for the gift of happiness which she gave me. But at the same time I feel a profound and bitter guilt and sadness, knowing that the dreadful hurt which she must have suffered and perhaps for years remembered was due to no fault of hers but was entirely due to me.
. . . . . . . . . . .
Mi querer tanto vos quiere,
muy graciosa donzella,
que por vos mi vida muere
y de vos no tiene querella.
Tanto sois de mi querida
con amor i lealtad,
que de vos non se que diga
viendo vestra onestad.
Si mi querer tanto vos quiere,
causalo que sois tan bella,
que por vos mi vida muere
y de vos no tiene querella.
(Enrique, d. 1488)
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[inserted] [underlined] Sun on a chequered tea-cosy [/underlined] [/inserted]
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O where are you going, Sir Rollo and Sir Tabarie,
Sir Duffy and Sir Dinadan, you four proud men,
With your battlecries [sic] and banners,
Your high and haughty manners,
O tell me, tell me, tell me,
Will you ride this way again?
(School Speech Day song, 1936.)
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[underlined] SUN ON A CHEQUERED TEA-COSY [/undelrined]
It was Zhejian green tea. I poured the water on, placed the lid carefully on the pot and took the tea-cosy in my left hand. The sun through the kitchen window shone brightly across its red and green checks. And stirred some memory, deep down in the recesses of my mind. Those checks had some significance, somewhere from a long way back. I stood there, looking down at the covered teapot and let myself relax until the realisation slowly dawned. I was looking again at the band around Ivor’s R.A.F. peaked cap when he was an apprentice at Halton, before the war, and I found myself thinking back to the times I had walked with him along the cliffs, hearing the gulls screaming overhead and wheeling in the sunlight, laughing with him as he sang “Shaibah Blues”, with the waves crashing on to the rocks below.
I never thought I would find myself in the position of trying to do a small thing to defend Ivor, after all this time, but, of course, there’s no one else left to do it now. Looking back over it, although so many years have passed since H – wrote what he did, it still seems to me that they were very cruel words to use, especially as Ivor had no means of defending himself, no right of reply nor of appeal. It was something so barbed that it eventually acquired, through its re-telling, the significance and nature of a legend, and in the perverse way of things it elevated Ivor to the status of a minor hero. But all the same, at the time it took place I could see it had made a deep and lasting impression on him, young and resilient as he was. And now, to me, at any rate, H – ‘s words about Ivor have acquired a poignancy which can never to expunged.
Ivor need not, of course, have let anyone into the secret; one didn’t do that sort of thing, very often, at school, in case it was thought that one was being sissy or trying to attract attention and sympathy, but it was sufficient to indicate to me, and to John, I believe, who was there at the time, how deeply it had struck home, when Ivor approached us one day on the Second Field, before school went in.
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It was the beginning of the Autumn term. The field behind the woodwork room looked bare and open without the cricket nets; the marks of the bowlers’ run-ups and of the batting block-holes could still be seen. The rugby pitch, away down the slight slope, looked very green and inviting with its newly painted posts and flawlessly straight white lines. During the winter months I lived for rugby and thought of little else; scholastic subjects took a poor second place.
As was the custom, about half the school were engaged in punting a single rugger ball around, more or less at random, before lessons started, competing with one another to catch it then punt it as far as one could again. It sounds, and looked, I suppose, pointless. But it was rare that anyone in any match missed catching a kick by the opposition, and no-one at all would dream of letting the ball bounce before he attempted to take it. I was squinting up into the sun at the flight of the ball when I heard someone call, “Hey! Yoicks!”
I turned to see Ivor. John, who was nearby, grinned when he saw him and came over, with his rather stiff-legged, rocking walk. Ivor and I exchanged the usual new-term greetings and repartee – where had we been, had we seen the latest laurel and Hardy picture, and so on. Then, surprisingly, for the old term was now but a hazy memory, Ivor said, “What was your report like?”
“My report?” I repeated in astonishment.
“Yeah, what was it like?” Ivor repeated, attempting a casual nonchalance.
I was surprised at his interest in that, because Ivor, more so than I, perhaps, was not particularly scholastically minded. He had the build of an athlete, taller than me by four or five inches, heavier by almost a stone, with dark, short-cropped hair, a freckled face and a pugnacious jaw. He moved with the natural athlete’s springy lope. He was a more than adequate boxer, a hard-working and aggressive lock forward and, during the summer, a forthright, attacking middle order batsman, as well as being a bowler of fearsome pace and hostility, if rather lacking in accuracy.
“What was it like, then, your report?” he repeated insistently.
To be truthful, I could hardly remember much about it; I took little interest in it, apart from my French result and the comments opposite “Games”. My parents rarely commented on it either, except to tell me, with some regularity, that I would have to pull my socks up.
“Oh, all right, I suppose,“ I said off-handedly to Ivor. “I was top in French,” I added rather smugly. He ignored that.
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“What did H – have to say – about your Speech Training?”
I looked at him in amazement. Speech Training? It just didn’t count; there was no exam., no placings, just remarks on the term’s progress, or lack of it.
For a short while around this period of time, the powers-that-were quite rightly decided that we should be put on the path towards becoming at least partly comprehensible in our speech to someone who might live more than half-a-dozen miles away. And Mr. H - , as a recent graduate from Oxbridge, was deputed to perform this function. It must be said that he did so with rather bitter sarcasm, delivered under a thin veil of feigned jocularity, which did little to impart in us either the ability, or indeed the desire to speak our mother tongue in a widely acceptable form. In fact, it had, in some cases, where the pupil concerned was either of a rebellious or strongly independent nature, quite the reverse effect, as toes were, metaphorically speaking, firmly dug in.
Into this category Ivor fell; he took very personally and very much to heart the barbed remarks directed at him during the rather tedious classes in Speech Training, and in the end, it was obvious to everyone that he was adopting an attitude verging on passive resistance to H – ‘s instruction. It seemed that Ivor’s was the proverbial duck’s back off which the pure water of H – ‘s tuition flowed unheeded.
Ivor seized me, in mock anger, by the lapels of my blazer.
“C’mon, c’mon!” he exclaimed in his best Humphrey Bogart accents, “Come clean, y’rat!”
“Well,” I said, rather tired of the subject by now, “if you must know, I think he said something like ‘fairly good’. I didn’t get myself told off by my parents, anyhow, so it can’t have been too bad. But why, anyhow? What’s all the fuss about?”
Ivor’s eyes narrowed and he looked around him before, dropping his voice, he said to John and me, “Do you know what the rotter put on mine?”
“No,” I said, somewhat obviously.
“Well, on mine, he said, ‘Seems incapable of sustained effort’, the so-and-so. My Dad played merry hell about it, threatened to
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stop my pocket-money and goodness knows what.”
“I say, it is a bit thick, though, isn’t it, H – saying a rotten thing like that? I mean to say – “
I left the sentence unfinished; I felt that H – ‘s remark was a bit much. Surely he could have simply said ‘fairly good’ or ‘could do better’? They were the customary form of words. But this, well, it was rather damning. Both John and I made sympathetic noises, then John passed around his wine gums. I let Ivor have the black one and we chewed them in thoughtful silence, each of us meditating on the rat-ishness of H - . The next time I caught the ball I passed it hard to Ivor and he gave vent to his feelings with a tremendous punt which almost cleared the fence by the Art School.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
At that age, memories are short, and mine was no exception. I cannot speak for Ivor, of course; I suppose that somewhere inside that stubborn, defiant head of his a resentment still burned, and as far as H – was concerned, while it would be quite unfair to say that he had it in for Ivor, it was apparent that he singled him out with some slight relish as the object of any cutting remarks he felt inclined to make concerning our defective pronunciation. But it was something which, to be honest about it, did not loom very large in my life. Perhaps twice a week, during the Speech Training lessons I would look covertly, with mingled anticipation and apprehension, at the scornfully sarcastic H – and at a reddening Ivor, his lower lip jutting stubbornly, as the temperature of the atmosphere rose between them. But my Autumn term was dominated by the fact that I was picked to play for the Junior House fifteen.
I knew, of course, that Ivor’s eldest brother was in the Royal Air Force; from time to time he mentioned him, proudly, and looking back, I realise that I never knew his first name, he was to Ivor, simply ‘my brother’. Somehow, it lent them both a great deal of dignity, I think. Ivor would also tell us the latest Station his brother was on, their romantic-sounding names supplying, as it were, a coloured backdrop to the anonymity of ‘my brother’ in his coarse, high-necked airman’s tunic and peaked cap pulled down on his brow,
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as I saw him in my imagination, marching in a squad of men – I did not yet know they were called ‘flights’ – across a vast parade ground.
“He’s on a course at St. Athan, just now,” Ivor would tell us, or, “My brother’s been posted to Drem,” or again, “He’s at Scampton.”
What his brother did, exactly, we never knew, nor thought to ask, it was sufficient that he inhabited and was part of a picturesque, far-off and dashing world, greatly removed in every way from our monotonous and rather dreary provincial town.
One day, Ivor came up to John and me and said, proudly, “My brother’s been posted overseas, he’s gone to Aden.”
John said, mischievously, “Will he be wearing a fez?” and had to dodge the powerful left swing which Ivor pretended to aim with serious intent at him. On the strength of that news, John and I took to calling Ivor “Ali”, but we could tell he didn’t much like it, and as he was still the target of H – ‘s jibes we thought he had sufficient to contend with, so we eventually dropped it.
It was during the Christmas holidays when I was, for want of something better to do, in our sitting room playing the piano rather loudly and very inaccurately, that my mother put her head around the door.
“You’re not concentrating,” she said, “I can tell, you know. But there’s someone here for you, do you want me to bring him in?”
“Who is it?” I asked, glad of the interruption.
“I think he said his name was Bradley,” she replied.
“Oh, it must be Ivor, then,” I said, feeling much less bored and getting up from the piano. I went to the front door. Ivor was standing there with an expression of elaborate unconcern on his face.
“Hello, Yoicks,” he greeted me.
“Hiya,” I said, “what are you doing here?”
I thought perhaps he might want to borrow a book, or something.
“I was just going for a walk along the cliffs – want to come?”
This surprised me slightly as he wasn’t by any means a regular friend of mine away from school; there were a group of five or six of us who lived near to one another and who tended to congregate
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on our bikes in our immediate neighbourhood; Ivor lived all of three-quarters of a mile away in quite another part of the town, separated from our district by a railway line.
“Sure,” I said, glad of the distraction, “just hang on, I’ll shove my coat on.”
As I was doing so, “Mother!” I called, “I’m just going along the cliffs with Ivor.”
“Mind you don’t get cold,” she said, “Have you got your coat on?”
I rolled my eyes at Ivor, who grinned understandingly.
“Yes, Mam,” I said, in a long-suffering voice, and shut the door quickly behind me. We strode away.
When we arrived at the cliff-tops, the cold easterly wind was smashing the rollers against the rocks below and tugged at our overcoats as we walked. Until then we had talked of the usual things, what we had had for Christmas presents, the “flicks”, as Ivor always called them – a word learned from his brother, perhaps? – and how we had been passing the time during the holidays.
“My brother’s in Aden,” Ivor said, “did I tell you?”
I said yes, he had told us, how was he getting along?
“Great,” he said, “but it’s bloody hot out there. They’re all wondering what this bloke Mussolini’s going to do, he keeps talking about – what’s its name? – Abyssinia, or some place?”
I wasn’t greatly interested in the comical figure of the Italian dictator, comical, that is, as he appeared to us, or as he was portrayed to us. So I merely grunted something non-committal.
Ivor said abruptly, “I’m leaving. I thought I’d tell you.”
“You’re what?” I shouted above the noise of the sea, “You’re leaving? Leaving school? But you can’t!”
“Oh, yes I can, though,” he replied with a grin of triumph, “my Dad’s been to the Town Hall to check up.”
“But what are you going to do?” I asked, now all agog. He used an expression I heard then for the first time, on that cold and windswept cliff path, one which, when I hear it, inevitably brings to mind Ivor, his freckled face pink with the cold, as he proudly said, “I’m going to join the Raf.”
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The penny didn’t drop. It must have been the cold.
“The what?” I said, “What’s the Raf?”
He punched my shoulder playfully. Fortunately he was nearer the cliff-edge than I.
“C’mon, yer mug, it’s the R.A.F., of course. What else did you think?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” I replied, recovering my balance. “When’re you going, then?”
“Soon as I can. End of next term, prob’ly. I’m going to be a Boy Apprentice at Halton!”
He squared his broad shoulders. A vision of Oliver Twist with his empty porridge bowl held out in front of him floated into my head. ‘Boy Apprentice’ sounded rather like someone who was being exploited, ill-treated. I am sure I was wrong, but the picture remained. But I grinned and said, “You might get out to Aden with your brother.”
“Hope so,” he said wistfully, “but he’ll prob’ly be posted again before that. Anyhow, that’s what I’m doing. I’m leaving as soon as I can. No more speech training for me!”
We laughed. Two gulls wheeled noisily overhead, their screaming cut across the noise of the sea and of the wind. Ivor aimed his fingers, pointed like a pistol, at them and clicked his tongue very loudly, twice. He was good at that.
“Gotcher!” he exclaimed.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
The Spring term came and went. Ivor, as they would put it nowadays, kept a low profile as far as H – was concerned, and worked assiduously at every subject, even Speech Training. At the end of term he quietly left us. I don’t even remember saying ‘cheerio’ to him. We were young, you see, and quite without sentiment. Then it was summer, and the nets went up again. To my surprise I was elected Junior House cricket captain and became rather insufferably swollen-headed about it. It was on a Saturday afternoon that summer when I saw him again. I was sitting at home, reading, when a shadow passed the window, there was the sound of heavy footsteps and someone knocked at the door. I heard the door-knocker flap loosely as my mother answered it, then the sound of conversation.
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“It’s your friend,” mother said, “the one in the Air Force.”
I hurried to the door. Ivor stood there, smiling broadly, resplendent in his uniform, heavy boots shining brilliantly, his cap carrying the chequered band of the Halton Cadet.
“Hiya, Ivor!” I said. (I almost called him ‘Ali’ and only just corrected myself in time.)
“Hiya, Yoicks! How about comin’ for a walk? I’m on a forty-eight.”
I had no idea what that was but I went to tell my mother where I was going.
“Isn’t he smart?” she smiled quietly, “he looks well in his uniform.”
We set off for the cliffs, in the sunshine. I noticed he did not lope along now, he marched. He seemed taller than I remembered him, bronzed and deep-chested, harder. We exchanged news. In one way he seemed to be very grown-up but in another, he was still my form-mate, furrowing his brow at some problem of Algebra.
“What’s a forty-eight, by the way?” I asked.
“Just a forty-eight hour pass.”
“You haven’t got much time at home, then, have you? All that way from Halton and you’ll have to be back again inside two days?”
“Sure,” he said, airily and confidently, “it’s a piece of cake.”
That was another new expression; I stored it for future use.
“Where’s your brother just now? Still in Aden?”
“No, he’s been posted to Shaibah; bet you don’t know where that is.”
I shook my head.
“never heard of it before,” I said.
“Middle East,” Ivor said proudly, “Iraq – getting his knees brown good and proper.”
He started to sing joyfully what I later knew to be the anthem of all overseas R.A.F. men, “Shaibah Blues”. Then he ripped into several verses of “Charlotte the Harlot”, and while, having been very strictly brought up, I didn’t know the meaning of some of the expressions, I gathered from their anatomical connections that it was not the sort of thing one would sing at home. At least not at my home. But I smiled rather sheepishly when he’d finished.
I said, “Do you like it, in the Raf?”
(I hadn’t forgotten.)
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“It’s great,” he said decisively, “bloody great.”
He slapped me hard on the shoulder.
“It’s a great life if you don’t weaken, Yoicks!”
“What do you do?”
“Oh, square-bashing, P.T., lectures – I’m going to be a Flight Mechanic.”
I could see he was as happy as a sandboy, it shone out of him. He was alert, confident, buoyant, a complete contrast to the rebellious and scowling youth who had reluctantly forced himself to stand and, red-faced, chant, “the rain in Spain.”
“that’s fine, then,” I said, “but we don’t half miss you in the scrum.”
He never mentioned H – ‘s name.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Then, of course, the fuse which had been smouldering in Europe for six years finally detonated the bomb, and everything blew up in our faces. Not many of us were at all surprised. Although I and nearly all our little crowd who lived nearby had left school and were settling into our various jobs, as soon as Munich had come along I pushed my studying to one side. I knew there was no point in it now. It was going to be, at the very least, somewhat interrupted. So I, and my friends, played a lot of games, went to a lot of flicks, cycled a lot, and, out of working hours, lived our lives to the full, as far as we could. I started to take a girl out. Her name was Lilian, and she was extremely beautiful.
When the Battle of Britain was on I went into the R.A.F. One of my leaves, much later, coincided with one of Ivor’s, and he called at hour house, out of the blue. This time, as we were men, we shook hands firmly. He looked me up and down.
“I’m bloody well not going to call you ‘sir’,” he said.
“You’d bloody well better not try,, either,” I replied, “or I’ll stick you on a fizzer!”
He swung a playful punch at me, which, knowing Ivor, I was half-expecting. I dodged it and clouted him in the midriff, hard enough to make him wince.
“You rotten sod!” he gasped, “come on, let’s have a walk on the
[page break]
cliffs!”
I handed him a Players’, we lit up and strode away. The cliffs were partly wired off as an anti-invasion measure but we managed to get near enough to hear the same waves crashing on to the same rocks, and to smell the salt air as we walked. Until I looked at us, I felt nothing had changed; then I knew it had, really, and that you could never, ever, put the clock back to what had been.
It was about this time that the inevitable, impersonal and cruelly clinical process of the dissection of our little crowd began.
Norman was unfit for military service because of his deplorable eyesight. He was working for one of the Government Departments in London when a German bomb killed him. Peter, who lived in the next house down the street, and whose father had been drowned at sea a couple of years before, went into the R.A.F., became a Navigator, and was killed when his Wellington, from Finningley, crashed one night. I visited his mother on my first leave after it happened.
She was in a state of near-hysteria at mention of his name, and bitter, it must be said, that everything seemed to be going well for me. She did not know, of course, about my crew. I left her staring into the small fire, locked in her private world of abject misery. Then there was Jack, who was also an only son, strangely enough, also a Navigator on Wellingtons, also killed in a night crash.
By the time Alan, whom I had met in London while I was on my Intelligence course, had qualified as a Radar Operator on Beaufighters, the Germans had ceased flying over England at nights and he was transferred to non-operational flying. George also went into the R.A.F.., qualified as a pilot, then, almost immediately, the war ended. He emigrated to the U.S.A., where he had been trained.
Connie and I had a few months together at Moreton-in-the-Marsh, until I was grounded for good. I left him there, bumped into him once more, on leave, then learned of his death. He had crashed his Stirling, towing a glider, over England.
When it was all over, I asked Alan to be my best man. I would have done so anyhow, but in practical terms I had no choice – there was no-one left in our crowd now but he and I.
[page break]
So much had happened since I had last seen Ivor that he rarely had entered my thoughts. There was little reason for him to have done so, as he was a Fitter, in a pretty safe ground job in the R.A.F. Like thousands of other friends, we had been separated by the war and we would either bump into each other on some R.A.F. station, or in some outlandish place in the Far East, or eventually, we’d see each other back in the U.K. When he did enter my head occasionally, I thought perhaps he might have met and married a girl from some other part of the country, or, like George, had seen service in foreign parts and emigrated. I visualised him in a fez, thought about John’s remark about his brother, and smiled to myself at the happy recollection. But gradually, Ivor faded out of my mind.
Until I bumped into a chap who owned a shop, and who had been in our form at school. He had lived within a few hundred yards of Ivor. He, also, had served in the wartime R.A.F., as an armourer, and strangely enough, he told me he had been on the nearest Station to Breighton, at the same time as I had met J – there. I don’t know how he managed it, but he was a mine of information as to what happened to the chaps in our form. Ivor’s name did not come up immediately, as, of course, he had left school before we had done so. But in a pause during his cataloguing of old friends and acquaintances I asked him, “Where’s Ivor got himself these days? I haven’t seen him for years.”
P – was solemn, bespectacled and deliberate in manner and speech. He looked earnestly at me through his thick lenses for a moment or two, as though sorting through some mental card-index and trying to decide whether I could be trusted to hear the information which he had in store there.
“Ivor,” he said slowly, “Ivor Bradley. Yes. he went into the Raf, of course – you knew that?”
“yes,” I said, “He was a Boy Entrant, a Halton Brat, as they were known.”
A smile flicked on to and off his face, like the headlights of a car signalling ‘come on’.
“That’s right,” he continued, then paused. “Yes, well he went missing, you know.”
[page break]
For a moment I could not think what he meant. Rather obtusely I said, “You mean he left town? Went off somewhere suddenly?”
“No, no, he was aircrew, he went missing on a raid over Germany,” P – said, looking more owlish than ever.
“But – he was a fitter, surely?” I exclaimed, with an awful feeling, which I had hoped never again to experience, beginning to overtake me. Then, as the light dawned, I said, “Did he remuster to aircrew?”
P – nodded.
“Yes, that’s what happened. I saw him just after he volunteered for aircrew – you remember we lived near to one another? – and he said he wanted to do something a bit more active. So he became a Flight Engineer.”
“Good God,” I said softly, I’d no idea at all. I never dreamed that Ivor would go – like that.”
He nodded again, solemnly.
“Well, he did, I’m afraid,” he said.
He shuffled through a few more cards.
“How long were you at Breighton, by the way? I saw your name in the Visitors’ Book in the Church there, on the day after you’d been in.”
“That’s remarkable,” I said, “what a small world, isn’t it?”
I remembered very vividly going into the church with J - , the day after Johnny P – went missing.
P – said, “You must call in again sometime. I’ll shut the shop and we’ll have a cup of tea and a proper chat.”
I said yes, I would do that, and I felt I should really have made more of an effort to do so. But I was a bit of a coward about the rest of his card index, I’m afraid.
It was several more years before I learned what had happened to Ivor. Searching through a volume of aircrew losses I finally found his name. He was lost without trace, with his crew, during a raid in a Pathfinder Lancaster in the summer of 1943.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
I poured myself a cup of the green tea and took a sip as I looked out of the window. But it was terribly tepid, so I threw it all away
[page break]
and found I wasn’t really thirsty after all. The sun had long since moved off the chequered tea-cosy, and it was starting to get dusk. I shivered suddenly and found I was feeling extremely lonely and extremely depressed. I looked across at the white telephone and wished to hell that someone would ring, anyone at all, even a wrong number would have done, just so that I could have heard a voice. I sat for a while, waiting, but I knew it was a stupid thing to do. Nobody did ring, so I put on my anorak and went out quickly.
I walked around for a bit. I passed a lighted pub which looked very inviting and cheerful with people smiling at one another and chatting while they drank their beer. I wished I could go in and have a few beers, with Connie, like I used to. I stopped and thought about it, but I knew it would be no good, and as M – had said, it wouldn’t solve anything. So I kept on walking and feeling bloody miserable when I thought about Ivor and Connie, and about Jack and Peter and Norman, and all my crew. And about J - . Her especially. Then I had a strong craving for a cigarette, but I knew that would be a stupid thing to do, too.
It started to rain, so finally, I made my way back to the flat. It felt empty and cold, like somewhere someone had once lived, but didn’t any more. If no-one rings before nine o’clock, I told myself, I will ring M - , just so that I can talk to someone, for Christ’s sake. I sat and looked at the telephone again for a bit and thought about it. But nine o’clock came and I didn’t do anything about it in the end, because I knew it wouldn’t be very cheerful or very much fun for her, and as I was tired and cold I swallowed a couple of aspirin and got into bed.
While I was taking them it occurred to me that there was a stack left in the bottle which could be put to very effective use, but then I thought that wasn’t exactly any part of a pressing-on-regardless effort, so I shoved the bottle firmly to one side.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to go off to sleep after all this business, and I was damned right. I kept thinking about Ivor, then I started thinking about the crowed and how much I realised I was missing them. And about J - ; her, most of all. Then I thought,
[page break]
“My God, there’s only me left now, and I’m not much damn good to anyone like this, even if there were anyone,” which made things worse. I would have given a great deal if I could have turned the clock back, to have gone back to Breighton, to that lovely summer, to have started all over again, to be meeting J – for the first time, that wonderful morning when I saw her walk into the Ops Room, when she came to attention smartly and saluted and said, “Good morning, sir.” Little did I know, little did we both know what was to happen to us.
But this was getting me nowhere, so in the end I said aloud, “Oh, Christ, I just don’t want to wake up in the morning.” Then I said goodnight to J – ‘s photograph, in our own very special way, like I always had done, to her, once upon a time, when we were together, when we were happy.
And then I put out the light.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
[page break]
[inserted] [underlined] Photograph in a book. [/underlined] [/inserted]
[page break]
[underlined] PHOTOGRAPH IN A BOOK [/underlined]
“Frankie, do you remember me?”
(Late 20th century pop song.)
I realise it is very trite to say that the unexpected is always happening. Nevertheless I have to say that something completely unexpected happened recently to me, which produced, out of the blue, a violent cocktail-shaking of emotions which I thought were firmly and peacefully laid to rest.
I flatter myself that usually I am among the first to obtain, or at least to see, newly-published books on the subject of Bomber Command in the second world war, but for one reason or another, this was not the case in relation to a recently-published history of No. 4 Bomber Group.
4 Group included the aerodromes at Linton-on-Ouse, (my initial posting as an Int/Ops Officer), Holme-on-Spalding-Moor, to which I was moved when the Canadians were about to take over the northernmost aerodromes of 4 Group to form their own 6 Group, and Breighton, the satellite of Holme, where I was to meet, fall in love with and become engaged to J - , who, when the war was over became my wife.
I should have, to have been true to form, snapped up the book on its first appearing, but for various reasons, I did not. Instead, I heard reports – all good – of it from D - , an Ex-W.A.A.F., who features on a whole page of it, complete with her charming photograph, and with whom I had been corresponding. And I heard of it from Alan, a friend who was instrumental in having a memorial installed on the village green close to the place where Pilot Officer Cyril Barton, V.C., of 578 Squadron in 4 Group, sacrificed his life in bringing back his crippled and half-crewed Halifax after the disastrous Nuremberg raid. Alan was a schoolboy at the time and was among the first on the scene of Cyril Barton’s crash. He has, most worthily, devoted a considerable amount of his time and energy to ensuring
[page break]
that Cyril’s sacrifice will never be forgotten. It was as a result of this that, just before J – died, I met Alan, a very caring man, a man who has become a true friend to me. He was given the book as a birthday present.
He and I live in neighbouring towns. We speak on the telephone quite often; we meet whenever we are able and always find much to talk about, as Alan was also in the Royal Air Force. He was thrilled to receive the book, which, naturally, contains material concerning Cyril Barton. I had been searching bookshops for it, but without success; I had been waiting for the local Library to obtain it for me.
Early one evening there was a ring at my doorbell. Alan was standing there, cheerful as ever, a welcome sight indeed. He was carrying something flat in a Sainsbury’s carrier bag. With typical generosity he said that as he and his wife were shortly going on holiday, I might as well have the benefit of the book while he was away. I was grateful to him, and leafed through it while we chatted for a while before he had to leave to go to work. He showed me a picture in the book of Cyril’s wrecked aircraft and of Alan himself, as a schoolboy, standing near to it, very soon after the crash occurred.
When Alan had gone, impressed by the high quality of the book and by the photographs in particular, many of them amateur pictures taken by wartime aircrew members, I leafed through its pages, then worked through them systematically.
There were many poignant, familiar scenes. Of aircraft and their crews, of aerodromes and their buildings, targets in Germany and the occupied countries, pictures of people I had known of by reputation, people I had known personally, many I had never known. I found myself wondering how many of those young faces smiling at me from the pages were now, like myself, turning these same pages thinking, as I was thinking, “Oh, yes, I remember a scene like that”, or how many if them were no longer able to do this. A lump was gathering in my throat as I turned to a particular page and saw, among a group of captions, one which read ‘Interrogation for 78 Squadron crews as others await their turn, following the raid
[page break]
on Berlin on 31st August/1st September 1943.’
Reading it, I thought, “Well – I was an Intelligence Officer to 78n Squadron at that time.” Then I looked at the photograph and saw myself pictured there, in the far corner of the room, writing down the replies to my questions to the crew – heaven only knows who they were – at my table.
“My God,” I exclaimed.
I could not help it and I am not ashamed to admit that my eyes flooded with tears. I had no idea that the photograph had been taken; the author’s credit was to Gerry C - , who was a pilot on the Squadron at that time, whom I knew, and with whom I am still in contact.
I felt as though I had been wrenched back in time to that night, almost fifty years ago, as though the intervening years had never been, as though I were still at Breighton, working those long and irregular hours in the windowless Operations Room alongside Derek and Pam, with one or other of the W.A.A.F. Watchkeepers – Freda, or the attractive and much sought after Billie, or with J - . I felt, strangely, that all I needed to do was to walk out of the door of this cottage and I would find myself, miraculously, back on the narrow concrete road leading from that house in the hamlet of Breighton with its tall gable-end, along past the W.A.A.F. site to the Nissen huts of the Intelligence Library, the Window Store and the Ops. Room, where the armed sentry would be on duty, where the cornfield would be stretching away to my left, up towards the perimeter track and the runways of the aerodrome. I would return the sentry’s salute and his greeting and I would open the heavy door of the Ops. Room to see, on my left, the huge blackboard with the captains’ names and their aircraft letters already entered for the night’s operation. At the top, the target for tonight, perhaps Duisburg or Mannheim or Essen – or Berlin. The route written underneath that – Base – Southwold – Point A, with Lat. and Long. positions for the route-marking flares to guide the bomber stream to the target. The time of briefing, of the operational meals, of transport out to the aircraft, of starting engines, and of take-off. Of ‘H-Hour’, the time on target. On the wall facing me I would see the huge map of the British Isles, the S.D. 300, blotched in red with gun-defended areas, stuck with broad-headed pins and coloured threads carrying information
[page break]
about navigational hazards.
In the middle of the room the big map table where, after the raid, we spread the mosaic photograph of the German town which had been the target and would plot the crews’ bombing photos. And, to the right, the place where I shall sit, near to the telephones and next to J – who is there behind her switchboard and Tannoy microphone, ready for the night’s operation. If she had been born a man she would, I know, have been a member of a bomber crew, for she thought and talked of little else but bombing operations.
Except on stand-down evenings, in the twilight, when we met secretly in the village at a quiet angle of buildings on the main road, near to the bus stop, then cycled to the ‘Plough’ at Spaldington, the nearest village to the bombing range, where, amazingly, there were no other uniforms to be seen in its homely bar. Where we would spend the long, warm evenings over two or three beers, sitting in the high-backed, high-sided wooden seats made for two, made for people like we were then, people who were young and who had met and who loved each other deeply and desperately. And sitting there, talking gently together, we would hear, above the murmur of the farm workers’ talk, the drone of some aircraft, perhaps on a night cross-country flight, perhaps heading for the other side on a raid. Then we would both sit silently, listening, not saying anything, but I know we were both praying for its safe return to base.
Sometimes, when our own aircraft had gone on a raid and we were not due on duty until they returned, we would steal a precious hour together, sitting with our arms around one another in the darkness, on a low grassy bank under some trees, not far from the unmanned railway level crossing at Gunby, the Sandra lights from the aerodrome shining distantly through the trees, heavy with their summer foliage. For some reason, whenever I hear Delius’ ‘The Walk to the Paradise Garden’ I invariably and inevitable think of J – and I at that place and those wonderful, warm summer nights we shared in the countryside of East Yorkshire, around Breighton.
The tears which came to my eyes when I saw my photograph, and the sadness which overwhelmed me, were because now, that Interrogation Room, whose walls, had they been possessed of ears, would have heard
[page break]
small, unemotionally told tales, couched in the understated phrases of flying men, of achievement, of failure, of heroism, of desperation, triumph and tragedy, that Interrogation Room is now an unoccupied ruin, and the Ops. Room is no more, now part of an isolated dwelling house. I know, for I have been back there, where among so much tragedy, I was so happy.
And J - , now, is no more, except in my memory. I sat with her, taking her cold and unfeeling hand in mine, one beautiful summer morning, such as we used to have at Breighton, and I watched her life slip away from the loveliness that had been her. But we shall meet again, I know, she and I, and all the many crew members who came into our lives and went again, and were forgotten by us, like the many dawns and the many sunsets which we shared.
. . . . . . . . . . . .
[page break]
[underlined] GLOSSARY [/underlined]
Abort – to abandon an operation and return to base.
A.C.P. – Aerodrome Control Pilot, a ‘traffic policeman’ for those aircraft within visual distance.
A.G. – Air Gunner.
Alldis lamp – high-powered lamp capable of flashing Morse letters.
A.P. – Air Publication, usually a book; Aiming Point.
A.S.I. – Airspeed indicator.
Astrodome – transparent blister half way back along the fuselage of the Wellington.
A.S.V. – Anti-surface vessel.
A.T.A. – Air Transport Auxiliary, civilian aircraft delivery service.
Base – parent Station of one or more satellite aerodromes. Three, four, or even five Bases and their satellites constituted a Group.
base – one’s home aerodrome.
Best blue – best uniform.
Bind – (noun) nuisance, annoyance. (verb) to complain, tiresomely.
Bomb plot – plan of the target area annotated with the positions of each of the Squadron aircraft’s bombing photos.
Bombing Leader – senior Bomb-Aimer on a Squadron, responsible for instruction and training of other Bomb-Aimers.
Bombing photo – vertical photo taken automatically on release of an aircraft’s bombs, thus showing the point of impact.
Boost – petrol/air mixture pressure at the engine inlet manifold.
Buck House – Buckingham Palace.
Bullseye – bomber exercise in conjunction with friendly searchlights.
Circuits and bumps – take offs, circuits and landing, the staple diet of training pilots.
C.O. – Commanding Officer.
Cookie – 4000 pound High Capacity blast bomb, nicknamed by the press and B.B.C. ‘blockbuster’.
DC3 – Douglas Dakota twin-engined transport aircraft. Also known as a C-47.
Defiant – Boulton Paul single-engined fighter/night fighter. Two-seater, the rear seat being in a rotatable 4-gun turret.
[page break]
D.R. – Dispatch rider.
Drem lighting – aerodrome runway and perimeter track lighting, protected by metal dish-shaped hoods so as to be invisible from above. First used at R.A.F. Drem, Scotland.
Early return – (later knows as ‘boomerang’) aircraft returning from an abortive sortie.
E.F.T.S. – Elementary Flying Training School.
Erk – Aircraftman.
E.T.A. – Estimated time of arrival.
Feathering – device which enabled the pilot to turn the blades of a propeller edge-on to the direction of flight, thus minimising the drag on the aircraft in the event of an engine failure.
Flak – German anti-aircraft fire.
Flights – Flight Offices and crewroom.
Flying the beam – flying from A to B by means of an aural signal transmitted by B.
Fresher – a new crew; such a crew’s early operational flights; the target for such a crew.
Fizzer, stick (or put) on a – charge with an offence.
Gee – radar navigational aid which enabled an aircraft to fix its position. Had a limited range which just covered the Ruhr and was susceptible to jamming.
Gen – information, news, divided into ‘pukka’ (true) and ‘duff’ (false). (Meteorological Officers were invariably known as Duff Gen Men.)
Geodetics – aluminium girders formed into spiral basket-work construction which made up the fuselage and mainplanes of the Wellington.
Get weaving – get going, get started.
Glim lamps/lights – low-powered lights which formed the flarepath of an aerodrome.
Glycol – Ethylene glycol, liquid coolant.
Gong – medal.
Goose-necks – paraffin flares housed in watering-can-shaped containers. Supplemented Drem lighting.
G.Y. – Grimsby.
Gyro – gyroscopic compass.
[page break]
1 Group – Bomber Group in north Lincolnshire consisting of, originally, 4 R.A.F., 3 Polish and 2 Australian Wellington Squadrons, latterly, of Lancaster Squadrons.
3 Group – Bomber Group in East Anglia consisting of, originally, Wellington Squadrons. Converted to Stirlings, latterly to Lancasters.
Halifax – Four-engined Handley Page bombers with crew of seven. Nicknamed Hali or Halibag.
Hampden – Twin-engined Handley Page medium bombers, crew of three.
Harvard – single-engined North American Aviation Co. advanced fighter trainers. Also know as Texan or AT – 6.
“Have a good trip” – Between close friends on a Squadron this parting remark was occasionally varied by the addition of “Can I have your egg if you don’t come back?” This was part of the grim humour current among bomber aircrew.
H.E. – High explosive.
High – anticyclone, high-pressure weather system.
H2S – Radar device which showed a ground plan of the earth below an aircraft.
Ident. light – identification light, a small nose-light used for flashing Morse.
I.F.F. – Identification friend or foe. Radar set carried on an aircraft to identify it as friendly to British ground defences. Set to ‘Stud 3’ it gave a specially-shaped distress trace on ground radar screens.
Int. – Intelligence.
Intercom – internal ‘telephone system’ in an aircraft.
Interrogation – now known, in view of the current overtones of ill-treatment which have become implicit in the term, as ‘de-briefing’.
I.T.W. – Initial Training Wing.
Juice – petrol
Kite – aircraft.
[page break]
L.A.C. – Leading Aircraftman.
L.A.C.W. – Leading Aircraftwoman.
Line-shoot – boast.
Link Trainer – a simulator which gave practice in instrument flying.
Lysander – Single-engined Westland Aviation Army co-operation (originally) aircraft.
Mag drop – the reduction in r.p.m. of an engine when one of its two magnetos was switched out.
Mae West – Inflatable life-jacket which gave to its wearer the contours of the famous film actress.
Mosaic – collage of aerial photographs, taken probably at different times, but from the same height, making up a complete picture of a German town, and used to plot bombing photos.
Nav. – navigator, navigation.
N.F.T. – night-flying test.
Nickels – British propaganda leaflets dropped over enemy territory. To drop the leaflets was known as nickelling.
Observer – Navigator/Bomb-aimer in twin-engined bombers prior to the establishment of these as separate categories.
Occult – white flashing beacon showing one Morse letter whose latitude and longitude was carried by Observers or Navigators (in code).
On the boat – posted overseas, or, when overseas, posted to the U.K.
One o’clock – slightly to the right of dead ahead (twelve o’clock). Dead astern was six o’clock.
Ops – operations.
O.T.U. – Operational Training Unit.
Oxford – twin-engined advanced bomber-trainer, made by Airspeed Ltd.
Peri. track – perimeter track, a taxying track connecting the ends of the runways on an aerodrome, and having aircraft dispersal points leading off it.
Pigeon – homing pigeon carried in bomber aircraft to carry a message back to base giving the aircraft’s position in the event of ‘ditching’ (landing in the sea), when the aircraft would be too low for its radio transmissions to be heard.
[page break]
Pit – bed.
Pitch controls – varied the angle of the propeller blades and consequently controlled the r.p.m. of the engine.
Pitot head – (pronounced pea-toe) fine-bore tube facing forward which supplied air pressure from the movement of the aircraft through the air and showed this pressure as airspeed on a ‘clock’ in the cockpit.
P/O – Pilot Officer (not necessarily a pilot!)
Poop off – shoot off.
P/O Prune – a cartoon character in Tee Emm (q.v.), an inept pilot forever involved in accidents of his own making.
Portreath – R.A.F. Station in Cornwall
Prang – crash, wreck, break.
Press the tit – press the button.
Prop – propeller, more properly, airscrew.
P.R.U. – Photographic Reconnaissance Unit.
Pundit – aerodrome beacon, flashing two red Morse letters which were changed at irregular intervals. The beacons were always within two miles of the parent aerodrome, although their position was changed nightly.
R.A.A.F. – Royal Australian Air Force.
R.C.A.F. – Royal Canadian Air Force.
Resin lights – low-powered lights at the rear of an aircraft’s wingtips, illuminated over this country as a warning to friendly night-fighters. Colours were changed at irregular intervals.
Revs – revolutions.
Rolling the bones – gambling with dice.
R/T – radio telephone (speech).
Sandra lights – cone of three searchlights stationary over an aerodrome, to assist returning aircraft.
Scrub – cancel.
Second dickey – second pilot.
S.D. – secret document.
S.D.300 – wall-map of the U.K., kept in the Ops Room and maintained by the Watchkeepers, showing positions of all gun-defended areas, navigational hazards and convoys.
[page break]
S.F.T.S. – Service Flying Training School. (Stage following E.F.T.S.)
Spit – Spitfire.
Spoof. – feint.
Sprog – newly arrived, newly joined, raw, inexperienced.
Square-bashing – drill.
Stall – lose flying speed.
Stirling – four-engined bomber manufactured by Short Bros.
Stooge – boring, casual or haphazard flying.
Stud 3 – Distress frequency setting on I.F.F. (q.v.)
Sullom Voe – R.A.F. Station in the Shetlands.
Sweet Caps – Sweet Caporal cigarettes, a popular Canadian brand.
Tee Emm – Air Ministry Training Magazine. Humorously written and comically illustrated aid to safe flying and good navigation and gunnery. It was extremely popular with all aircrew.
Trailing edge – rear edge of mainplane or elevators.
Trimmers – (or ‘trimming tabs’). Small adjustable sections of the aircraft’s control surfaces, enabling it to be flown, when they were carefully adjusted, without undue pressure on the controls by the hands and feet.
Undercart – undercarriage.
u/s – unserviceable.
u/t – under training.
Vic – V.
W.A.A.F. – Women’s Auxiliary Air Force; a member of same.
W.A.A.F. (G) – Officer responsible for the discipline and well-being of all W.A.A.F. on a Station.
Watchkeeper – W.A.A.F. Sergeant who acted as a clearing house for all telephoned outgoing and incoming secret operational and other information, and who was responsible for its prompt and correct transmission to the appropriate person(s).
Wellington – twin-engined Vickers bomber with a crew of six.
Wimpy – Nickname for the above. Derived from the character in a ‘Daily Mirror’ cartoon – J. Wellington Wimpy, a friend of Popeye.
[page break]
Wingco – Wing Commander. (C.O. of a bomber Squadron).
W/T – wireless telegraphy (Morse code).
Y.M. – Y.M.C.A.
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Title
A name given to the resource
Loose on the wind
Description
An account of the resource
Starts with a poem and then a series of stories which together form the memoirs of Harold Yeoman, an officer who served in Bomber Command during the war, initially as a pilot on Wellingtons and then as an Intelligence Officer. He relates his activities both professionally and personally during this time and recounts the many friends and colleagues he lost whilst on operations. He recalls his flying training on the Tiger Moths at Sywell, then on to Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, Canada for further training. He was then posted to Bassingbourne O.T.U. to train to fly Wellingtons, before going to Binbrook on operational flying duties. Harold flew a number of operations before being grounded due to medical reasons. It was whilst he was grounded that his crew were reported as missing and subsequently recorded as killed in action. While waiting for his Medical Board, Harold was stationed at the Operational Training Unit at Moreton-in-the-Marsh ferrying brand new Wellingtons from Kemble and flying them to Moreton to hand over to pupil crews. He was then moved to ‘X’ Flight of the O.T.U and trained new pilots before being grounded again for medical reasons when he transferred into Intelligence for Bomber Command. He completed his R.A.F. career in Penang as an Adjutant.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
H Yeoman
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1994-11
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Tricia Marshall
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Multipage printed document
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Text. Poetry
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Civilian
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Canadian Air Force
Royal Australian Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Northamptonshire
England--Northampton
England--Devon
England--Torquay
England--Cheshire
England--Wilmslow
Iceland
Iceland--Reykjavík
Canada
Nova Scotia--Halifax
Nova Scotia--Cape Breton Island
Saskatchewan--Moose Jaw
England--Suffolk
Germany
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Netherlands
Netherlands--IJssel Lake
Germany--Kiel
Germany--Essen
England--Lincolnshire
England--Grimsby
Germany--Wilhelmshaven
Germany--Cologne
England--Berkshire
England--Reading
Netherlands
Netherlands--IJmuiden
Germany--Essen
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Sylt
Germany
Germany--Helgoland
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
Germany--Lübeck
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Bochum
England--Gloucestershire
England--Yorkshire
Burma
Burma--Rangoon
Malaysia
Malaysia--Kampong Sungai Gelugor (Pinang)
Malaysia--George Town (Pulau Pinang)
Malaysia--Butterworth (Pulau Pinang)
England--Buckinghamshire
Wales--Vale of Glamorgan
Germany--Nuremberg
Saskatchewan
Nova Scotia
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-09
1942-05
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BYeomanHTYeomanHTv1
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
1 Group
12 Squadron
4 Group
578 Squadron
78 Squadron
air gunner
Air Transport Auxiliary
aircrew
animal
Anson
anti-aircraft fire
arts and crafts
B-17
B-24
bale out
bombing
bombing of Hamburg (24-31 July 1943)
bombing of Nuremberg (30 / 31 March 1944)
control tower
crash
crewing up
Defiant
faith
fear
final resting place
flight engineer
flight mechanic
forced landing
Fw 190
Gee
Gneisenau
grief
ground crew
ground personnel
Guinea Pig Club
H2S
Halifax
Hampden
Harvard
In the event of my death letter
Ju 88
killed in action
Lancaster
love and romance
Lysander
Manchester
McIndoe, Archibald (1900-1960)
medical officer
mess
military ethos
military living conditions
military service conditions
navigator
observer
operations room
Oxford
pilot
prisoner of war
RAF Bassingbourn
RAF Bawtry
RAF Binbrook
RAF Breighton
RAF Finningley
RAF Halton
RAF Holme-on-Spalding Moor
RAF Kemble
RAF Linton on Ouse
RAF Little Rissington
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Moreton in the Marsh
RAF St Athan
RAF Sywell
RAF Torquay
RAF Tuddenham
Scharnhorst
searchlight
shot down
Spitfire
sport
Stalag Luft 3
Stirling
Tiger Moth
training
Victoria Cross
Wellington
Window
wireless operator
wireless operator / air gunner
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1009/18701/EGirdwoodJ-HMadgettLR-AG440118-0001.1.jpg
4e985a1e5fb1f720fd4063a7f24aea71
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1009/18701/EGirdwoodJ-HMadgettLR-AG440118-0002.1.jpg
98ca3ed30c19f1ce311ff87ce8b44953
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
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Madgett, H
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
4 Main St.,
Muirkirk
Ayrshire
18.1.44.
Dear Mr & Mrs Madgett,
It was most kind of you to write us so soon after reading of our sad bereavement. As you say it is only when the same tragedy has touched oneself that the true significance of it can be realised, my wife and I send our heartfelt sympathy to you both.
Since receiving your letter this evening we have been looking through Bill’s album & have found quite a few snaps of Hedley, he looked a real happy laddie and by the snaps they seemed to be having a grand time, Bill often spoke of him.
Bill was reported missing on June 21st-22nd after a raid on Krefeld in Germany, 700 planes took part that night
[page break]
& 43 didn’t come back.
We received word from the Air Ministry that the Lancaster had been found , all the crew had been killed, four were recognisable (one of them Bill) two unrecognisable and one missing, they are all accounted for now but we are still anxiously awaiting to hear of the burial place.
I have enclosed a snap of Bill taken before he left Canada in September 1942, it is very like him.
Let us hope 1944will see the end of this cruel war and a return to peaceful days.
Yours very sincerely,
James and Helen Girdwood
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 Hedley Madgett's parents
Description
An account of the resource
From James and Helen Girdwood. Thanks the Madgetts for writing after hearing about Girdwood's bereavement and notes similar tragedies for both families. Writes that they have found several snaps of Hedley in their son's album. Notes their son Bill was reported missing 21-22 June 1943 after an operation to Krefeld and gives details of his Lancaster's crash and are awaiting information on burial.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
J and H Girdwood
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1944-01-18
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
EGirdwoodJ-HMadgettLR-AG440118
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
Scotland--Ayrshire
Scotland--Cumnock
Germany
Germany--Krefeld
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-01-18
1943-06-21
1943-06-22
1942-09
1943-08-17
1943-08-18
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Bloomfield
bombing
crash
killed in action
Lancaster
missing in action
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/886/23860/SHudsonJD755052v20005.2.pdf
b3bcd03afc7fbd9d58def2a8ce3d2f3e
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
Hudson, Douglas
James Douglas Hudson
J D Hudson
Description
An account of the resource
529 items. Collection concerns Pilot Officer James Douglas Hudson, DFC (755052 Royal Air Force) who joined the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve in June 1939 and trained as an observer. While on route to Malta in August 1940 his Blenheim crashed in Tunisia and he was subsequently interned for two and a half years by Vichy French in Tunisia and Algeria. After being freed he returned to Great Britain and after navigator retraining completed a tour of 30 operations on 100 Squadron. The collection contains letters to and from his parents and from French penfriends while interned in Tunisia and Algeria, newspaper cuttings of various events, logbooks and lists of operations, official documents and photographs. A further 23 items are in two sub-collections with details of navigator examinations and postcards of Laghouat Algeria.<br /><br />The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Elizabeth Smith and Yvonne Puncher and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.<br />
<p>This collection also contains items concerning Louis Murray and Harry Bowers. Additional information on <a href="https://internationalbcc.co.uk/losses/202827/">Harry Bowers</a> and <a href="https://internationalbcc.co.uk/losses/220410/">Louis Murray</a> is available via the IBCC Losses Database.</p>
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-06-16
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Hudson, JD
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[deleted] first five lines [/deleted]
DELIGHTED TO HAVE RECEIVED YOUR CABLE SEVENTEENTH PARCEL AND THIRTEEN BOOKS LATEST LETTER EVERYONE TAFFES LETTER DATED SEPTEMBER TWENTY-NINTH ADVISING DESPATCH 500 CIGARETTES REPLYING BY LETTER KEEPING WELL ALL LOVE THOUGHTS WISHES DOUGLAS HUDSON 20-10-42
DELIGHTED SECOND RED CROSS PARCEL RECEIVED OCTOBER TWENTY-FOURTH INTACT COULD YOU SEND BOOK ON TEXTILE PRODUCTION AND MANUFACTURE ALL LOVE DOUGLAS HUDSON 26-10-42
DELIGHTED CABLE THIRTY-FIRST ACKNOWLEDGING SNAPS SELECTION BOOKS GOOD THANK YOU FOR DESPATCHING THIRD RED CROSS PARCEL YOUR SECOND RECEIVED INTACT OCTOBER TWENTY-FOURTH WELL ALL LOVE BEST WISHES DOUGLAS HODSON 3-11-42
[page break]
DELIGHTED PREPAID CABLE TWELFTH RECEIVED YESTERDAY YOUR TENTH LETTERS ARRIVE IN PERFECT SEQUENCE LATEST SEVENTY-ONE AM EXPERIMENTING WRITING LETTER TODAY REGISTERED AIRMAIL WELL ALL LOVE THOUGHTS WISHES DOUGLAS HUDSON 15-9-42
DELIGHTED CABLE TWENTY-FIFTH YOUR LATEST LETTER SEVENTY-FIVE WANTED LITTLE GIRL CORRESPONDENT SEND PHOTOS ALL LOVE THOUGHTS BEST WISHES KEEP SMILING WRITING ALWAYS DOUGLAS HUDSON 30-9-42
DELIGHTED CABLE THIRD ACKNOWLEDGING RECEIPT MY REGISTERED LETTER YOUR LATEST LETTER SEVENTY-SIX [deleted] seven words [/deleted] PLEASED MY JUNE LETTERS MESSAGES RECEIVED AND GLAD YOU UNDERSTAND KEEPING WELL ALL LOVE THOUGHTS BEST WISHES AS EVER DOUGLAS HUDSON 5-10-42
[page break]
ALL LOVE THOUGHTS BEST WISHES WEDDING ANNIVERSARY DOUGLAS HUDSON 4-8-42
DELIGHTED CABLE AUGUST FOURTH CONFIRMATION RECEIVER TO PAY ARRIVED SHALL SEND NEXT TELEGRAM THIS WAY AWAIT PARCELS WELL ALL LOVE
LATEST LETTER GLAD MY LETTERS AND CABLES ARE ARRIVING BEST WISHES DADS BIRTHDAY FUTURE REQUIREMENTS FOOTWEAR SOAP MOST USEFUL WRITING ALWAYS WELL ALL LOVE THOUGHTS DOUGLAS HUDSON 1-9-42
[deleted] three lines[/deleted]
[page break]
[indecipherable] remainder of document [/indecipherable]
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
Scripts of telegrams written and sent by Douglas Hudson to parents from prisoner of war camps
Description
An account of the resource
Transcripts of nearly 50 telegrams between Douglas Hudson and his parents between August 1941 and November 1942.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
J D Huson
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1941
1942
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Eight page handwritten document
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
SHudsonJD755052v20005
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
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1941-08
1941-09
1941-12
1942-01
1942-02
1942-03
1942-04
1942-05
1942-06
1942-07
1942-08
1942-09
1942-10
1942-11
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
David Bloomfield
prisoner of war
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1590/25348/MNichollsJEK2011088-200201-01.2.pdf
37ad53ff4eb9580b55667cfba4851446
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
Nicholls, Jill Ethel Kathleen
J E K Nicholls
Thomson, Jill Ethel Kathleen
Goodfellow, Jill Ethel Kathleen
Description
An account of the resource
57 items. The collection concerns Jill Nicholls (b. 1921, 2011088 Royal Air Force). The collection contains documents, photographs, mementos and a considerable number of poems. It also contains an album in a sub-collection with documents, newspaper cuttings and photographs.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Julie Stocks 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
2020-02-01
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Nicholls, JEK
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[Underlined] 2011088. ACW2. NICHOLLS. J.E.K. [/underlined]
[Underlined] 5th ENTRY [/underlined]
Form 619.
ROYAL AIR FORCE.
Notebook for use in Schools.
[Page break]
[Blank page]
[Page break]
[Underlined] Class 3. [/underlined] [Underlined] July 31 [missing text] [/underlined]
[Underlined] Cpl. J [missing letters] [/underlined]
[Underlined] Some dont’s [sic] for M.T. Drivers. [/underlined]
1. Don’t agitate the accelerator pedal up and down when starting engine. On most vehicles this only upsets the starting mixture.
2. Don’t keep pulling on the starter knob after the engine has started.
3. Don’t drive with the choke control out. [Deleted] 4 [/deleted] Push the choke in as soon as possible.
4. Don’t stop [sic] up the radiator with any old rubbish. If your vehicle is filled with anti-freeze, top up with this compound only. If filled with water top up with soft water if possible. If you have to fill from a stream, remove any foreign bodies.
5. Don’t pour cold water into a hot radiator and engine, allow to cool first.
6 Don’t imagine a [underlined] No Water Board [/underlined] is hung on the radiator for fun.
7 Don’t dip the oil with the engine running, or when it has just stopped, the dip stick won’t tell the truth.
8 Don’t continue to run the engine with the oil pressure guage [sic] reading Zero, or with the warning lamp alight, your engine may be dangerously low of oil.
9 Don’t ride the clutch, it is not a foot rest.
10 Don’t coast, the brakes may not be as good as you [missing word].
[Page break]
11 Don’t try to start away in one of the higher gears, there is a reason for fitting low.
12 Don’t turn the steering wheel while the vehicle is stationary.
13 Don’t get the idea that the maintenance schedule is for the other drivers [deleted word] [inserted] guidance [/inserted], it is compiled especially for you.
14. Don’t imagine because you are a good driver you will never have an accident, remember the fool around the corner and be specially careful.
[Underlined] Technical Terms. [/underlined]
1. [Underlined] Near Side [/underlined] means left hand side of vehicle
2. [Underlined] Off. Side [/underlined] means right hand side of vehicle
3 [Underlined] Right Lock. [/underlined] means turn steering wheel to right
4. [Underlined] Left Lock [/underlined] means turn steering wheel to left.
5. [Underlined] Right Hand Down. [/underlined] Right Lock
6. [Underlined] Left Hand Down. [/underlined] Left Lock.
7. U/S. Unserviceable
8. M.P.H. Miles per hour.
9. M.P.G. Miles per gallon.
10. D.I. Daily Inspection
[Missing number] Revs. Revolutions.
[Page break]
[Diagram] – weight of vehicle & its load.
– Weight of vehicle, its load, & trailer and its load.
Training Command. H.
Group. (morecombe). 20.
[Page break]
[Underlined] CHASSIS OF LORRY. [/underlined]
[Diagram]
[Inserted] King Pin on Brake drum [indecipherable words] or King pin.
[Page break]
[Underlined] OBJECT OF MAIN CHASSIS COMPONENTS. [/underlined]
[Underlined] Fan. [/underlined] Its purpose is to cool the water as it passes through the radiator.
[Underlined] Engine or Power Unit [/underlined] develops the power necessary to drive the vehicle.
[Underlined] Fly Wheel [/underlined] Is a circular mass of metal, bolted to the rear end of the crank shaft to balance the engine, and keep it running evenly; and assist the engine over the 3 idle strokes (Induction, compression, exhaust); also forms a housing for the clutch.
[Underlined] Clutch [/underlined] A means of engaging & disengaging the engine or power unit, from the transmission. Enables a gear to be engaged silently when the vehicle is stationary. Allows a vehicle to be moved away smoothly and without snatch. Assists in gear changing.
[Underlined] Primary Shaft. [/underlined] Transmits the drive through constant mesh pinions or gear wheels to the lay shaft in the gear box, in all gears except top or 4th gear.
[Underlined] Gear Box [/underlined] The gear box itself is a reservoir for oil. The gears provide various engine to road wheel ratios, enables engine’s speed and therefore engine power to be maintained under varying road speeds and conditions. Allows the engine to run while vehicle is stationary, and provides a
[Page break]
means of reversing. (Allows the engine to maintain its required no of Revs under all Road and load conditions).
[Underlined] Universal Joint [/underlined] Fitted between the main or driven shaft from the Gear box to the propellor shaft, to allow for misalignment or angular drive.
[Underlined] Propellor Shaft. [/underlined] Transmits the drive from gear box to rear axle.
[Underlined] Final Drive [/underlined] (Bevel Pinion & crown wheel, [underlined] or [/underlined] worm & worm wheel). Transmits the drive through a right angle, and provides a permanent gear reduction.
[Underlined] Differential. [/underlined] [Inserted] (gear) [/inserted] Allows a vehicle to corner without rear wheel skid, by allowing the inside rear wheel to slow down and allow the outside rear wheel to maintain its normal drive when cornering.
[Underlined] Half Axle Shafts. [/underlined] Transmits the drive from differential to rear wheel hubs.
[Underlined] Road Springs and Shock absorbers. [/underlined] To absorb shock and vibration caused by irregularity in road services [sic].
[Underlined] Steering] [/underlined] A system of levers and linkages to enable the vehicle to be moved out of a straight line.
[Underlined] Brakes [/underlined] A means of slowing or stopping a vehicle.
[Page Break]
[Underlined] Aug 3rd 194[missing number] [/underlined]
[Underlined] Cpl. James [/underlined]
All engine oils in the RAF go by Ref. No’s. – 34/A.
[Underlined] Engine oil. [/underlined] 34/36.
[Underlined] Gear oil. [/underlined] 34 A 50/51
(some Gear Boxes & Rear Axles).
All engine sumps:
[Underlined] Penetrating oil [/underlined] is used for freeing nuts & bolts and spraying Road Springs. 34A/57.
[Underlined] Flushing Oil [/underlined] 34/A/68. This is used for flushing out sumps before refilling with fresh oil.
[Underlined] Shock Absorber Fluid [/underlined] 34A/70/71, for hydrolic [sic] shock absorbers only.
[Underlined] Yellow Grease [/underlined] 34A/2. Used in grease gun where a heavier lubricant is required, & in summer time.
[Underlined] Non-Separating Grease [/underlined] 34A/61. Used in water pump glands
[Underlined] Spigot Bearings [/underlined]
Spigot bearing holds the primary shaft in a central position inside the flywheel, and a spigot bearing holds the main shaft in the gear box in a central position inside the constant mesh pinion at the rear end of the primary shaft.
[Page break]
[Inserted words and numbers] [Underlined] August 4th 1942 [/underlined]
[Underlined] Cpl Sheridan [/underlined]
[Underlined] Care & Maintenance [/underlined]
[Underlined] Daily Inspection [/underlined]
1. Check oil – petrol – water.
2. Check tyres with tyre pressure guage [sic].
3. Inspect tyres visibly for stones etc.
4. Proceed to look beneath the car for any oil leaks from engine, gear box, & back axle.
5. Inspect window screens for cleanliness
6. Inspect number plate for cleanliness
7. Check hand brake.
8. See that gear lever is in neutral.
9. Check clutch pedal & foot brake.
10. Check lights, note when ignition key is switched on, ammeter should show discharge.
11. Check windscreen wipers, traffic indicators if fitted. Test Horn.
12. Check fire extinguisher., & sign Form 656.
[Missing number] Report any fault to Cpl in charge of Transport.
[Underlined] 500 Mile Inspection. [/underlined]
1. Wash car thoroughly.
2. Inspect wheel nuts for tightness.
3 See that all grease nipples are clean.
[Page break]
4 Proceed to check back axle, check gear box & grease car thoroughly, paying particular attention to maintenance schedule. In greasing pay particular attention to your universal joint, propellor shaft, clutch withdrawal mechanism, also hand brake cross shaft, steering, springs.
5 Grease fan bearing.
6. Inspect Battery. See that all leads to & from the battery are tight.
7. Any corrosion on battery terminal will be wiped off immediately. To prevent further corrosion vaseline or a similar grease will be applied to the affected parts. Battery will be topped up with distilled water. It will be topped up to a height of 1/4“ above the plates. See that the battery is tight in cradle.
8. Test engine bolts for tightness, inspect steering box, top up if necessary with gear oil. Inspect [deleted] 9. [/deleted] all leads for signs of wear. If slightly frayed apply adhesive tape to the affected part. If fitted with hydrolic [sic] braking system check master cylinder for fluid. Top up with
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hydrolic [sic] brake fluid if necessary.
9. Grease fan bearing.
10. Clean air filter on carburettor.
[Underlined] 2000 mile Inspection. [/underlined]
This will entail doing D.I. & 500 normally.
1. Top back axle up, & gear box. (Filter plug on top, level plug on side. Fill till oil comes out of level plug). The same procedure will be adopted when topping up gear box with gear oil.
[Underlined] Engine [/underlined] You will change engine oil, when the engine is warm. When draining sump, put drip tray beneath draining plug. Oil will be drained in this manner. Place drip tray beneath sump, then remove drain plug. After draining oil make sure by inspecting the oil that there is no foreign bodies in same, such as steel clippings etc. If anything is found in the oil which should not be there, report it immediately to the N.C.O. I/C M.T. Section. Turn Crank handle 12 – 15 times to make sure that all oil is out of sump. Proceed then to pour in new oil, through the filter plug. F.N. Engine oil will be changed in a new engine at the first 500 miles, then again at 2000, in the normal
[inserted] Remove sparking plugs & clean. [/inserted]
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manner. Paraffin oil must definitely [underlined] not [/underlined] be used to flush out an engine.
Inspect chassis bolts for tightness. Next proceed to jack the car up to relieve the weight of the car off the springs. Then spray the springs with penetrating oil (very fine oil), by means of spray gun. Then apply graphite grease on the outside of the springs to prevent dust and dampness to interfere with the springs.
[Underlined] Distributor Maintenance [/underlined]
Smear the lobe of the cam with vaseline or some suitable grease. See that the contact breaker points are clean.
Lubricate all [underlined] carburettor [/underlined] controls with oil can. If dynamo is fitted with a grease cap, give the cap one complete turn.
If the [underlined] self starter [/underlined] is fitted with a grease cap, proceed as before.
If fitted with an [underlined] Electric Petrol Pump [/underlined] make sure that all leads to & from the pump are tight and clean.
After doing 2000 mile inspection, vehicle will be handed over to the fitter.
In case of [underlined] Fordson [/underlined] with a 1 gallon sump, the
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oil will be changed every 1000 miles.
Top Battery every 50 hrs, every week, or 500 miles.
[Underlined] Controls August 6th 1942. [/underlined]
Cpl Sheridan
Free play for clutch should be 3/8”. (on most cars). On switching the ignition key on, the ammeter needle w[deleted]h[/deleted]ill show discharge. With the engine running and dynamo working ammeter needle will show between 2 & 8 amps. according to the state of the battery.
Running with all lights on, ammeter needle will show between normal & 1 amp. approximately.
[Underlined] Oil Pressure Guage [sic]. [/underlined] (marked off in pounds per sq. inch) you will refer to maintenance chart for correct oil pressure.
[Underlined] Self Starter [/underlined] Finger must not be kept pressed on the self starter button after the engine has started. On cold mornings it is essential to use starting handle first to facilitate easy start.
[Underlined] Throttle [/underlined] Same action as accelerator, used to warm up engine. Used sometimes for reversing
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Water Guage.
Petrol Guage.
[Underlined] Choke [/underlined] is used for purpose of providing a rich mixture at the required time. Choke should be pushed back to closed position as soon as possible.
[Underlined] Internal Combustion Engine [/underlined]
Power is obtained by a rapid burning and expansion of petrol and air.
[Underlined] The Otto Cycle [/underlined]
(a) [Underlined] Stroke [/underlined] (b) [underlined] Piston Direction [/underlined] (c) [underlined] Valves [/underlined] (d) [underlined] Object of Stroke [/underlined]
(a) Induction (b) Down. (c) Inlet open (ex. closed) (d) To draw combust mixture into cylinder.
(a) Compression (b) up. (c) Closed [inserted] Inlet/Exhaust [/inserted] (both). (d) compress the mixture
(a) Power. (b) down. (c) both valves closed. (d) To turn crank shaft.
(a) Exhaust. (b) up. (c) Inlet Shut. Exhaust open. (d) Expel burnt gases [sic] from cylinder ready for fresh change of position
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[Underlined] OTTO CYCLE. [/underlined]
[Diagram]
August 7th 1942.
[Underlined] Cpl Sheridan. [/underlined]
[Underlined] Notes on Crank Shaft. [/underlined]
The crank shaft is built up of big end bearings, crank journats [sic], crank pins, crank webs, main bearings.
The Cam shaft is fitted with Cams which operate the valves at the correct time.
Cam shaft can also drive auxiliary things such as oil pump, distributor drive shaft,
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these usually being driven by a helical gear fitted to the Cam shaft. Cam shaft can also drive petrol pump. Cam shaft is driven at half engine speed, meaning that the crank shaft will revolve twice to once of the Cam shaft. We time the crank shaft & Cam shaft by means of timing wheels, or timing chains.
[Underlined] Essential Engine Components. [/underlined]
Crank Case.
Sump
Cylinder Block.
Cylinder Head. (gasket usually made of asbestos & copper fitted between cylinder head and cylinder block).
Crank Shaft. Valve guide.
Cam Shaft. Valve Spring.
Connecting Rods. Tappets,
Pistons. Push Rods.
Piston Rings. Fly Wheel.
Gudgeon Pin
Valves,
Valve Stem
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[Underlined] Aug 10th 1942 [/underlined]
[Underlined] Cpl. Sheridan [/underlined]
[Diagram]
[Underlined] 4 Cylinder Crankshaft. [/underlined]
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[Underlined] Map. Reading. [/underlined]
[Map legends]
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[Underlined] Conventional Signs. [/underlined]
Most maps are supplied with a key devised to illustrate the material shown, such as roads, bridges, churches etc, as well as natural features such as woods, rivers, lakes etc. The symbols used in illustration are known as conventional signs. In addition, since a map is only a plan of ground under survey, various devices are used to give information on relative and actual heights. Knowledge of the normal and exceptional signs employed is the basis of good map reading. For only by complete understanding of these is it possible to form a mental picture of any area required or indicated. For ease of recognition the various symbols are viewed from above or at a very steep angle. Trees will be shown as viewed from the side.
[Underlined] Contours. [/underlined]
A contour is a line joining a number of points which are at the same height above mean sea level. On the map itself it appears as a continual line, and is generally printed in orange with the numbers in the same colour, and represent
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[Inserted] Numbers [/inserted]
the height in feet starting at 50ft and then rising at 50 ft or 100 ft levels according to the type of map. Where the contour lines are far apart, this will indicate only gradual sloping, and where the lines lie close together will indicate very steep slopes. By noting the spacing between the lines it is fairly easy to estimate the slopes, because 1/4 of the distance will represent 12 1/2 ft or 25 ft rise. It should be borne in mind, that when planning a route with a heavy vehicle, it is best to avoid roads that traverse very high ground, it is much better to take roads of a less hilly nature, even if it means making a slightly longer detour, taking into consideration the contour lines marked.
[Underlined] Gradients. [/underlined]
We have seen that where the contour lines lie close together that steep slopes are indicated. The average gradient can be found by taking the lowest height from the highest point eg. 250ft – 50ft, then measure the distance on the map. If this is 1/2“ on a 1” map this will give you 200/2640, & an answer of 1/13 approx
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[underlined] Scales. [/underlined]
Every map reprints an area of ground but of course on a very reduced scale. A scale in the relationship of measurement between points on the map to equivalent distances on the ground. If 2 points A & B are 1 mile apart on the actual ground, and 1” on the map, this will mean that 1” on the map represents 1 mile on the ground.
(a) By wording such as 1” map or 1/2“ map etc.
(b) By a representative fraction. (R.F) 1/5280 1/63360
(c) By a drawn scale.
[Underlined] Orientation. [/underlined]
Before a map can be used or read properly, it must be set, that is having the North line of the map pointing to the North of the ground it represents. Again it may be necessary to proceed in a direction from a given point, or it may be desired to know the direction of any land mark from a given point. Lay the compass on the map, and let the compass needle point to magnetic North, and then turn the map without moving the compass, so that
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[Inserted] [Numbers] [/inserted]
the North line on the map coincides with the North of the Compass needle. If a magnetic variation is shown the map must be set to this line. If no compass is available, identify some object on the map that can also be identified on the ground, such as a church, windmill etc. Draw a line on the map from your position to the object, then turn the map with this line pointing towards the object on the ground.
[Inserted] [Numbers] [/inserted]
[Underlined] Finding your position on a map. [/underlined] 12.8.42.
First, set the map using a compass. If you are in a known locality identify two objects on the ground that can also be identified on the map, such as church, bridge etc. Draw a pencil line through each side on map in the direct direction of the objects, & then draw the line backwards until they meet. This is the exact position occupied. This position can be checked by finding two other objects and proceeding as before.
[Underlined] Finding True North by a Watch. [/underlined]
If summer time is in effect set the hour hand
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back 1 hour, point the hour hand towards the sun, and the minute hand to 12. Bisect the angle between the hour hand and 12 oclock, this will give you a North & South line approximately.
[Underlined] Finding true North at Night. [/underlined]
The Pole star which is found by drawing a line through the pointers of the Plough, is never more than 2 degrees from true North., so that the relation between Cassiopea [sic] and the Plough is used to determine true North.
[Underlined] Grid Reference. [/underlined]
Grid references are indicated by figures. eg. 177532. The first 3 figures must be read from West to East, or left to right of map. The next 3 figures must be read from South to North, or bottom to top of map. First of all find the axis point of The square indicated on the map by 1 & 5 of this number. Having found the point where the thick vertical line marked 1 0, and the thick horizontal line marked 5 0, proceed
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next to count 7 divisions east of this point, then estimate 7/10 th of the following square. After locating this point count 3 divisions North, and then 2/10 th of the following square. This is the exact position occupied.
[Underlined] Definitions. [/underlined]
[Underlined] True North [/underlined] This is the direction of the North Pole from the point of observation.
[Underlined] Magnetic North. [/underlined]
This is the direction towards which a compass needle points when it comes to rest. Ensure that needle is not affected by the presence of iron or magnet etc. [Inserted] [calculations] [/inserted]
[Underlined] Magnetic Variation [/underlined]
This is the angle in degrees West or East of true North.
[Underlined] Grid North. [/underlined]
This is a position shown by line running vertically on a map. These are only to locate grid positions.
1 Statute Mile = 1760 yds
1760 x 3 = 5280 ft.
5280 x 12 = 63360 inches.
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[Underlined] Aug 13th 1942 Cpl Jameson [/underlined]
The carburettor is a device for mixing petrol & air in the correct proportion, and supplying this mixture to the engine through the induction manifold. The main components of the carburettor are:-
[Underlined] Float Chamber., [/underlined] to keep a constant supply of petrol at the carburettor.
[Underlined] The Float. [/underlined] Operating an [inserted] the [/inserted] needle valve which maintains the correct level of petrol in the float chamber.
[Underlined] Main Jet. [/underlined]:- of a size to allow the correct quantity of petrol to pass into the mixing chamber, where mixing and vapourisation of petrol and air takes place. (The normal mixture is 15 parts of air to 1 part of petrol.).
[Underlined] The Pilot jet [/underlined] allows the engine to tick over when throttle valve is closed.
[Underlined] The Throttle Valve. [/underlined] which controls the amount of mixture passing into the cylinder, and therefore regulates engine speed and power.
[underlined] Air Strangler [/underlined] or Starting Carburettor (known as choke). To provide the rich mixture for starting a cold engine.
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[Underlined] Air Filter [/underlined] Prevents dust & dirt from entering the engine through the carburettor. When the engine is turning, the pistons descending in the cylinder create a depression or suction in the induction manifold. This causes air to enter the air intake through the air filter. As this air passes the head of the jet which protrudes into the mixing chamber, a certain amount of petrol is drawn from the jet, and is mixed thoroughly with air before passing into the engine. The quantity of mixture allowed to pass to the engine is governed by the position of the throttle valve.
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[Underlined] CARBURETTOR. [/underlined] 15th Aug 1942
Cpl Jameson.
[Diagram]
Gravity feeds, petrol tank higher than carburettor.
{Petrol Pump.
{Autovac, petrol tank higher [deleted words] [inserted] [deleted] lower [/deleted] than carburettor. [/inserted]
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[Diagram]
[Underlined] THE ENGINE LUBRICATION SYSTEM. [/underlined]
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[Underlined] The Engine Lubrication System. [/underlined]
The object of the lubrication system is to maintain a supply of oil to all working parts of the engine, such as main and big end bearings, pistons & cylinders etc, and so reduce friction and wear to a minimum. The main components are:
1 The sump which contains engine oil 34A 34/36.
2 An oil pump to force oil from the sump through pipes and ductings to the bearing surfaces.
3 A pressure relief valve to maintain a constant oil pressure while preventing excessive pressure which would probably cause damage to pump or pipes.
4. A filter through which the used oil is cleaned before again passing through the oil channels.
5. Pressure guage, tell tale or warning light to register pressure in the system and to warn the driver when the oil pump is not working correctly.
[Underlined] Main Bearings, big end bearings [/underlined] and sometimes [underlined] Cam Shaft Bearings [/underlined] are fed with oil by direct pressure from the pump, other working parts such as pistons, cylinder walls, small end bearings, cams, valves and tappets which are not fed by pressure, are lubricated by splash or oil mist. This is formed by the oil thrown out of the big ends against the crank case and cylinder walls, where it is broken up
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into fine particles and penetrates to all parts of the crank case. Oil thrown out eventually falls back into circulation.
[Underlined] Necessary Maintenance [/underlined] Check and top up daily with engine oil, every 2000 miles oil must be changed, filters cleaned, unions tightened, and oil leaks reported.
[Underlined] Faults. [/underlined] Engine overheated, caused by low oil level in sump, wrong grade of oil, dirty filter, broken pump, or broken pipes and leaks.
[Inserted] Certain vehicles are fitted with hypoid back axles, and in such cases the back axle will have to be filled with extreme high pressure lubricant. Some gear boxes also have to be filled with extreme high pressure lubricant. In all cases refer to Maintenance Schedule for instructions appertaining to any types of back axle. [/inserted]
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[Underlined] Accident Procedure. Form 446. [/underlined]
If involved in an accident while driving a service vehicle. STOP., and attend to injured persons if any. If necessary obtain medical aid for them quickly. [Underlined] DO NOT ADMIT LIABILITY. [/underlined] by word or deed, or even discuss the question of blame, nor must the service personnel with you. Should a police officer appear on the scene await his permission before continuing your journey. If he requires a statement from you or any Service personnel this may be given to him, but only to him, and out of hearing of any other person. Report the accident immediately on your return. If you have been unable to give the accident slip below to the other person involved, or to a police officer, you must inform your Commanding Officer of this, so that he may report the accident to the police within 24 hours, in accordance with Section 22 of the Road Traffic Act 1930. If you are not returning to your station within 24 hrs, report the accident to the nearest police officer or station.
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[Diagram]
Complete 446, sketches etc, and return form which authorises the treasury solicitor to act on your behalf.
[Page break]
Cpl Cantley.
[Underlined] Aug 20th 1942. [/underlined]
[Underlined] Mechanical Fuel Pump. [/underlined]
The mechanical fuel pump consists mainly of:-
(1) a diaphragm connected to a lever which is moved by a cam on the Cam shaft, (2) a spring, a chamber in which are two valves and a filter with connecting pipes. When the engine is turned the cam moves the lever, and the diaphragm is pulled downwards, compressing the spring and creating a suction in the pump chamber. This unseats the suction valve and petrol is drawn into the chamber from the tank through the filter. As the cam moves away from the lever, the spring expands forcing the diaphragm upwards. This creates a pressure in the chamber which closes the suction valve and opens the pressure valve forcing petrol through a pipe to the carburettor float chamber.
[Underlined] Electronically Operated Pump [/underlined]
Some vehicles are fitted with an electrically operated fuel pump. Here the diaphragm and valve principle are similar to the mechanical pump, but electrical energy
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derived from the battery is used to operate the diaphragm instead of mechanical energy as before.
[Underlined] Auto-Vac. [/underlined]
On certain heavy vehicles noticeably on Crossleys an Auto-Vac is fitted in the system. With this device a depression or suction caused by the engine pistons or inductor strokes is used to raise petrol to an auxiliary tank on the dash from which it flows into the carburettor by force of gravity.
[Diagram]
[Underlined] Aug 24th 1942. [/underlined]
[Calculations]
[Inserted] From 6 in the morning till 6 at night, the small angle of bisection Gives South.
[Deleted] From [/deleted] After 6pm till sunset, the small angle of bisection gives North.
[Diagram]
[Page break]
[Underlined] Aug 25th 1942 [/underlined]
[Underlined] Cpl Sheridan. [/underlined]
[Underlined] Cooling [/underlined]
An internal combustion engine gets hot when running, but it must not become too hot, or damage will occur, nor must the engine become too cool. To maintain the necessary temperature, a water cooling system is used. The heat producing parts of the engine are surrounded by passage ways or jackets through which the water flows in a steady stream. It is a natural law that when the water is heated, the heated portion tends to rise to the surface. In a car, the hot water from the top of the cylinder block flows up a pipe to the top of the [deleted] cylinder [/deleted] radiator. As it descends through the radiator it is cooled, and having reached the bottom of the radiator, flows back into the water jackets replacing the hotter liquid leaving at the top. Thus a continual flow is maintained on the Thermo Syphon system. The flow may be assisted by an engine driven pump such as a centrifugal pump, or an impellor assisted pump. To assist still further in reaching the temperature needed for correct running,
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a thermostatic principal [sic] can be used. The thermostatic principal [sic] means that s thermo static valve would be fitted in the near vicinity of the cylinder block, & the valve because it is affected by heat would disallow the water from the cylinder block to pass it and come into contact with the cold water in the radiator. In other words it means simply that the thermo static valve enables the water already in the cylinder block, to be heated at the correct temperature without interfering with the main source of supply coming from the radiator.
In very cold weather there is a danger of damage being cause by the water freezing in the cooling system, hence the need for anti-freezing mixture or the complete drainage of the system if the engine is left idle.
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[Underlined] SIMPLE COIL IGNITION CIRCUIT. [/underlined]
[Diagram]
[Page break]
[Underlined] Coil Ignition [/underlined]
The method in which the coil ignition system works is as follows:-
By switching on the ignition making a complete electrical circuit. There will be a low current in the case of the 12 V Battery. There will be 12 Volts flowing through to the ammeter, and from there through the ignition switch and so on to the primary winding, and from there to the contact breaker points (which are usually fitted in the distributor head). At this stage the contact breaker points will open and break down that first initial current, but in losing one current a new current is induced from the primary winding on to the secondary winding, which is approx. 15,000 Volts. This new current will then be sent through to the contact breaker points and this time they will close and allow the new circuit to go to the Rotor Arm of the distributor head. The Rotor Arm will then distribute the electricity by means of segments in the distributor casing to
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each plug in turn.
The mag. dynamo is distinctive from the coil ignition system in as much that it depends entirely on itself and provides its own spark to the plug points. The coil ignition system cannot do this as it depends upon its battery for its initial source of energy.
The condenser used in conjunction with coil ignition systems absorbs any excess electricity which might cause pitting or sparking or blackening of the points. Too much electricity causes carbon at the points, this in turn would cause tracking or arcing at the points.
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[Underlined] Aug 26th 194[missing number] [/underlined]
War gas is a term used to denote any chemical whether liquid, solid or vapour which has poisonous or injurious effects upon the body.
[Diagram]
CAP. = White crystalline solid.
BAC. = Yellow [indecipherable] crystalline solid very persistent. Frontal headaches. Stinging of skin.
SK = Very persistent. Reddish Brown. Attacks eyes. Smell – Pear Drops, iodine, pineapple.
DM = Dirty green solid. When heated gives of [sic] vapour. Causes vomiting, tickling in nose & throat. Arsenical Smokes. Frontal headaches.
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Image 22 of 46 Left Hand Page
Aching gums & teeth. Causes acute depression, with [indecipherable] tendencies if concentrations is high. Takes effect after 5 mins. Effects wear off after 12 hrs. Dangerous to food & water. Shake Clothes.
[Underlined] Chlorine [/underlined] Greenish yellow vapour. Invisible when diffused in the air. Corrodes metals & destroys clothing & fabric. Causes asphyxiation.
[Underlined] Phosgene [/underlined] Invisible. Smells of musty hay. Corrodes metals. Rots clothing. Coughing at first then a feeling of well being; but affects take place later. Destroys taste of tobacco.
No2 ANTI-Gas Ointment = “Chloramine T”.
[Underlined] Chloropicrin. [/underlined] Effects as Tear & Nose Gas. Cumulative effect. Violent coughing.
[Underlined] Arsenic [/underlined] Colourless vapour. Non Persistent. Can be obtained from Calcium Arsenite. Pins & needles in limbs. Attacks kidneys & liver. Destroys Red Corpuscles in body. Severe pains in stomach sickness & nausea. Faint smell onions.
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[Underlined] Mustard. [/underlined] Dark oily substance. Smells of onions or horseradish. Soluble in fats.
[Underlined] Lewisite. [/underlined] Smell of Geraniums. In pure form no smell. Persistent.
Blisters (Lewisite & Mustard) form after 4-8 hrs, with vapour 6-8 hrs, & take 3 [deleted] weeks [/deleted] [inserted] months [/inserted] to heal. Mustard leaves a scar, lewisite does not leave scar.
[Underlined] Mustard [/underlined] turns detector dark red.
[Underlined] Lewisite [/underlined] turns detector bright red – almost purple.
[Inserted] Lewisite turns detector bright red almost purple
[Indecipherable]
F/Lt Wilke [/inserted]
[Page break]
(a) [Underlined] Decontamination [/Underlined] (b) [Underlined] Principles & Methods [/underlined]
(a) [Underlined] PRINCIPALS [sic] (b) METHODS [/underlined]
1. (a) Removal (b) Hosing, mopping, solvents.
2. (a) Destruction (b) Boiling, burning bleaching
3. (a) Sealing. (b) Water Glass, earth, earth and bleach, paper.
4. (a) Weathering & Avoidance. (b) Sun, Wind Rain.
[Underlined] Contamination [/underlined] is the presence of any chemical whether liquid, solid, or vapour on any object person or thing capable of giving off a poisonous gas.
[Underlined] Decontamination [/underlined] is the minimising of contamination, so as to render the object, person or thing safe for personel [sic].
[Underlined] Factors which influence our choice of methods. [/underlined]
1) Degree of danger to personel [sic].
2) Amount & type of contamination.
3) Facilities available.
4) Type of surface.
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[Underlined] Decontamination of M.T. Vehicles [/underlined]
Keep all doors & windows closed. Run to site prepared in MT. yard if possible. Tracks of bleach should be laid down for vehicle to run over.
[Underlined] Types of surface to be treated [/underlined]
1) Woodwork.
2) Metal Work
3) Rubber.
4) Canvas etc.
The first general treatment is to hose down vehicle. Failing this mop off surface liquid with rag. 10lbs of bleach paste – 1 gall water. Cover woodwork with this, scrub it in & leave till decontamination work is carried out.
[Underlined] Metal Work [/underlined] contamination removed by solvent or paraffin.
[Underlined] Engines. [/underlined] Preliminary mopping, & remove surface contamination. Uncouple all electric leads & wash with methylated spirit. Use rags to remove all grease & dirt. Pour solvent over till it runs off clean. Rub all over metal work & engine with rags dipped in solvent. Never use cotton waste on engine.
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[Underlined] Rubber [/underlined] Types will absorb blister gas.
a) tyres will be washed with petrol or covered with bleach paste in which case paste will be left for 2 or 3 days.
b) Gross contamination may not be altogether removed in this manner in which case a distinguishing mark (a yellow oval label with purple diagonals) is affixed to the tyres affected, as a warning when removal becomes necessary. (use gloves or No 2 A. G. Ointment)
[Underlined] Canvas. [/underlined] Fabric and canvas can be treated with bleach paste, cover both sides if badly contaminated, if heavily contaminated – burn, lightly cont. – boil.
c) [Underlined] Leatherwork [/underlined] If heavily contaminated upholstery etc should be removed & destroyed. If facilities are available leather will be boiled & decontaminated. If cont. is light treat with No 2 Anti-Gas Ointment & leave for 3 hrs, then remove & apply another layer & allow to remain.
Final hosing down of all external surfaces to remove bleach paste the vehicle is allowed to weather for 24 hrs
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if circumstances permit.
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[Underlined] Friday Aug 28th Cpl Edwards [/underlined]
[Underlined] Dynamo and its uses. [/underlined]
The dynamo is fitted to an engine, and can be driven either by belt, timing wheels, or timing chains.
Main purpose is to supply the accumulator with a charge of Low Tension current so that when such as the horn & lights are to be used when the engine is not running, the accumulator or battery will not be empty of charge.
When the engine is running, dynamo charging indication is given by means of the ammeter. The ammeter registers also the discharge from the accumulator to the accessories.
The charge reading is from the dynamo to the accumulator.
The ammeter is situated in the wiring between the dynamo and the battery.
[Underlined] Cut out. [/underlined] An electrical device also fitted between dynamo and battery and its main purpose is to prevent the battery from discharging its current back to the dynamo
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when the engine is switched off.
[Underlined] Battery [/underlined] Lead Acid = Distilled Water.
KNI-FE = Electrolyte. [Inserted] Distilled Water [/inserted]
Utensils must not be used at the same time for both types unless thoroughly cleaned between ops.
[Underlined] The Care and Maintenance of an Accumulator. [/underlined]
Never spill liquid. Absolute cleanliness of the top of the battery. Get clean from oil dirt & dust. Terminal posts to be free from verdigris. All connections from accumulator (or battery) smeared on the outside with vaseline, filler stopper cap, air vents to be kept open. (Battery a storage plant which feeds the accessories when any certain switch is operated).
[Underlined] Commutator and Carbon Brushes. [/underlined]
Commutator is at one end of an armature shaft. Its object is to collect in one part the electrical current in the dynamo. Riding on the face of the commutator is a
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carbon brush, and this carries the current to the accumulator wire terminals.
[Underlined] Braking Systems. [/underlined]
Mechanical = muscular inertion [sic].
Servo = Engine assisted.
Hydraulic = Fluid moved along a pipe.
[Underlined] Mechanical Braking [/underlined] Where rods, cables & levers are moved when applying brakes, either hand or foot. This calls for constant energy on the part of the driver.
[Underlined] Servo [/underlined] or engine assisted. By the sue of a Servo motor which is coupled to the brake rods cables or levers and their movement is helped by this mechanical device inasmuch that the pedal opens a valve (when engine is running) and the engine itself, not the drivers pressure on the pedal, moves these rods cables & levers.
[Underlined] Hydraulic System. [/underlined] This system only operates
[Page break]
with foot brake mechanism. Works on all four wheels, each brake having a pipe leading to the master cylinder. This master cylinder contains oil as also do the pipes, one end of the master cylinder having a piston which when the foot brake is depressed, moves the oil along these pipes under pressure.
An oil well or Reservoir keeps the Master Cylinder supplied with the correct quantity of hydraulic oil.
Although rods, levers, & cables or fluid under pressure may apply the brakes, only the return springs or “pull off” release the brakes.
[Diagram]
[Page break]
Aug 31st 1942.
Cpl. Edwards.
[Underlined] Convoy Regulations. [/underlined]
[Underlined] Distances between Vehicles. [/underlined] In normal traffic (town) 12 yds apart. In open country 50 yds. (not less). Whilst parking 6ft must be left on either side of your vehicle. This must be done if possible off the road, never stop at a cross road, a narrow bridge, a steep hill, congested area, always try for a site where one can enter and leave with a minimum delay. At night when parked in line the leading vehicle will carry two lighted side lamps only. The rear vehicle will have its tail light clearly visible to oncoming traffic. Before halting always make sure that authority has been given to do so, as the driver is not allowed to mount or dismount without the Convoys Commanders consent. Always leave the handbrake full on.
One halt is made in every hour and then any questions concerning the running of the
[Page break]
car, the shifting of the load etc etc., will be reported to the N.C.O. I.C. Block. No lifts may be given without authority. A.M.O/71.
When travelling in convoy this is split in blocks (for Control). Leader of the convoy details speed, arranges halts, arranges detours of towns and adapts the speed of the convoy [underlined] to suit the speed of the slowest vehicle in the convoy. [/underlined]
The C.C. gives orders to B.C. and the second I.C. [inserted] (in command) [/inserted] is always in the rear vehicle, complete with fitter & tool kit. Their job is to find out whether a vehicle which has stopped with engine trouble, can be repaired or beyond repair. If totally U/S., the load has to be redistributed among the other vehicles. If car has to be towed, phone through to the nearest R.A.F. Camp from the local police station. Inform a CO [inserted] of the Transport where you are phoning [/inserted] of whereabouts also whether car can be towed in ordinary manner. [Deleted] To keep [/deleted]
To keep in touch with all vehicles, the driver will maintain a keen
[Page break]
look out through the mirror or rear panel, for the car behind. If the car behind stops, you will stop. This carries on until the whole of the convoy is brought to a standstill, and applies only to mechanical breakdown.
Average speed of Convoy is 12 miles per hour.
A.O.G. Aircraft on Ground.
If ill, give the “overtake” signal to driver behind.
Can obtain the M.T. officer & Adjutant’s permission to take any of the station personel [sic] on a trip, if this doesn’t entail any alteration of the route.
[Page break]
[Underlined] Cpl Cantley [/underlined]
[Underlined] Sep 1st [/underlined] 1942.
[Underlined] Braking Systems. [/underlined]
A means of slowing down or periodically stopping is the purpose for which automobile brakes are fitted. The heavier the vehicle and load and the greater the speed, the harder becomes the task of the brakes, and the more efficient they are required to be. The most efficient brakes are those which will without locking the wheels and causing skidding do this task in the shortest time and distance. The types of brakes most vehicles are fitted with are internal expanding brakes. That is shoes fitted inside brake drums operated by different methods which by expanding the shoes bring them in contact with the inside of the drums. The shoes are firmly fixed to an anchor plate, the drums being free to revolve with the wheels. The shoes are surfaced with what is known as brake lining, a special material manufactured for this purpose. When shoes are expanded by the depression of the foot pedal, they are returned to the “off” position by means of springs.
[Underlined] Adjustment. [/underlined] Brakes are correctly adjusted when the
[Page break]
shoes are just clear of the drums in the “off” position. If this is correctly done only a small amount of travel will be required on the foot pedal to bring them on. They must also be so that effect is brought to bear on all wheels evenly.
[Underlined] Braking Methods. [/underlined] The most usual methods of braking are.
1. Mechanically operated.
2. Hydraulically operated.
3. Vacuum Servo assisted.
In the several existing types of mechanically operated brakes in use the adjustment is effected by means of screw devices on the operating rods or drums. As from foot pedal to drums the operation is carried out by means of rods and or cables in conjunction with levers.
In the hydraulically operated system the operator depends on fluid contained in a master cylinder which is directly connected with the foot pedal which when depressed pumps this fluid along a series of pipe lines to the drums where it enters secondary cylinders inside the drums. containing small pistons which in operation force the shoes apart in the drum. This pressure
[page break]
applied to the foot pedal is equally distributed to all drums simultaneously, which causes even braking.
The main things requiring attention in the system are keep system full of fluid and avoid all leakage.
[Underlined] The Vacuum Servo System [/underlined] is dependent for its operation on suction from the inlet manifold in the engine to operate a piston in a separate cylinder. The piston rod connected to the braking system augments or assists the driver’s effort in depressing the foot pedal.
[Inserted] [Numbers] [inserted]
[Page break]
A dynamo is a mechanical device which converts mechanical energy into electrical energy in the form of a Low Tension current which is used to charge the battery.
Magneto is a device which converts mechanical energy into electrical energy in the form of a High Tension Current to supply the necessary sparks to plug points.
[Inserted] A dynamo is a [indecipherable word] which converts [indecipherable words] which is used to [indecipherable words] [/inserted]
[inserted][Indecipherable words][/inserted]
[Page break]
Aug 31st 194[missing number].
[Inserted] [indecipherable]
AF G George
BB284 [/inserted]
[Underlined] First Aid for Gas. [/underlined]
[Underlined] Tear Group. [/underlined] Feeling of hysteria. Irrigate eyes with saline soln (1 teas salt – 1 pt water). May use same quantity of bicarb of soda soln if necessary.
[Underlined] Nose Group. [/underlined] DM. Remove Dentures. Give bicarb of soda if patient is sick. Remove any weapons. Give alcohol or hot tea. Can give a nasal douch and irrigate eyes.
[Underlined] Lethal Group. [/underlined] Dealt with by M.O. Treat for surgical shock, and keep patient warm. Raise feet 6”. Apply hot water bottles to hands and feet if possible. Give sips of hot sweet tea. [Underlined] NEVER GIVE ALCOHOL., [/underlined] as it irritates the already damaged lungs. Keep on Res. Patient will be coughing violently.
[Underlined] Phosgene. [/underlined] Concentration will have to be fairly high before the patient starts coughing. There may be a feeling of well being, but patient is definitely a stretcher case. Never allow patient to move.
[Underlined] Arsenic [/underlined] Treat for shock. Take to MO, stating how long patient has been in the concentration. Effects may be delayed. Reassure.
[Page break]
[Underlined] Blister Group. [/underlined] Lewisite, Mustard or E.D. Irrigate eyes if necessary for 10mins. Send casualties to M.O. May shade damaged eye but do not completely cover. Mop off any surplus liquid, then apply No. 2 ANTI-Gas Ointment. Do not put this on skin under eyes.
[Underlined] Personal Decontamination [/underlined] Scrub skin until it turns pink. Use a shower if possible.
Lewisite blisters contain arsenic. Bathe with hydrogen peroxide, and allow a swab to remain for 1/2 hour. E.D. Rub down with soda [indecipherable word] after having applied ointment.
[Underlined] Carbon Monoxide [/underlined] Sleepiness & unconsciousness. Apply artificial respiration. Take to M.O.
H.C.M. Use artificial Respiration. Keep warm. M.O.
[Underlined] Phosphorenes. [/underlined] Remove with tweezers. Take off clothing. Damp, field dressing with Saline soln and apply. Send to M.O. Treat for shock, give hot sweet tea if possible.
[Page break]
[Numbers]
4th September. 1942.
Cpl Howell
[Underlined] The Use and Abuse of the Choke. [/underlined]
The use of the choke is to provide a rich mixture for starting a cold engine. The abuse of the choke causes the engine to overheat and the dilution of the oil in the sump.
[Underlined] The Lighting Circuit [/underlined]
A circuit may be wired [deleted] into [/deleted] in two different ways, Single pole and double pole. In the double pole circuit two wires are used, while in the single pole circuit the body of the lamp is used as an earth wire. Care must be taken when replacing bulbs to see (that) whether single pole or double pole bulbs are needed also whether 6 V or 12 V.
[Underlined] Necessary Maintenance [/underlined]
See that all connections are clean and tight, and that no wires are bare or frayed.
[Underlined] Running Faults. [/underlined]
Lights Flicker caused by dirty or loose connections.
Two or more lights go out, usually caused by burnt (or blown) fuse. Before rewiring fuse make sure that the cause is found and remedied
[Page break]
before fitting new fuse.
Sept 7th Cpl Howell.
[Underlined] Motor Transport [inserted] Maintenance [/inserted] Form 656. [/underlined]
Form 656 is a Vehicle Maintenance Form. It is a record of the details concerning the vehicle whose registration No. it carries. It is issued monthly and the details for entry on Form 656 includes:- [Underlined] Front Side. [/underlined] Vehicle registered No. Vehicle Type.
Month for which the Form [inserted] is [/inserted] current.
Drivers Name.
Mileage at which periodical inspections fall due.
Speedometer reading Daily.
Daily Mileage.
Total miles or hours run to date.
Petrol issues.
Oil Issues.
Signature of Driver carrying out daily inspection.
Signature of N.C.O. checking daily inspection
Total mileage run during the month.
Total petrol used during month.
[Page break]
[Inserted] P Peter
B Flight [/inserted]
Average miles per gallon.
[Underlined] Reverse side [/underlined]
Vehicle Defects as they become apparent.
Repairs as they are carried out.
Details of periodic inspections, and Signature of persons carrying them out.
Certificate that all 656 Entries have been copied into Form 813. (Vehicle Log Book).
The Driver is responsible for marking all entries in the daily log, for signing on completion of daily inspection, for entering particulars of defects as they occur, and for signing in appropriate column on completion of all periodical inspections.
[Inserted] Date Speeds at D.I. [indecipherable words] Speed to date P. O. oil Daily [indecipherable words]
Vehicle type 500
Reg No. 2000
[indecipherable words]
[Page break]
[Underlined] 500 – Mile Inspection. [/underlined]
Care must be taken to observe from the Form 656 when an inspection is due, and prior to the mileage at which the inspection is due the N.C.O. I.C. Transport should be warned. The Maintenance Schedule which is an instruction book, is provided for every type of vehicle in the service, and this should be obtained before the commencement of a periodical inspection. Details of parts requiring attention at each inspection will be found in the Maintenance Schedule. A 500 mile inspection consists mainly of:-
(1) The daily inspection.
(2) Washing down of vehicle.
(3) Lubrication of all moving parts such as steering, universal joint, brake linkages, springs etc.
(4) Inspection of tyres for signs of wear, and misalignment.
(5) Topping up of batteries with distilled water.
(6) Security of all parts and visual inspection for damage.
[Page break]
[Underlined] Sept 10th 1942. [/underlined]
[Underlined] Cpl. Sheridan. [/underlined]
[Underlined] |Frost Precautions [/underlined]
For vehicles which are not required to stand by, water to be drained from every part of the cooling system. Particular attention to be paid to the water circulating pumps, and cylinder block cocks. Petrol to be turned off, engine to be run on petrol remaining in carburettor. For vehicles which are required to stand by Correct cover or substitute to be placed over bonnet. Lighted lamp (catalytic) to be placed under the bonnet after petrol is turned off and cleared from the system.
It is essential that a wire or rod be placed through plug holes and drain cocks frequently to ensure that sludge and deposit are not accumulating and obstructing the clear flow of water.
When a vehicle is standing by out in the open in severe wintry weather where no water for the radiator is available, the
[Page break]
vehicle must be parked in the open in a sheltered position, radiator away from the wind, bonnet cover or substitute should be fitted and whether anti-freezing mixture is used or not the engine should be run for a period of 5 minutes every hour. Anti-freezing compound consists of 9 parts ethylene-clycol [sic] to 16 parts of water.
In the event of the system freezing up hot water rags will be applied to the affected parts.
Ist Oct to beginning of May.
[Page break]
[Underlined] Care of Tyres. Cpl Sheridan [/underlined]
Tyres can be ruined by bad driving. For example fierce braking, harsh acceleration, going over rough roads at high speeds, mounting the pavement, scraping the side of the kerb. Tyres must not be left standing in oil. Any stones etc which are noticed lodging in the tyres are to be removed immediately, and above all the correct tyre pressure is essential, because the more tyre exposed to the road than is necessary means consequent rapid tyre wear.
11th Sept 1942.
Cpl Sheridan.
[Underlined] The Lead Acid Type Battery. [/underlined]
The battery consists of an outer container of robust construction, which must be non-porous, acid proof, and also a good insulator. This container holds the acid or electrolyte, and also the plates and separators. The plate consists of:- lead alloy grids or frames
[Page break]
constructed with numerous recesses into which is pressed the chemicals, which supply the electrical energy. In order to prevent contact between oposite [sic] plates, non-conducting separaters [sic] of ebonite or specially treated wood are used. The electrolyte used to cover the plates is diluted sulphuric acid and plays a very important part in the chemical action of the battery. When the battery is in a fully charged condition the electrolyte is dilute sulphuric acid, the chemical on the positive plate is lead peroxide which is hard and of chocolate colour, and that on the negative grey spongy lead. When the battery is connected to a complete electrical circuit owing to the different nature of these chemicals they react [inserted] with the electrolyte and [/inserted] with each other [deleted] and [/deleted] this causes an electric current to flow. When the battery is in a fully discharged condition both sets of plates are covered with lead sulphate, and have a whiteish grey appearance with the electrolyte almost water, for the
[Page break]
Sulphion [sic] has been taken away from the electrolyte to form lead sulphate. In this condition both plates are coated with lead sulphate and as there is now no difference between the chemicals on the plates there is no difference in electrical level, and no flow of current.
[Underlined] Methods of Immobilisation [/underlined]
(1) Ignition will be switched off and ignition key taken away if possible. Lock all doors and windows and remove rotor arm from distributor.
(2) If unable to remove rotor arm another method would be to remove the upper half of the mechanical petrol pump if vehicle is fitted with same.
(3) If the vehicle is fitted with steering which can be locked, this will be sufficient in itself.
(4) (In the event of the vehicle.)
In the case of Fordson Vehicles the throttle arm can be easily removed.
[Page break]
[Underlined] M. T. Forms Cpl. Sheridan. [/underlined]
[Underlined] 748 – Inventory Form. [/underlined]
This is a schedule of all equipment in the vehicle. If a driver is sent to a storage depot to collect a vehicle, the vehicle is checked with a form 748, the driver making observations when an article is missing.
(Note [inserted] Form [/inserted] 464 is inserted into the back of Form 748.). and is known as Issues and Withdrawal form
813 [Underlined] Vehicle Log Book. [/underlined]
This records the history of the vehicle. Eg. Record of overhauler, Repairs, replacements, mileage and miles per gallon.
Note Form 748 and 813 must accompany the vehicle whenever it is dispatched to a new unit.
446. [Underlined] Accident Report Form. [/underlined]
260. [Underlined] Route Form. [/underlined]
Contains instructions for the Route to be taken by the driver.
Note. Form 446 and 260 always carried
[Page break]
in vehicle.
656. [Underlined] Vehicle Maintenance [/underlined]
658. [Underlined] Transport Requisition [/underlined]
Should be carried but the driver when proceeding on a journey. On the front of the form is stated type of vehicle required, destination, time to pick up, place to pick up, date, route to be followed and the signature of the person requesting transport, and the person authorising the use of it. On the back of the form is put the speedometer reading before and after the journey, the mileage covered, time in and out, and drivers signature.
[Underlined] Booking Out and Booking In Book. [/underlined]
Before leaving the transport yard with a vehicle always book your vehicle out in the booking out book, stating the speedometer reading, destination, type of vehicle, time of leaving yard. On your return, enter time of return
[Page break]
total time occupied, and the speedometer reading.
814. [Underlined] Record of Transport Mileage. [/underlined]
Record of all mileages of M.T. Vehicles in a Transport Section. The monthly totals are used to find the miles per gallon consumption of each vehicle.
361. [Underlined] Petrol Log Book. [/underlined]
Record of all petrol drawn for vehicles in [deleted] 6 [/deleted] a transport section.
674. [Underlined] Internal Demand Voucher. [/underlined] [Inserted] 673 [indecipherable word] 675 Returns [/inserted]
This is used to demand stores etc. This form is made out for petrol and oil which may be required for the return journey when carrying out long trips.
2084. [Underlined] Billeting Form. [/underlined]
1771. [Underlined] Subsistence Allowance form. [/underlined] allows you to claim money after you have been away from Camp for so many hours.
[Page break]
[Underlined] Finding True North at Night. [/underlined]
[Diagram]
[Page break]
[Underlined] Sept 17th Cpl Sheridan [/underlined]
[underlined] Running Faults. [/underlined]
[Underlined] (a) Engine Misfires. (b) Ignition. (c) Carburettor. (d) Mechanical. [/underlined]
(b) Sparking plug. Porclain [sic] could be cracked. H.T. to spark plugs loose. Sparking plug gap incorrect. Battery connections loose. (c) Water in carburettor. Blockage in carburettor. Needle valve sticking. Petrol pump faulty. (d) Sticking Valve Valves burnt or broken. Valve spring broken Incorrect valve clearance.
(a) Engine starts and stops. (b) Faulty switch contact. L.T. lead loose. (c) Petrol line blocked. Water in petrol. Needle valve sticking. Petrol pump faulty. Petrol exhausted. Air leaks.
(a) Engine will not start. Starter does not crank engine. (b) [Deleted] Start [/deleted] No spark at plugs. Spark plug porcelain cracked. Spark plug oiled up. Spark plug gaps too wide or too close. L.T lead loose. Dirty or worn distributor points. (C. B point)
[Page break]
[Underlined] Running Faults. [/underlined]
(a) Engine will not start cont. [Underlined] (b) Ignition (c) Carburettor. (d) Mechanical. [/underlined]
(b) Carbon brush not making contact. Wrong gap at C.B. points. Faulty timing. Faulty condenser. Loose connection at back. Coil burnt out. (c) No petrol in carburettor. Air leak in petrol line. Blockage in carb. pipe line. Faulty petrol pump. Chocked jets. Air leak in induction manifold. Water in petrol. Dirt in carburettor.
[Page break]
[Underlined] Sept 18th Cpl Sheridan. [/underlined]
[Underlined] Fire Extinguishers and Precautions. [/underlined]
[Underlined] Fire Precautions [/underlined]
Pyrene fire extinguisher in a serviceable condition will be carried at all times on each vehicle. An M.T. Driver will not smoke when on duty in or near his vehicle. Report any small petrol leaks as they develop. Keep under shields free from oil and petrol. Do not flood the carburettor unnecessarily. If a fire occurs in the carburettor while the engine is running switch off the petrol, and open up the throttle. Never use water on an oil or petrol fire. If a small fire try to smother it with felt, or a blanket or even your greatcoat. When a petrol tap is fitted in the petrol system and a fire occurs, switch off the engine immediately and use fire extinguisher on an engine or carburettor fire. KEEP BONNET CLOSED., and direct pyrene through the louvres of the bonnet on to the seat of the fire, or the exhaust manifold if this is hot.
[Page break]
[Underlined] Instructions on collecting a vehicle. [/underlined]
The driver will collect railway warrant and route form (260), also temporary 656, [deleted] also 658 must be [/deleted]. On arriving at Maintenance Unit or R.A.F. Camp, report to person I.C. of vehicles. Before vehicle is taken away it must be checked by the 748. [Inserted] 748 + 813 to be brought back with vehicle.). [/inserted] If petrol is drawn for the vehicle – including oil, this will be noted on temporary 656, and will have to be signed for on a 674. Driver will sign at the bottom right hand side of 674, but at the same time the driver will be carrying the 658 for the return journey and the amount of petrol and oil drawn will be put on same, and will be signed by the person issuing, so making a double check. If the journey back entails being away from Camp for the night or more, a billeting form (2084) will be carried. In the event of having an accident on the return journey, 446 must be carried. On returning to Camp, vehicle will again be checked N.C.O. I.C. M.T. Section and the 658 will be handed in, complete with 813 and 748 and temporary 656.
[Page break]
[Underlined] Sept 22nd Cpl Chinook. [/underlined]
[Underlined] 446. Procedure. [/underlined]
1. You must always carry Form 446
2. Do not wait until an accident happens, get familiar with accident Report in advance.
3. Note that the front of Form 446 requires completion at the scene of the accident.
4. With the exception of the Sketch, the reverse side can be completed on your return to Unit.
5. [Underlined] The Sketch. [/underlined] Do not attempt an elaborate sketch, but you must get all measurements, road widths, skid marks, etc. Then sketch can be properly prepared on return.
6. [Underlined] Section H. [/underlined] The completion of this is very important. Detachable slip must be completed and handed to person concerned.
7. If your vehicle has received steering damage, do not attempt to drive back unless you are certain it is safe to do so, and should wheels be badly out of alignment the destruction of a tyre is almost certain
8. Accidents will happen, but, these can be no excuse for failing to obtain the necessary
[Page break]
information to complete Form 446 or adopting the correct procedure after the accident has occurred.
9. Remember, that an accident, however trivial in your opinion is an [underlined] accident [/underlined], and as such must be reported.
10. Having used your Form 446 don’t forget to obtain replacement without delay.
11. When making phone calls as in B & C of instructions ask exchange to reverse the charge for the call.
[Underlined] Lighting Regulations. Sept 22nd Cpl Sheridan [/underlined]
During lighting up times, must carry two white lights forward and two side lights, and one red light facing rear (tail). The side lights must be fitted so that the centre of the lamps is not more that 1ft from the extreme edge of the vehicle or its load. Bulbs used in side lamps must not exceed 7 Watts. The tail lamp must be fitted in the centre or on the off side, not higher than 3ft 6” from the ground and not more than 6ft from the extreme rear of the vehicle or its load.
[Page break]
on a P.S.V. or some older vehicles the tail lamp is fitted in a very high position, and in such cases the vehicle must carry a red reflector on a 12” [deleted] white [/deleted] background in the regulation tail lamp position.
[Underlined] Additional War time Regulations. [/underlined]
The side light must not show any light except towards the front. The aperture must not be more than 1” diameter and it must be covered by two thicknesses of newspaper, so that the light is clearly visible from 30 yds distance. A tail light must not show any light except a red light towards the rear. The aperture must be over 1” but not more than 2” in diameter.
[Underlined] Headlamps. [/underlined] must be fitted with a regulation mask or screened so that no light is thrown outside a radius of 15ft., power of bulbs must not be more than 36 Watts.
[Page break]
[Underlined] Sept 23rd Cpl Sheridan. [/underlined]
[Underlined] Towing. [/underlined]
The towing vehicle should be brought up to position so that both vehicles and the tow rope or cable are in a straight line. The tow rope should be attached to the towing hooks never to axles or springs. The slack of the tow rope should be taken up until the towing vehicle is just taking up the strain. When a disabled vehicle with no motive power is being moved the clutch of the towing vehicle must be engaged slowly and easly [sic] and smooth upchanging of gears must be made to prevent snatching of the tow rope. When towing over a long distance the driver of the towing vehicle is to use prearranged signals for stops etc. He must slow down gradually and make wide turns. The towed vehicle must have the number of the towing vehicle and the words [underlined] ON TOW [/underlined] clearly written on the tail board.
[Underlined] F.N. [/underlined] Length of tow-rope must not exceed more than 15ft.
[Underlined] Bogging. [/underlined]
When endeavouring to dislodge a bogged vehicle the clutches of both vehicles must be engaged
[Page break]
simultaneously, this will assist both vehicles in getting underway. When a vehicle is bogged and no other vehicle is available either of the following methods may be successful. Y
1). Keep engine revolutions low.
[Deleted] 2) [/deleted] Select Reverse gear, do not move steering wheel and vehicle may move out in its own tracks.
2) Dig away loose soil or sand from behind bogged wheels, so that a gentle sloping channel is formed. Line channel with stones or timber etc, or felt, sacking, or any material likely to afford grip for the driving vehicle. Gently try to reverse out.
F.N. After vehicle has been removed on to safe ground it will be inspected for damage.
Tow rope should be attached to centre of towing vehicle and to the off side of the towed vehicle.
[Page break]
[Underlined] Sept 24th Cpl Sheridan [/underlined]
[Underlined] Action of the Clutch. [/underlined]
[Underlined] Single Plate Clutch. [/underlined]
The elementary parts of a plate clutch consist of:-
1) Flywheel.
2) Friction Plate connected to the gear box driving shaft. (3) pressure plate attached to the flywheel and made to revolve with it.
4) Springs to keep plates together.
5) Clutch trunnion fork for operating the clutch in & out.
[Underlined] Actions Clutch in. [/underlined]
The friction plate is lightly gripped between flywheel and pressure plate by springs and forced round by the flywheel, hence the load is connected to the engine.
[Underlined] Clutch out. [/underlined]
Pressure plate is away from the flywheel against the springs releasing friction plate which is no longer carried round by the flywheel. This disconnects the engine and the load. [deleted] As the springs begin to force the plates [/deleted]
[Page break]
A dynamo is used to convert mechanical energy into electrical energy in the form of a L.T Current which is used to charge the battery.
A magneto is a device which is used to convert M. Energy into E Energy in the form of H. Tension used to supply the necessary spark to plug points.
[Underlined] Cpl. [/underlined]
[Page break]
[Blank Page]
[Page break]
[Blank Page]
[Page break]
Internal
Flywheel
Friction Plate connects gear box driving shaft
Pressure Plate attached to [indecipherable words]
[Page break]
Dee Bradley, C/O 52B Brook-Bank
68, Braythorne Avenue Clapham London
S.W.4.
574 Internal Demand.
Ops Stopped Pass
Order of Traffic Signs 34/36
Engine oil 34A/35 – 34A/56
Gear oil 34A/50 – 34A 57
[Indecipherable word] oil 34A/57 – 34A/61
[Indecipherable word] oil 34/68. – 34/12
Yellow Grease 34A/2 – 34A/61
Non [indecipherable word] 34A/61
From 2011188
TO. Officer Commanding M Section
DATE.
[Indecipherable words]
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[Blank page]
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[Back page]
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Jill Nicholl's MT course notebook
Description
An account of the resource
Includes don'ts for MT drivers, technical terms, notes on vehicle chassis and drive shafts, brakes, bearings, care and maintenance, inspections, controls and engines. Goes on with using maps and routes. Continues with lubricating systems, accident procedure, fuel pumps, ignition. Covers decontamination, dynamos. braking systems, convoy regulations, lighting, MT forms, frost precautions, batteries, methods of immobilization, MT Publications and logbooks, running faults, fire precautions and extinguishers, other MT procedures and regulations, towing,
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
J E K Nicholls
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1942-08
1942-09
Format
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Multi-page handwritten notebook
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Training material
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MNichollsJEK2011088-200201-01
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
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-08
1942-09
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
Contributor
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Anne-Marie Watson
ground personnel
service vehicle
training
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1236/16933/YThompsonKG1238603v2.2.pdf
1dcb8516a19e873133be11b133f2f6f7
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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Thompson, Keith G
K G Thompson
Description
An account of the resource
95 items. The collection concerns Flight Lieutenant Keith Thompson DFC (1238603 Royal Air Force) and contains his log book, documents, photographs and training material as well as his navigation logs. He flew operations as a navigator with 101 and 199 Squadrons.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Mark S Thompson and catalogued by Trevor Hardcastle.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2015-09-07
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
Thompson, KG
Access Rights
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Permission granted for commercial projects
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
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FIVE YEAR DIARY
JULY 16 ’42 to JULY 15 1943
16 JULY 1942
TRENTON, ONTARIO
[underlined] to [/underlined]
15 JULY 1943
CASTLE DONINGTON, DERBY
K.G.T.
[page break]
[calendar 1942 & 1943]
[signature]
[page break]
1238603 [deleted] LAC. [/deleted] [inserted] SGT [/inserted] THOMPSON K.G.
TRENTON. NO I “M.” DEPOT
NO. 1 AOS, MALTON.
31PD MONCTON, N.B. CAN.
HMT “QUEEN ELIZABETH”.
7 PDC PANNAL ASH COLLEGE HARROGATE
15 EFTS. KINGSTOWN,
7PPC GRAND HOTEL, HARROGATE
RAF. RGT. WHITLEY BAY. MCH. 20TH
7 PRC MAJESTIC HOTEL, HARR.
4 AOS WEST FREUGH, SCOTLAND.
28 OUT WYMESWOLD, LOUGHBOROUGH.
28 OTU CASTLE DONINGTON.
[underlined] NR. DERBY. [/underlined]
[underlined] FINIS [/underlined]
The Mind
Is a wonderful machine. It need but be just refreshed and incidents can again be revived in their former clarity.
A Line
Each Day, whether it be of the weather or of more important substances, will in time to come bring back those vague memories, worth remembering, to almost actual reality.
[page break]
Gran. M.
“ T.
U. Georg.
Maces.
Watson?
Cabins.
School RGS
Wark SPT
“ OTD
Kilnhurst Sch.
Swinton??
Dunne
A.E. & U.E.
[page break]
JANUARY 1
[underlined] FRI. 43 [/underlined]
No bfst. Parade 8-30 (?) turned out to be 9-0 am in the end & only 1/2 people on parade. Soup; turkey; ham spuds, cabbage; jelly & cust apple & orange; milk. Put on Draft. Working in P.O. [underlined] Letter from Doris & AG from Gran. [/underlined] 30c stamps Wrote AG & Ma. spaghetti & minced meat, bread & jam, tea. [underlined] Letter to Doris Posted AG [/underlined] to Ma. 8c milk 10c hot choc 5c dough nuts 2 x 6c Malted Milk
[page break]
JANUARY 2
SAT 43.
No bfst. Parade 9-0 am £3 pay. English £1 notes. HM, spuds, cabb, pud, sponge & jam, milk [underlined] NO MAIL. [/underlined] Packing. Pork chops; bean soup; tea; bread & jam. [underlined] Letter to Doris & $10 Money Order. Telegram to send watch home [/underlined] ($10.62 total.) 10c. soap; 10c hot choc & 18c. 3 packets peanuts. 15c. shoe polish. Finished packing kit bag, Everything in fine.
[page break]
JANUARY 3
[underlined] SUN 43 [/underlined]
No bfst. Parade 8-45. Just a roll call. No gen. except that we are leaving tomorrow AM Lamb, spuds, cabbage; mince pie & carnation milk; milk. No Parade. Played cards (Slippery Ann) Sleep. [underlined] Letters to Norah & Faiers. [/underlined] Lamb chop & spuds; bread & jam; tea & milk. Parade at 5-0. Assigned to train & coach (2-6) Parade 9-45 AM. Put Holmes shoes in my kit bag. 50c off Tarrant to pack kharki [sic] suit. [underlined] Letters to Doris, Allwyn & P.G. to Gran [/underlined] 20c. hot choc & egg sand 10c peanuts. 10c mints. 80c off Holmes for shoes.
[page break]
JANUARY 4
[underlined] MON 43. [/underlined]
Up at 7-0 AM. Porr. Cocoa poached egg; coffee. Collected letters for lads. [underlined] One from Doris Parade at 9-45. March out at 11-15. On train 11-45 Realy [sic] got under weigh [sic] at 1-15. [indecipherable word] haddock, spuds; peas; tea. Sleeping or at least attempted to Jerry & Williams playing chess Rotten meat; spuds & beans; soup; apple pie; coffee. Saw MO. 2 aspirins. Went to see Gwyn.
Crossed border. 9-15 PM
Watch back 1 hour.
[page break]
JANUARY 5
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; sos bread & but coffee. Had a wash cold water. Feel OK now. NEW HAVEN about 3 or 4 PM. chicken sand & ham snd. lemon cake (jam) spud, crisps, apple; sweets & milk. Arrived New York about 5-0 PM. (Electric loco pulling us.) Got on ferry boat & pulled out to midstream stopped there till about 6-30 to 7-30 PM landed on jetty. Given Mess & Bunk cards. Pork Chop, spuds, carrots, sago; brd & jam, coffee. Went to bed about 9-30 after good wash in cold water.
[page break]
[underlined] R.M.S. QE. [/underlined]
JANUARY 6
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
S/C about 6-30. Bfst. (8-0) got it at 9-15. bacon & egg, brd & jam; coffee. Walked round & round finaly [sic] saw the sea. MP’s, Yanks, all over the place. Can’t get anywhere. Didn’t have to queue long for our sup. which was OK. meat, spuds, cabbage; rice pud; jam & coffee The coffee is too strong 3d bottle of pop & 2/6d 200 fags. Played drafts with Gwyn for 2 or 3 hrs & only won last game drawed [sic] about [underlined] 4 [/underlined]
[underlined] 1 HOUR FORARD [sic]. [/underlined]
[page break]
[underlined] QE [/underlined]
JANUARY 7
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
No queue at all. Porr sos, figs marmalade, coffee. Made bed up. Went to Sgts. lounge & had read then went up to lifeboat deck. Met another of the DeWinter lads P/O. 50c (10 oranges) Meat spuds peas; peaches; jam & coffee. Ship giving beautiful rolls sliding food all over. 6/- for 12 bars choc 2/6d for 2 lighters. 20c & 1/-for calendar & photo of “Lizzy.” 9d x 4 boxes razor blades.
[underlined] 1 HOUR FORARD [sic]. [/underlined]
[page break]
JANUARY 8
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Didn’t get up for brunch. (bacon & chips; etc.) Went up on deck to stern. Saw the guns. Heard AA set off a few rounds. [underlined] Pushed [/underlined] back to PROM deck (all windows shut & blacked out.) Slept on bunk after SPEECH by W/C in charge of US. BULL about buttons, boots, press & shoes; smoking below decks, etc. etc. etc. Meat spuds, carrots; sago; jam & coffee which tasted like coffee for a change. Ship giving some bad rolls all day sea not heavy. One game chess with Gwyn
1 Hour added
[page break]
JANUARY 9
[underlined] SAT 43. [/underlined]
Didn’t get up till 8-30 AM or so. Went up to Prom Deck & Sgts canteen 5c bottle pop Sent below for Air Raid Warning. Sleeping & reading. Went for Supper with Gwyn. Lamb chop (cooked in oil.) spuds, beans, pineapple; jam & coffee Ship still gives a few heavy rolls. 2/- & 5c tube toothpaste & 3 packets of chocolat [sic] biscuits.
Time same.
[page break]
JANUARY 10
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
[deleted] Got [/deleted] [inserted] Woke [/inserted] up at 9-0 AM. Got up about 10-0. Wash & shave. Went up on boat deck. Talking to a couple of 2nd Lieuts in US. Army Gwyn not at home so I went for supper alone! (?) half a weiner, stew, spud, rice pud, jam & coffee; orange. In line for hair cut. Left it to go on the guns 8 to 12-0. Blowing like Hell & rain with it! [underlined] Put watches on another hour. [/underlined] Cocoa (weak) cheese & biscuits then bed.
[page break]
JANUARY 11
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 7-0 AM. went for bfst. Bacon, spuds & corned beef; apple sauce; coffee; marmalade. On .50” gun (mch) rain & wind. Sleep! or at least I tried to sleep. Land sighted 12-30 hrs. [underlined] Put watches on 1 hr. at 14-00 hrs. [/underlined] Supper at 1700 h Cheese; jam; ham; spuds, cabbage; coffee. Dropped anchor 18-10. Lined up for an hour & 1/4 for hair cut. Couldn’t change £1 note or $5 bill & had to borrow 1/- Went up on deck to look round Officer came in with “gen” about leaving ship
[page break]
JANUARY 12
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 5-30 for early bfst. 2 eggs & one in pocket, pears, marmalade; coffee. Back to bed & short sleep interrupted by some noisy B - - S. including his nibs Parade 10-30 in mess Hall. Speech by Mr. Jordan High Commis. for New Zealand. & Air Comm Hawe, “Groupy” & Wing/Co i/c troops on ship. Should have left ship 12-45. Actualy [sic] got on Dutches [sic] of Hamilton at 14-30. Pulled away at 15.30 after 1 hrs. wait. Landed after waiting 1/2 hr. at 16-30. GOUNOC. Pot of tea on stn. S/C at 18.00. WAVERLY 21.30 tea & extras (beans, meat etc. biscuits, sweets, sugar & coffee)
LMS train, nice new or “newish” coach, nice smooth tracks & smooth stops & starts.
[page break]
JANUARY 13
[underlined] WED 43 [/underlined]
NEWCASTLE. 1-15 AM Arr. HARRO. 3-30 AM. Lorry to Camp. bfst bacon, saus, turnip & spuds; jam tart & sauce; coffee. [underlined] Bed [/underlined] 6-0 AM Up 11-30. Beef, spuds, turnip – prunes & cust; Co. & Intel. Offs speeches. Signed & filled in forms for 2 hours. Supper 5-0 PM. Sardines on toast, tea. FFI & Dental (1 tooth) NAAFI & sgts. mess couldn’t change £1 notes.
Had kit out & sorted personal stuff from issue. Made Tigers bed.
[page break]
JANUARY 14
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Up 6-45. Shave (bad one.) Porr; meat roll (hot) fried brd; tea. Parade 9-0. Photo taken. Flying kit issued including rubber boots. New kit bag. Marked some. Lamb, sprouts, spuds (boiled & baked.) boiled sponge pud & cust. Kit inspection put down for 2 collars (664b) Pistol holster & ammo pouch (FI) Cottage pie, bread & jam; scone; tea. Night Vision Test 14/32. Could read ordinary card OK. (Second line up.) Again sorted kit. NAAFI shut 9-309 Went to Sgts. Mess. had 1 pt. br. & 1/2 pt. cider. Sgt. WAAF brought sandwiches in for us too. Bed about 11-0.
[page break]
JANUARY 15
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Scrambled egg, fried bread; porr; tea. Parade 8-45 Done Kit Insp. & Night Vis so was dismissed. Interviews Put down for Bombers & station near Sheffield. Stew, spuds, peas; apple & custard; bread & butter. Pay parade £13. Red line on kit & lable [sic] for flying kit. Fish & spuds; jam & piece of cake; tea. Walked into town. 3/- at [deleted] City [/deleted] Royal Hall “Cinderella” on 4th row centre isle. 2d programme. Walked back. Went to Sgts. Mess. 1/- for a couple of ciders. 2 sandwiches. Darts
[page break]
JANUARY 16
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
up at 7-15. Porr. bacon & sos; brd & but; tea. 1250’s issued; put flying kit in to stores. Issued with tunic & trousers, pistol holster & ammo. pouch; gas cape; tin bot & covers. Draughts with Gwyn 2-1 (lost.) Stew & spuds; rice pud (beautiful.) 664b’s 2 collars. Gave in other kit & bag. Meat pie & spuds; jam; tea 5/- for stamps, 10/- book (SPT4) Tramped around in DRIZZLE 3/6d ”Lover’s Leap” at Opera House 3d programme. 2d. for supper (2 sands. cake, tea.) Walked back (35 mins.) 6d cyder[sic] – No sandwiches Letter [underlined] to Doris [/underlined]
[page break]
JANUARY 17
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Kellog’s; sos & fried spuds; tea; marmalade. Parade 9-30. roll call & nowt else. 3d for bus fare & signed sheet saying I’m fully kitted. Beef, spuds peas; sponge pud; bread. Draughts. Lost all games. Letter to Doris. 1/- cyder. Ham, spuds; cheese; jam; tea. Swept up & help set tables in dining room. Cup of tea & talk after. 10 1/2d. chips, cheese pastie, OXO, 2 bars choc. Letter to Doris (same as previous ones) 3d for grapefruit crush.
[page break]
[symbol]
JANUARY 18
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Woke at 6-45. Went to sleep & dreamt about changes in R’Com. Up at 7-15. Porr; bacon & fried bread; tea. Dismissed to clean rooms. Swept stairs. lecture on security & secrets not to be divulged. Stew, spuds, sweeds [sic]; ground rice & sago etc., pud. Assigned to train to go home in Sgts. Mess. [underlined] Posted letter to Doris AIR. [/underlined]
Spuds & cheese; treacle; cake scone; tea. More packing & discussion on SSC etc. 5d. chips, peas & OXO (NAAFI 6d lemonade in Mess Shaved.
[page break]
[underlined] LEAVE [/underlined]
JANUARY 19
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & fried bread, tea. Up at 6-45. Washed & down to bfst at 7-00. not ready. So stripped bed & made it up. Handed sheets in at 8-30 Paraded at 9-0. Got in bus at 10-0. Arr. stn. 10-10. 2d. coffee & [indecipherable word]. Train out 11-0. Leeds 12-0. S/C 13-00. Arr. Bham. 14-30 6d. tea & pie (2 d’s) Home 3-0 in TAXI Went to office. Saw Granpa; Gaffer; Mr Haigh; Mr Brown & Miss Clayton. Went across to Ivan’s. Went to fetch Dad from Darce. 16-15. Ma across at Dunns.
Cup of [underlined] COCOA. [/underlined]
[page break]
JANUARY 20
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 11-0. Granpa, been to U.E. A. Edie “ill”. Took Pat to school. Fetch Doctor’s note from U.E. Went with Ma. to town bread & office again Dad stayed at home. Looked at photo album. & showed ‘em rest of snaps. Gave P & P watch & Ma [deleted] couchin [/deleted] cushion cover Played cards with P.P. Ma & Dad. Kissed P & P Good Night.
Drizzle all Day
[page break]
JANUARY 21
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Up 10-0. Cleaned bike & mended & cleaned all bells & pushes. Went for short run on bike. Granpa & Mr. Haigh both came to see us. 40 children killed & 50 injured in raid on London. Went into town with P.P. & Ma. Up to No 8 in Car. Had tea there Showed ‘em picture PC’s & Maps. Walked back.
[page break]
JANUARY 22
[underlined] FRI. 43 [/underlined]
Up at 10-0. RAIN!!!!
Went to GPO & sent [underlined] cable to Doris [/underlined] (2/6) also went to library to see about ATC. Granpa & A. Ella to see us. [underlined] Shaved [/underlined]. Looked for lock & chain. Went to school. Saw Arnie & heard tale. Mr. Atkinson wants a buzzer for daughter. Just saw old Freddy. Cards & Stamps.
[page break]
JANUARY 23
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 10-0. Went up to Greenbro to take key back. Dad home for dinner. Went across to Dunn’s for tea. Played bagatel [sic] with David, Barbara & Mrs. Dunn Babs won. Stayed till 12-0 AM. [deleted] W [/deleted] U. Edgar came for me to shut gas fire off. Policeman there wanting to know details.
[page break]
JANUARY 24
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 11-0. Went to see Maces Saw Mr. & Mrs & Syd. Joan was out with cousin. Dad home for dinner. P & P gone to church just before Bobby came to see Pat. Went for run Saw Mr. Carpenter. Went with P & P. David & Sally to Clifton Park. Barbara David came to tea. Mrs. & Denis came later. black music etc etc.
[page break]
JANUARY 25
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 10-0. Work about 11-15 to 11-30. Gave fags round. Saw Cyril, Tish, Wilf, Reg. Machin, Mr. Skilicorn, Harry, Ted, Mr. Smith, Syd, Turner, Methley, Mr. Duke, Office Reg, Tom, Peg, Joyce, Jack Lodge Went up to School Saw Freddy, Bob, Aitchy, Johno, Tiffin, Ticker, Perky, Jones, Morris, Simmons, Doc. [underlined] Lovely RAIN all day [/underlined] Dad out. At a wedding playing “sax”. Got away with stamps.
[page break]
JANUARY 26
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 11-0. Went to O & D for dinner. Dad gave me 1/- for same. Beef, spuds beans; treacle pud; tea with Mr. Carpenter & Stapleton. Went round the works to see all the chaps. Handed fags round. Came to [indecipherable word] Gerard with Mr. Mullet Gran, T & Florrie stayed till 4-30 but I wasn’t in! Played cards & sorted (?) Meccano.
[page break]
JANUARY 27
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Set off 11-0 for Kilnhurst Mr. Wilkinson left. Went to Green Lane. Saw Mr. Halifax & Waffenden & Mrs. & old Mrs. Thompson, [deleted] Mable [/deleted] [inserted] Marge Noble [/inserted] Went on to Swinton to Seniors. Saw Mr. & Mrs. Frank & Maureen (2 cups tea, biscuits &pork pie) Went to Gathard’s Mr & Mrs in Billy came in from pit. Saw Walt. Baldwin in town. Had dinn. about 4-0. Went to Gran Thompson Gilbert & kid there Nellie followed me in. Colin & Marg. came afterwards. Florrie gave me two photos of herself Gaile etc. off bell
[page break]
JANUARY 28
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
[underlined] shave. [/underlined]
Up at 10-0. Hunted out bits belonging to my buzzer. Started one for Atkinson Dinn with P.P. & Ma. Finished buzzer. Took Sally to meet Pam. bread shop shut. Took photo’s to U. George Asked me to stay to tea but returned home. Dad brought covers for rail cards. Babs brought rabbit to be skinned. Dad skinned some & one he brought for me.
[page break]
JANUARY 29
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 10-15. Babs called for rabbit. Went to Royal then went to work to Dad. Fetched a loaf. Went to town with Ma Tickets from Regent (2/3d) Shoes (Pate) Diary (2/3d) Bread. Snack and down at Regal for 5-5. Dad arr. 5-15. Show “First of the Few” Leslie Howard & David Nivien [sic]. (2/-) A really good picture. Tea. Went to David’s. Bagatelle & a nice supper. Left at 12-0
[page break]
JANUARY 30
[underlined] SAT – 43. [/underlined]
Down at 10-30 P[deleted] at [/deleted] [inserted] am [/inserted] & Ma up. Granpa called. Rain. Went up to school to take buzzer & see Arnie. Gave Acka buzzer & helped him fit it up. Gave me 2/- for buzzer. Arnie gave me 4/- for diary. NO SPUDS P & P wouldn’t fetch ‘em. Went to Timpsons with Ma’s shoes & Boots for Aspirins. Also fetched 3 loaves. Saw Joe & Oscar. Went run round to station. Saw Elsie & her Ma. Went to Darts. Pretty Good!
1/6d Commem. Stamps
Ran up 400 mls. on cyclometer
[page break]
JANUARY 31
[underlined] SUN. 43 [/underlined] SHAVE
Up at [underlined] 12-0 [/underlined]. Went to work with Dad to see Mr. Coleman. He was busy so couldn’t see snaps & photos. [underlined] RAIN in buckets [/underlined] Went up to Gran’s with Dad. Went on to Aunt Minnie’s & Uncle Jack’s. Went back to Gran’s. Ma & P & P only just arrived. Had tea. Aunty Emmaline & U. Laurie came about 9-0. Had a real good laugh. Home about 12-0
[page break]
FEBRUARY 1
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 9-0. Down in Square at 9-25. Bus out at 9-30. Arr. 10-0. Went to Uncle Wilf’s then to Aunt Emma’s. Left Great coat there & went to Uncle Joe’s Got to wrong house at first then when we found it he wasn’t in. 2/6d off Aunt Emma Bus back at 1-0. arr. 1-30 PM. Went to town with Ma & Pa. Regal (2/-) “Who Done It” Abbot & Costello & “Dr. Broadway.” Fish & chips. Went across to Dunn’s. Dog misbehaved by time we returned
BATH!!
[page break]
[underlined] HARROGATE [/underlined]
FEBRUARY 2
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Up at [underlined] 11-0 AM [/underlined] later than I wished. Shaved. Went to SPT to see Joe. Saw Jack Wright too. Gus on after’s so missed him Nos. King at Shef. University. More RAIN. Went about taxi. Took library books back. Hair cut 1/- & more RAIN. Packed kit with struggle. Ma packed me some supper. Phoned for taxi. S/C 5-40 arr Leeds 7-30. S/C 7-55 (10 mins late) arr Harr. 8-30 Walked to Grand Hotel. In room with Arty, Willie & Holmes. Supper which Ma Packed for me. Drew blankets & pillow.
[circled 2/6d taxi]
[page break]
FEBRUARY 3
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 7-15. Bfst; porr; bacon, cabbage; coffee. Parade in Mess for roll call & lecture (gen talk) Got kit bags “out”. Sos, spuds, cabb.; macaroni coffee. Parade at 2-0 with flying kit. Dumped same after roll call. Back to room at 3-15 Lads playing cards. I read. Stew & spuds; tea; bread & jam. 1/6d at Scala to see “Coastal Command” & “Women arn’t [sic] Angels” Robertson Hare. Walked back & was in for 10-10.
[page break]
FEBRUARY 4
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 7-20. Porr; toast & scrambled egg. Parade 9-0. Meat; spuds; sponge pud; coffee £7..10 pay after long wait. 6d in red X soap coupon. WO. Came for me at 2-15. POSTED. Going to Carlisle. Lecture on security. Got flying kit & packed rest & turned it all in FFI. Cheese on toast; cake; jam & tea. 3/6d Opera House “Eden’s End”
3d program. 3d MN fund. 3d drink. 2 1/2d. choc.
[page break]
FEBRUARY 5
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined] Up 6-0. blankets 6-30 Porr. sos & mash; tea, rations (dry sandw’s. & bun) Parade 7-30. S/C stn. 7-35. arr. 7-45. S/C Leeds. 8-40 arr 9-25 [deleted] [indecipherable word] [/deleted] 4d tea & meat pie at Y. Tommy bought lunch. Loaded kit. Got on train 10-20. Shld S/C 10-30. S/C at 11-15 for Carlisle arr. 2-30. RAIN & WIND all way. Bus to stn. & HUTS. [underlined] Din [/underlined] meat pie & spuds. [underlined] NO DRINK. [/underlined] Short lecture & ditto form. Sheets & pillow case. Got blankets. WASH. Herrings & cocoa. 2 bars choc. OXO. 3 gills. packet of crisps Bed about 11-0.
[page break]
FEBRUARY 6
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
Up 7-55. WIND & a little rain Too late for bfst. Lectures by C.O. & CGI. Spuds, carrots, spare ribs; tart & cust. VP & First Aid lecture. FFI. Cleaned up. Buttons & shoes. Pie & soup.
ENSA Concert (6d)
Bert Davies & Dave Hunter (comed’s) Joy & Muriel (Brun Blonde) – Margaret Smart (BBC violinist)
Georgina Emmett – soubrette – Jane Arnott vocalist
GORDON RITCHIE – pianist
[underlined] 1 [/underlined] gill
[page break]
FEBRUARY 7
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 9-0. Down to camp (nowt) doing so walked back. Made fire. Went to NAAFI. Shave. Veal, spuds & coffee; rice pud Walked in & around Carlisle. 2/- sos & spuds; buns. Ginger Rodgers 2/- in “Kitty Foyle” pretty good. 2d on bus back. 6d chips & coffee. Letter too [sic] Ma
[page break]
FEBRUARY 8
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Fried spam & spuds; porr; tea. C.O’s parade. Tea & cake (NAAFI) Lectures. Prem, spuds, cab; soup; sponge pud. Lectures. brd & jam, tea. Fiddled with kit.
Film 3d. “Flat Spat.” Betty Grable, [deleted] Carol [/deleted] Coral Lordis & Victor Mature.
1 gill.
[page break]
FEBRUARY 9
[underlined] TUES 43. [/underlined]
Missed bfst Took flying kit down. RAIN. Film show. Meat pie, cab, spuds; plum pud. Took 4 rifles to range. Chips & prem. cake & tea 6d cheese & chips; coffee in NAAFI. Letter [underlined] AIR MAIL [/underlined] to Doris
[page break]
FEBRUARY 10
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; spuds & sos. RAIN. Astro Lecture. Stew, spuds; tart & cust. More RAIN. Bread & jam & cake. 2d bus. 2/- Arthur Askey [inserted] Evelyn Dalle [/inserted] in “King Arthur was a Gentleman” & Penny Singleton in “The Boss said “NO””
2d bus. NO eats.
[page break]
FEBRUARY 11
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
porr, spuds & bacon. P.T. & bit of Drill. Letter from Ma & Dad. spare ribs, spuds carrots rice pud. Brains Trust. letter to Ma. bread & jam & tea. letter. Meat pie & tea.
ENSA concert
Pretty good. A lot of crude jokes.
[page break]
FEBRUARY 12
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; scrambled eggs; tea. Parade at 8-45? roll. Drill. Lectures in Cinema. Aircraft Rec. Veal, spuds, cab; ground rice pud & raisins. Lecture on StenGun then lecture on Russia. Bread & treacle; tea. Made fire & had wash. Chips & sos roll, OXO, tart (in NAAFI). RAIN & MORE RAIN & wind. Had read in Anteroom then went & had a gill. [underlined] Posted letter to Ma [/underlined]
choc ration.
[page break]
FEBRUARY 13
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
Went to Aero Café for bfst. 1/4d bacon & toast; coffee. Went back for camera. Bus into Carlisle. 1/2d din sos & chips; brd; tea. Roamed around. Picts full. Couldnt [sic] find bus for Gretna. 1/6d tea. chips & welsh rarebit. 2/- show. “The Devil Pays Off” (DeMott steamliner. Mutiny) & Gene Autry in “Sierra Sue.”
[page break]
FEBRUARY 14
[underlined] SUN. 43 [/underlined]
Porr, sos & spuds. Parade as usual. ROUTE MARCH after Church Parade Meat, spuds; cab; rice & tart Read in anteroom & tried to sleep. Sos & spuds for supper.
“Ride ‘em cowboy” Bud Abbott & Lou Costello.
[page break]
FEBRUARY 15
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
porr & prem, CO’s parade RAIN & WIND. Lectures on Pilot Nav & map reading. Chicken roll, spuds; plum pud & cust. Further lecture on map General bind about the station. Had tea. Made fire & had a wash Scallops & chicken roll. [underlined] NAAFI. [/underlined] 2 shortbreads & coffee. LETTER from MA
LETTER to Doris.
[page break]
FEBRUARY 16
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Porr, bacon & spuds. FLYING. bus to KP. 60 mins pin pointing from KP to Kingstown. Ribs, spuds, cab; plum pud. Worked out a cross country & set off. Went to KP first then went round X country. Tommy got last NOT returned. bus back from K.P.
2 welsh rarebits
LETTER TO MA.
[page break]
FEBRUARY 17
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Porr & sos. Gen talk. Supposed compass swing stew & spuds; jam & cust. Cross country S/C but had to turn back. Low cloud so set course back half way along second leg. Made it OK. Cheese, jam & cake. Went to see “Twin Beds” & “Sunday Punch” AGAIN. Choc.
[page break]
FEBRUARY 18
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Cornflakes; jam; tea. Route march, unarmed combat. Ground Signals. MEAT PIE, spuds, cab. ground rice. Flare paths. Letter to Pat. brd & jam. Took gt. Coat to Mary at din. time. Meat, spuds & cabbage; tea; jam. 2 buns from NAAFI. Show in Mess. “Holiday Inn” Fred Astaire & Bing Crosby. Fetched gt. coat which Mary had finished Bed. 11-0 PM.
[page break]
FEBRUARY 19
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; jam; tea. Roll call. Route March round perimeter track. Cinema at 11-30. Talk on [indecipherable word] by P/O Pilot. Stew, spuds, sweede; [sic] rice pud. Lecture on Mediterranean by War Office chap. Tea, bread & jam Wrote short note to Ma & sent £10 with it. Cheese & spuds for DINNER. 2 biscuits & coffee. 4 bars choc [underlined] SHOWER [/underlined]
[page break]
FEBRUARY 20
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; sos. Cross country with Fred. Ran into low cloud on high ground. Wind & deviation all over place. Turned back. Letter from Ma. & cable from Doris. Din (stew spuds, cab; & tart.) Flying washed. Messed about on box & bar in crew room doing PT? Had tea then DINNER? ONE HERRING!! Went & had chop & chips & peas in NAAFI. Talk with Fred & Tom. Glass beer in Sgts. Mess
[page break]
FEBRUARY 21
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 9-0 AM. Café shut so went to NAAFI. cake & 2 cups coffee. Went back to camp & cleaned up Set off for town. Got a lift in van. Stopped TWICE by SP’s for ident. card & had name taken for leather gloves. 3/- din (soup; spuds, minced meat & sundae) Set. Bob off back 3d cake & buns 2d bus back. Tea, usual, in camp, Met Mary at 6-30 at bus stop. Went to see (4/-) “China Sea” Darn Good film. Walked back to camp.
[page break]
FEBRUARY 22
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Porr, spam & spuds lectures & Aldis Comp. Sos meat spuds, beans; sponge pud. NAAFI coffee. lecture & quiz (NAV) also quiz regarding welfare on the station. Usual tea Sos meat jam & tea for [underlined] SUPPER [/underlined] NAAFI coffee
Letter to P & P & MA
Made Date.
[page break]
FEBRUARY 23
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/UNDERLINED]
Porr, bacon, spuds. Set out for Hexham & Hawick. Cloud chased us back AGAIN on 2nd leg HOT POT!?! rice pud. Recconnaisance [sic] with Turner. Looking for bridges Changed sheets 2 Registered Parcels from Ma. Tea & Jam Bus 6-30. Went to see “Flying Fortress” 4/- Walked back. One X.
[page break]
FEBRUARY 24
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Porr, sos, spuds, RAIN. Station Flying Orders signed some. NAAFI Lecture on dinghy drill. Stew!! spuds cabbage; tart & cust. Fred & rest returned from Reitz VIA “RAIL”. WAITING IN CINEMA. CO asked for our names (in Ante room) Letter & Valentine (MA & D) Usual tea. 1/- spam & toast RABBIT spuds & sweeds [sic] NAAFI coffee. Date again
[page break]
FEBRUARY 25
[underlined] THURS 43 [/underlined]
Usual type of meals. Supposed to be on lectures but none of the lecturers arrived. Had supper. Went to the City and saw “Dangerously they Live.” & “About Face” X’s & Good Night
[page break]
FEBRUARY 26
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Porr, scrambled egg. X. country HEXHAM & almost to HAWICK WITH Sgt. Stockill Stew, spuds, sweede; [sic] rice pud. Short X. country Penrith to Silloth. Flew back from KP for din. Sgt. Stockill did a few Cities at [underlined] my request. [/underlined] Made log book up to date. Cheese & spud pie, jam, tea. cup coffee Show by neighbouring station. DAMN GOOD!
[page break]
FEBRUARY 27
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
1/4d bfst. bacon & toast. choc biscuits, coffee. Darts in NAAFI. (coffee etc) Din in Mess. Waited in NAAFI for Watson 6d for tea, toast & salmon 2/- to see “Son of Fury” George Sanders & Tyrone Powers ([deleted] [indecipherable word] [/deleted])
[page break]
FEBRUARY 28
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Porr only. S/C for PERTH with Turner. Got to MOFFAT where clouds closed in. Chop, spuds, cab; jam tart. Flying washed but went with ANNAN with F/LT SMYTHE. Cottage pie, sweede [sic] & cocoa. Chin wag in Ante Room. NAAFI.
[page break]
FEBRUARY 29
[blank page]
[page break]
MARCH 1
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Co’s parade. Porr; spam spuds; jam. Went to KP on the bus but didn’t fly Ribs, spuds, cab; jam & concret [sic] tart. No flying. Sent laundry etc. home. 1/-. 2/6d stamps. Letter from & too [sic] Ma. 12 chips for supper. Coffee & cakes in NAAFI.
STEVE & DICKENS
[page break]
MARCH 2
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Billet Insp. by C.O. George Flying on search. Coffee & biscuits while writing letter to Ma. Paper from Ma. Meat, spuds (stew!) ground rice pud. No flying bread & jam tea. Night flying “Gen.” at 6-15. Supper; - “slice” of potted meat & beet; cocoa. Had coffee in NAAFI. Flew from 9-0 till 10-0. Just round a wide circuit Beaufort! Had cup of tea in NAAFI x 2. Bed about 12-0
[page break]
MARCH 3
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 8-0. Went ‘SICK’ for Turner. No parade. 1/6d for egg, toast & tea breakfast. Kit sorting. Usual type of dinner. Letter & parcel from Ma. Reconnaissance flight with Watson. Tea as per usual. No night flying! “All thro’ the Night” 2/- at Lonsdale. Walked back X’s.
[page break]
MARCH 4
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Porr for bfst. To [sic] big a queue. Completed log bk. £7/2/- pay. Hand key & inter-com & sheets back. Coffee etc in NAAFI. Stew, spuds, rice. 3 letters from Doris one from Gran & one from Watson. Mary gave me 6 bars choc. X. Packed & [indecipherable word] lorry. 1/- for sos & mash (twice) Train 6-45. Arr. H. 1-30. Bed at Majestic 2-0 after tea & pie
[page break]
MARCH 5
[underlined] FRI. 43 [/underlined]
Up at 8-0. Just had wash. 1/7d welsh rarebit & toast. Film “Next of Kin” Very Good. Beef, carrots, cabb, spuds tea, jam. Moved to Grand. Nowt to do or be done. Kit still at the Majestic Sent letter home (just a short note) Fish cake, spuds, tea & jam. Went with Staff & Tom to see “Date with an Angel.” Darn Good film. 1/6d sos, egg & toast, 2 teas. Chip shop sold out.
[page break]
MARCH 6
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
Kellogs; ham & spuds, Room inspection. OK’d Not wanted on parade so went & had coffee & biscuits. 6d. Cold meat & veg, salad; trifle; coffee. Washed my feet & put clean socks on. £6 money order. (6d) Looked for writing case. None to be got. 10d torch batteries. 10d pie, cake & coffee Sat in park. Meat roll & beet, brd & jam roll; tea. 2/6d at Odeon “Wake Island” & Moon over Havana” 1/6d sos, egg; toast & tea.
[page break]
MARCH 7
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
porr, meat roll, fried spuds, coffee. Went to station. train 10-20 Didn’t go to Leeds. Went to YM. to [sic] early & packed. so went to café Had cheese on toast & coffee, jam 2/- had din at Majestic after darts. Meat, spuds, cab & carrots; rhubarb & cust. [underlined] Letter to Ma & Mary. [/underlined] Tom sleeping Nice tea. Went to see what shows [deleted] are [/deleted] [inserted] were [/inserted] on. Met Hayes & pal. 2/6d. “International Sqdn” & “Strange Alibi.” Went & had supper. Spam & chips (1/9.) 2/9 for beers. Learned one or two puzzles. Bed about 11-15.
[page break]
MARCH 8
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Up 7-10. Bfst. Porr, ham & fried spuds treacle & tea. Went to Thirsk café. Had rarebit & coffee & toast 2/1d. Looked round Smiths. [underlined] Letter from Ma. Mr Coleman [/underlined] Meat pie, spuds & sprouts; rice pud; coffee. Parade 2-0. Names taken etc. then buzzed off. 1/- tea & pikelets. [underlined] 2d. parcel to Ma. [/underlined] Fish cake & chips, brd & marmalade. [underlined] Letter to Ma & SPT. [/underlined] Went out & posted same then went to bed 10.15
[page break]
MARCH 9
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
porr, spuds & fish, tea. Set on sorting mail. Letter from Ma & Doris from Canada. Beef, [inserted] cocoa [/inserted] spuds, cab & parsnip; “Mickey Roony” & rhubarb Sat in Park. Had small drink from well. Magnesia & Sulphur. More mail sorting. Took redirected stuff to the Spa. Went round the cinemas. Had tea. 2/6d at Odeon Monty Wooly in “Pied Piper” also “His Neighbour.” [underlined] 3/6d [/underlined] chips & rabbit pie & 2 cups of tea.
[page break]
MARCH 10
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Didn’t get up for bfst. Mail Tea coffee & 3 buns. More Mail. Stew, spuds, cab; peas; apple & cust; coffee. Went to Majestic. No mail & canteen closed. Boys back from Whitley Bay. Went with Gwyn to see White Rose Players in “Gas Light” 3/6d. then went to Maj & had glass sherry
[page break]
MARCH 11
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Didn’t get up for bfst. 9-0 Room Inspection. Sorting Mail Parade at 10-30. Reserve for posting. Beef (boiled) spuds, sweeds; [sic] boiled pud & cust. Registered Parcel from Ma. AG from Joyce. Parade 1-45. Dismissed Shave. Parade again at 3-45. No Gen. Letter from Ma & another reg. parcel. Meat & spuds jam roll. Went to see Victor Mature in “Seven Days Leave” & “Highways by Night,” 2/6d.
[page break]
MARCH 12
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 9-15. Parade 10-45. Went to Maj. for registered parcel (socks etc.) Roast beef, mashed & roast spuds, cab; cust & tart. 13/6d for fags from Mr. Dixon (200) 2-0 parade for FFI. NOT REQUIRED so had tea 11d. Fish spuds, & treacle also collected rations. Parade 4-45 not wanted again. Went walk with Gwyn. Tried to get Pass. Gwyn & lads went at 7-30. Wash. Went out with Tom. 3/9d for beers.
[page break]
MARCH 13
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 8-30. To [sic] late bfst. NO PASS. Mail to & from Spa. Stew, spuds, cab, sweed {sic] & boiled pud; cocoa. Started letters to Ma & Mary sitting in the park. Turned coal [sic] so had a walk round & eventualy [sic] went to see “Seven Sweethearts” & “The Green Cockatoo.” 1/6d. Went & had chips & fish cakes [underlined] 2/10d [/underlined] & cup of tea.
[page break]
MARCH 14
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
egg & sos. Church parade. Walked round the town. Beef, roast spuds, cab, & carrot; maccaroni [sic] pud. Walked round the park & the town till 2-25 when we were given tickets for a concert at the Royal Hall. A pretty good show! Flan, beet & pie (meat) & jam for tea. Went a roaming again & eventualy [sic] went to Regal to see “Three Silent Men” & “Wild Geese Flying” Took ATS girls back to camp. Came back & had coffee & meat pie at Hollywood.
[page break]
MARCH 15
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Usual bfst – lectures after being squaded. Din similar to usual. Lectures again. [underlined] Fried egg [/underlined] & spuds & cocoa for tea. Spear not going. Williams going instead 5/- at Scala to see “My Sister Eileen” Walked back to ATS camp & back to Craven’s Had fish cake chips & carrot steamed pud; tea 3/6d
[page break]
MARCH 16
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon, spuds & fried bread; tea. Room insp. Clay pigeon shooting 10/21. Finished letter to Mary in small café 6d for coffee & cake. Beef, spuds, cab & carr, prunes & cust; cocoa. 13-30 parade. Lectures. Arms, intell & navi. Meat pie, chips; treacle & tera. Card for fags (Mr Dix) Sent pyjamas home to be washed Wrote letter to Ma. Posted it & Mary’s.
[page break]
MARCH 17
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Scrambled egg on toast; tea. Kit Inspection & nothing else. Sos & mash, cab & sweed [sic] steamed pud. Sent parcel to Ma. Went on short route march out towards ATS camp. Steak & chips. “Night Mare” & “Mrs Wiggs of the cabbage patch” 2/-. Coffee at Hollywood.
[page break]
MARCH 18
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Bacon & fried spuds. Fetched Battle Dress, helmet, etc. from Majestic. £7 pay at Grand. Beef, spuds, cab & sweed; [sic] lemon curd fritter. Letter from Ma & Gwynn. 664b’s cleared up. Having none Tom & I went & had cup of tea & cakes 1/-. Salmon & beet for tea. Took Tiger with us this time. Saw “If the Lady is Willing” Marlene Deitrich & Fred Mc.Murray. & “Fingers at the Window” 5/- 2/- cigs. Walked back to ATS camp. X’s.
[page break]
MARCH 19
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
kidneys on toast, porr. tea. Lecture on security by S/Ldr. Handed in kit bag containing personal kit. FFI. Stew spuds, cab, sweed, [sic] peas; apple pie; cocoa. 2-10 parade. 1/1 1/2 coffee & cakes. Inspection by S/Ldr on full webbing parade. Letters from Ma & Mary. Sardines on toast. Tiger didn’t turn up so we went to Opera house (3/6d seats) “Old Acquaintance” X in the dark. Put ‘em in taxi another X. Had cottage pie & chips at Craven 3/6d
[page break]
MARCH 20
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
Missed bfst. Up at 8-10. Roll call 8-45. 1/1d coffee & toast. Parade again at 10-30 in full kit. Marched to stn. S/C 11-35. Bought newspaper Tom & Willie got sandwiches arr. 2-30 PM. Roast mutton spuds, cab, beans; jam roll & cream. Put into billet & issued with blankets. FFI & foot inspection. Ham & spam & pickles also raw carrot; tea. Had 2 pints. Sent P.C. to Ma.
[page break]
MARCH 21
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Egg on fried bread; porr; tea. Church parade then stores. Issued with rifle bayonet, boots & webbing Roast beef & spuds, cabbage, York. pud; apple pie & cust. Sleep & read. Cheese & potato pie, spam & raw carrot, tea, marmalade Walked back to billet again. Firemaking. Wrote letter to Ma in Mess. Speech by Churchill. cocoa & sandwiches.
[page break]
MARCH 22
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
bacon & spuds; tea. Parade & inspection at 8-30. Lecture by G.C. & Sqdn. Comdr. Fitted webbing together. March to Din. Mutton, spuds, & beans; fruit pud. Marched to Golf course Lecture on camouflage. Golfers!!! Lecture by F/O. on general “gen”. Tea, fried spam & chips. Couldn’t eat spam Felt rather sick. Went for haircut. Barber shut so went to ENSA concert. Russian troupe. Darn good. Cup of coffee in Mess. Sewed buttons on trousers. SIREN. GUNFIRE
one down.
[page break]
MARCH 23
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
fish & spuds. Couldn’t eat it all. Rifle Drill; Bayonet Drill; P.T. on beach; “Load” & “unload!” Marched to Din meat pie, carrots & spuds; rice pud & prunes. Ate all of it. Grenades; cleaning rifle, setting sights for range; Thrust & parrie & a bit of unarmed combat. [underlined] Fish [/underlined] pie & spuds, bread & jam; coffee. 1/- haircut. 1d on bus, cleaned rifle, chopped sticks. Started letter to Mary at dinner time.
[underlined] Finished letter to Mary [/underlined]
[page break]
MARCH 24
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
bacon & spuds; tea. [inserted] range [/inserted] [indecipherable word] Lewis gun; obstacles & carrying (firemans lift.) FISH & SPUDS, fruit pie; water. Route march & exercise on observation P.A.D. Stew & SPUDS NO BREAD! dry biscuits tea. [underlined] 2 letters from MA. [/underlined] P.A.D. parade before tea. Had glass of beer & sos roll. Bed by about 10 but had to get up at 12-0 for PAD. Guns & one or two Bombs. Had cup of tea in SSQ. Bed again by 2-0 AM.
Passive Air Defence.
[page break]
MARCH 25
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Didn’t get up till 8-0 AM consequently missed bfst Lewis loading & unload advance, fire & retire. Grenade throwing. Sten Gun. Beef, spuds, (boiled & baked) cab; sponge pud. Cross country & streams. Swinging across a stream by a tree branch I ended up in the stream!! face down. Spuds, thin thin [sic] stew Bread & JAM!! tea [underlined] Letter from PAM. Letter to Ma [/underlined]
Bed 10- PM.
[page break]
MARCH 26
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Didn’t get a call so didn’t get up till 8-0. Shave. Anti Tank grenade; run & walk (PT.) Lecture by W.O – F/O Middleton & S/Ldr i/c 1 WING on Sgts. Mess; & charges. Liver & bacon, spuds, & cab; currant sponge; water. Cross country route march to Obalesk. I had to march flight to golf links where we split up into parties. Welsh rarebit; peanut butter & tea. Went to Stn. OXO’s on fire.
[page break]
MARCH 27
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
sos meat; spuds; porr; coffee. rifle inspection, unarmed combat. Gas chamber. 295’s issued. Wash & change. bus into town. 20/4d return ticket. Train to Newcastle just made 1-0 PM at Newcastle. Met AB. Mills train to York & from York to Rotherham arrived 4-25 Walked up home. Ma bad in bed. Cold. Pork pie for tea. Plates, cuts & odds & ends.
[page break]
MARCH 28
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 10-0. Shave & wash till 11-0. Mucked about with dyno & rear light. Cleaned both & refitted latter. Took P.P. & S to meet Dad at dinner time. Park clap. Dad went to work at 3-0. P & P to S. School. Went to Dunns just before din. Went to Grans just before tea. Saw Elsie. Went 5 mls (1/2 hr. on bike) Stamps. S/C for stn 10-25 arr. 10-50. Train at 11-5 tea & sandwiches at Shef. Train pulled out 1-45 AM
[page break]
MARCH 29
[underlined] MON. 43 [/underlined]
arr Newcastle 6-40. Ebc train 6-50 to Monkseaton. Parade at 8-30. Insp. Drill, Sten Gun, P.T.. Took stens back to armoury. Meat pie, spuds, cab, beans, beet rice & prunes. Went to Cinema to see “Desert Victory” & “Sherlock Holmes in Washington” Basil Rathbone & Nigel Bruce. Meat pie & jam; tea.
Letter from Mary.
Letter to Mary & Ma.
[page break]
MARCH 30
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Porr, bacon & spuds, tea. Insp. 30 mins to clean billets [sic] Cinema (films on all sorts of things.) Beef, spuds, cab; sponge pud; water. WIND & more Wind. Went on to golf course & did charging of the guard & mounting of guards. Challenges, how & how not. Cheese pie (twice) & cake; tea. Letter from Ma. pint of beer. Letter to Ma. Had tea & cakes at Beach café at dinner time.
[page break]
MARCH 31
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
porr; sardine & spuds baked spuds. Gas café respirator & webbing for gas lecture. Then LMG. PT. (unarmed combat.) STEW, spuds, cabbage choc sponge pud minus sugar! coffee! Sten gun on the field. Grenades. Sighting etc. on landscape. Sos meat, spuds, raw carrot & turnip, tea, brd. & jam. Parcel from Mary & Betty containing 5 raw carrots. Night manoeuvres on golf course. 1/2 pint & 2 cups of cocoa. 4 sandwiches.
[page break]
APRIL 1
[underlined] THURS. 43 [/underlined]
Porr; bacon, spuds; MA’s jam. Parade in best blue 9-15 Insp. by cpl. Insp. by flight sgt. Paraded again at 10 to 10. Marched down to Rex. mucked abate by SWO. Insp by groupy WHEN he EVENTUALY [sic] arrived LATE per ardua. Bags of “bull”! Army Band. Marched past Groupy & [deleted] [indecipherable word] Ensign. Dismissed. FISH, spuds, cab; raisin roll; 1/- cakes & tea. 1-30 in khaki with towel & soap. £7.10s pay £1 stamps, 15/- Cert. Shower. Station & walk around. Meat roll & spuds; cake; tea. [underlined] Letter to Doris. [/underlined] Sandwiches & coffee in Mess.
[page break]
APRIL 2
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Porr, sos & spuds, tea. Drill, Assault course. PT. Beef (2” [symbol]) spuds, cab. York Pud; trifle, Cap projector for grenade L.M.G. fire etc. NO PASS. [underlined] Bacon rind mixed with spuds [/underlined] & spuds, a little jam; tea. 1/1 chips & pie; cup tea Letter from Mary. Cleaned rifle. cat. Tom & firemaking.
WATCH going WEST.
[page break]
APRIL 3
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
Kellogs; cold Ham; tea. Rifle Inspection. Cleaned billets. Lecture on “forms”. PT in kit. Cold Beef, spuds, beet, cress; prunes, plums & cust. Cakes & tea 1/- Changed & went to see Parade. Saw PT display. Salmon cress & beet; cake, tea. Walked around the town then went to see “Bambi” & “Moonlight Masquerade” John O’Keefe. Sandwiches & coffee in the Mess. Bill brought dog up with him.
WATCHES ON ONE HOUR
[page break]
APRIL 4
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 7-45. Kellogs & bacon & egg; marmalade & tea. Started reading “The Man in Grey” laid on bed covered with a blanket. Meat, spuds, cabbage; trifle (kinda sort of) coffee. Continued reading book on golf links beside sea. Cold meat & spam, beet; marmalade. PAD parade. Finished book. [underlined] Wrote & posted letters to Mas, Mary & Gwyn [/underlined] Tea & sandwiches in Mess
[page break]
APRIL 5
[underlined] MON. 43 [/underlined]
Porr; bacon, lard, egg, spuds, Marmalade. Collected Sten guns. PT.. Sten (“load” etc.) Drill, Sten in respirator Meat pie; spuds, cab, beans raw carrot etc, rice & stewed pears. Field exercises. Battle Drill. Rifle cleaning. Went for Reg. Parcel & WAAFS just left. Cottage pie, peas; jam; tea. [underlined] Letter from Ma & Doris [/underlined] HELL of a WIND all day. [underlined] Letter to Ma & Doris Collins [/underlined] Didn’t go out all night.
[page break]
APRIL 6
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & spuds; tea. PT (run) Battle order grenade throwing & field craft. (moving under cover.) Stew meat, spuds cab, beans; cust & ginger pud. No Mail. L.M.G. for two periods then AT mines. Went for parcel & asked about form for S.P.T. Sardines in oil & toast, marmalade & treacle; tea. 1 pint beer. Choc, nuts & sweets (7 1/2d.) Letters to Dennis, Joe & Joyce.
[page break]
APRIL 7
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Kellogs; bacon, spuds; tea. PT in denems. [sic] Rifle Drill for firing on range. Cleaned grenades. Scoring & sighting. Beef, spuds, cab. ginger pud. Route Mch. about 3-4 miles. Rifle cleaning. Sos & mash jam (knife.) 1/6d at Empire to see “ITMA” with Tommy Handly & gang. also “The Great Impersonation.” Coffee & Sandwiches in mess.
[page break]
APRIL 8
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; fried Spam & fried spuds twice; tea Parade outside Prudloe & collected ammo. Battle order carried ammo to range. Fired 5 grouping. 5 application 5 snap shots & 10 rapid shots got 76/100. Tom 81 Top 84. Had 2 helpings of stew from field kitchen, cocoa to Drink Fired a dummy grenade. Cleaned rifles. Fish cheese & treacle, tea. “RAF on Parade” at Empress 2/6d for program. collection coffee & Horlicks. Tea & a sandwich in Mess. LETTER from Ma.
[page break]
APRIL 9
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon RIND rissoles & spuds; tea. Sten (firing) & Grenade throwing. Rifle Inspection. Liver & bacon, spuds, carrots & parsnips; rice pud with raisins; coffee. Football on the beach. PAD at 4-30. Shower in Prudloe. Supper 6-15. Fish, bread & a little treacle, terra. Changed & went to barbers SHUT. so went on the stn for ticket 20/4d. 1/- at Wonder Bar for coffee & sandws. £1 stamps (savings.) Made fire.
[page break]
APRIL 10
[underlined] SAT 43. [/underlined]
Porr; liver & spuds; tea. Inspection in denims; P.T. (cross country.) Parade in best blue to go through passing out parade. Parade at 10 to 12 for pass Lift on lorry to stn. Train at 12-15. NEW. 12-45. 10 1/2d for pie & 2 sandwiches. Stood up to York & stood up to R’Ham. [indecipherable word] to Coop. Got bike out & went looking for barber. Saw Dad & Ma & P & P in library Stamps
[page break]
APRIL 11
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 11-30. Shave. Went for 1/2 hr. run around houses. Had dinner & then got stamps & books etc. etc. cut & straightened em up a bit. Went to Grans with P & P. Saw Mrs Dixon. Had tea at home then went for a walk in Boston Park. Saw Geoff & Phil Prinnett. Queen Elizabeth spoke in 9-0 PM news. Ma & Dad packed tin of tuck then I packed kit including stamps. Ma & Dad walked to stn. with me & saw me off. 2 cups of tea, biscuits & cake. at Sheff. YMCA on stn..
[page break]
APRIL 12
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Train out 1-30 & I got a seat Arr. 5-30 AM. Cup of tea at WVS. Train out at 6-5 arr. Monks 6-35. Bfst. bacon & table spoon full of spuds; porr; tea. Parade at 8-20 in best blue Paraded again at 10-10 & marched down to REX insp by CI. GC must have still been in bed. Meat & spud [deleted] pie [indecipherable word] [/deleted] [inserted] soup [/inserted] & cab; raisin pud [indecipherable word] Rifle inspection & sleep. Chips, meat pie; treacle, tea. Letter from Mary & Doris Collins. Parcel from Mayoress’ Fund. 1/2 pint beer. Fun Arcade. Hot Choc, biscuits
KINGSWOODS BUDGET.
MORE TAX ON PICTS..
[page break]
APRIL 13
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Didn’t go for bfst. To [sic] tired. Had scone Ma packed. Transfered [sic] to No 1. Sqdn. 4 Flt. Carried kit down in 2 trips. Meat pie, spuds, carrots; rice pud & stewed fruit; tea. Parade at 2-30 for gen & roll call Straightened kit out a bit. Swapped stamps. Fried sos meat, spuds & carrots; bread & jam; tea. Letter from Ma. 1/6d at Empire “Nine Men” & “Rubber Raquetters [sic]”.
[page break]
APRIL 14
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & spuds; tea. Parade in Battle order. Marched to Golf Links where Demonstration Sqd practiced “signals in the field” We then did a tacticle [sic] exercise. 3 blanks Mutton, spuds, cabbage; prunes & cust; water. Demonstration again & exercises (games) on night manoeuvres. [underlined] 1/4d Telegram Home. MA’s watch broken. [/underlined] Sos & spuds & treacle; tea. letter from Watson.
[underlined] Letter to Ma & Doris C. [/underlined]
[page break]
[inserted] Letter from Ma & Doris M.R. [/inserted]
APRIL 15
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; sos & spuds; tea Went to range to see rifles harmonized & see tracer bullets fired from rifle & L.M.G. Sos & spud pie, spuds, cabbage, sponge pud; water. Wrote letter to Mary. Pay £7.10. 5/- stamps [inserted] savings [/inserted]. Pass & run over LMG procedure. Loaded two mags. Missed tea & went to see “Gone with the Wind” 4/- & well worth it. Had coffee & sardine s’d’chs in Mess. These coupled with film set me thinking what a World it is & wondering about myself compared with Scarlet O’Hara.
[page break]
APRIL 16
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; fried potted meat & spuds, tea. Out on range fired 5 single shots & 15 in 3 or 4 bursts with LMG Loaded magazines. Fired 15 rounds in one long burst. Stew, spuds, beans; jam sponge sandwich & cust Parachute control & landing. Shower. Letter from [underlined] Norah [/underlined] & Joyce. Meat pie & salted spuds, cake & marmalade; tea. 20/4d for ticket. Letters to Norah, Joe, Dennis & Joyce. 1/2 pt. beer. cup tea & sandwich. 3d choc.
[page break]
APRIL 17
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; haddock; tea Parade in Battle Order. Went for route march got back at 12-15!! Rapid change & on my way by 12-30. Caught 12-44 & just made the 1-2 which was late pulling out. York 3-0 Rham 4-15. Ma. Pa. P. & P. met me thought I was home for 2 weeks. Got busy with watches. [underlined] 2/6d B.D. greetings to Denis. [/underlined] 2/6d book of stamps. Mother ironed shirt.
55 planes lost bombing Scoda & another arms plant
[page break]
APRIL 18
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 10-0 had shave. Run around on bike up to Keple [sic] Column. Dad returned from work. Had to alter watch again. Winder too small. Went to see Doris Collins after dinner. Then after tea we all went to see Mr. Carpenter. Train left R’ham at 10-45 PM for Sheff Walked to stn. from terminus Tea & biscuits in YM. only 1 bomber lost over Italy
[page break]
APRIL 19
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Train out at 1-40. arr. 5-45. 6-5 from N’castle. arr. at billets for 7-0. Bfst. Porr; bacon & powdered egg; tea. Small manoeuvre on golf course. Stew spuds, carrot; stewed fruit & sago curr cust; coffee. Handed kit in including rifle. Tea & cakes in café. Drafts. Cheese & spuds, jam, tea. Went to ENSA show.
Swapped stamps with Mess Sgt. till 1-0 AM.
dripping sandwiches
[page break]
APRIL 20
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
NO bfst. up too late. Finished sandwiches & pasty. Parade & roll call. Dismissed. Went to café against [underlined] all [/underlined] orders. Played drafts. Went up to mess & resorted & cleaned stamps. Beef, spuds, leek; jam bakewell & cream cust; soup; water. [underlined] Letter from Ma. [/underlined] Stamps again. [underlined] Letter to Ma. [/underlined] 4-0 PM FFI at Priory. Meat pie & spuds; [underlined] bun [/underlined] & [underlined] treacle [/underlined] tea. 2/- pics “One Day of War” & “Rose of Tralee. Packing till 1-0 AM
[page break]
APRIL 21
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 5-0 handed blankets into stores. Bfst 6-15. Porr; fried egg & spuds, jam & tea. Rations. Parade 7-15. Marched into town then to station. Train out 8-15. Arr. 8-45 Newcastle. S/C 09-20 arr. 12.00 hrs HARR. Marched to Majestic. Liver, bacon, spuds, carrot & rice pud, Collected kit from Grand. Got room (434) Met Joe after tea. Had a couple of shorties then we had supper. 1/6d chips & spam 2 1/2d bar of choc & 1/2 pt. from mess. [underlined] Letter to Ma [/underlined]
[page break]
APRIL 22
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Shave. porr; bacon & beans. Exchanged Canadian Shirt & collars Liver, sos, spuds & cab; fruit pie & cust. Dismissed for day. Roamed around town. 1/- stamps & 1/- jam [inserted] tart [/inserted] & coffees. Spuds & stewed meat, jam roll, marmalade & tea. 2/6d to see Fred Astaire & Rita Hayworth in “You were never Lovlier [sic]” 6d coffee & bun.
[page break]
APRIL 23
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; fried bread & spuds, egg (dried) tea. Rain Room inspection. Dismissed from Parade. Finished the book “Knight on Wheels.” Beef, spuds, cab, carrot; stewed apple & cust. Watched snooker game. Had tea in camp. Pretty good Went to see “Orchestra Wives” a very good film. Then went & had a pint at the Victoria.
[page break]
APRIL 24
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
All Bran; bacon; tea. Dismissed so went to Knaresbro on bus. Took photo of viaduct & castle. Sos & chips 2/-d. 2d for 1/2 pt. at the Dropping Well. 6d. to see the well & wishing well. Met Violet, Winnie & Mavis took them to see St. Roberts Chapel & house in the rock. Left ‘em & then had the [inserted] sos & [/inserted] chips. Took ‘em to Harrogate on bus. Went walk thro’ gardens. Had tea at “Grog Café” 1/9 each. Got changed & went 7/- to see “The Sport of Kings” White Rose, Bought train tickets 7 1/2d. Supper at Melody. 2/-d. Put the girls on the 10-40 train back
[page break]
APRIL 25
EASTER [underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Kellogs; egg (fried) on toast, tea. Parade at 9-0. Walk around tea & sandwich in YM. Beef, spuds, carrot & cab; jam roll & cust. 4d on 1-30 bus. 2/- for row (1/- deposit) for boat. Had walk around. Then went round the castle (1/-) Walked back to caravan. Key lost but door opened without. Had tea in relays. RAIN Took Violet to Church. Had a look round it. 1/- for booklets 1/10 1/2d. tickets. Wandered back to caravan. Put blackouts up. X. Looked around for Tom & Bill. X on stn. Train in at 10.15. Another X as train pulled out.
[page break]
APRIL 26
[underlined] EASTER MON. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & beans; tea. parade 08-40 dismissed till 0940 hrs. Squaded (102 sqd) A/C recc. & PT. 2 letters from Ma. Mutton, spuds, beans & cabbage; rhubarb pie & cust; water. Navigation quiz. Dinghie [sic] drill in the baths. Signals. [underlined] Registered Parcel from Ma Including watch. [/underlined] Had tea with a bit of a [indecipherable word] Met Violet at bus stn. Went to see “Arabian Nights” & “Berlin Correspondent.” at Scala. 3/6d Spam & Chips supper (2). Got tickets to Starbeck because there were no platform tickets. Saw Vi off on 10-40. Coffee in Hollywood.
[page break]
APRIL 27
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; sos meat & spuds. Nav; Intel; P.T. Stew spuds cold carrot; [deleted] [two indecipherable words] [/deleted] [inserted] black currant [indecipherable word] [/inserted] & cust. [indecipherable word] cake at Smiths. 4 FAST Intelligence. Signals Met films. 2 lots of fish & spuds, jam, tea. Blackout squad. Letter to Ma. bar choc 1/6d sos & chips, coffee. 3d lemonade & 3d choc. Watch 5m. fast at 9-0 PM. Blacked out at 9-30 on 200 floor. Bed 10-30
[page break]
APRIL 28
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Kellogs; toast, egg (dried) spuds fried. Rifle & Revolver Range. 75/80 & 19/60. 6d coffee & cake at Grog Café Sos, spuds, cab & carrot; apple & cust, water. DR flat (interception) had look in Sun Gen room. Intel talk on Coastal Comd. Meat pie spuds, treacle, scone, tea. 4/- for uniform (old, cleaned & pressed.) [underlined] Letter from Ma LETTER TO DORIS. [/underlined] 3d lime juice. missed choc. 1/2d meat roll & chips at Melodys List of stamps
[page break]
APRIL 29
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; sos & fried spuds; tea. Signals (lecture.) Pay £7.10/- for stamp catalogue. Beef, spuds, cab, carrot; apricot & cust. Navi sigs (D/Fan loop) Dinghi [sic] drill (turning it over.) Spam, lettuce, beet, pickles; jam & tea. No Mail. Opera House booked up so joined pit queue. Tom & pal didn’t arrive before I got in. 1/6d & 3d programme “The Farmers Wife” very good & funny. 1/6d sos & chips, bread & coffee. Bed 10-30.
[page break]
APRIL 30
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Porr, beans on toast, [underlined] JAM. [symbol] [/underlined] & tea. A/C rec. Sigs (lecture) PT (RAIN.) Stew, spuds, carrot & cab; sponge pud & cust. nav. (reading “op” logs) sigs (loop) A/C, rec. film. Sardines on toast & fried spuds; jam roll; marmalade. Letter to Ma. 16/- & 1/6 stamps. Mounted stamps. 20 lengths at baths (500 yds.) meat savoury, chips & carrot; coffee. 3/4d. bed 10-30. Lemonade & crisps.
[page break]
MAY 1
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & liver; marmalade tea. Intel. (Fighter Commd.) Sigs (buzzer.) D/R compass. Meat pie, spuds, cab & carrot; rice pud. Parceled [sic] laundry, books & watch etc. Sorted kit out a bit. 1/1d for parcel. 12/6d stamp & duplicate book. Bread & treacle, buns (currant) fruit tart, tea. 2/6d. at Odeon “Natasha” Russian Nurse in front line. “Footlight Serenade” John Wayne Vic. Mature & Betty Grable. 1/6d chips, spam & coffee.
[underlined] Letter from MA. [/underlined]
[page break]
MAY 2
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Porr fried egg & bread; tea. Church Parade Went to OD service (2d.) coffee at Hollywood 3d. Went with Tom to St. Peter’s. (6d) Beef spuds, cab & carr; trifle & water. [underlined] Letter to Ma. [/underlined] 3d choc. From Mess. M.O.I. films in B.R. “Lancaster,” Poland weighs anchor. “Terrence De Marney & 20TH Cent Fox News. [underlined] Ham. [/underlined] lettuce & water cress marmalade & cake. “Messiah” at Church (2d) Walk thro’ wood & gdns. 1/2d chips & spam & coffee. Guns from Grand “pullover”. [indecipherable word] special on 9-0 pm news Going to bed 9-30 PM.
[page break]
MAY 3
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; beans on toast & bacon, tea. Posting Parade Kit Inspection packed some. Stamp Cat no in yet. Stew, spuds, peas, sweeds; [sic] rhubarb pie & cust; coffee. More Packing. [underlined] P.C. to MA [/underlined] FFI & starts. Ran around for mail. Cheese & spuds, & spuds (fried) jam & tea. Mail at Mag. & Spa. NONE at ALL. Pay Accounts. Put allotment up to 3/6d. 1/6d to see “Panama Hatti” again! 1/2d corned beef & chips. 2d lemonade & choc.
2/- subsistence.
[page break]
WESTFREUGH.
MAY 4
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; egg & spuds. Parade 7-30. Train 8-40 from Har Leeds 9-30 leave 10-30. Stafford; 2 Kit bags short. Cheese sandwich & cake at 12 AM. Arr. Carlisle 2 PM. 2d cottage pie & spud Went to EPTS but all girls out. Arr. camp. 22.00. Chips & meat roll & tea for supper. Got bedding & billet. Joined up with the rest of the lads.
[page break]
MAY 5
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 7-0. Porr; liver & spuds; marmalade & tea – Collected harness & books etc. Beef, spuds, beet & mixed veg; plums & cust. Gen talk. Marking Possns on Maps; PT. Kidney & liver on toast; jam; coffee. Stamps. [underlined] Letter to Ma. [/underlined] Liver & spuds; tea. Talk with the WAAF’s in Mess. Unpacked kit & sorted it out.
[page break]
MAY 6
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 7-45 & consequently had no bfst. Marking Flight plans. Ditching drill & parachuting drill. Beef, spuds & cabbage; trifle & biscuits. Gen on radio work as an aid to nav & a bit on requirements of exercises (F2330 etc.) Dinghy drill actual inflation of dinghy with CO2 bottle. Egg & chips; butter & jam; tea. Set watch at 6-0 PM. More [indecipherable word] on maps. Chips, sos & spud pie; tea. Got bed side “TABLE” Got to bed about 11.15 after waiting for bridge players who were using my bed.
[page break]
MAY 7
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & egg (dried) marmalade tea. DR details for logs Pay accounts. Lecture by G.C. of stn. Stew spuds & sweeds; [sic] sponge currant pud. Gunnery Sights & sighting & the 303 Browning Machine Gun. Welsh Rarebit, treacle, tea. Letter to Len. Gill (Stamps) & to Ma. Meat pie & spuds; biscuits; tea. RAIN. Dancing lessons at Education office.
[page break]
MAY 8
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 12-0 for dinner Had shave. Spam, spuds, beet; rhubarb & cust. No mail. 2-30 bus into Stranraer. Went to P.O. book of stamps 2/6. & 10/-, 5/- & 2/6d stamps 2/4d at Kinema to see “Clark Gable & Jean M. Don in “San Fransisco.” 1/- fish & chips & cup tea. bus back 6d (each way.) Meat pie & [deleted] spuds [/deleted] [inserted] [indecipherable word] [/inserted] cake & dry bread, tea. NO MAIL. Blowing like HELL & cold as CHARITY also a spot of rain.
[page break]
MAY 9
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Egg & fried spuds; porr; tea. Browning Mch. Gun & A/C rec. Beef cold, spuds, cabbage; trifle. NO MAIL 5 Sun Shots. Photography revision. “Mickey Rooney.” treacle, cake & tea. Fitting oxygen tank & mike together. Unpacked flying kit. Meat roll & beet for [underlined] SUPPER [/underlined] with coffee.
[page break]
MAY 10
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 6-25. Kellogs; beans & bacon; bread & [indecipherable word]; tea. Flight Canceled [sic] bad weather. Ops. Room & Met Gen. Started Plat. Soup; stew, spuds, carrots; raisin & current pasty; tea. Finished Plot. Soup; stew, spuds, carrots; raisin & current pasty; tea. Finished Plot. £3.10. pay. Fried meat roll & spuds; scone & butter; tea. [underlined] Letter from MA & Dad!!! [/underlined] Spuds & dried egg, tea & dry bread. Plotted my 5 Sun Shots. All OK & no need to “cock” them either. Shave. Wrote letter to Ma.
[page break]
MAY 11
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & dried egg; tea. First flight executed OK. STEW, spuds, carrots; soup; stewed apricot & rice pud. 10 Sun Shots. Worked them out, a bit. Then went into see DRI. [deleted] B [/deleted] Good idea too. Aldis Comp. Sos roll & spuds; cake; marmalade & butter; tea. Reading Gen. book. Flight Cancelled for tonight. THICK SOUP for SUPPER & RATION BISCUITS!! coffee & TEA MIXED!! Continued reading Admin. & Conduct Gen (252) 6d for half pint. Bed 10-30 [underlined] Posted letter to MA. [/underlined]
[page break]
MAY 12
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Didn’t get up for bfst. D.R. Trainer all AM. acted as Navigator Gwyn as pilot. Soup; steak & chips, cabbage; cinnamon pud & cust. A/C recc. Photography. 1/- haircut. Minced meat, spuds; scone jam & tea. [underlined] LETTER FROM MA. [/underlined] 3/10 1/2d rations (7 1/2d charge) Wrote letter to Ma. Potato, - cheese & scone; coffee. Worked out Yesterdays Sun Shots. Bed about 10-0 PM.
[page break]
[underlined] VIOLET & ANNIE [/underlined]
MAY 13
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Rain! Flight washed! Porr; bacon & fried spuds; tea. D.R. Interception, Critical Point. Stamp Catalogue & laundry registered mail. Critical Point (DR.) Cold beef, spuds, cabbage; prunes, rice pud; tea; DR. Gas Mask check. Gas chamber. Getting loops on Marconi. Chips & sos roll; jam, cake & tea. [underlined] Posted letter to MA. Wrote & posted to Violet & Annie [/underlined] Sardines, chips, beet; tea. Glass lime juice.
[page break]
MAY 14
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 6-15 AM. Porr & hadock. [sic] Bus to Turnberry to hospital to do dinghy drill in outer suit & with “Mae West.” Bus back. Meat pie, spuds & peas; stewed apricots & cust. [underlined] NO MAIL. [/underlined] Game of football. Sos & spuds for tea. Read newspaper in Mess. Hadock [sic] alone for supper. Night flight. Not so bad. Landed 00-50 [deleted] E [/deleted] Took 10 star slots. Had [deleted] fr [/deleted] breakfast in Perm. Sgts. Mess. Chips & hadock [sic] prunes & ground rice pud.
[page break]
MAY 15
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
Sewed buttons on trousers. Got up 11-30. Cold beef, cold spuds & cold mixed veg; rice pud. 1/- bus into Stranraer. 9d parcel of laundry home. 2/4 at Kinema Sabu in the film “Jungle Book.” 6d chips & pop. bus back. [underlined] Letter to MA. [/underlined] Meat pie; treacle, cake & cocoa. Letter acknowledging receipt of SG. Stamp Catalogue to [underlined] Len. Gill. [/underlined] Harrogate.
[page break]
ELSIE.
MAY 16
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; egg & spuds (real egg) tea. Sighting. [deleted] & [/deleted] Church service. 11-0 Took collection Browning stoppages. Beef, spuds (boiled & baked) cabbage; trifle. Turrets, hydraulic system. A/C rec. Tongue, mixed veg, spuds; cake, butter & jam, tea.
[underlined] Letter to Elsie Storey. [/underlined] “Mickey Rooney” & cocoa. Had a fag with Donbarand. [underlined] Short letter to Ma. [/underlined]
[page break]
MAY 17
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Didn’t go for bfst. Astrograph Room; photo taken of course Meat pie, spuds, cabbage; stewed apricots & cust. Flight. Landed at NUTTSCORNER for air for brakes. Towed in big tractor. Valve US. One out of gun circuit substituted. Magic Eye. U.S. Given beds by S.W.O. Ham, onion, beet; butter & cake, tea. Walked around billet. 1/6d egg & sos; bread & butter; tea. Tried to get some eggs but couldn’t make it.
[page break]
MAY 18
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 7-15. Wash in Mess. Kellogs; bacon & fried spuds; bread & butter; tea. Walked to Flying Control. Ran to kite. Got her started & away we went. Reported to F. Control & then F/Sgt. Warren. Lads flew last night so have day off. Steak, chips, cabbage; cust & rhubarb. Mess Meeting (Cinema) Set out 2-20 to walk to Portpatrick. Arrived 6-0 PM. [underlined] Went to eat. [/underlined] 10d. bus to Stran. 1/8d. chips & fish; bread; tea. 6d cake & pop at WVS 1/6d beers. 6d. bus.
[page break]
MAY 19
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Up 6-0 AM. Sos & mash. Flight 1st Nav. made a mess of it. Stew, spuds, carrots; plum duff & cust. Log analasis. [sic] Photography. DENTAL PARADE which turned into GARDENING & SNOTTY remarks by PTI Sgt. Minced meat. [underlined] Letter from MA, Violet & Doris [/underlined] Started letter to Doris. Welsh rarebit; tea. letter to Doris cont.. [underlined] Posted letter to Doris. [/underlined] Worked out Grnd. Star Shots. Chips peas & chop; rice pud; tea. Start sleep 12-30 to 1-0.
[page break]
MAY 20
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Got nearly to Boderely Pt. when we were recalled. Spuds, peas & liver; rice pud; tea. Bed! till 12-0. Soup; cold beef, spuds, cabbage; prunes & cust. [underlined] Letter from MA. [/underlined] 1/0 1/3d. coffee biscuits & writing paper [underlined] Wrote letter to MA. [/underlined] Plotted Sun & star shots. [underlined] Letter to P & P & Mary. [/underlined] Sos, beans; bun, cake, marmalade & tea. [underlined] Posted above letters. [/underlined] Took off 10-30. Radio went U.S. landed at VALLEE 11-30. Eventualy [sic] went for supper about 2-30 AM. Chips, bacon & egg; tea. Bed about 3-15 AM. Had to make our beds [deleted] up [/deleted] down. [underlined] Letter to Violet [/underlined]
[page break]
MAY 21
[underlined] FRIDAY. 43. [/underlined]
Got up 11-0 AM. Lift to Sgts Mess. Stew, spuds, cabbage; apricot tart; coffee. Lift to Flying Control. Took off & went to Llandarog. Radio came in OK. but stbd. engine oiling up. Missing on one cylinder. Transport to Mess. Spam, beet, lettuce; tea. Took 10 to 15 min to start stbd. engine. Left at 6 – o’clock. Arrived base 10 past 7. [underlined] Letter from Ma & Elsie. [/underlined] Sardines, tomato, onion; chips & pie; tea & coffee. [underlined] Letter to Ma. [/underlined] Soup; tongue, spuds, peas; prunes & ground rice pud; coffee Flight washed.
[page break]
MAY 22
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
Wrote letter (8 pgs) to Elsie Went to sleep 3-30 AM. Up at 11.15. Tongue, mixed veg, spuds; trifle. No Mail. Bus into town. £8 money order. [underlined] Posted it & letter to Ma & letter to Elsie. [/underlined] 2/6d to see Jack Oakie in “Navy Blues” seen it before but it wasn’t so bad. Bus back. Usual tea. Sorting stamps give me by Willie. Sos roll, chips; tea. Joan plauging [sic] me. Lent ‘em ground sheet. Still sorting stamps. 11-30.
[page break]
MAY 23
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Up 6-15 AM. Porr; egg on toast; tea Flight down to Holyhead. Line-overlap & stereo 5. Beef, spuds, cabbage; soup; apple pie & custard. Making astrograph problems. Signals (morse & gen talk.) [underlined] Spam & beet; tea – spoonful of marmalade [/underlined]; scone & tea. Stamp sorting & sticking in. Minced meat & spuds, tea (WHAT A SUPPER!!!) More stamp sticking. Backed Catalogue.
[page break]
MAY 24
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & beans; tea. In flying suits on Turrets BP. & FN. Filling & bleeding system of FN. Soup; stew, spuds, beans, sweede; [sic] bread pudding. 1/- raffle (2 X 6d) for chicken proceeds to POWFd Sighting again & evasion & tactics. PT. Stafford pulled a leg at rugger. [underlined] Parcel (clothes, finger & stamps) from MA. [/underlined] “Mickey Rooney” cake, jam & butter. [underlined] Letter to Ma. Soup & bread for Supper [/underlined] !!!! Finished letter. Wrote logs up as far as possible Put wick in lighter.
[page break]
MAY 25
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Porr, bacon & dried egg; tea. Log analasis, [sic] stuck amendments into AP1234. Soup; chips, carrots, peas, steak; lemon curd tart, cup water. Had SPOON LIFTED NO MAIL. Late afternoon flight. Not so bad & not so good. 6-45 chips & treacle; tea. Sat talking to lads & WAAFS [underlined] Couldn’t eat the supper [/underlined] but had 2 cups of coffee [underlined] Letter form Violet. [/underlined] Reading Agony Column again.
[page break]
MAY 26
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Didn’t get up till 4-0. Shave. A/C recco. 4 1/2d coffee & cake at Scotch Hut. Sighting, Browning. etc. Soup; stew, spuds, cab; stewed apricot & ground rice pud. Turret, sighting & Browning exam. 34 for Browning [underlined] Letter from Ma. [/underlined] Sos meat & spuds; cake & jam, tea. [underlined] Letter from Doris C. & Walker. Letter to Violet & Doris [/underlined] “Mickey Rooney” & coffee. NO 2nd NAVS so wrote letter to MA.
[page break]
MAY 27
[underlined] THURS 43. [/underlined]
[deleted] Porr; bacon & dried egg. Sticking amendments in AP1234 Log analasis [sic] Chips, carrots, peas, beef steak; lemon curd tart; soup. Had SPOON LIFTED NO MAIL. [/deleted] Got up 8-45. Learning WING spare. 3 1/2d coffee & cakes. Devioscope. Photo (line overlap.) Soup; taters, carrot & sweede, [sic] mutton; rhubarb, [underlined] Letter from Mary. [/underlined] DRI. Pilot for Gwyn. A/C rec. exam. Cheese, onion, beet, water cress cake, jam; tea. [underlined] Letter to MA. CHIPS & TEA for Supper. [/underlined] 22-30 take off. Went to Blackpool. Couldn’t see the tower.
[page break]
MAY 28
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Chips, bacon; ground rice pud & raisins; tea for early Bfst. Got to bed 3-0 AM. Up at 11-0 AM Had bath & put clean clothes on. Soup; beef, spuds, cabbage; bread pud. Parceled [sic] laundry. 6d bus into town. 10d laundry. 2/6d stamps & 2/6d envelopes 6d tea, cakes & mints. 2/6d Circus. Set off to walk back. Lift by ATC officer. Filled “doins” for leave. Supper not too bad. [underlined] Wrote letter to MA. [/underlined] amid hulabaloo. USA [indecipherable word] drunk “ON DUTY.”
[page break]
MAY 29
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
Up 8-15. Porr, sos & bacon breakfast. Working out air shots. Took 6 shots on Sun with IX A Sextant. Tongue, spuds, mixed veg; trifle. 3-0 PM flight. Up to Perth & back. Cheese, onions, lettuce, water cress. Plotted air shots & this mornings 6 sun shots. Started turning kit over ready to pack. Soup; cold beef (NICE) spuds lettuce & onions; trifle; tea. Flight washed out.
[page break]
MAY 30
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Up 11-0. Beef, spuds, cab; sponge pud. Sight plotting & loging [sic] & time loging. [sic] Fired several rounds in FN turret at moving tgt. Not so bad. Meat ball, spuds, pancake; treacle & tea. Finished making log book up to date Packed all my kit. Fechini”, Arty & Durrant flat out!! Went to Mess to see how the others were. Sing Song. Bed 1-15 AM
[page break]
WF – TRAIN
MAY 31
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Up 7-0 AM. Shave. Porr; fried spuds, HAM (boiled.) Tea, Handed NAV equip in to stores. Handed NAV equip. in to stores. Handed bedding in & parachute harness 4/9 Mess Bill. £6 Pay. FFI. Soup; steak & kidney pud, spuds; semaelena [sic] & WATER Handed books into library. SHORT!! Lecture by C.O. & CI. Cheese & spuds; jam & butter; tea. Sat in Mess talking to ACH/GD & Joan. Welsh Rarebit & tea RAIN. Bus to Harbor Stn. 10-0 PM pulled out.
[page break]
TRAIN – HOME
JUNE 1
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Arr. WIGAN 4:15. 3d tea & sandwich. 6:00 pulled out (5:35 timetable.) Arr. Manchester 7:00 1/- taxi to London Road. cup tea. 2d wash & brush up. 1d in “SLOT.” Pulled out 8:20. Arr. R’HAM 10:00. 2/- taxi home. Bfst. Cleaned bike. 7 1/2d bulb. Short run. Saw V. Geog. Dinner. Unpacked one or two odds & ends. Tea. Took Sallie for a walk in the Caper af seeing Elsie (9:30)
[page break]
JUNE 2
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 11-0 AM. Had a shave. Gran here sewing TENT. Fitted mirror on bike. Went to get hair cut. Barber in hospital so went to see Mace’s (Mr. Mrs. & Joan in.) Barber at top of Far Lane too full. Granpa come for tea. Mrs. Dunn & David called in. Went a run as far as St. Ann’s Road then up Don. Gate and along Bds. Moore Lane Saw Elsie’s brother. Took Gran & Pa home with Sallie Saw Elsie’s brother again. Had a Pint with Granpa in Park Hotel.
[page break]
JUNE 3
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Woke up at 12-0. June still in bed. Drizzle!!! Went to S.P.T. about 3 to 1/2 past. A lot of new lads & girls Went in to see Mr. Duke. Went to Grans. about 8 o’clock. Pat gone for music lesson. Took Sallie with us & let her have a run. Dad gone to dance. Got back about 11-30.
[page break]
JUNE 4
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Up about 10 to 1/2 past. Went up to school. Din at home. Took Sallie to be klipped [sic] then went for a hair cut myself. Went to find Ma at Granpas. then went on to [deleted] Macea [/deleted] Mace’s for tea. Left between 9 & 10 & went to Elsie’s. Left about 11-0.
[page break]
JUNE 5
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 11-0. Went for a WALK round the town Bought stamps (1/6d) in Woolworth’s & Bob Martin’s powders for Sallie. Jackie called to see if I’d heard anything. Went to see if Baths were open & found ‘em shut. Brake chain on bike in process. 4d for new link. 4d, for straps for hubs. Went to Gran M with June. Went to see Annie and found where Watson lived. Decided to go up to see Gran & Granpa. T. Met Baldwin & Baker learning dance.
[page break]
JUNE 6
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 1-0 PM just after news, Telegram from RAF. Went up to Sheffield to get ticket changed. 25 min each way. & 6.3 mls. distance Saw Lanc & Martlet. Come back soaked in sweat. Had cold bath. Went to see Dennis then went on to Granma Machin’s and had tea! there also had supper. Went to Park and had a Pint. Got home about 11-30.
[page break]
JUNE 7
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Down at 10-0. Got to Dad’s about 11-0. Went across to S.P.T. Saw Mrs Skilcarne. Got £7/15 for 5/- a week dependants [sic] allotment. Din. at home. Judy Garland in “For me & my Gal.” RAIN! Time of train (LNE) Walked home in rain. Packing Went across to Dunn’s Back & bed 1-0 AM.
[page break]
JUNE 8
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 10-0. Rang up for taxi from Dunn’s. Elmores engaged so ordered Moorehouses for 1-0 PM. Finished packing. Taxi 1-2 PM!! Station 1-15 2/- + 6d. Dad arrived just after. Train on time arrived Sheff 1-35. 6d. for kit bags. Met Woodruff. Train out 2-5!!! arr. 4-10. NO TRANSPORT so went to eat 2/2d chips & rarebit & tea. TRANS arr. 6-30 just 2hrs 20 mins out!! Ran around camp a bit & eventualy [sic] ended up at 7 site. Sos & spuds in Mess. Tom & Garry in Ante Room. Walked around. [underlined] Wrote & posted letter to Ma [/underlined]
[page break]
JUNE 9
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Up 7-15. Bfst. 8-0. Porr; bacon & tomato. Went up to G./S then back to Dental & FFI Filled form in re pay, flying clothing etcetra. [sic] Din, soup; meat & spud pie, cabbage & spuds; rice pud. Parade 13-45. Marched! to G/S. Photo in CIVIES. Lectures by WO, CGI, ACGI & CAGI. Collected sheets. Pilchards cheese, marmalade & swiss roll & nice hot tea. [underlined] Wrote letters to Mary & Ralph [/underlined] Meat roll, tomatoe; [sic] cocoa!! Took PT kit & 2nd. suit of blue out of kit bags.
[page break]
JUNE 10
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
PT. at 6-30!! Kellogs; [inserted] lemon [/inserted] curd; sos; tea. Lectures on NAV. Soup; steak, spuds & cabbage; plum pud. More lectures & one on Int & Security. Spam & chips; marmalade; cake; tea. [underlined] Letter to Ma. [/underlined] Spam, beet, cheese, (egg provided by Willie) cocoa. [underlined] Letter to Doris (R) [/underlined]
[page break]
JUNE 11
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon, spuds & cabbage; tea. Lectures (loop etc.) Soup; fish, spuds, peas; pears & cust. NAV & NAV & NAV. [underlined] Letter from Ma. [/underlined] Cottage pie; marmalade; cake & tea. RAIN Storm. Sewed buttons & darned pocket. Welsh rarebit without toast; cocoa. [underlined] Letter to MA. & Dennis & Elsie [/underlined]
1/2 pint. & writing paper (1/4d)
[page break]
JUNE 12
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
PT at 6-30. Porr; beans on toast tea. 8-0 Parade. DR Plot at double time. as pilot. Soup; stew, spuds, cabbage; sponge pud; water. Crewed up with (Allen & Dick (BA) Lots of sunshine. [underlined] Letter from MA. [/underlined] A/C rec. test. NAV (maps & charts.) Ship rec. with Int. Officer (B. good fun) Cheese savoury; marm; cake & tea. [underlined] Letters form Gwyn, Violet, Doris (2) & A/G from Doris. Letter to Ma. [/underlined] stewed meat, spuds; cocoa. [underlined] letters to Doris & Violet. [/underlined] Pantellaria & Lampedusa FALLEN to our bombers.
[page break]
JUNE 13
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Didn’t get up for bfst & of course it was EGG. Lectures (navi; etc.) Soup; beef, spuds, cabbage; trifle. More lectures (Wimpey fusel, A/C rec. TEST again!! NAV.) [deleted] Ha [/deleted] Tongue, spuds; jam & cake; tea. No mail being Sunday. Sat reading in the mess then fetched writing paper. [underlined] Wrote to P & P. [/underlined] Cheese, trifle; cocoa. More reading. [underlined] Finished P & P’s letters. [/underlined] Started one to Doris. 2 fags & one pint (5/- for beer for 5 of us.) Tom, Art, Stew & Joe. Lent Pat 2 soap coupons.
[page break]
[circled JUNE 14]
[underlined] MON.43. [/underlined]
PT at 6-30 AM. Shave! Kellogs, bacon & fried spuds; tea. lectures (fuel system, turret Int) Soup; meat pie, spuds, cab; bread pud. Met [deleted] Int [/deleted] Med. Officer on Night Vis. O2 & VD. Cross Country. Salmon & cheese; marmalade; swiss roll; tea. [underlined] Finished 4 page letter to Doris [/underlined] Meat roll, spuds; cocoa. [underlined] SHOWERS. [/underlined] Bed at 10-30
[page break]
JUNE 15
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon; [inserted] & dried egg [/inserted] tea. Lectures (NAV (maps) DR Trainer.) Soup; stewed steak, spuds, peas; trifle. [underlined] 2 letters & cards from MA letter from ELSIE & Mary Card from Doris. [/underlined] Lectures (Signals; [inserted] mag [/inserted] compass, map reading [underlined] Rhur. [/underlined]) Cheese; jam; swiss roll, tea. [underlined] Letter to Elsie. (5 pg) [/underlined] Started one to Ma. Dried egg & bacon; cocoa. [underlined] Finished letter to Ma. [/underlined]
[page break]
JUNE 16
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Shave; Kellogs & sos; tea. W/T aids, DR Trainer. Soup; beef, spuds, cabbage; apple pie; water. Gyro, Signals, Intel. Spuds, fried spam, marmalade & tea. Couldn’t get to change boots so left ‘em in F/Sgt Disips office. [underlined] Letter from MA BD. Cable from Doris. Letter to MARY & Ma. [/underlined] Cold meat; cold veg salad; cocoa [underlined] Letter to Doris (R) [/underlined]
[page break]
JUNE 17
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
PT. Porr, bacon & spuds; tea. NAV (astro & DR comp.) Soup; spuds, cab; liver & kidney; choc. sponge pud. 6d choc, 6d cider. More lectures. Minced meat & spuds. Taxi 1/2d. Pint (1/2) Picts Robertson Hare “Women Aren’t Angels.” Went to Dance. Danced with ANN (WAAF) and Hilda ATS girl. Took her out to her transport. Waited till 1-15 for taxi [underlined] 5/6d [/underlined]
[page break]
JUNE 18
[underlined] FRI. 43 [/underlined]
Porr; beans on toast; tea. NAV (astro & general revision) Soup; beef, spuds, peas; rice pud. Signals; [symbols]; Intelligence. RAIN & MORE RAIN. [underlined] Letter from MA & DORIS. M. R’L also 2 from Doris Collins. [/underlined] Spam & spuds. Walked up to Met with Tom, Saltaw & Stev also arrived on bikes. Nattered. Went in HORSA. Liver savoury & cocoa. Swotted! 1/2 pint. [underlined] Letter to Ma. [/underlined]
[page break]
JUNE 19
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
Drizzle. No PT. Porr; bacon & fried bread; tea. NAV (DR Comp) Signals (loop swing.) Photography. Bombing. Soup; spuds, cab, steak & kidney stew [inserted] sponge pud. [/inserted] NAV exam OK. Fetched Registered parcel & [underlined] asked ADJ. if times couldn’t be altered [/underlined] Potato & cheese, jam, tea. [underlined] Letters from Ma & Violet [deleted] 2 from Doris Collins. [/deleted] [/underlined] Examined kit. Stewed steak & kidney, tea & cocoa. [underlined] Letter to MA. [/underlined] 1/2 pint.
[page break]
JUNE 20
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & tomato; tea. Signals, Gee. Met. ? . Soup; spuds, cab, beef; apple & raisin pie; orange juice. More lectures. Dinghy & Para. Drill. Pyrotechnics Demonstration of Pyros. Gunnery & bombing range orders. Ham & lettuce; cake; tea. Cleaned buttons & boots. Finished “50 Candles.” Cheese, lettuce, pickles; cocoa [underlined] Letter to MA. [/underlined] glass orangeade. NOT juice!! 10-15 PM bed!!
[page break]
JUNE 21
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; beans on toast; tea. Nav plotting a short exercise. Pay accounts 11-0. £1 pay!!!!!!! Intelligence (Targets) Soup; Stew, spuds, peas; trifle; glass orangeade. Course photo P.N & B. Wops & A/Gs separate. More Dinghy; Airgunnery; Aircraft Recco. Sardines; bread & jam; tea. [underlined] Letter from Gwyn. [/underlined] Reading novel (thriller) mystery Meat & potato pie & spuds cocoa. Early Bed
[page break]
JUNE 22
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
PT. Porr; beans on toast. Sigs exam, [symbol] etc. Soup; beef, spuds, mixed veg; prunes [underlined] Letter from MA. [/underlined] [symbol]; M.O.; film, Briefing Room. Cake, sos meat fried & spuds; tea. 2/10d taxi. 2/9d picts. “Moon & Sixpence” Georg [sic] Sanders. 3/- taxi back bed about 12-0.
[deleted] [underlined] Letter from Mary. [/underlined] [/deleted]
[page break]
JUNE 23
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; tea (sos.) Lecture NAV & G. Marks 82% [underlined] New Shoes. Letter from MA. [/underlined] Soup; [inserted] meat & [/inserted] spud pie, cab, spuds; apple & cust MOUSED GAT. Lectures (Sigs 83% Exam, Crew coop, Dinghy Drill. Meat & spud pie; jam; tea. Voluntary Dinghy Drill [underlined] Joe £1. [/underlined] Turned kit over. Cold meat & beet, cocoa. [underlined] Letter to Violet & Doris C [/underlined] Choc & cig. rations. 1/2 pint beer ([symbol]) Shower.
[page break]
JUNE 24
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 8-0. Kellogs; beans on toast; tea. Collected pass. Packed up & cleaned up. Pay parade 12-0. [underlined] £4-5s [/underlined] !!! Ran for taxi. 7/2d train ticket home. 12-46 train. Changed at Trent 2-45 Sheffield. Came on train from there as next train was 3-45. Arr home 3-30. Went for run on bike. Tea at home. Went for another run round. Saw Ken, Elsie’s brother. Saw Elsie & her Dad. Les & H. passed me while I was there. Didn’t know me! Mom, Dad & I went for walk with Sallie.
[page break]
JUNE 25
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 10-0. Shave. Fetched meat ration. Went to work. Saw Mr. Methley. Had dinner with Reg. in Staff Canteen. Saw Peg & rest. Left about 3-45. 2/- B.D. cards. for Pam & Elsie. Met Ma Went to butchers for potted meat then went with Ma to the office. Tea at home. Went to Grans. Elsie’s at 10-0 till almost midnight (23.59!!)
[page break]
JUNE 26
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 10-0. Got Pat out of bed. Went shopping with P & P. bought them a book each. Couldn’t find anything for Elsie. Met Dad in Town. Walked back home. Had Din. Went with D.M. P. & P. for a pair of shoes for Pat. Library 2/6d Envelopes. Tom called to see us. Left RHAM 7-35 to 40. arr LOUGHBORO’ 10-0 PM. Went short run round. [underlined] Posted card to PAM [/underlined] 4 miles to camp (20 mins.) Had pint. [underlined] 2 letters from MA & one from Doris [/underlined]
[page break]
JUNE 27
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Up at 7-15. Porr; egg on toast. Parade 8-15?? Handed old O2 mask in & drew a new one & 3 sets of underclothes Packed with difficulty. Didn’t have soup; cabbage & spuds, stew; prunes. Chased all over camp with clearance chits. Lettuce, cheese, beef, tomatoe [sic] marmalade; tea. Transport to C.D. on back of lorry. Bike near light bust & bit. Cocoa & lettuce for tea (2nd.) Didn’t like looks of beans for supper. Unpacked Mended lamp. [underlined] Letter to MA [/underlined]
[page break]
JUNE 28
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; egg (dried) on toast; tea. Gen talks by ACGI, CGI & one or two others. Went over to flights. Talk by Flt. Comdr Drew mike & earphones. Soup; spuds, cabbage, steak; boiled pud. Took flying kit down to flights. Went to see NAV officer & had gen talk. Meat roll, lettuce; fried egg; lemon curd; tea. [underlined] Letter to Mary; Elsie & Doris (CAN). [/underlined] Went to CD. with Charlie on bike 3d of chips. 1/2 pint of beer. Cycled back.
[page break]
JUNE 29
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; fried spuds, smoked bacon. Waited till 10-0 then had “gen” talk by NAV officer. Read orders & signed some. Had sextant checked. Dinner. [underlined] Letter from Violet. [/underlined] Plotted dromes SBA etc onto chart. Had tea, twice chips & corned beef. 2/6 taxi to Lough. 2/- picts “Star Spangled Rythm.” [sic] 6d chips. 2/- taxi back to camp.
[page break]
JUNE 30
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; sos; tea. Waited for a flight but didn’t go up. Soup; beef, spuds, cauliflower Circuits & bumps. Then did one solo. Late tea. Chips, meat pie and cake; tea. Wash. Lecture on P. & W. at 8-0 PM. 1/2 pint all round crew except Dick. Walked back to billet
[page break]
JULY 1
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; beans on toast; tea & cocoa mixed. Waited for a flight then went and had talk by NAV officer. Soup; beef, spuds, cabbage; plum pud; water. Dual & solo. Dick had a do at flying. Egg on toast; butter & jam; tea. Hurricane concert in Mess. [underlined] Letter from Ma. Letter to Ma. [/underlined]
[page break]
JULY 2
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Kellogs; bacon & tomato; tea Eventualy [sic] went to lectures No actual work done. Soup; spuds, cabbage, meat; custard & [blank space]: water. Flew at about 15.00 after taking about 4 sun shots. Had to come in as the weather closed in. Cold meat & pickles; jam; cake; tea. [underlined] Letter from Ma. [/underlined] 1/2 pint with the lads. Put turning points on chart.
[page break]
JULY 3
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; sos; tea. Took 12 sun shots and made out route seven. Didn’t fly. Soup; meat & spud pie, spuds, cabbage; rhubarb & cust; water. [underlined] 2 letters from Ma. One from Elsie & Norah. [/underlined] Went on C’ & L’s but IC was U.S. so came in at 4-0 PM. Cheese on toast jam, tea. Finished working shots out. 2 plates of chicken broth; cocoa. Charlie & I plotted our shots. Went up to see W for William. Started letter to Ma. Had feast in billet.
[page break]
JULY 4
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Continued feast till 12-30. Up at 7-35. Shave. Kellogs egg on toast; tea. X Country Route 7. Briefed, Met Gen. etc. Managed to get round to Ragdale & back to base. A BAD trip Sextant went haywire. Soup; mutton, spuds, peas, cauliflower; corned beef, lettuce, onion, tomato; jam roll, jam & tea. [underlined] Letter to MA. 8 page letter to Doris (R) [/underlined]
[page break]
JULY 5
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon, cabbage? & toast; tea. Wet dinghy drill at Loughboro College Baths. Coffee & toasted tea cakes in café. Briefed for X Country. Soup; minced meat, spuds, cabbage; tart & custard. X. Country washed. Set off for bombing trip. I/C US. & recalled by W/T so returned before we left. [underlined] Letter from Ma, Doris (R) & Mary. [/underlined] Sardines on toast, jam; tea. Bike repairs.
[page break]
JULY 6
[underlined] TUES. 43 [/underlined]
Porr; egg (dry) on toast. No flight. Kite US & weather same. Soup; meat pie etc. Eventualy [sic] went & bombed at Ragdale also took photos & sim-bombed. [underlined] haircut. 1 orange [/underlined] & tea (similar to usual.) Joe got teleg. [sic] Took him into Loughbro on Dick’s bike. 3d chips & half pint. Got half way back & a cpl. rode Dick’s bike back to billets. [underlined] Bed 12-0 [/underlined]
[page break]
JULY 7
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Kellogs; bacon on toast; tea. Went up & did formation flying. Kite U/S. so didn’t go bombing. Soup; beef, spuds, caulif [sic] currant pud. Did low flying then went bombing. Target hard to see. [underlined] Letters from Ma Violet & Doris C. [/underlined] Sardines on toast & cottage pie; cocoa. [underlined] Letter to Doris C & Ma & Elsie [/underlined]
[page break]
JULY 8
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; spuds & fish. Eventualy [sic] went out to bomb. Cld. base 2,500 so couldn’t bomb. Took photos. Went down to Kettering. Soup; minced beef & onion, spuds, peas, cabbage; rotten hard sponge pud. No flight. Finished plotting shots. Sat and studied photos in Intel. Library. [underlined] Collected Reg Parcel Letter from Ma. [/underlined] Meat pie jam, tea. Went to Castle D. had pint then 8d of chips then 1 1/2 pints.
[page break]
JULY 9
[underlined] FRI. 43. [/underlined]
Kellogs; fried bread & ham No flight. Went to see photo & bombing results then went to Intel. Library. Soup; stew, spuds, broad beans; rhubarb & cust. Helped WO Brown with DR trainer plot. [underlined] £5.5s pay. [/underlined] Cheese on toast; tea. 3/- taxi. 1/9 “Once upon a Honeymoon” Ginger Rogers 2/6d Dance. 3/- taxi.
[page break]
JULY 10
[underlined] SAT. 43. [/underlined]
All Bran; sos. Early flight cancelled about 9-30 or 10-0. Read “[indecipherable word]” on bed. Soup; mutton, spuds, beans, 2 x pud. Shower. Parcelled laundry. RAIN. Spuds & minced meat; tea. Cycled to Loughboro in rain 7/- for chicken, Worthington etc. cycled back in 35 mins in 35 mins [sic] (7.8 mls.) Went & had 2 pints in mess Had a dance or two Got to bed about 12.30
[page break]
JULY 11
[underlined] SUN. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; egg on toast; Waited for a flight. In the end helped W.O. Brown construct an SHA chart with star altitudes on them. Soup; beef, spuds, cab; york pud (?) bread pud. Sight log book arrived and flying log. Eventualy [sic] went flying. Took off 4-30 back at 9.30. Corned beef, lettuce, tomato; jam; tea. bed about 12-0 PM
[page break]
JULY 12
[underlined] MON. 43. [/underlined]
All bran; cocoa & “bubble & squeak. Prepared to do route 6 in reverse. Eventualy [sic] went out to go bombing. This also washed. RAIN. Soup; MEAT (??) spuds, cab; rice pud. Nowt doing! Went into Intel library & read gen on German atrocities in Russia. Welsh rarebit; jam & tea. Started letter to Ma. [underlined] Posted laundry home [/underlined] & Charlie’s Regd. parcel. Minced meat & spuds; cocoa. [underlined] Finished letter to Ma. [/underlined]
[page break]
JULY 13
[underlined] TUES. 43. [/underlined]
Porridge (sweet). [underlined] BOILED EGG [/underlined] tea. No flight. Duff gen & lines by F/O Wood. Soup; meat pie, lettuce, spuds, onion; jam tart & cust. Log analyst. Reading in Intel. Library. RAIN. Sos & mash, tea. Bombing trip. [underlined] Letter & papers from Ma. [/underlined] Supper in the Airmen’s Mess Cheese, lettuce, pickles; cocoa.
[page break]
JULY 14
[underlined] WED. 43. [/underlined]
Porr; beans & bacon. No flight. Weather US. Eventualy [sic] went out to dispersal Started up then detail was cancelled. Soup; meat pie, spuds, peas; cust trifle. RAIN. Nattered in NAV. office then went to Intel. Library. Fish, cake, tea. [underlined] NO MAIL. Letter to Mary & Ma. [/underlined]
ENSA. Concert. pint beer. B – awfull [sic] stuff.
[page break]
[circled 19.43]
JULY 15
[underlined] THURS. 43. [/underlined]
All Bran; bacon & toast. NO flight – Cloud! Map reading in Bombing teacher then went to [symbol] Room. Afterwards went to Intel. Library. Soup: spuds, cab etc. STILL NO FLIGHT. Made SBA CHART for P/O Simpson. Had tea then cycled to Loughboro with Ken. 2d for bike. Orangeade; coffee & waffers. [sic] 2/- Dance. Got back about 01.00 hrs. nice clear moonlight & starlight night.
[underlined] FINIS [/underlined] !!!!
[page break]
TRENTON – TORONTO
[circled 1942] JULY 16 [underlined] 1942. [/underlined]
[underlined] THURS. [/underlined] Kellogs; sos & tom; coffee Gave bedding in at 8-0. Parade again at 1-30. KTS. Mess. Pork, spuds peas; vanilla pie; cup milk Arr. stn 2-15 on lorry. Arr TOR. 5-30. Stood on stn. till 6-30 then went out to lorries & only just caught ‘em. Drew sheets & pillow Minced meat, spuds, lettuce; bun & tea. 10c. choc ice on stn) 25c. st. car tickets. 15c doughnuts & coffee. None of girls working in White Chef.
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RCAF MANNING DEPOT TORONTO
JUL 17
’42 [underlined] FRI. [/underlined]
Grape juice; bacon, beans & toast; coffee. FFI. Transfer to 7 sqdn. 7 flt. Beef, spuds, carrots; sponge pud; tea. Found bunks & fitted kit up. Sewed buttons on summer tunic. Meat pie, spuds, lettuce; date pie; milk Met Doris on her way to see “Birth of a Baby” $1.20. & “Calafornia [sic] Junior Symphony.” Glass Milk. Went up to Bloor St. White Chef with D & boss Took her home after giving her photo’s of her & Freida, and me. Got photo of her Kissed her “Good Night” STORM Back in camp 11-35 PM
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JULY 18
[underlined] SAT. ’42. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & boiled egg; toast & coffee. Route march to Sunnyside & PT. Beef, spuds, cabb; cust pud; 2 cups tea Moved chairs in Big Arena. [underlined] Letter No. 7 to Ma. Paper from Ma. [/underlined] (20c for stamps.) Beef, cheesed spuds; jam sq; cup tea & milk. 25c. st. car. 5c. milk. Gave Doris ‘brooch. She had to go to wedding party I went to Imperial (60c.) Jeanette Macdonald & Nelson Eddie in “I married an Angel” and Gary Cooper in “The Real Glory.” STORM. 15c cust. pie and cup coffee.
No. 7 to Ma.
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JULY 19
[underlined] SUN. 42. [/underlined]
Kellogs; flat cake & syrup; coffee. Read People & “Tizer. Ham, spuds, carrots; date pie; cup milk. Going out. 12-0. Choc. shake & ice cream. Snarky Lilian (Doris’s pal.) & I went for walk Took several photo’s. Sos, beans, peas, tomato, lettuce & glass of milk. [underlined] 25c. [/underlined] film. 20c total on Wurlitzer. Feeling homesick & far from home and everybody. [underlined] STORM [/underlined] & [underlined] RAIN [/underlined]! [symbol] ? [symbol] Took Doris home she like me is very tired.
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JULY 20
[underlined] MON. 42. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & fried egg; toast & coffee. Dental Chart Parade. Having one I was dismissed. Hair cut 25c. $1’s Worth of stamps Beef (nice & tender) spuds, cabb; rice pud; cup milk. $1.03 for [underlined] Cable to Ma. [/underlined] Maths exam. SIMPLE. Minced meat, spuds, veg. salad; jam & cake; tea. 25c. st. car. 7c coke. 24c for film. One of lightning turned out. Gave other film in ready. WED. 29c. tooth paste. Remarks re Doris unprintable. Mended top on fountain pen.
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JULY 21
[underlined] TUES. 42. [/underlined]
Scrambled egg, tomato; porr, coffee. Ensign hoisting parade 7-30 AM. Drill & P.T. Ham, spuds, sprouts; pumpkin pud; cup milk. 5c. for 1/2 pt. carton of milk. [underlined] Letter from Ma [/underlined] & [underlined] Norah, card from Joyce R. [/underlined] Astro Chart & Signals. Ham, spud & tom salad; scone & tea. Undecided whether to go out or stop in. Think I’ll go out. 25c. st. car. 5c. glass milk. 25c. film (split $10 bill) 5c. coffee. 7c. soap from YMCA [underlined] IN CAMP [/underlined] (8-30.) Going to write letter to Ma. SOLDIER.
No. 3 from Ma
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JULY 22
[underlined] WED. ’42. [/underlined]
Porr, boiled egg & bacon; toast & coffee. We nearly got fatigues but got PT instead. Beef, spuds, carrots; date & raisin pie; cup milk. Nearly finished letter to Ma. $15 pay. Hamburger, spuds; tomatoes; raisin pud & tea. 10c. stickit. 5c milk. 24c films, 60c at Loes Wallace Beery in “Jackass Mail” with Marjorie Maine, also Will Tracey in “About Face.” 12c. straw. sundae & coke. [underlined] CABLE from MA. [/underlined]
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JULY 23
[underlined] THURS. ’42. [/underlined]
porr; toast, fried egg & tomato; coffee. P.T. Pork, sage & onion, spuds, cabbage; pumpkin sponge; cup milk. 5c. choc. milk. No lecture. Dismissed. Filled in form for pass. Finished letter to Ma. Re bound pen top. Meat, spud salad, beet; almond blancmange & lemon sauce; cheese & tea. [underlined] POSTED letter to Ma. Wrote [deleted] cable [/deleted] airgraph to Joyce. & posted same. [/underlined] 30c stamp. 30c. Warren William in “Secrets of the Lone Wolf.” & Gene Autry in “Cowboy Serenade.” 5c. glass milk, 10c Wurlitzer. Tried to have it out with Doris but she wouldn’t give any reason
Letter No. 8 to Ma.
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JULY 24
[underlined] FRI. ’42 [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & beans; toast & coffee Squadron route march & PT (HELL) 5c. peanuts & 5c. milk. Finny Haddock, spuds, beet; egg cust. & pumpkin pud; 1 1/2 cup milk. Lectures & suggestions by & to Flt. Sgt. Fish, toast fried spuds, beet; choc, cake & sauce; 3 slices brd & straw. jam; 2 cups tea! Oh! what a tea! Washed 2 prs. socks & kharki [sic] shirt. Helped one of RCAF boys pack his kit bag. Reading magazine on bed.
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JULY 25
[underlined] SAT. ’42. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon, boiled egg, toast & coffee. Route march to Sunnyside. 5c ice. 10c choc milk & 2 donuts. Meat pie spuds, cab; caramel cream & cup milk. 36 hrs pass 25c st. car. 50c bed at YM. 2c split rings. 15c glass milk & lemon pie. 42c Uptown theatre “Eagle Squadron” Damn Good. 25c. sos, spuds, peas & coffee. st. car to Sunniside. [sic] Walked back 01.10 hrs 10c mints from “Woolies.” 2 cups coffee. 10c. egg & milk 10c. Bed 12.0 AM.
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JULY 26
[underlined] SUN. ’42. [/underlined]
Up at 12-0 PM. Sos, spuds, peas tom; egg & milk (35c.) St. Car to High Park. Sleep, a little not much. St. car back to YM. Picked kit bag up. Kellogs; salmon, lettuce, tom, peas; egg & milk (50c) 25c st. car. Camp 7-15 PM. Tired and have not exerted myself. Cut buttons of kharki [sic] tunic ready to have it pressed & cleaned.
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JULY 27
[underlined] MON. ’42 [/underlined]
Orange; porr; bacon & fried egg; toast & coffee. NO SWIM [underlined] NO P.T. [/underlined]!!! 5c choc. ice. 5c milk. Beef, spuds, carrots caramel cream & apple. Route March with band, to Sunniside. Dismissed for 1/2 hr. Sunbathed. Wish I’d had my costume. Ham & cold beef, spuds & salad; cake, jam & apple. 2 cups tea. Washed 2 pairs socks.
Gave kharki [sic] suit in to be cleaned also put some laundry in (ready WED.)
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JULY 28
[underlined] TUES. ’42. [/underlined]
grapefruit juice; poached egg & tom; toast & coffee. Thrown off CO’s parade because we were wearing our blues. Dismissed at “Sally Ann.” Lift down to Sunnyside. Baths didn’t open ‘till 10-0 and it was 45c. so didn’t go in. 5c. choc. ice. Lift back to barracks. 50c for uniform. Meat pie, spuds, cabb: raisin pie; cup milk & coffee. Drill, P.T. 10c. choc. & vanilla ice. Stewed meat, spuds & beet; cake & jam; tea. Just MUCKED ABATE generaly. [sic]
Papers from Ma.
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JULY 29
[underlined] WED. ’42. [/underlined]
[underlined] RAIN. [/underlined] Porr; bacon & boiled egg; jam, toast & coffee. Parade in Arena. Posting but not for me. LECTURE by corporal. Pork, sage & onion, spuds, cabbage; pumpkin pud; milk. 40c. laundry, gave some more in (ready FRI.) “Sally Anne” 10c. choc. shake. Cold meat, spud salad, lettuce; sponge cake; tea. 10c. egg & milk. 60c. at Loes. Walt. Pidgeon & Greer Garson in “MRS. MINNIVER” A Great film Very touching & realistic.
20c. egg & milk.
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JULY 30
[underlined] THURS. ’42.
cool. [/underlined]
Grapefruit juice; fried egg, tomato; porr; toast & coffee. P.T. Beef, spuds, carrots; sponge pud; tea. 10c. choc. milk & ice. Cpl bought an ice each for four of us. Minced meat, spuds, lettuce; blancmange; milk, tea. 5c glass milk. 30c. show “Old Bill & Son” & “Sing for your Supper.” 15c. egg & milk. Had word or two with Doris. 25c. st. car tickets.
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JULY 31
[underlined] FRI. ’42. [/underlined]
[underlined] MORE RAIN. [/underlined] porr; beans & bacon; toast & coffee. $14.20 pay. $2.40 back off Harding Returned his $2 1/2 gold piece. Fish, spuds, tapioca; date & raisin pie; tea. [underlined] Letter from MA & GRAN [/underlined] both posted together air & sea. WHAT a SERVICE. Took two benches from Arena to Grandstand. 20c (choc. milk shake; choc. ice; carton of milk) 41c. laundry Fish, spuds, salad; cake; milk. 60c. “Daughter of Rosie O’Grady” & Charlies Aunt” Jack Benny. Egg & milk; lemon pie.
Letter NO. 4. From Ma
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AUGUST 1
[underlined] SAT. ’42. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon, boiled egg; toast & coffee. 25c haircut. [underlined] Letter No. 9 to Ma & to Norah. [/underlined] Beef, spuds, carrots; bread pud; milk. 36 hrs pass. 25c. st. car. 5c shoe laces. 2c. drink. 30c film, (XX) 50c bed at YM. 15c. mints. Enquired about boat to Niagara. 35c. tom, lettuce, spud salad, ham; egg & milk. Walked down to Pier. St car to Sunnyside. 5c ice. St. car back. 24c to see Gene Autry in “Mexacali [sic] Rose” and “Our Russian Front.” 20c. egg & milk and cup coffee. 5c. milk at YM.
[circled 12-30]
Letter No. 9 to Ma
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AUGUST 2
[underlined] SUN. ’42. [/underlined]
Up at 11-0 AM. Sos, spuds, peas, toast & marmalade; coffee; cust pie (40c.) $1.65, return, for ferry ticket. Left at 3-0 PM Arr. Niagara, in bus from Queensbury at 6-20 PM. 25c for views. 5c for 3 P.C.’s. 2 “nickles” for 4 x 2c stamps. [underlined] Posted a card to Ma. [/underlined] Roast beef, spuds, kid beans; apple pie; milk. 60c. Address of people from Sheff. Bus to Queen. 10-30. Boat got in ‘bout 12-45. In meantime community singsong. 20c. hot dog & coffee. Arr. Toronto 3-30 AM. St. Car to Jarnies. Picked up kit bag. Arr. barracks 4-45. [underlined] Bed 5-0 AM. [/underlined]
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AUGUST 3
[underlined] MON. 42 [/underlined]
porr; bacon fried egg; toast coffee. Route march. 15c. drink & donuts. [underlined] Letter 6 from Ma. [/underlined] Beef, spuds, carrots; rice pud; milk Soft ball game. Ham, Veg salad, beet; cake, jam; tea. 2 rolls film ready Wed. 5c. Milk. 30c. Chester Morris & Jean Arthur “No Hands on the Clock.” and Alex. Dumas’ “Corsica Brothers” Doug Fairbanks Jnr. Talk with Agnes. 10c. egg & milk (plain.)
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AUGUST 4
[underlined] TUES. 42. [/underlined]
Grape, juice; porr; fried egg, tom, coffee & toast. CO’s parade. 12c. Pepsi Cola & tub of icecream, 5c phone call. Stew, spuds, cabbage; raisin pie; milk. [underlined] Letter No. 5!! from Ma & letter from David. [/underlined] Sally Anne! 2 x 5c tickets. choc ice. Talk with SA man. 2 x 5c phone calls. (Doris.) 3-30 PM gave “kharki” [sic] in to be cleaned. 5c. phone call to Eric B. Date for Wed. call him at noon hrs. Meat, cold, spuds, beet; cake, jam & tea. 15c. choc. milk & egg. Took comics for Doris. TIZER & COMICS from Ma. Walked back to camp 5c. Aero. 75c. VR’s & Gt. Britain’s
Letter 5 from Ma. & David
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AUGUST 5
[underlined] WED. 42 [/underlined]
Grapejuice; bacon, 2 boiled eggs, toast & coffee. Service parade. Too late when we got there. Pork, spuds, carrots; choc. blanc. milk [underlined] Letter no. 10 to Ma’s No. 5. Letter to David. [/underlined] 50c. uniform 5c. phone call to Eric. Cold meat, spud & veg salad; sponge cake & jam; tea. Out at gate 5-15. where Eric was waiting. Met his two little girls. Had another “supper. Went to ball game. Fetched beer. Mrs. (Nell) set me on smoking (had 7 fags.) Eric took me back to camp. We picked 6 lads up at King. In for 1-30 AM.
Letter 10 to Ma.
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AUGUST 6
[underlined] THURS. 42 [/underlined]
porr; tom & scrambled egg; toast marmalade & coffee. Sent back to barracks to tidy bed. Clothing parade list. Ice cup at Sally Ann. Pass application £1.00 stamps. Usual type of din. Clothing parade cancelled [underlined] Wrote letter & posted to Gran [/underlined] Started one to Ma. Hamburger meat, spuds, beet; cake & jam tea. 25c st. car. 48c films of Niagara. 15c. egg & milk. 30c. “The Yukon Patrol” & “Blondie in Society.” 7c. pot of tea.
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AUGUST 7
[underlined] FRI. 42. [/underlined]
Grape juice; porr; bacon & fried egg; toast, jam & coffee. March to Sunnyside. Choc. milk & donuts. 10c. Meat pie, spuds, carrot; brd pud; milk. Sally Ann. 48 hr. pass. Took tunic to have G. Britain’s fastened on. Beef, spuds, beet, lettuce; cust. tea 15c. choc. egg & milk. 60c. “The Magnificent Ambersons”. 20c 2 cheese sand. hot tea.
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AUGUST 8
[underlined] SAT. 42. [/underlined]
porr; bacon, boiled egg; toast & coffee. 25c. st. car. 5c. milk. $1.00 st. car tickets and map of Toronto. 25c. candid camera photo. 30c. film (vari.) 10c. mints from “Woolies.” 25c. sos, chips, beans; tea, hot. 42c. Bette Davis, Olivia de Havilland, George Brent in “In this Our Life” Salmon, lettuce, etc. tea; 35c. George Brent, Joan Bennet “Twin Beds.” “Danger in Pacific” 42c. 12c. tea & donuts. Met RAF lad on st car. Went with him to Sunnyside & back to camp.
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AUGUST 9
[underlined] SUN. 42 [/underlined]
Kellogs; flat cake; toast & coffee Church parade & communion A very nice service; very nice indeed. Edward Bush took me to his home. Had light lunch. Went walk. His dad took photo’s of us. Dinner about 6 or 7. RAIN. Mr. took me to see their ARP H.Q. and model of his section. Still raining at 10-0. when we set off back. Got back to camp at 11-15 PM.
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AUGUST 10
[underlined] MON. 42. [/underlined]
orange; porr; bacon & egg; toast & coffee. Route March, with band, to Sunnyside. 15c. icecream. Stew, carrots, spuds rice pud, milk. Sally Ann Bought 2 x 5c tickets but didn’t use same. [underlined] Letter from Doris. [/underlined] Cold beef, ham, spud salad, lettuce; cake & jam; tea. [underlined] Letter NO. 11 to Ma [/underlined] & Niagara Snaps. Bed 9-30 PM.
Letter from Doris (.2nd.) Letter 11 to Ma.
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AUGUST 11
[underlined] TUES. 42 [/underlined]
grapefruit juice; tomato, poached egg; toast, jam, coffee. Co’s parade Route March to Sunnyside. Beef spuds, cabbage, raisin tart, cheese & milk. Boot repairs didn’t come off. Hamburger spuds, cheese & cake, tea. 15c. egg, choc. milk; fetched photo’s. Took 3 negs to Liggs’ 35c. 1/2 lb. chocs. 5c. milk Took Muriel to see Jeanette MacDonald in “Smilin’ Thru” 60c. 11-0 when we come out so couldn’t take her home. [underlined] Posted letter to Doris [/underlined] Other film was “Knockout” a boxing show as per name. Took kharki [sic] suit in to be pressed & cleaned.
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AUGUST 12
[underlined] WED. 42. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & boiled egg; coffee & toast. Swimming Parade to Sunnyside. Sqd Ldr went with us. We sang all the way. 10c to go in the “tank”. Veal spuds, carrots; choc. blanc. milk. Issued with 2nd suit kharki [sic] & fatigue trousers. Cold veal, spud & green salad tomato; tea & cake & jam. Took shirt, blue & kharki [sic] pants towel & collar to be washed [underlined] Card to Joe & Watson. [/underlined] 30c stamps. 15c. choc. egg & milk. 12c. Prints. 42c. Eleanor Powell Red Skelton in “Ship Ahoy” with Tommy Dorsey’s Orchestra. 12c. tea & cake.
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AUGUST 13
[underlined] THURS. 42. [/underlined]
grapefruit juice; porr; tom & egg; toast & coffee. Route march to Sunnyside. 10c. choc ice. [underlined] STOMACH ACHE. Cable from Ma. [/underlined] Received parcel I sent over a month ago. Beef, spuds beet; pumpkin pud; milk. [underlined] 67c cable to Grandpa. [/underlined] 50c. for uniform Marched to West End YMCA. Had a good swim. 6c choc. Hamburg square spuds, beet; cheese; scone; brd & jam; tea. 25c. Dura Glit. 15c choc, milk & egg. $1.20 at Imperial”Syncopation” & ”Mexican Spit sees a Ghost.” Took Muriel home or at least she put me on the Spadina st. car.
[circled Letter 7 from Ma [symbol]]
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AUGUST 14
[underlined] FRI. 42 [/underlined]
grape juice; bacon, scrambled egg, toast coffee. $20 pay. Meat pie, spuds, carrots; raisin & date pie; tea. FFI. handed sheets, etc. in to stores Cleared of station. [underlined] Letter 7 from Ma. [/underlined] 32c. laundry Packed kit. Bottle of beer and fag (given by Ross) Cold meat, spuds, lettuce & salad; cake & jam; milk Bert arrived here. 15c. egg & milk 30c. “Among the Living” & “Sullivan’s Travels.” Pot tea & date sq. 12c. 50c. bed at YMCA.
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AUGUST 15
[underlined] SAT. 42. [/underlined]
Up at 11-30 AM. [underlined] $2.99 parcel to home. [/underlined] 10c mints, 25c sos, chips beans; milk, 10c Coke. 30c “Swamp Woman” & “Duke of the Navy.” 7c coke. 35c salmon salad 10c cake. 25c st. car. 42c “Juke Girl” Ann Sheridan & Ron Regan Went around with Snarky in PM. Gave Agnes two photo’s. Lemon pie, hot tea. 17c. Bought farthing for 2c. and then forgot to give it Muriel. Took her home then went back to [underlined] camp. bed 2.45 AM!!?!! [/underlined]
so I walked her home. Introduced to her Da & stepma. Cup cocoa & biscuits Bus s/c 11.30. arr. 12.10 app.
PARCEL
[circled LETTER TO PHIL]
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[underlined] TORONTO – NO. 1. AOS [/underlined]
AUGUST 16
[underlined] SUN. 42. [/underlined]
7-30 AM, bfst, Kellogs & flat cake; coffee. Finished packing Took kit down to arena & then out to back of Colesium [sic] Loaded up on lorry. Drizzle Took about 1/2 hr. to get to Malton. Drew sheets & pillows. FFI & general look over. Teeth & throat. RAIN. Ham, spuds, peas; raisin pie; milk. Unpacked & repacked. Pass till tomorrow AM. Gave boots in to be repaired at long last. [underlined] Letter to Phil. [/underlined] $1.20 10 bus tickets. 5c milk. Gave Muriel a farthing. “Tommy” bumped into me on st. car on way to church. She & Doris, her pal, from Gt. Brit. 10c. church 2 choc. shakes; apple juice; veal cuttlet [sic] peas, spuds; cust, rice & raisins 90c Doris took me to “Jane” Only 10 o’clock
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AUGUST 17
[underlined] MON. 42. [/underlined]
1/2 orange; x; bacon & egg, toast; milk. Given pass by adj. P/O Wood our instructor I/C. Pea soup; [deleted] chicken roll [/deleted] [inserted] beef [/inserted], spuds, cabbage; rice pud; D.R. navi & instruments issued. Did a few problems. Chicken roll lettuce, a tomato; peach & milk Finished navi. [deleted] [indecipherable word] [/deleted] problems Ensign lowering. Letter to Ma. Handed kharki [sic] in to be pressed etc. 25c. haircut Bunk inspection at 12.30 & 4.30. F/Lt. found some not made up right on his rounds.
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AUGUST 18
[underlined] TUES. 42. [/underlined]
tom sauce; porr; sos, toast; coffee. DR. sigs, air recc. test. Veal, spuds, carrots; raisin tart; milk. DF, Maps, Magnetism. Cooked meat, spuds, tomatoes; prunes; milk. [underlined] Letter 12 to Ma. [/underlined] Navi class after [deleted] sp [/deleted] supper. flag & more navi. 12c. drink & spud crisps. 7c Coca Cola.
LETTER 12 TO MA.
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AUGUST 19
[underlined] WED. 42. [/underlined]
1/2 orange; cream of rice (x); bacon & egg; toast & coffee. Drill; DR signals. Went to hospital but have had injections & tests. Bean Soup; beef, spuds, peas; choc. blancmange; milk. Magnets, reconnais pyrotechnics (fireworks) Boots returned repaired with RUBBER sole & heels 7c. Coca Cola. Sos, spuds, beet, celery; water melon; blancmange (choc); milk. Navi & mag. notes. Flag.
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AUGUST 20
[underlined] THURS. 42 [/underlined]
grape juice; bacon & scrmbled [sic] egg; toast & coffee. DR. & DR test. S.M.O’s lecture. 7c. Coke. Stew, spuds, peas; soup, alphabet; mincemeat pie; milk. Maps, DRILL? Met. Ham, spuds, lettuce; peach; milk. DR. plot 48. “Film show, “Alexanders Rag Time Band” darn good show. 55c. uniform, clean & press. 5
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AUGUST 21
[underlined] FRI. 42. [/underlined]
1/2 grapefruit; bacon & flat cakes, milk; cream of wheat. CO’s Parade. DR. 5c. Coke. Soup; fish spuds, cab. sponge pud & sauce; milk. Met, Reconn, Insts. Soup; meat roll (cooked) spuds, beans; pears; milk. 2 x 5c Coke. Did, or tried to do a bit of DR. Set out back for Aircraft Rec. A number of lads missing off ensign lowering parade. Shower. 5c potato crisps.
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AUGUST 22
[underlined] SAT. 42. [/underlined]
grape juice; toast; bacon & egg; brd, marmalade; coffee. DR. Had look round an Anson. Soup; cooked cold meat, spuds, cabbage; cream fruit pud; cup tea & 1/2 cup milk. 5c. Coke + 5c I owed machine Aircraft recc. Rain storm. 2 snaps of same. Soup, steak spuds, salad; creamed fruit pud; peach; milk. Planned out 2 of the routes we may take tomorrow AM. 7c. coke 3c paper. Sing song in lecture room. Bed 10-30
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AUGUST 23
[underlined] SUN. 42. [/underlined]
cream of wheat; bacon & boiled egg, toast; coffee. Drew [deleted] shute [/deleted] harness. Briefed in hanger. Airborne 8-45. Landed 12-15. Veal, stuffing, spuds, peas; cream pie; milk. 11c. choc. & crisps Physics book from library. Church parade 1-45 to 2-30 Nice little service in GIS. TARRANT & GWYN forced landed. Ham, spud salad, tomatoe, [sic] cheese; cream pie; milk. Took shirt, pyj’s socks and towel to laundry. TARRANT returned OK at 6-30 PM. One wing of plane completely wrecked. He & GWYN. OK except for a shaking. Engines konked [sic] out at MIDLAND. Bed 9-15 PM
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AUGUST 24
[underlined] MON. 42. [/underlined]
1/2 orange; bacon & egg; porr; coffee [underlined] COLD [/underlined] freezing during night. DF. signals & met. Soup; spud salad, beef; rice pud; milk. 5c coke; 10c phone call to Mr. Berkimbler. He’d gone to lunch so wasted the 10c. DR. etc. 2 slices brd & butter; rice pud; milk. Lift from Malton in old jalopy to Toronto with Tarrant. 25c. st. car. 15c. choc. milk & egg. 5c. Record. 60c. at Shea’s. Rosalind Russell & Fred McMurray in “Take a letter, Darling.” 10c All Bran. 5c lemon square 5c coffee. Bus back to camp. Arr. 12.00. (23.59)
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AUGUST 25
[underlined] TUES. 42. [/underlined]
Grapefruit; cream of wheat; bacon & flat cakes; coffee, DR. & Mag Soup; veal & dressing spuds, sweede [sic] mincemeat pie; milk. [underlined] LETTER 8 from Ma. Posted on 11th [/underlined] 7c Coke. Lecture by WO. Abs returned from England off opps in Hampdene. 67c cable to Dad for his BD. YESTERDAY. D/F & DR. Ham & spud salad; prunes; milk. Started letter to Ma. 25c haircut. DR. 7c. coke. 5c Crisps. Duke of Kent killed in air crash. Eclipse of the Moon
[underlined] LETTER 8 from Ma. [/underlined]
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AUGUST 26
[underlined] WED. 42. [/underlined]
1/2 orange; porr; scrambled egg & toast; coffee. Flag at half mast for H.R.H. the Duke of Kent. Drill; DR; signals. Soup; beef, spuds, beet; choc. b. mange & cake milk. [underlined] LETTER 13 to Ma. [/underlined] Met. Mag, Games. Soup; sos, spuds, peach: milk. 3 x 5c Cokes. Flight plan for tomorrow.
[circled LETTER 13 to MA]
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AUGUST 27
[underlined] THURS. 42. [/underlined]
1/2 grapefruit; bacon & bld egg; toast coffee; cream of wheat. 3 1/4 hr. trip. Heavy ground mist. Soup; boiled bacon, spuds, cabbage pumpkin pie; milk. D.R. drizzle. Soup; cold cooked meat, spuds, corn cob; pears; milk. 5c Coke. Flight Plan for tomorrow. 5c Coke ”Lloyd of London” film in GIS.
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AUGUST 28
[underlined] FRI. 42. [/underlined]
tomato juice; sos & flat cakes; porr; coffee. Flight washed out. DR & Insts. Soup, fish spuds; cust pud milk. DR. Wings Parade. Sardine spuds, celery; pears, milk. Lift to Cooksville (7 mls TORONTO) then into TORONTO (BLOOR.) Middle aged chap. Gave me address & phone No. 5c. Phone to Doris. 29c toothpaste. $1 bed at YM. 2 x 5c. to Tommy. Not at home. 10c mints. 30c. picts “South of Santa Fe” & “Louisiana Purchase” Bob Hope. 25c. sos, peas, chips; coffee.
$1.05 for old “blues” REPAIR?! [symbol] & clean & press.
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AUGUST 29
[underlined] SAT. 42. [/underlined] 11.30 AM arose & SHONE!?! $1.12 stamps. 25c beef sandwhich [sic] & peas & chips; glass milk. 5c. phone to Tommy. Ring her again at 4-0 PM. 15c BLACK ink. 10c mints 5c darning wool (“woolies”) 25c film. 10c Regd stamp. 7c Coke (YMCA) 5c phone Tommy not back. 7c grape drink. 5c Tommy going away for weekend. May be back Sun. evening. 47c. Bloor St. White Cheff. [sic] Salmon Salad date sq. & Pepsi. 60c. at Uptown “Pacific Rendeyvious” [sic] & “Maisie gets her man” Red Skelton. 20c. glass “Honey Dew” & ice cream. Saw Leslie (on bondiers [inserted] B.A. [/inserted] course) 7c Orange Stubby at Y. 25c. st. car.
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AUGUST 30
[underlined] SUN. 42. [/underlined] 10-0 AM.
10c. Church. no communion. 40c beef, spuds & carrots; custard pie; tea & milk. Chummed up with RCAF lad. Took snap of church & YMCA. Went out to Park. Snaps of Polar Bear, zebra etc. Supper at Chinese place below White Cheff [sic] 30c. liver, chips, peas; boston cream pie; milk. Left film at Liggetts. Went to church 10c. Tommy didn’t turn up. 10c. Doughnuts & milk. Walked up to Bloor & along same. St car to bus stop. Seat OK on bus Arr. in camp 23.59 hrs
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[underlined] LANCASTER [/underlined]
AUGUST 31
[underlined] MON. 42. [/underlined]
Cream of wheat; bacon & egg; 1/2 orange; coffee; DR. Went to see [circled LANCHESTER] at aero factory. Speechs [sic] & photo’s etc. etc. All turrets fully armed. Didn’t have soup; cold meat & spuds, milk. Flight. Didn’t do too good. Just managed to get supper. Cold meat, tomato & spuds, milk. & an apple DR 7-0 to 9-30. 2 x 7c cokes! [underlined] Tizer & Cable from Ma. [/underlined]
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SEPTEMBER 1
[underlined] TUES. 42. [/underlined]
tomato juice; bacon & sc’mbld egg, porr; coffee. DR etc. [underlined] Tizer from Ma. [/underlined]7c coke Veal, dressing, spuds, sweede; [sic] cream caramel pie; milk. AA. (DR.) Photography, games. Photo of flight. Sos, spuds, sweed [sic] choc. cake; milk. DR & flight plan. 7c bottle of lime Bed 10-15 PM.
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SEPTEMBER 2
[underlined] [deleted] TUES [/deleted] [inserted] WED [/inserted] 42 [/underlined]
Cream of wheat; bacon & egg; 1/2 grapefruit. Took off 8-45 app. landed 12-25 app. Not a bad trip on the whole. Arrived at MALTON 1909. my ETA for BRAMPTON. Beef, spuds, beet; rice pud; milk 10c. phone call to Mr. Burkimshort. DR. Sigs, Ham; fried spuds; spud salad; cake; milk. 7c Coke. Lift to Jane Bloor by Manchester man. Been out here since 1910 app. 65c Imperial Cary Macdonald in “Dr. Broadway” & Ray Milland & Betty Field in “Are Husbands Neccessary” [sic] 6c cordy. 15c choc egg & milk shake. 5c glass milk. 25c st car 7c coke back on camp. 8c film prints. Only 2 turned out OK
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SEPTEMBER 3
[deleted] WED [/deleted] [inserted] THURS [/inserted] 42
Porr; bacon, egg & toast; coffee. 3 legged flight to navigate on. Starts with met W/V. Finished it OK. Cold meat roll, spuds, beans; pie; milk. 55c for kharki [sic] uniform & 28c for ordinary laundry. Nothing else out of the regular routine except DF lecture by Sgt WAG on an actual DF loop & Radio receiver. Supper similar to usual. 7c x 2 Coke. Film show “The Rain Game” (?) an old film. Pretty good.
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SEPTEMBER 4
[deleted] THURS [/deleted] [inserted] FRI [/inserted] 42
Cream of wheat; 1/2 orange; bacon & lat [sic] cakes; coffee. Prepared flight for this afternoon. Fish, spuds, carrots; cream fruit pud; milk. Parade of whole station in atempt [sic] to recover stop watches, observe for use of. Radio transmitter NBG. switched planes and WAG had to B - - R about with other one to get it to go. Finaly [sic] got off at 15.00. Trip not too good as far as NAVI went (EX.6) Sardines, lettuce, spuds, tomato; peach milk. [underlined] AIRGRAPH [/underlined] from Ma (sent AUG. 15TH) Wrote letter to Ma.
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SEPTEMBER 5
[deleted] FRI [/deleted] [inserted] SAT [/inserted] 42
Porr. bacon, egg (boiled) toast Tom, juice, coffee. Flight across lake Ont. Hamilton down to Lake Erie & back Pretty nice trip (2nd NAV) Veal, spuds, & salad; choc cream & cake; milk. 10c C. Mr. Berkimisher. Not in but he will write Tuesday. Bus into Toronto. St. car down to Queen. 8c mints; 10c glue (Woolies) 15c. choc milk & egg shake. 3 x 5c phone calls to Tommy (drug store, Y & Red [symbol].) 30c. Rio “Night of Jan 16th) Meeting Tommy at 8-30 PM. Liver onion spuds; coffee. (30c.) $1.20. at Uptown “Private Bukaroo” Harry James’ band. “Invisible Agent” Flora Massey. 12c. coffee 25c st car tickets.
[circled LETTER 14 TO MA]
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SEPTEMBER 6
[deleted] SAT [/deleted] [inserted] SUN [/inserted] 42
Got up 11-30. All Bran; sos, chips peas; tea, pot. 35c. Took film to Liggetts. Got another 25c. Went to Museum. Phoned Tommy but she’d gone to her sisters. Saw John Hodgson. Met chap in AFS, Canadian, for Great Brit. Tea & cookie at Y. Walked down Younge & back. Ham, chips & peas; coffee, 30c. at Cheff [sic] Gave Joe Hannah home address Met Gwyn at car stop. Muriel followed us on st. car. Sat on mudguard [underlined] inside [/underlined] bus, back in camp 12-0.
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SEPTEMBER 7
[deleted] SUN [/deleted] [inserted] MON [/inserted] 42.
Porr; scrambled egg & toast; TEA. DR all morning. Cold meat spuds, cabbage; billberry pie, milk. A.A. Mag. & Air Rec. [deleted] Soup [/deleted] Stew, fried spuds, tomato; apple; milk. 2 x 7c Cokes. Put names on card with photo of flight on it. Damned ink ran too. Pulled flag down at 8-0 PM. Mended, in a fashion, Huddarts alarum [sic] clock.
[page break]
X [underlined] CABLE TO MA [/underlined]
SEPTEMBER 8
[deleted] MON [/deleted] [inserted] TUES [/inserted] 42
Tom juice; bacon & hot cakes; cream of wheat; coffee. RAIN. DR & Mag. Veal, spuds, sweeds; [sic] cust rice pud; milk. [underlined] LETTER from PHIL. [/underlined] Photography, signals. Should have been sports but it was raining. [underlined] 67c. Cable to Ma. [/underlined] 7c Coke. Finished photo of flight. Not too good a result, but t’aint bad. Shepps pie, spuds, peas, sweeds; [sic] prunes; choc cake; milk [underlined] LETTER TOO [sic] PHIL. [/underlined] air recc. RAIN! RAIN! RAIN! 2 x 6c choc. 7c drink.
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SEPTEMBER 9
[underlined] [deleted] TUES [/deleted] [inserted] WED [/inserted] 42. [/underlined]
1/2 grapefruit; porr; bacon & egg; toast; coffee. RAIN. Took laundry in. NO PARADE. Rest of day pretty wet. Sos spuds etc. milk for supper. 25c [deleted] fe [/deleted] hair cut. 2 x 7c Cokes. Rained so we didn’t pull flag down. Went into Malton about 10-30 with Flowers to dance. Had a bit of a dance. Cookies & coffee refreshment. Finished at 12.0 AM. Lift back to camp in officers’ car. shower. Bed about 1-30.
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!? [three symbols] ?!
SEPTEMBER 10
[underlined] THURS 42. [/underlined]
Cream of wheat; egg & fried balony coffee. Flag hoisting DR & band. Liver, spuds, carrots; sponge & cust; milk. Flight washed out, low clouds, bumpy. So had P.O. Pleuman all afternoon. Cold cooked meat; spuds; beet; sponge & cust; milk. [underlined] Letters from Ma, Norah, Eric Berkinsh & Doris (Toronto.) [/underlined] 7c Coke “Rise & Shine” Jackie Oakie. 7c Coke.
[circled LETTER NO. 1. FROM MA]
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SEPTEMBER 11
[underlined] FRI 42 [/underlined]
Porr. sos & cakes, syrup; coffee. Sunshine. Co’s Parade. Wings Parade rehersal. [sic] DR exam. Fish, spuds, cabbage; mincemeat pie; milk. Wings parade. Cold cooked meat, spuds, cabbage lettuce, celery; apple; milk. Stand by for night flight. Rolled flag down. Took chairs back to GIS. Changed furniture round in lecture room. (desk plotters.) [underlined] Wrote letter to Doris., [/underlined] Posted same. 2 x 7c cakes. [underlined] Airgraph from Ma [/underlined] 25c stamps, 5c. crisps.
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SEPTEMBER 12
[underlined] SAT 42 [/underlined]
Bacon & egg; cream of wheat, coffee. Test on Reconn, Mag & Comp. Maps & Charts, & Insts. Pork, spuds, white sauce; bread pud, milk. [underlined] 2 Airgraphs from Ma & Letter. [/underlined] Photo Clip washed out so we had game of football. Just about knocked me all up but we enjoyed it even so 6c choc. Ham, spuds, celery; jam tart; peach; milk. [underlined] Letter to Eric & Ma [/underlined] 5c choc milk Mitchel, Huddart, & Piper had fly papers & card put in their bed.
[circled LETTER NO. 2. FROM MA 15 TO MA]
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SEPTEMBER 13
[underlined] SUN. 42. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & egg; toast & marmalade; coffee. Went back to bed. Tarrant & I flitted to opposite side of room nearer other lads Chicken, toast, spuds; [inserted] cake & cream [/inserted] fruit salad Church parade. Football game Ham, spuds, sweet pickle, lettuce, celery; 4 plums; choc cake; milk. 7c. coke. 25c. laundry. 7c coke. Prepared for night flight. Air Recc. back too. Filled one or two places in on Mercator chart. 10c. choc milk & crisps. Whittle, 10c for stamp. Flight washed out. Ground Mist. 10c phone call to Doris. Dated her for tomorrow night.
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SEPTEMBER 14
[underlined] MON 42 [/underlined]
Cream of wheat; bacon & egg; coffee. DR photo. & more DR. Veal, apple sauce, spuds; choc, blancmange; milk 27$ pay. Ham, spud salad; peach; cake; milk. Hitched to the end of Younge. Had to street car it to Jane. Arrived finaly [sic] about 7-15. Doris waiting in powder blue outfit gloves and handbag blue. Some colour hat very much like a berrie. 20c. film. $1.20 show Tommy Trinder “First Commando” & “Miss Annie Rooney” Shirley Temple. Walked her half way home then went back to join lads. 50c. taxi.
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SEPTEMBER 15
[underlined] TUES 42. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & egg: toast & coffee. FOG ??? DR & usual [underlined] Airgraph from Ma. [/underlined] Ham, spuds, cauliflower; raisin pie; milk. 7c Coke. Arms, Drill, Sigs. Meat Pie, Spuds, peas; plums; cake milk. 5c. Coke. Compass swinging, DR. 2 x 5c crisps. 5c milk choc. 10.10 PM cleaned buttons & boots for AM. and now going to bed.
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SEPTEMBER 16
[underlined] WED 42. [/underlined]
1/2 orange; cream of wheat; bacon & eggs & toast; Coffee. C.O’s parade for drill. DR & Aldis. Salmon stake; [sic] spuds, turnip: cake & lemon sauce; milk. [underlined] Letter from Joe Cutts. [/underlined] Mag, Insts, Met (test) Sos, spuds, cheese; milk. CO’s parade Marched into Malton & 1/2 way back. REST DISMISSED WE & 56 MARCHED BACK TO CAMP WHILE THEY HAVE BAGS OF FUN. 3 x 5c Cokes, 5c Coke.
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SEPTEMBER 17
[underlined] THURS. 42. [/underlined]
tom. juice; porr; bacon & egg; toast; coffee. Bull – parade in full dress. 5c Coke. DR. Flight Plan, Maps. Beef, spuds carrots; pumpkin pie: milk 8c. Soap, carbolic. [underlined] Letter from Eric. Posted letter to Norah [/underlined] Flight MO. W/V all to H ----- Ran into storm after I’d got a decent wind & was on TS. O.K. Had to return to Base. 7c Coke Cold meat: spuds: pumpkin pie: milk. 10c for coppers I owe Coke machine. [underlined] POSTED LETTER TO JOE. [/underlined] 5c Coke. 2 x 5c. Crisps.
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SEPTEMBER 18
[underlined] FRI. 42. [/underlined]
1/2 orange; cream of wheat; bacon pancakes; coffee, COs parade. DR & DF. [underlined] letter from Pat & June [/underlined] Pork apple, spuds, cauliflower, caramel cream & cake; milk 5c Coke. 28c laundry. Fish, spuds, celery; caramel & cake milk. Sgt. took us, Tarrant & self right to [indecipherable name]. $1.00 for bed at Y. Arrived at Doris’s 7-10 PM. Went to Eglington (48c x 2) “Glass Key”!! Doris wouldn’t let me pay for supper. I had spud salad & choc milk shake. She had a sundae. [circled 50c] 2 x 6c. choc. bars. Took her home Sat on veranda & talked. X 25c. st. car. 12c. tea & date sqr. Slept on settee at Y. Had real good sleep too.
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SEPTEMBER 19
[underlined] SAT. 42 [/underlined]
10-30 AM. Phoned Doris 15c before I connected with her at work [underlined] $2.95 parcel to home. [/underlined] $1.00 stamps 25c. st. car. Fish, spuds, tomatoes; ice cream & pot tea (Doris paid $1.15.) 2 x 30c Dot Lamour “Fleets In” & “Jimmy Valentines Affaires.” 35c. Chocs. Took Doris home. [circled RAIN] She took 2 snaps of me. 9c. mints. 30c. at Spadina “Blossoms in the Dust” Greer Garson & Walt Pidgeon also the “Great Walty” sos, chips, peas; apple pie; coffee & glass milk. Walked to Bathurst with Can. lad, walked back to Y. 7c. grapefruit Stubby.
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SEPTEMBER 20
[underlined] SUN. 42 [/underlined]
10-30 AM. 5c phone to Doris. 70c. Apple sauce, spuds, peas; pineapple. Went with Reid out on the Queen Car to terminus walked across to Bloor Car. Went on Bloor Car to St. Clair. Took Doris for walk in the Park. Went rowing on Grenadier Lake 50c. ($1 deposit on the boat.) Took Doris home. 40c. salmon salad & milk. Went to St. James’ (25c.) 2 x 20c. Malted, Choc Milk Shake. Walked back as far as Christie (St.) St. Car back to Doris’ X. Cup coffee 5c. at “Corner Road House.” Sat on mudguard of front wheel of bus back to camp.
Freezing cold night.
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SEPTEMBER 21
[underlined] MON. 42. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & egg; toast; tom, juice; coffee. [indecipherable word]. Drill, Morse Photog. Beef, spuds, turnip; fruit & sago; milk; DR & ASTRO GRAPH. [underlined] 2 Newspapers & Airgraph from Ma. Letter from Phil. [/underlined] 2 x 5c. Cokes. Weiners, spuds, turnip; apple; milk. 2 x 6c choc. bars. Lowney’s Caravan Show. Darn good as at Trenton. Had it in the small hanger.
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SEPTEMBER 22
[underlined] TUES. 42 [/underlined]
1/2 orange; cream of wheat; bacon & egg; toast; coffee. [underlined] COLD again [/underlined] DR. Sigs. Reconn. [underlined] Letter from Doris, Miss French, Photo’s from Eddy & Airgraph from Ma. [/underlined] Ham, spuds, cauliflower; bread pud; milk. Photo. flight ROTTEN. Sos, spuds, lettuce & tomatoe; [sic] apple stewed; choc, cake; milk. DR. lads out on night flight May go myself at 12-0 PM. We 4 didn’t go up at all in the end.
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SEPTEMBER 23
[underlined] WED. 42. [/underlined]
Porr, bacon & egg, toast, coffee. Arms (rifle & revolver.) Sos, spuds, beet: choc blancmange; milk: DR & flight plans for tomorrow AM & PM. Minced beef, spuds, beet; pear & choc cake; milk. Lift to Jane Bloor. Arr. Doris’ 6-10 before she’d had dinner Sat & played with kitten, cup tea. Took Tizers. 28c. for films (reprints.) 60c. “Babes on Broadway” Judy Garland & Mickie Rooney also “Man Made Monster” 25c. St. Car. 50c. taxi. Doris came to corner café with me 10c coffee. RAIN.
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SEPTEMBER 24
[underlined] THURS. 42. [/underlined]
1/2 grapefruit; cream of wheat, bacon & toast; coffee. Reconn flight. Met W/V OK. Dropped bomb on target near Weston. Bumpy & cold 2 to -2o c. Soup; beef, spuds, wheat; mince pie; milk. (Didn’t feel very hungry.) Air Plot on 1:1,000,000 Mercator. Pt. Perry. etc. Met. W/V OK. Bombed target near Milton West. [underlined] Finished letter to Ma. Wrote letter to Doris. [/underlined] Posted both 14c Cokes.
[circled LETTER 16 TO MA]
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SEPTEMBER 25
[underlined] FRI. 42. [/underlined]
Porr, bacon & egg; toast coffee. C.O.s parade. Route March. DR. Air Analysis. Reconnaissance. Fish spuds, carrots; bread pud; milk. Flight plan. Air Anal. Liver, spuds, carrots, tomato; cheese & cake: milk. No mail today. 30c. laundry. 7c. Coke. 7c Coke. [underlined] Letter to Eric. [/underlined] 10c phone to Doris. 6c toffee. 5c Crisps. Looked over “letter box” & contents (Films, letters etc.)
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SEPTEMBER 26
[underlined] SAT. 42. [/underlined]
Bacon & egg; 1/2 orange; coff DR & Compass swing. Stew spuds, cabbage; sago & fruit; milk. Bus into Toronto. 25c. st car. 50c bed at West End Y. 5c. phone to Doris. 84c at Uptown, George Formby in “Keep Fit.” & “Moscow Strikes back.” 70c. (Honey Dew) Chicken á la [deleted] Mache [/deleted] king, milk. Walked down Young to Imperial $1.20 “Cross Roads” Hedy Lamarr & Wilm. Powell. 25c. st car Rain so we poped [sic] into Corner Café at Young & Bloor. 30c. cheese sandwich & coffee. 1,2,3. Kissed her. Good night Bloor & a Carlton car back to Y. More RAIN.
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SEPTEMBER 27
[underlined] SUN. 42. [/underlined]
Still more rain. 5c. phone to Doris (11.0 AM) 60c. beef, spuds & spinach; coffee. Another address and word or two with RAF lad. St. car to Museum. Doris there and she’d been waiting 1/2 hr. Had a good look round. Took her home. 40c. egg salad, milk. Met Doris at bottom of street 6-25. Went to St. James’ Cathdll [sic] 10c. collection. Chocolate shake (40c. Doris paid.) Collected kit bag from Y. Walked up Bdway to Bloor. St. car back (10-30) Looked through Star. 2 kisses when I left at 11-5 to catch the bus. Used last ticket, sat on heater. Rain storm just as we got to camp.
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SEPTEMBER 28
[underlined] MON. 42. [/underlined]
cream of wheat, bacon & egg, coffee. DR. Insts. Maps. Ham, spuds, peas: rice pud; milk. Met; Football game (fine except for two lakes in middle of pitch.) Cottage pie, spuds, celery; pears & plums; milk. DR & star gazing. Wrote letter to Doris & Miss French Bed about 11-0 PM.
COLD.
[underlined] Letter from Ma also AG. Letter from Norah. [/underlined]
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SEPTEMBER 29
[underlined] TUES 42.
Posted letter to Doris & Norah AG. From Ma. [/underlined] 1/2 grapefruit; porr; bacon & egg; coffee. Photog, Maps, DR. Ham, spuds, turnip; cake & choc. sauce; milk. DR & Drill. Ham spuds; beet; rhubarb & cake milk. 2 x 7c. Coke. [underlined] Letter to Phil. [/underlined] George Formby “Turned out Nice Again.” DR. 5c. crisps. 2 x 6c Lifesavers. 5c [deleted] Ch [/deleted] Coke. Bed 11-0 PM.
$27.50 pay
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SEPTEMBER 30
[underlined] WED. 42. [/underlined]
1/2 orange; cream of wheat; egg & bacon; coffee. Route march DR; Met; Beef, spuds, cab, pumpkin pie. 12c. lifesavers. 2 x 7c. Coke. D/F; Aldis; Compass Swing. Cold cut, spuds, lettuce, beet; rhubarb & milk. [underlined] Letter by sea from Ma. [/underlined] 7c. Coke. [underlined] Letter to Norah [/underlined] 2 x 5c Coke. 10c. phone to Doris.
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OCTOBER 1
[underlined] THURS. 42 [/underlined]
porr; bacon & egg; coffee. Recon. Plot. A/C reccog. [deleted] Veal [/deleted] M.O’s lecture on first aid. Veal spuds, carrots: caramel cream milk. 55c. blues. 39c laundry [underlined] Letter from Doris. [/underlined] 2 x 7c. Coke. DR (Sun shooting.) D/F goniometer station. Liver, spuds carrots; bread & jam; cake & jam; milk. [underlined] Letter 15 to Ma. Letter & negs to Doris. [/underlined] No flight tonight. 5c. milk. 12c. toffee bars (2.) 5c. spud crisps. Phone to Doris. Not at home.
[circled LETTER 17 [deleted] 5 [/deleted] to MA]
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OCTOBER 2
[underlined] FRI. 42. [/underlined]
porr; bacon & flat cakes; coffee. Co’s parade; D.R.. Beef, spuds, beet; bread pud; milk. 3-25 hrs flight. Fair[deleted]es[/deleted] keeping track by drift. Fish pie, spuds, beet; cheese & cake; 2 pears; milk. [underlined] Telephone call from Doris. She was worried because there’d been reported a crash here at Malton. [/underlined] Night flight. Took off undercart wouldn’t wind up Landed & “LOST” both props. Took off again I got round OK. No more mishaps. Tomatoe [sic] & meat paste sandwiches, 2 cups coffee. Bed about 12-0 AM
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OCTOBER 3
[underlined] SAT. 42. [/underlined]
Porr; 1/2 orange: coffee. DR & Air Analasis. [sic] Spare ribs; spuds, beet; blueberry pie; milk. Did a bit of overtime at DR. Drew K land Air. Almanac. Sos, spuds, beet; mincemeat pie; milk. A/G. from Ralph Walker. 3 x 7c Cokes. 5c. crisps; 6c toffee; 5c choc. milk. Late night flight. 10c phone to Doris to let her know I can’t get Mon. Flight washed out. Got cup of coffee from mess. Fitted up earphones & mike.
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OCTOBER 4
[underlined] SUN. 42. [/underlined]
1/2 grapefruit; porr; bacon & boiled egg; coffee. Went back to bed. Boiled chicken (more skin & bone than meat.) spuds, cauliflower; fruit salad, cake & cream; milk RAIN in large lumps. Church parade. 7c coke. [deleted] Let [/deleted] A.G. to Ralph Walker Ham, spuds, beet; apple; milk. 10c. phone to Doris to tell her first bus from Toronto was at 5-20 & NBG for her. First flight washed so wrote to P & J & Eddy Bush. 7c x 2 Cokes. 2nd flight washed so am going to bed 11-30.
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OCTOBER 5
[underlined] MON. 42. [/underlined]
Porr, bacon & 2 pan cakes; [sic] coffee. DR. Sigs & Maps (Gnomonic Praj.) Beef, spuds, peas; bread pud; milk. [underlined] 2 AG’s from Mum, letter from Doris. [/underlined] Photography exam Met. D.R. Shep-pie, spuds, celery; bread pud & apple sauce; milk. 50c. sports fee, 25c hair cut. 7c Coke. 7c. lime rickey. 3 x 6c toffee & life-savers. 5c x 2 crisps & biscuits. RAIN & more rain. Flight “washed” consequently.
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OCTOBER 6
[underlined] TUES. 42. [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & pancakes; 1/2 orange; coffee. Mag & Insts Photography 44/50 for test. Air/C. Rec. Test. Ham, spuds, some sort of spiced sauce; ground rice pud; milk. [underlined] A/G from Gran M [/underlined]!! D.R. Liver, spuds, peas; rice pud; milk. Binding Flight, astro so we didn’t go up. 1 star shot [indecipherable word]. [underlined] Letter to Doris. [/underlined]
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OCTOBER 7
[underlined] WED. 42. [/underlined]
porr, bacon & egg. DR & route march. 30 sun shots. Brawn spuds & sauce; blueberry pie, milk. [underlined] Paper from ma. Letter from Doris & Alwyn Crapper [/underlined]!!! Sports ----------. Cold cut, spuds, sweeds, [sic] plums; milk. Star Shots & plotting of. 10c. phone to Doris. 5c Coke. More [deleted] Star [/deleted] Sun Shots. Flight at 12.00 midnight. St. [indecipherable word], Owen Sound & back to Brampton. All others recalled. We got right round OK.
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OCTOBER 8
[underlined] THURS/42 [/underlined]
Peanut butter sandwiches & 2 cups of milk. Bed 4-0 AM. Up at 10-30. Finished Sun Shots and corrected several. [underlined] NO MAIL. 10c Coke [/underlined] Beef, spuds, peas; sago & fruit milk. DR. Flight Plan & Exam. [underlined] Wrote Letter to Alwyn [/underlined] 5 x 3c Stamps. 15c Cokes (2) [underlined] Temp 88o in the lecture Room. [/underlined] Ham, spud salad, celery; 2 apples; milk. D/F 1000 readings. Sun Shots. Gwyn on D/F loop readings
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OCTOBER 9
[underlined] FRI/42 [/underlined]
Porr. Bacon & egg. D/F & Astro flight AIR PLOT. FAIERS 1st. NAV. Fish, spuds, beans; milk. Wings parade after Reco. & Maps exam. Lift to West End. Y. 1.25c for bed (50c on key) 25c. St Car. 5c phone call. Tyrone Power & Joan Fontaine in “This Above All.” Very Good. Doris paid she also would not take money for reprints of 14 odd negatives. 50c. Sundae & Cokes. 25c. St. Car. 2 x 2 Got back to Y about 12-1 AM. No Pyjamas. Janitor not around.
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OCTOBER 10
[underlined] SAT/42 [/underlined]
Up at 9-45 AM. 35c ham & egg & coffee. Fiddled about and eventualy [sic] got a bed in dormitory 50c. Met Doris at CPR on Younge. Took 2 rolls film to Liggetts & bought 2 more x 35c. 40c milk & sandwiches. 25c. st car tickets. 2 x 6c Aero Choc Ferry to Island. Walked round & sat to watch the lake & the waves. $1.50 for din after D had phoned her Ma. Fish chips, peas; apple pie; tom juice; & coffee. $1.20 “Tales of Manhattan” All star Cast & Very Good. 40c Honey Dew & Dot Cockins. 25c st car Met D’s pop on way up the street. 2 x’s Bed 12-0
[page break]
OCTOBER 11
[underlined] SUN/42 [/underlined]
Up at 10-30 after a good sleep but not a good rest. 5c. phone lasted about 15 min. 45c. sos chips beans; choc sundae; coffee & glass of milk at White Cheff. Alwyn turned up at 2-15. We went and had a snack. Chewed the “fat” in the meanwhile too. Saw him back to camp (Hamilton) Walked through High Park to Bloor. Salmon Salad & Coffee. 50c. 2 x 6c Doris rushed passed in an atempt [sic] to find some cream. Went to St. James. 25c. 75c. 2 Sundaes Pop, Malted Milk. 3 X’s and hugs innumerable. She said 3 was my record & wouldn’t give me another. Bus 15c. Doris gave me her torch.
[page break]
[symbol]
OCTOBER 12
[underlined] MON/42 [/underlined]
Cream of wheat; bacon & egg; coffee. Signals, FP & AA (84) Ham, spuds, beef; bread pud & maple syrup; milk. W/V finding flight 063 (met 060) Mr. Freeman our pilot. dropped bomb, ie bomber dropped it. Brawn, spuds, veg. salad; plums; milk Wrote Diary up for the week Issued with stop watch. Mr. Wood given me new job. [underlined] P.C. from Joyce Richardson Letter to Ma. AG from Ma. [/underlined] 2 x 7c Cokes 5c tater crisps. 10c apples (3.) 6c. choc. 20c. phone to Doris.
[circled LETTER 18 TO MA]
[page break]
OCTOBER 13
[underlined] TUES/42 [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & pan cakes. DR result. 42 out of 80 In other words, lousy. Sun shots (33.) Total now 72. [underlined] No MAIL. [/underlined] Meat pie, spuds, turnip; cake & lemon sauce; milk. Recon. flight. Bit bumpy. Pilot not too good at keeping courses but we arrived at the places OK. & got SKETCHES. No more camera Only 4 serviceable. Brawn spuds, beet; plums; milk. 5c. crisps; 6c toffee; 6c Beech nut; 5c. cookies. Doris phone me but I wasn’t in I phoned back from YMCA. Sun shots & time sheet.
[page break]
OCTOBER 14
[underlined] WED/42 [/underlined]
Bacon & egg; coffee; [inserted] corn [/inserted] crisps Route march, Insts & Mag exam. Cold meat, spuds, carrot; cream pie; milk. FR. D/F scan. more D/R. & Sun shot plotting [underlined] LETTER from Doris & PAPERS from Ma. [/underlined] Ham, spuds, sponge rhubarb; milk. More D/R & Sun Shots. Have now finished Sun Shots. Finished putting names on Flying Exercise Sheet. Mr. Wood filled several in for me. 10-15 going to phone Doris. 10c. 7c & 5c Cokes.
[page break]
OCTOBER 15
[underlined] THURS/42 [/underlined]
Porr; bacon & egg; toast burned; coffee. DR, Sigs Test. DR. Veal, spuds, beans; rice pud; milk. [underlined] Letter from Doris, photo & $1 stamps. Papers from Ma. [/underlined] D/R. Hitch to Younge in stn waggon. St. Car (25c) back to Jane Bloor. Met Doris 7-10PM. She gave me rest of photos. I paid her $1 for stamps & 64c for photos. $1.20 Loews Clark Gable & Lana Turner in [blank space] 25c. St. car. 35c milk shakes Love & kisses on verandar [sic] at 12-10 AM. 50c. taxi to camp.
[page break]
X
OCTOBER 16
[underlined] FRI/42 [/underlined]
Bacon & egg; jam; coffee Rain. Co’s parade washed out. DR. Met. Spare ribs, spuds, carrot & sweed; [sic] mincemeat pie; milk. FP. [underlined] Letter from Dennis & Paper from Gran. [/underlined] DR. Cold cuts spuds, beet; apple; milk Flight washed out. [underlined] Wrote letter to Dennis. [/underlined] 10c phone to YMCA, & 10c to Doris. She must have called me from down town. Her mother ansd. phone. Had 1 bottle of beer with Mac & lads. Jock & Pat pulled the place down & Tarrant was a bit under the weather. 7c Coke.
[page break]
[inserted] 50c. bed at Red [symbol] Tea 40c Haddock & spuds. [/inserted]
OCTOBER 17
[underlined] SAT/42 [/underlined]
Rain. Flight cut. Met Insts & D/F results (82% & 80%.) General removals in lecture room. Porr: bacon & Egg: toast & coffee (bfst.) Liver, spuds; cake & lemon sauce: milk. 32c laundry. Piper gave me 30c for packet of fags I got for the relay 15c. standing up seat on the bus. Arr. Y. OK 2-40. (Parade delayed me) $3.07 parcel (Simpsons) Stood to watch Parade. 30c. milk shakes. Doris gave me the 3 snaps she took. Also gave me letter she’d written me & told me the tale 84c. “Fantasia” Walt Disney & George Sanders in “The Wolf” Doris bought sweets 6c & so did I 6c. She bought milk shakes (30c) Kissed her Good night.
[page break]
OCTOBER 18
[underlined] SUN/42 [/underlined]
Up at 10-30. 38c sos & chips; apple pie & coffee. Phoned from Central Y at 1-45. (5c.) St. Car out to High Park. Walked round the pond & the zoo. Sat down by Grenade Pond. To meet her at 7-45 at Younge & College. 45c. Salmon salad; coffee; pumpkin pie & choc. milk. Had read in Y. Felt tired. Met D. & went to Varsity Stadium to see first of “Commando Dagger” & Walt. Pidgeon. He read the sermon by the vicar in “Mrs. Miniver.” St car from Bay back to Jane. 3 X’s at end of Jane. 15c. standing up seat on bus.
[page break]
X
OCTOBER 19
[underlined] MON/42 [/underlined]
Kellogs; bacon & egg; coffee. 72% Maps & Charts & Recons. Met. 87%. Pork & spuds, pickled cucumber; pumpkin pie; milk. Recons. [deleted] Sun shots with Reid. [/deleted] 5c. cookies; 2 x 5c crisps; 2 x 6c Beetch Nut candies. [underlined] Wrote letter to Gran. sea mail. Airgraph to Joyce R [/underlined]
[page break]
OCTOBER 20
[underlined] TUES/42 [/underlined]
Porr; sos & egg; coffee. DR. etc. Brawn, spuds, carrot & peas; milk. Doris interrupted the meal by calling me on the phone. NO MAIL. (Things seem to get worse.) Sun shots with Reid. 61 course lads doing the navigation. Minced meat pie spuds, celery, cheese; bread & jam; milk. Prepaired [sic] for flight tonight.
[page break]
OCTOBER 21
[underlined] WED/42 [/underlined]
Night flight OK. 3-0 AM Bacon & pancakes; milk; Bed ‘till 10-30 AM. Met. Pork, spuds, peas; cake & lemon sauce; milk. Air Analasis [sic] & DR. Preparing for flight to Montreal. Beef stake; [sic] spuds; plums milk. RAIN dark sky like we get back home. NO MAIL except letter from Phil, now at AOS. Sun Shot plotting. 2 x 5c Cokes. 10c. Crisps, 10c apples 12c. Beech nut cough drops. 25c. Phone to Doris.
[page break]
OCTOBER 22
[underlined] THURS/42 [/underlined]
Porr; Bacon & egg, coffee. Sq. Search unfinished. Stew, spuds; raisin pie; milk. MH100C & back with Mr Martin. Weiners; spuds, beet, Apple (2) 25c hair cut. 7c. Coke. [underlined] Letter from Doris [/underlined] RAIN. Carried one bench over to hanger & carried 2 back. “How Green Was My Valley” Walter Pidgeon & a Mexican Travel Film as a short. Wrote up a few more shots.
(W. Pig. & Maureen O’Hara, Don Crisp & Roddy MacDowell.)
[page break]
OCTOBER 23
FRI/42
Porr. Bacon & egg; coffee. [deleted] Co’s parade. Nobbed for ragged trousers bottoms. [/deleted]
Night flight & Stereo Pairs (incomplete) Didn’t take off ‘till 5-0 PM & petrol was low. Cold ham, spuds; cake & milk. 1st nav alone on a night flt got round OK. too Fish paste sandwichs [sic] & milk. 11-15 PM. Got right round & found TARGET ie Mt. Plenmore. Took GT. BRITAIN’s off my best tunic.
[page break]
OCTOBER 24
[underlined] SAT/42 [/underlined]
Porr, bacon & egg; coffee. DR. & AN. Sigs. Telephone from Doris after Din. Ham, spuds & carrot; choc cake milk. More DR & Air Recc. then free period. Football. let down by Course 60. Liver, spuds, & “GRASS,” cake, pears & milk. Sun Shots plotting. Star shots 40-50. little sing song with Tarrant & Pat. Bed 11-30 PM. 12c. Choc bar & cough drops.
[page break]
OCTOBER 25
[underlined] SUN/42 [/underlined]
Kellogs; bacon & egg; coffee. Back to bed. Up at 10-0 Cleaned boots & tunic buttons. Cleaned gt. coat buttons yesterday. Shave. Veal, spuds & peas, fruit salad & cake, milk. Phoned to Doris not at home. Veal, spuds, peas; fruit salad & cake; milk Church Parade & star shots plotting. 10c. phone to Doris. Cold cuts, spuds, pickles; plums & cake; milk Flights washed out. More Stars 46c laundry Started letter to Ma.
[two symbols]
OCTOBER 26
[underlined] MON/42 [/underlined]
Porr. Bacon & egg; coffee. DR. Phot & Maps. Ham, (cuttings), spuds, peas; blue berry pie; milk. F.P. for tonight (1st NAV.) Met. film; Signals. [underlined] AG from Gran. [/underlined] Cold meat, spuds, peas, cheese; Mucking about with sextants. Fitted one up OK in the end. Second Detail up at 0900 PM (0100 quiT.) SEXT 42. Took one shot on the moon. Nearly got last but didn’t. Back 03.30 AM [inserted] GMT [/inserted] Coffee, sandwiches.
[circled LETTER 19 to MA]
[page break]
[two symbols]
OCTOBER 27
[underlined] TUES/42 [/underlined]
Kellogs; bacon & egg, toast; coffee. Tiger landed up at Muskoka. DR & DR. Sos, spuds; cake & sauce; milk. AA. Morse. Photo, Test. [underlined] letter from Ma & Doris. [/underlined] Beef, spuds; pears & cake; milk. Lift to Jane & Bloor; 5c. phone. 40c clock. 25c st car. $1.20. Barb Stanwyck & George Brent. “The Gay Sisters.” 40c. choc. dip & biscuits. XXXXXX 50c. taxi. 20c coffee & pie, rhubarb
[page break]
OCTOBER 28
[underlined] WED.42 [/underlined]
Porr; sos & egg; coffee. Route March; Reconn. & Map Exam. Tiger Returned from Muskoka. [underlined] Letter from Ma Posted on 24 Sept. AIR RAID WARNING. [/underlined] Veal & spuds; cake & creamed fruit; milk; Astro flight, NBG. Supper at 6.0 PM. Cold Beef, spuds, sweet pickle choc cake; milk. Star shots 25c. phone to Doris. Bed at 10.15 PM.
[page break]
OCTOBER 29
[underlined] THURS/42 [/underlined]
Kellogs; bacon & egg; coffee. D/R Scan. D/F. [underlined] 2 letters from Faiers. [/underlined] Ham, spuds, cabbage; pumpkin pie, milk. Flight, no AST comp & no WAG. Grand ISLE to Mud lake & back 1st NAV. Air plot. PPS. & W/V from them. Brawn, spuds, sweet pickle Jam; milk. Made log book up to date. $27.75 Started letter to Ma. 10c phone to Doris. Shave.
[page break]
OCTOBER 30
[underlined] FRI/42 [/underlined]
Porr; sos & pancakes; coffee. Mag. Exam. D/F Cos parade. Salmon stake [sic] spuds, sweede; [sic] bread pud & caramel cream; Milk. Insts Exam. GOOD NEWS. 48 hr instead of 36 hrs Lift into Toronto. 25c St car Chased Down to Adelaide P.O. but Doris wasn’t there. 5c phone. $1.15 stamps. 65c. pork chops & cherry pie; choc milk shake. $2. Bed at West End Y. (Mr. Lee Chinaman.) [underlined] Letter to Ma & Gran [/underlined]
[circled LETTER. 20.]
[page break]
OCTOBER 31
[underlined] SAT/42 [/underlined]
Up at 10-45. Out at 11-45. 25c St. Car. 15c. Choc milk 8c mints. 15c boot polish Went to Art (Museum) Gallery.) Doris phoned home. Fish & chips; choc pud; tea ([underlined] 55c X 2 paid by Doris [/underlined]) $1.20 “My Sister Eileen.” Ros. Russell Brian O’Herne; Janet Blair 2. Fruit Sundaes (40c) Sat on verandar [sic] 30m waiting for Pa to go to bed. (He saw us back Pictures.)
[page break]
NOVEMBER 1
[underlined] SUN/42 [/underlined]
Up at 11-45. 5c phone to Doris 55c. Pork chops, peas & spuds; cream walnut pud; coffee Met Doris at bottom of her street. Went to Riverdale Park. Took shot of bear & Don River Couldn’t get one of Doris. 25c egg sandwich & [deleted] Pup [/deleted] Pump Pie; glass milk. Went to St. James. 10c. 50c. jelly & cream, malted milk shake. Walked around the houses. Ver. Dr. too well lit. 50c. on taxi with Cpl Reyland & lads.
[page break]
NOVEMBER 2
[underlined] MON/42 [/underlined]
Kellogs; Bacon & Egg, coffee. [underlined] Letter from Doris Nothing Else. [/underlined] Stew, spuds, carrots; spuds; Queen pud; milk. Apple & other odds & ends for [deleted] breakfast [/deleted] Supper; milk.
Night flight. D/F no good, as per usual, astro compass NBG. Still I got round and hit every place required. Sardine & [2 indecipherable words]. 2 cups milk.
[page break]
NOVEMBER 3
[underlined] TUES/42 [/underlined]
Porr. bacon & egg: coffee. 75% for Maps AA 78% for last nights work. Brawn, spuds, cabbage; blueberry pie & raisin pie; milk. [underlined] 100% [/underlined] for Signals?? 80% Navi. (11TH week.) Sos, spuds, cucumber; pears & cake; milk. Duty Watch & [underlined] Drill. [/underlined] Moved bench from Dining Hall (Mess) [underlined] Wrote & Sent letter to Phil. [/underlined] Binding Photo & Maps. Phone on the free one to Doris.
34c. Candy etc. etc.
[page break]
NOVEMBER 4
[underlined] WED/42
Letter from Doris [/underlined] Bacon & egg; Kellogs coffee. Co’s parade. Maps & Photo Exam. Veal, spuds, turnip; rice pud. Astro Flight at 10,000 fee. Liver Spuds. [underlined] TURNIP [/underlined]!! Prunes milk. Star Shots upstairs. Flew on track with coop. from the Pilot. Sandwhich [sic] & milk Bed 12.00.
[page break]
[inserted] [underlined] CABLE FROM MA [/underlined] [/inserted]
NOVEMBER 5
[underlined] THURS/42.
Letter from Doris & Newspapers from Home [/underlined] Kellogs, coffee, Co’s Parade. Photo exercise which didn’t get done because take off of 1st. detail was late because of “damn” Co’s parade. Brawn, spuds; blueberry pie & milk. Bullshit. Parade at 1-50. Syko machine. Took chair over to hanger. Then Paraded on square. Marched to Hanger & formed “Hollow Sq” Earl of Athlone presented “wings” Supper at 6-0. Ham, spuds; apple & milk WHAT A SUPPER. Shipped chairs back. 10c biscuits 15c (5 x 2 peanuts & 5c Beech Nut.) 7c Pop.
[page break]
[inserted] 92% Map Final [underlined] 61.58.80 D/R [/underlined] [/inserted]
NOVEMBER 6
[underlined] FRI/42 [/underlined]
Kellogs; sos & flat cakes coffee. Rec. Exam Fish, spuds, cabbage; creamed fruit; milk. Mag. & result of Maps 92% 61, 58 & 80 Marks for DR. Exams; ie not too good. Working out shots. Cold Meat, spuds, celery, creamed fruit; milk. Night flight. Got round OK Track crawling but it was a bad trip on the whole. 3 sandwiches 2 cups coffee & 1 of milk.
[page break]
NOVEMBER 7
[underlined] SAT/42 [/underlined]
Kellogs & coffee. Plotting shots & D/R review. Mr. Wood gone to hospital With eye infection. Beef spuds, beans; some violet coloured sauce & a “bit” of cake; milk. Map & sun & star shots. Sos, spuds & beans; pears; bread & jam; milk. Map, flag & more star shots. 9-15 going to phone Doris & finish letter to Ma [underlined] Then Bed. [/underlined]
Phoned Doris OK.
[page break]
NOVEMBER 8
[underlined] SUN/42 [/underlined]
Got up for Kellog’s & coffee. Back to Bed. Up at 11-0. Pork, spuds, corn; cake & violet cream [inserted] sauce [/inserted], milk Astro flight. Damn cold. -14O C. Feet froze. Brawn, spuds & salad, plums & cake; milk. Star Shot plotting. Tired 10 to 10. Phone Doris & letter to Ma. 46/50 D/F.
[page break]
[inserted] 2 LETTERS FROM DORIS A/G from GRAN! [/inserted]
NOVEMBER 9
[underlined] MON/42 [/underlined]
[underlined] 54 [/underlined] Met. Kellogs, coffee. Photo flight “washed” Plotted more Star Shots & worked more out. Beef, spuds, turnip; rice pud; milk. 81 for Yesterdays flight. More Star Shots. Met. P.T. – Prunes & milk. Lift to cross road. Lift to Kingsway. Set off to walk rest. Lift to Liggetts where I left Negs & 29c toothpast. [sic] 25C st. car. $1.20. “Panama hattie” Red Skelton; [blank space] 60c. cheese sand. & milk shake. RAIN in lg. lumps. Doris’s hair wet & so were her eyes but I kissed them away. 50c in taxi yet about 1 or 2 from stn. Got there 1hr. waiting for [indecipherable word]
[page break]
[inserted] 20c. coffee, doughnut’ peanuts. [/inserted]
NOVEMBER 10
[underlined] TUES/42 [/UNDERLINED]
Bed at 2-0 AM. Kellogs; scrambled egg, toast, coffee. D/F. Star [inserted] Met [/inserted] shots Meat loaf, spuds, beans (butter.) Raisin pie; milk. Star Shots, Sigs, Stars again. Brawn, spuds; peaches & cake; milk Finished all shots Have now to take 30 more ground ones. [underlined] Letter to Ma. [/underlined] Telephoned Doris (tears in her eyes.)
[circled LETTER 21]
[Page break]
NOVEMBER 11
[underlined] WED/42. [/underlined]
Kellogs; 1/2 orange; coffee. Slight fall of snow. D/F Scan. [deleted] Braw [/deleted] Armistice service in hanger. [deleted] Bo [/deleted] Brawn, spuds; choc. blancmange; milk. Mag & Insts. P.T. Liver, spuds, onions; plums; peaches; cake; milk. 25c. hair cut. [deleted] Met [/deleted] Mag. swotting if any. Phone to Doris I hope. Didn’t swot but did phone to Doris (no tears tonight)
[page break]
NOVEMBER 12
[underlined] THURS/42 [/underlined]
[deleted] Kellogs [/deleted] 1/2 grapefruit; scrambled egg on toast; coffee; Mag & Comp. Exam, Lecture by P.O. Obs. From England Air/C. pic. Stew, spuds; bread pud. $26 pay. DR. [underlined] Letter from Doris, Eric (Faiers) & AG from Joyce. [/underlined] Sos, spuds; apple; bread & jam; milk SNOW. 21c. (2 x 5c cookies 6c choc. 5c. crisps.) RAIN.
[page break]
NOVEMBER [underlined] 13 [/underlined]
[underlined] FRI/42 [/underlined]
Kellogs, jam, coffee: DR. Air Rec. Sigs. Salmon stake, [sic] spuds, peas; lemon pie; milk. Flight washed Sigs. A/C rec. Met. (35 MPH wind.) Lift into top of Young. 50c st. car. $200 bed & key. $1.20. “Yank at Eaton” Mickey Rooney. 12c sweets. 50c 2 milk shakes & sundaes. Went into house to kiss Doris Goodnight.
Bed between 1 & 2 AM. Darn cold outside.
[page break]
NOVEMBER 14
[underlined] SAT/42 [/underlined]
Up at 10-30. $1.00 for shoe repair $3.75 for brooche. [sic] Met Doris at 12-15. $1.10 for lunch (my breakfast) liv & onion; miss pie; tea. Doris spilt her milk. [underlined] 62c Cable to Ma. [/underlined] Doris phoned her ma then “dragged” me round Eaton & Simpsons Tried to get a set of buttons 85c stamps (10/-, dollar, & 50c.) Doris bought dinner. Phone Tommy and arranged for Sun. AM. St Car & bus to Eglington. 86c. “Berlin Correspondent”
Left 11-30 home by 12-30. Kissed Doris Goodnight in the house again. 20 AM when I got to bed
[page break]
NOVEMBER 15
[underlined] SUN/42 [/underlined]
Up at 9-30. Communion with Doris & Tommy. 10c. Went to “Childs” and had milk shake (60c.) Went with the two of ‘em & took D home. Back to Y. “dry shave.” 50c key. 45c. liver & eggs; blueberry pie; coffee. Back at Doris’s by 3-45. Ma, Pa & kids all out!! Went for walk to see the R. Humber. Dinner 5-30. Dried pate with D & Mr. Ryall showed me his stamps & also gave me quite a number Left at 12-15. Kissed D in hall & on the step
15c on the bus.
[underlined] 77c. Photos, enlargements. [/underlined]
[page break]
NOVEMBER 16
[underlined] MON/42 [/underlined]
Kellogs, jam & coffee. Insts. exam & A/C, rec. Exam. Beef, spuds; bread pud; milk. Met, DR & Met. Mr. Pleuman said “Good Bye” PT. Duty watch. Stew, spuds; bread pud; cake & milk [underlined] WHAT A DINNER!! [/underlined] Comittee [sic] meeting re [indecipherable word] & dinner. F/Lt. Airdale not to be admitted. May write to Joyce & Gran. & MAY? swot Met. Phoned to Doris. Had 2 bottles of beer & [underlined] A CIGAR [/underlined] Denness’ BD. [underlined] A/G. to Gran & Joyce. [/underlined] [indecipherable word]
[page break]
NOVEMBER 17
[underlined] TUES/42 [/underlined]
Kellogs, jam, coffee. 5 DR periods. Sos, spuds; choc. pud; milk. [underlined] LETTER from Norah. [/underlined] DR, Anti Gas, Sigs, PT.
Sos, spuds; peaches; milk. Duty Watch. 10c sweets; 75C Xmas cards 25C stamps. Benches too [sic] & from Hanger, before & after show. Phoned Doris, exchanged greetings with her mother. Wrote several Xmas cards ready to send.
[page break]
NOVEMBER 18
WED/42
Kellogs; jam; coffee. Met. Exam 3 hours, then DR. [underlined] Letter from Doris. [/underlined] Pork, spuds, sweeds; [sic] vanilla pie; milk. [underlined] Phone call from Doris. [/underlined] DR., Sigs., Football. Liver, onion, spuds, sweeds; [sic] ginger cake; milk. Played, or tried to play table tennis with Gwyn. $1.80 stamps. ($2.70 for 9 Xmas cards & letter to Ma.) 6c. sweets. Siren for test blackout.
[circled LETTER 22 (TWO)]
[page break]
NOVEMBER 19
[underlined] THURS/42 [/underlined]
Porr; jam; coffee. Stereo pairs, & on second flight line overlap. Camera went wrong on 1st flight. Beef, spuds; cake & sauce; milk. [underlined] Letter from Doris & Alwyn. Papers from Gran & Ma. [/underlined] Sos, spuds, etc.. milk. Duty Watch. Hitch. $1.20. “Forest Rangers.” Paulette Goddard, [blank space]. Doris paid for choc shakes. 26c. st. car. Lots of love & kisses in the hall. 50c. taxi Sgt. picked us up as we came in.
[page break]
NOVEMBER 20
[underlined] FRI/42 [/underlined]
Kellogs & coffee. Co’s parade in gt. coats. Did hollow sq. in tunics DR. [underlined] Letter from Gran & Ma [/underlined] (at long last) Fish, spuds, carrots; creamed fruit; milk. FP. Arms. (sightings etc) Wings Parade of [underlined] 56 [/underlined] Course. Brawn, spuds; apple pie; milk. Raided the remains of the litter left by 56. [underlined] Doris phoned at Dinner Time. [/underlined] Phoned Doris
[page break]
NOVEMBER 21
[underlined] SAT/42 [/underlined]
Kellogs; jam; coffee. DR. Mr. Wood came in to see us. Told us a “tale” too (“She could play cards.”) Beef, spuds; bread pud; milk. Took off &. S/C from Brampton. Had to land as aerial went WEST. Took off again & got round OK. eventualy. [sic] [underlined] No. MAIL. [/underlined] Spare ribs, spuds, cheese; peaches; milk Played table tennis with Gwyn. Telephone to Doris.
[page break]
NOVEMBER 22
[underlined] SUN/42 [/underlined]
Got up about 1100 AM. Beef, spuds, peas; rice pud; tea. Flight to Goose Lake. Drift & Sun Shots. Brawn, spuds, beet; peaches & cake; prunes; 2 cups milk Chased around for Long rule & [indecipherable word]. Found that Combay had borrowed them.
[page break]
NOVEMBER 23
[underlined] MON 42. [/underlined]
Kellogs, bacon & egg, coffee. DR Exam. Dinner in a rush. [underlined] Letter from Doris Paper from Ma & AG from Gran [/underlined] Air plot. D/F & Astro pics to get wind. Then DR ahead & S/C for base. Had supper & lapped it. Lift to Dundas. St. Car to Jane Bloor. 84c. “Yer Cardboard Lover” Bob Taylor & Norma Shearer. “Moontide” Jean Gabin.
20c. coffee & donuts.
Love & kisses.
10c [deleted] coffee [/deleted] choc milk & donuts. 50c taxi.
[page break]
NOVEMBER 24
[underlined] TUES 42 [/underlined]
Kellogs & coffee. RAIN. [underlined] 73 Met. [/underlined] New sight log book. 113/150 for photography. Beef, spuds, turnip; lemon pie twice, milk. Drew J & L Band. Went into bombing teacher. Sos, spuds; cake; prunes; milk. Heavy fog. In HD area. [underlined] Letter to Ma. [/underlined] (not posted.) [underlined] letter to Eric, Doris & Gran (to post) [/underlined]
[page break]
NOVEMBER 25
[underlined] WED 42. [/underlined]
Kellogs, coffee, bread & jam. Moon Shots, Sigs AA. Beef spuds, bread pud, milk. FP. etc. Liver, spuds, onion: apple; milk. Drew sextant & Astrographs. Going for chute. 212 out of 250 for DR so I’m OK. Finished letter to Gran & bit more for Ma. Phoned Doris. [underlined] Roll Call in Barracks at 10-15. [/underlined] More Bull. Mr. Wood beat Tiger at Table Tennis. He bought beers all round. Flight washed at last minute.
[page break]
NOVEMBER 26
[underlined] THURS 42. [/underlined]
Kellogs; jam; coffee. Compass swing x 4. Sextant Shots. Pork, spuds, carrots; creamed fruit; milk. Interviewed, almost Tarrant just before me. [underlined] Letter from Ma & Doris. [/underlined] P.T. Minced meat pie, spuds, peas; peaches; milk. Drew sextant & chute. 100 MPH wind at 5000 ft. so washed out flight. 15c. phone to Doris. [underlined] Sent letter to Gran. Air Mail. [/underlined]
[page break]
[inserted] [underlined] $27.50 pay. [/underlined] [/inserted]
NOVEMBER 27
[underlined] FRI. 42 [/underlined]
Kellogs, jam, coffee. Co’s parade up road & back & Bloody frozen by time we got back. Letter from Eric. Salmon, spuds, beet; rice pud; milk. 15 shots on the range 20; 13; & 20. LAUNDRY NOT RETURNED. Lift to Main Highway then to Dundas St. Car. $1.00 bed at YMCA in 203. 25c. st. car. 84c “Eagle Sqaudron” at Eglington & “One Born Every Minute.” 60c sundaes & milk shake. Daddy not gone to bed so we just kissed Good night on the steps.
[page break]
NOVEMBER 28
[underlined] SAT 42. [/underlined]
50c. st car tickets. $2.50 silver wings. $1.10 lunch. 85c button RCAF. Took her home. 40c for supper. 35c chocs. 8c. snaps Went to Ice hockey game. I enjoyed it OK. ($3.50 for tickets.) 20c. Cokes. In the middle of our “Good Night kiss(es)” when Gillie opened the door & walked in.
[page break]
NOVEMBER 29
[underlined] SUN. 42 [/underlined]
5c phone at 11.0 AM. 45c lamb & mint sauce, choc. pie; coffee. Puffed wheat & toffee (in milk) cookies, trés bonne, & cup of coffee. Gave [blank space] 5c. & Marion 10c. SNOW. Went round Museum. 40c. sos, spuds, cream pie; coffee. 15c. gums. Went to a “new” church. 20c. (10c Doris put in collection.) 25c. st. car. Doris paid for sandwiches & Bovril 45c. 50c taxi. 12c. two bars of choc.
[circled LETTER 23 MA]
[page break]
NOVEMBER 30
[underlined] MON 42 [/underlined]
SNOW. Kellogs, egg & toast, jam, coffee. Compass & loop swing. Beef, spuds, carrots; raisin pie; milk. Sweet nothing to do. Stuck a few planes in book. Had PT & then supper. Lift to Bloor by car. Took snap of Mr. Wood to Liggetts, Bay St. (24 PNTS) Royal York, Grad. Dinn 7.30 PM. $1. photo. 10c phone to Doris. 80c extra for Dinner. Lift back in station waggon LETTER & negs to Doris in [indecipherable word] at Royal York.
[page break]
DECEMBER 1
[underlined] TUES 42. [/underlined]
Up at 9-15 PM. Clothing parade at 10 cancelled. Beef, spuds, turnip; cake & sauce; milk. 15 rounds on rifle range. 10c for Tiger. $1.05 stamps other day. Had supper. Both flights washed, rain & snow so slipped a pass in & went out. Eglington “You are always in my heart” & [blank space] 84c. Doris’ Ma may not be able to come to “wings” parade. 20c choc milk. Doris ma still up when we got home at 12.00 Anyway we pinched a few kisses. 50c taxi back to camp.
[page break]
DECEMBER 2
[underlined] WED 42. [/underlined]
Kellogs, bacon & toast, coffee. Icy wind, so, no parade. DR & Aldis. Sos, spuds; bread pud, milk. Letter from Doris. Still more wind. Lining up drift recorders. Photo with Pat & Jackie, (3 York tykes) with our wing “up.” Meat loaf, spuds, cabbage, 2 pieces pie; milk. 1st flight washed, 2nd. pending. 25c. All Bran & hot chocolate. 10c. phone to Doris, had about 15 min & no overcharge.
[page break]
DECEMBER 3
[underlined] THURS 42. [/underlined]
Porr, bacon & egg: coffee. Stores. Painted a few houses on the snap. [underlined] Letter from Alwyn. [/underlined] [inserted] P.O. [/inserted] Beef, spuds; rice pud; milk. Stores, FFI. Battle Dress for old blue, 4 strips, one wing, gloves, shirt. Liver, spuds; 2 pears; milk; cake. Got pass signed in case we couldn’t [deleted] get out [/deleted] fly. Shave, & button polish. Put battle dress on. Not a bad fit. Standing by [underlined] all night. [/underlined] Started letter to Ma. Phoned Doris. Had FP made out for trip out West. Waited for Snell & Steven E [indecipherable word] in Met Report.
[page break]
[inserted] WINGS PARADE [/inserted]
[underlined] December 4
Fri 42 [/underlined]
Eventualy [sic] took off to fly round & round Malton area. Had 1st flight with GA. Owen. (had 2600 hrs “dead”.) Went up with Tarrant for 1.05. Got to bed at 7.0 AM after bacon & toast breakfast. Up again at 9-30 AM. Made log book up. $22 pay. 6c. meat pie. Made sight log book up. Chicken spuds, pork, beer, fag. Laundry 34c. W.P. practice in hanger. [underlined] Wings Parade [/underlined] Doris there. Bus into town 30c. Had supper at D’s (okay) Sewed strips on Gt. coat & wings on tunic. Liggetts shut. 10c bus to camp Bed by 1 AM.
[page break]
DECEMBER 5
[underlined] SAT. 42. [/underlined] Packed & cleared stn. Mr. Wood shook hands. Ticket etc. from Ordly [sic] Room. 50c. taxi. West End Y full so went to Triangle (50c) $1.20. Moon & Sixpence” George Sanders. Bought Pat & Junes watches $43.50 Razor Sharpener $2. Doris bought ring for me. [deleted] West End Y still full so again went to Triangle. [/deleted]
[page break]
DECEMBER 6
[underlined] SUN 42. [/underlined]
resewed stripe on gt. coat 25c sos at White Cheff Doris arrived & Muriel left Went to Museum again with Doris. Pinched 2 X’s Doris wearing ring. Had Dinner at Doris’. Went to Church. Held hands. 45c. Soup & 2 Bovrils. Sewed stripes on tunic. West End Y still full so went back to Triangle $1.00 for two nights.
[page break]
DECEMBER 7
[underlined] MON 42 [/underlined]
Up at 8.0 AM. Went to stn arr. 8-45. Only 4 of us there. Unloaded all kit. Booked ours onto train & deposited other in Can Legion. Met Dot at 12-15 PM. [underlined] Sent cable home 67c. [/underlined] Bought Dot wing $15. Spoke to Tommy. 50c. fish & choc pie din & bfst. 30c dog biscuits. 15c gums 25c st car. Dot took me to show. 45c Bovril etc. Doris received wing & gave me ring Love & kisses till 1-30 to 2-0.
[page break]
[inserted] [underlined] TORONTO – MONTREAL (FOR MONCTON) [/underlined] N.B. [/inserted]
DECEMBER 8
[underlined] TUES 42 [/underlined] 8.
Up at 7-30. 15c. All Bran & coffee. stn at 9-0. left all checks in Legion. Met Doris on stn. gave her one kiss good bye & no more. Jumped onto train & left [underlined] Toronto [/underlined] 75c ticket. sos, spuds & peaches; coffee. Arr. Montreal 6-0. Checked in Berth ticket & bags $1.00 ticket. chicken spuds, peas; apple pie, coffee. Pat didn’t know his great coat. 7-30 train pulled out. Bed about 10-0 PM.
[page break]
DECEMBER 9
[underlined] WED 42. [/underlined]
Up at 7-30. Tom juice ham & egg, coffee. [underlined] Campbellton put watch ON one hour. [/underlined] arr Moncton 3-15 PM. Walked to camp. Filled in usual cards. Got billet then had supper, minced meat, bread & jam. Saw Steffie & Dough Pitt. [underlined] FIRE [/underlined]
[page break]
DECEMBER 10
[underlined] THURS 42. [/underlined]
NO. BFST. Parade at 9-0 AM. FFI. Church Gas Mask. Had Dinner. Saw Steffie again & went to see Phil. Vaccine check at hospital Had supper, finished letter (?) to Ma to give to Phil.) Wet. Disney’s “Dumbo 15c. on stn. with Gwyn. Phil there too. Gave him letter & saw him for last time.
[page break]
DECEMBER 11
[underlined] FRI 42 [/underlined]
Bacon beans & milk Webing [sic] parad [sic] & deficiencies. Bean soup, beef spuds. peas; rice pud & [underlined] WATER!!! [two symbols] [/underlined]
Snow (more) no parade. Cleared more stuff out of kit bag. Sos, spuds bread & jam [underlined] PEE [/underlined]!! NOT tea
[page break]
DECEMBER 12
[underlined] SAT 42. [/underlined]
bacon & egg, PEE. RUSH at stores. Had din in mess Played cards & started letter to [underlined] Doris after receiving 2 from her & one from Tommy. [/underlined] Had supper [inserted] sos & spuds [/inserted] on camp [underlined] Shave. [/underlined] went out with Gwyn. Bowls, Peackock turned up then Bill Squires of all people. 25c cocoa & apple pie. 15c fruit & 15c sos rolls. [underlined] SHOWER [/underlined]
[page break]
DECEMBER 13
[underlined] SUN 42 [/underlined]
2 sos rolls & apple of my own. 9-15 para 10-15 church parade. Cream Tom soup; beef spuds, cabbage; cust & sponge cake; milk. Went out with Gwyn to finish film. Took 2 of frozen stream, one of self & one of landscape. 50c ham egg & chips, apple pie & coffee. 10c. mins 10c biscuits. 5c crisps 12c choc. & 5c milk. Finished letter to [underlined] Doris [/underlined]
[page break]
DECEMBER 14
[underlined] MON 42. [/underlined]
[underlined] Letter from Doris. [/underlined]
Put into classes for lectures.
“I married a Witch.”
[page break]
DECEMBER 15
[underlined] TUES 42. [/underlined]
Bread & cheese, tea. Parade 8-30 AM. Got leave application form & got flight’s sign Cleaned bowls in wash room Beef & spuds; jam tart & cust milk. Pay parade. $25. Finished Jane Gray’s book (2nd time.) Sos & spuds, bread & jam, tea. NO MAIL. 5c on bus. Eatons shut. laundry not ready. 25c. apple & mints. 17c milk & 2 malt! Bars. Went to stn. about trains. ($22.75 to Toronto.)
[page break]
DECEMBER 16
[underlined] WED 42. [/underlined]
Kellogs; bacon & beans; tea. Parade 8.30 AM. Went to see adj. (sqdn) forwarded to W. Adj. Stew, puds, carrots; rice pud. Parade 1-30 PM. Sqdn. WO, read note about sgt being hung for murder whilst drunk. Went to Wing Adj given 7 days filled in pass form & left it with SWO. Changed barracks, Packed. Meat ball, spuds, bread & jam, cake & sauce tea $22.75 for ticket to Toronto. 36c laundry 40c meal. [underlined] Letter to Norah & card Letter from Doris [/underlined]
[page break]
[inserted] MONCTON S/C TORONTO. [/inserted]
DECEMBER 17
[underlined] THURS 42 [/underlined]
bacon & egg; terrible porr good tea. Got pass & went to Accounts & got $30. Pay & 50c a day ration allowance. Handed kit into stores. Tried to get ration card. Freezing cold. [underlined] Letter & Xmas card to Norah. AG. From Ma & Elsie. [/underlined] Pork, spuds, cabb stewed apple & custard, milk Taxi to stn. 25c. Train 1 hr late. Halibut stake [sic] parsley sauce, spuds; parsnip milk. (75c) Cards, whist 7’s etc.
[page break]
DECEMBER 18
[underlined] FRI 42 [/underlined]
8-0 AM CAMPBELLTON 7-0 AM watches back 1 hr ETA Montreal 9-0 AM, leg lamb, spuds & peas, milk Cards, reading & sleeping. Arr. Montreal 3-50 ONLY 7 hours late Next train 11-0 PM. Went with Gwyn to his relations Snack & shave & good wash. Arr. stn. 10-45. Train eventualy [sic] S/C at 12-00 AM.
[page break]
DECEMBER 19
[underlined] SAT 42. [/underlined]
Arr. 9-30 2 hours late. 25c. sos, spuds, & peas; coffee. $2 for bed. $1.25 [deleted] cushion [/deleted] [inserted] CUSHION [/inserted] cover. $6 for lighter for William. 20c flints. Tommy & rest of girls at office 12-10 & then Doris Steak & kidney pie, soup & blueberry pie; coffee; $1. Shopping ie shop window gazing. 25c. st. car. Dinner at Doris’ $1.20. “One of Our Bombers failed to Return” Damn good! Only one X. Mr. up trimming the Xmas tree.
[page break]
DECEMBER 20
[underlined] SUN 42. [/underlined]
Up at 10-30. 5c. phone to Doris from Central. All at church. 45c brunch. All Bran; sos, beans; blueberry pie & coffee. Rang Doris up again. Met her at Museum 2-45. Dinner at her home. Went to St. Georges church. Carols & school kids helping us to sing some. One X. Good Night [underlined] again. [/underlined] In bed by 1-0 AM
[page break]
DECEMBER 21
[underlined] MON 42. [/underlined]
Up 10-45 AM. Met Doris at CPR Telegraph office. Walked round. Went & saw Tommy at the office. 15c. polishing Duster. brunch. All Bran liver & coffee. 40c. 60c 2 x 127 films. 70c. 2 x 620 films. 15c [indecipherable word] 5c drawing pins. 40c liver, lemon pie & coffee. St car to Jane. 84c Runnymede “Broadway” George Raft. Cheese Sand & Bovril. Doris paid. Mr. still up so!!
[page break]
DECEMBER 22
[underlined] TUES 42 [/underlined]
Up 10-45. Shave. Met Doris usual place. $21.75 watch for Ma. Saw Tommy again. Kissed me Good Bye & Good Luck. Walked Round & Round & Round. 20c blades. 30c batteries 60c. fish, choc pie & coffee. Tried to find Stringer. Posted photos in end to Piper at NO. 1AOS. 25c. milk shakes & sundaes. Saw Mrs Ryall on st car. Went with D for Meat for my lunch. Loews. “7 Sweethearts” & “Eyes in the Dark” Bovril & cheese sandwich. X X X’s & more X X X’s. Took my lunch. bed by 3-0 AM
[page break]
DECEMBER 23
[underlined] WED 42 [/underlined]
Up 7-40. 15c. coffee & Bran Flakes. 5c phone to Doris from Stn. Met her outside. Tommy said she was on her way. Walked back to office with her. one X outside & then left her. Boarded train 9-45. Pulled out 10-45. [underlined] 1hr. late [/underlined] Arr. Mont. 7-0 PM about 1 or 2 hrs late. 48c fish, lemon pie & coffee. 12c Aero choc. Should S/C 8-10. finaly [sic] set off 8-45. F/Sgt. SP with prisoner on way to Halifax. Posted X Cards to Tommy & Doris at Drumondville (11-0 PM.)
[page break]
DECEMBER 24
[underlined] THURS 42. [/underlined]
Had spot of brunch. 10 to 110. AM. Cards with self. Tired so had occasional naps CAMPBELLTON 1-0 PM turned to 2-0 PM. 18c. chips & choc bar. Finished lunch at 4-0. PM Arr. at 8-0 PM. Took film in. Got laundry 29c. Splitting Gwyn’s $10 bill after all. Got kit bag out of stores.
[page break]
[underlined] DECEMBER 25
FRI. 42 [/underlined]
Up at 10-30 to 11-0. Turkey & pork, spuds, peas, apple sauce & stuffing; Cream of tom soup; plum pud; mince pie; bottle of beer; fag; apples, pears & oranges; grapes. [underlined] 4 letters from Doris. Letter from Ma with Elsie’s. Letter from Gran. Letter & 15/- P.O. from S.P.T. [/underlined] Reading book. Pork, beef (cold) pickles & spuds; Xmas cake bread & jam, tea. More reading. Making diary up. Letter to Doris.
[page break]
DECEMBER 26
[underlined] SAT 42 [/underlined]
Pork, cab & spuds; rice pud & jelly. Letter to Doris finished. No Mail. Pork, spuds, celery, pickles, cheese jelly, bread & jam, tea. Gwyn returned [underlined] home. [/underlined] 33c stamps [underlined] posted letter to Doris. [/underlined] 15c. hot choc. & 2 donuts.11c salted & choc peanuts. darn cold out. Wrote AG to Cus & Elsie (Foster.) Letter to Gran.
Bed 12-0 AM..
[page break]
DECEMBER 27
[underlined] SON 42. [/underlined]
Church 11-0 AM. then Communion at 11-45. Celery soup; pork, spuds, choc cake & custard, milk. Reading & nothing else. Short sleep. Ham beef & egg, choc cake & cust tea, bread & jam. Finished book. Wrote letter to Doris. Arty returned Watch still U.S. [underlined] AG to Cus & Elsie [/underlined] & [underlined] letter to Gran. [/underlined] 3 x 3c stamp 4 x 30c. films. 25c. choc hot & Bran Flakes.
[page break]
DECEMBER 28
[underlined] MON 42. [/underlined]
Kellogs; bacon & tomato, tea. Parade. Dismissed. Parceled [sic] watch. Went to Pay Accounts too [sic] late. [underlined] Posted watch 31c. registered Air Mail. [/underlined] Soup; stew, spuds, carrots; prunes; Tea. [underlined] 2 letters [inserted] Xmas Card [/inserted] from Doris. [/underlined] Dismissed again. Started letter to Pat Went to P.O. to sort letters [underlined] Parcel from Norah Xmas Cakes [/underlined] Sos & spuds; apple pie, milk; tea; jam. Gave cake out. [underlined] Posted letter to Doris. [/underlined] 2 X 30c. 620 films. 2 x 10c blades. 5c. milk.
[page break]
DECEMBER 29
[underlined] TUES 42. [/underlined]
No bfst. Parade 8-30. Film, show (propaganda) “Ditching” procedure, Morse? [underlined] No Mail. [/underlined] Beef, spuds (baked) cabbage; rice pud; milk. Letter sorting again. Bed. Hamburger meat & macaroni; bread & jam; tea. More Bed. 5c. bus. Gwyn posted his letter (s) Went for my film not done. Went to Y. 20c 2 milks & choc cake. Went back for film 38c. 40c sacarin 39c Ginger Rogers in “The Major & the Minor” a scream! Walked back
[page break]
DECEMBER 30
[underlined] WED 42. [/underlined]
Kellogs & HOT milk; beans & bacon; tea. Bed. Navigation? Signals? [underlined] No MAIL. [/underlined] Bean soup; beef; spuds, cabbage; apple & custard; milk. Parade Post Office [underlined] No Mail. [/underlined] Ran to Mess. Meat pie (Sheppherd) [sic] Macaroni & milk. Bread & jam; tea. [underlined] Letter to Doris. [/underlined] 5c bus. Got Gwyn’s picts, posted letter. Rain turning to hail. 10c hot choc. 75c. chocs. 6c choc. 10c biscuits 10c mints. Walked back. [underlined] Letter to Ma & Tommy [/underlined]
[page break]
DECEMBER 31
[underlined] THURS 42. [/underlined]
No bfst. Parade in drill hall. Bed till 10-15 played cards. Navi. Didn’t go to signals. Stew, (bean) pork, stuffing, spuds, carrots & apple sauce, crackling, prunes & cust; milk. Parade. Pay accounts. Pay parade 2-30. $25 pay. Gave Gwyn his $10 back Now have $16. Post Office. [underlined] Letter from Doris. [/underlined] Bean soup; cheese cake, spuds; cheese; brd & jam; tea. [underlined] Letter to Doris [/underlined] Show, walked into town. 10c milk shake. Walked back. Shower. Washed socks. Bed about 11-45
[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
Keith Thompson's diary July 1942 to July 1943
Description
An account of the resource
During this period Keith was under training in Canada and then in England from June 1943 on 28 OTU at RAF Wymswold.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Keith Thompson
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1942
1943
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Large format diary
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text. Diary
Text
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
YThompsonKG1238603v2
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.
Canada
Great Britain
England--Leicestershire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-07
1942-08
1942-09
1942-10
1942-11
1942-12
1943-01
1943-02
1943-03
1943-04
1943-05
1943-06
1943-07
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
28 OTU
aircrew
entertainment
military living conditions
military service conditions
navigator
Navy, Army and Air Force Institute
Operational Training Unit
RAF Wymeswold
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1857/33286/YAdderM170573v2.1.pdf
716fe7532dec4c7427830ca2572059db
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
Adder, Mervyn
M Adder
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-05-29
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
Adder, M
Description
An account of the resource
88 items. The collection concerns Pilot Officer Mervyn Adder (1922 - 1944, 175073 Royal Air Force) and contains his diaries, correspondence and photographs. He flew operations as a navigator with 44 Squadron and was killed 15 March 1944. <br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Mary Sprakes and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.<br /><br /><span data-contrast="none" xml:lang="EN-GB" lang="EN-GB" class="TextRun SCXW207633627 BCX0"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW207633627 BCX0">Additional information on<span> Mervyn Adder</span></span><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW207633627 BCX0"><span> </span>is available via the</span></span><span class="EOP SCXW207633627 BCX0" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":200,"335559740":276}"> </span><a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/100101/">IBCC Losses Database.</a>
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
M. Adder.
153, Albert Ave.
Anlaby Rd
Hull.
Those mighty periods of years
Which seem to us so vast,
Appear no more before Thy sight,
Than yesterday that’s past
90 [deleted] Psalmm [/deleted] [inserted] Psalm [/inserted]
[page break]
Friends are the end & reward of life. They keep us worthy of ourselves & when we are alone we are only nearer to the absent
Stevenson
I count myself in nothing else so happy.
As in a soul remembering my good friends.
Shakespeare
Like threads of silver seen through crystal beads.
Let love through good deeds show.
Arnold.
[page break]
Mr J. Heath
38, Oxford St.
East Kirkby
Nottingham
Mr. J. Crowe.
12, Empress Ave.
Ilford.
Essex.
[page break]
A.N.T. C191
Nav. Inst. Manual C4/10
Almanac 24
Met. D9/4
Comp. D9/2
Protractor D9/49
Rule D9/32.
[page break]
[underlined] JANUARY [/underlined]
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
[underlined] 1st:- [/underlined] Stayed in at night as it was snowing – gunfire heard here early in night – 500 people discovered on Pacific island – abandoned by German raider who had sunk their ships – R.A.F raid invasion ports
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
[underlined] 2nd:- [/underlined] Went to see ‘My Two Husbands’ at the Tower by myself – very little action in the film – was not impressed very cold at night – freezing – Bremen attacked & about 20,000 incendiaries dropped – fires seen over 100 mls away
[underlined] FRI. [/underlined]
[underlined] 3rd [/underlined] Bremen again raided – H.M.Sub.
[page break]
Thunderbolt (late ill-fated Thelis) sinks Italian submarine – Aussies launch attack on Bardia & secure positions – went to Rolands at night & listened to his new records – later went for a walk – still freezing.
[underlined] Sat [/underlined]
[underlined] 4th [/underlined] Played R.E’s lost 7-5 good game 5” of snow on top – soft underneath very hard going – went to Newington at night – had a very good time – met Mary Boatyman (very nice – dark & slim very pretty) saw her home – she was staying the night with Mary Glansford – more prisoners taken at Bardia received a Christmas Card from Marian in America
[page break]
Sun.
[underlined] 5th [/underlined] Very nice morning – freezing but fresh – went to Cadets with Don & Gee – paraded on Corp. Field – went a walk in the afternoon with Roland Ken Gee & Wriggy – went to Wriggy’s at night – Gee’s gramophone broke – mended it – took nearly all night –
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
6th Bardia taken – also over 30,000 prisoners – our casualties about 400 Italians show little fight – have a cold stayed in at night
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
7th Went to see ‘The Boys from
[page break]
Syracuse’ with Mary – a very funny picture & very American – Amy Johnson missing over Thames Estuary – acting as ferry pilot
WED.
8TH Stayed in at night & cleaned part of my bicycle – our western forces pushing on to Tobruk Roland receives his papers – is going to Helmsall [sic] – (between Brigg & Scunthorpe) – N.W Germany bombed
THUR
[underlined] 9TH [/underlined] Went to Cadets at night intruction [sic] in Navigation & Theory of Flight –
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
FRI
[underlined] 10TH [/underlined] Daylight raid on invasion ports by our bombers escorted by fighters – a very successful raid – 3 enemy fighters shot down – we suffer no losses – Milan & Naples attacked & a 35,000 ton battleship damaged – our forces are pushing on to the West of Tobruk – stayed in at night
SAT
[underlined] 11TH [/underlined] Played the R.E’s again lost 2-1 played a wrotten [sic] game – went to Newington at night had a good time saw Mary to the bus station
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
[underlined] 12TH [/underlined] Went to Cadets in the morning
[page break]
with Gee & a walk in the afternoon to the Golf Course with Don & Gee & a walk at night with Wriggy & Gee later we went in Wriggy’s house
MON
[underlined] 13TH [/underlined] Channel ports raided by RAF & fighters machine gun German troop emplacements – stayed in at night & cleaned my bicycle – met Mary in the town after work.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
14TH. German & Italian aircraft attack convoy in Med. area 12 shot down. HMS Illustrious damaged & HMS Gallant (Des.) HMS Southampton (Cruiser) was also damaged & later had to be sunk
[page break]
- went to see ‘Andy Hardy Meets Debutante’ with Mary at the Cecil – a very good film & we both enjoyed it.
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
[underlined] 15th [/underlined] Stayed in at night – dive bombers dropped 1000’s of bombs in recent attack in Med. – gunfire heard here tonight – wrote to Fred –
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
16TH:- Wilhelmshaven heavily raided by R.A.F as reprisal for Med. attack – very cold today went to Cadets at night
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FRI.
[underlined] 17TH:- [/underlined] Very cold temp 23 degrees this morning – stayed in at night – wrote to Edith – stated that 40 aircraft were destroyed in raid on Catania (Sicily) – Greeks capture 1000 prisoners & sink two supply ships.
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
18TH:- Played at Kilnsea won 5-0 9 degrees below cold piercing wind & blowing snow – went dancing at night & had a moderate time as I was tired – 20 dive bombers brought down in raid on Malta – (several German planes) snowing tonight
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[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
19TH:- Over 1’ of snow on the ground large drifts due to wind – another 19 planes brought down in raid on Malta – went for a walk in the afternoon with Don & Gee & also at night with Ken, Wriggy & Gee later went to Wriggy’s – Edith came home for the weekend – Olaf also was here.
[underlined] MON. [/underlined]
20TH Snow melting – very dirty underfoot – our troops have taken Kassala in the Sudan region Abysinnians revolting under the leadership of our military mission
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[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
[underlined] 21ST:- [/underlined] Rained today & also at night – snow has melted & left a dirty mess – went to see Bing Crosby in ‘If I had my way’ at the Tower with Mary – saw Mary & Bob there – enjoyed the picture very much – our forces start the attack on Tobruk
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
22ND:- Tobruk captured – Australians again lead the way – went to the Newington at night with Don & Gee Sirens sounded 3 times today luckily not at night as I was on fire duty.
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
23RD:- Stayed in at night as
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it was a very dark & wet night – fighters piloted by Poles carry out offensive sweep of Channel ports & German occupied territory – they went unchallenged
[underlined] F.RI. [sic] [/underlined]
24TH. Rang Mary she is staying in tonight & so I also stayed in – Tobruk prisoners excede [sic] 14,000 Hailie Selaissie is back in Abyssinia
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
25TH:- Played an Army team at Pocklington lost 2-1 (had to get washed under a tap – no tea – proper Army do) returned 6.30 & went to Newington at night – had a good time with Mary & the gang
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[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
26TH. Went to the Cadets in the morning with Gee & went for a walk with Don, Gee Ken & Wriggy in the afternoon Gee came to our house at night – reported rioting in N. Italy – (Germans take over post office, stations etc) – our forces in Africa attack Lybia, [sic] St Som. Eritrea simultaneously – Greeks still do well
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
27TH:- Met Mary from work – somebody rang her up & asked for a date – believe it has something to do with Don or Spillers – went to see ‘Gentlemen of Venture’ with Gee at the West Park –
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
28TH Met Mary from work – rained & snowed all day – went
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to Cadets at night & had gunnery instruction with the Lewis gun – no raiding again today
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
29TH Stayed in at night – our forces capture Derna Greeks repulse Italian counter attack – Roland goes back after leave
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
30TH. Having a couple of days leave – stayed in bed in the morning & went to see the ‘Dead End Kids’ & ‘La Conga Nights’ at the Tower with Mary in the afternoon – stayed in at night.
FRI
31ST. Stayed in bed again in the morning & took Rollo for a walk in the afternoon – stayed in at night – our forces pushing on to Benghazi
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[underlined] FEBRUARY [/underlined]
[underlined] SAT [/underlined
1 Feb:- Played army team at the gun position in Costello playing field lost 6-1 – went to the Newington at night & had a very good time Mary was very affectionate & was introduced to Miss Pettman – our force pushing on to Benghazi & also on the other 3 fronts
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
2nd:- Went to Cadets in the morning for a rehearsal – started to snow & continued for our inspection by C.O from Leconfield & presentation of the band – later dedicated at church stayed in at night.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
3rd:- More snow today – met Mary from work & went to collect her photo’s [sic] from Cecil Studios however
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they weren’t ready – she was going to the dressmakers tonight – so we didn’t go out together.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
4TH Met Mary from work & called for her photograph at the Cecil studios – went to Cadets at night – bombs dropped in Goddard Ave., at night – 4 killed several injured – our forces pushing on in Africa – Cyrene captured
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
5TH Bombers escorted by layers of fighters attack Channel Invasion Ports both at night & during the day 5 German planes shot down – 7 of ours are missing – arranged to meet Mary at night but she didn’t turn up – went to see ‘Crooks Tour’ at the Central (Basil Radford & Naughton Wayne) – snowing heavily
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tonight – many warnings today
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
6TH: About 8” of snow has fallen which melts very quickly – rang Mary this morning & she is sorry she didn’t come last night – promises me a photograph – [deleted] received letters [/deleted]
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
[underlined] 7TH [/underlined] Met Mary from work – gave me photo, she can’t come out tonight – stayed in Benghazi captured – armoured division leaves coast road at Derna – covers 130 mls in 30 hrs & surprises Italians leaving Benghazi to the south – received letters from Roland & Fred.
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
8TH. Played Balloon Barage won 5-1 very muddy – hurt my ancle [sic] – offer to sign for City – went to the Newington at night – saw Mary to the bus
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& had to walk home – buzzers go on duty for about 20 mins fire-watching – Genoa shelled by Navy
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
9TH. Went to Cadets in the morning & went for a walk with Mary in the afternoon – rained a bit so went to the Art Gallery & the museum – stayed in at night – our forces pushing on on all fronts in Africa.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
10TH:- Went to a dance at the ‘Sacred Heart’ with Mary at night wasn’t thrilled – a bit common & band was not up to scratch – reported over 300 tons of shells were fired into Genoa during recent raid – HMS Renown, Ark Royal & the cruiser Sheffield took
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part accompanied by light forces.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
11th Stayed in at night – after training at City – met Mary from work earlier – reported German infiltration in Bulgaria our ambassador leaves – our forces in Africa still push on
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
12th Stayed in again at night & wrote to Marian – Greek air force shoot down 8 Italians & we account for 5
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
13TH. Mary rang up today to say that she might be working late on Friday night – met her leaving work to give her her ticket – Miss Pittman also rang up to ask me to get her tickets for
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the dance – stayed in at night
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
[underlined] 14TH [/underlined] Went to the dance tonight had a very good time – heavy gunfire all the night however – saw Mary home – walked from Preston Rd. – got home 1.50 –
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
[underlined] 15TH [/underlined] Stayed in bed in the morning & went to watch our boys team in the afternoon – could not play myself as I had a bad ankle – went to the Newington at night & later saw Mary to the bus – Parachute troops land in Italy to destroy an important dam – Italians say all captured after doing slight damage we say very little – Germans still filter into Bulgaria – Roland is home – he also went to Newington
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[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
16TH Went to Cadets in the morning on Church parade & later a walk round the town – went to see Roland in the afternoon & went for a walk afterwards with the gang – went to Ken’s at night – played dominoes & listened to gramophone records – Edith is also home this weekend – have a nasty cold coming on
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
17TH. Have a terrible cold – met Mary from work & went with her & Joyce to Jerome’s to collect some photo’s [sic] – 4 German planes shot down today – Turkey signs a friendship alliance with threatened Bulgaria
[page break]
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
18TH. Firewatching tonight had a quiet night & slept nearly all the time – cold very bad today – our troops still advance in Africa
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
19TH. Cold has improved considerably met Mary from work at night
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
20TH Met Mary from work at lunch time & she has a cold so she wasn’t able to come to the pictures with me at night – arranged to meet Don & Gee but they didn’t turn up so I went to see Robert Montgomery in ‘Busmans Honeymoon’ at the Cecil it was a very good film being taken from the novel by Agatha Christie. – snowed during the night but it soon disappeared
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[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
[underlined] 21ST. [/underlined] Rang Mary this morning but she was away ill – stayed in at night – Germans still mass on Bulgarian border – our troops land at Singapore to counter Japanese threats
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
[underlined] 22ND [/underlined] Went into the town to choose the material for a new suit walked through Hammonds but Mary wasn’t at work – went to the Newington at night but did not enjoy it as Mary wasn’t there – heavy gunfire during the night & bombs dropped in Hawthorne Ave (unexploded). Preston Rd & other districts several people killed
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
23rd Went to Cadets but did not stay long – went for a walk in the afternoon with Don & Gee & went in the town at night with Wriggy &
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Gee – met two girls & danced in a shelter as there was heavy gunfire & plenty of shrapnel flying about – bombs dropped in De-La-Pole Ave about 100 yds from home – a few people killed – mothers cold still bad Alex & I cooked our own dinner
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
[underlined] 24TH [/underlined] A quiet night for a change met Mary from work & she didn’t want to come out as she was going to bed early – very tantalising [deleted] stayed [/deleted] went to the pictures with Ken & Gee to the Carlton to see ‘When the Daltons Rode’ which was a typical western –
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
25TH. Rang Mary in the morning but she won’t come out until Friday more gunfire and enemy activity here tonight
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[underlined] WED [/underlined]
[underlined] 26TH. [/underlined] Stayed in at night – Cologne & invasion ports heavily bombed – our forces capture capital of Italian Somaliland & push on on all African fronts
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
[inserted] 27TH [/inserted] Rang Mary this morning & arranged to go to the Regal tomorrow fire watched tonight & had no Air Raid Warnings – wrote to Fred during the night & had a very pleasant time with the other firewatchers
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
28TH Indo China dispute still unsettled – Japan introduce pressure – about 38 Italian planes shot down in the last two days on the Albanian front – Mary rang this morning to say that my Mum was ill & unable to go to the pictures at night
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[underlined] SAT [/underlined] Played the balloon Barrage at Sutton in a strong wind & drew 1-1 my ankle has not quite recovered – went to the Newington at night & had a good time – Mary was there although she had a slight cold – bombs dropped meanwhile & 6 people were killed in James Reckett’s Ave. – Bulgaria signs pact with Germany & becomes a member of the Axis – troops move into Bulgaria HMS. destroyer sunk –
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
[underlined] 2ND MARCH [/underlined] Went for a walk with Don & Gee in the morning as it was such a nice day & with Don Gee Ken & Wriggy in the afternoon – we walked round the golf course & I fell in the drain with my best clothes on – went for a walk at night with Ken Gee & Wriggy who left us later on & went with Audrey Gladstone –
[page break]
I was fire watching tonight but we luckily had a quite [sic] night
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
3RD. Met Mary from work & arranged to go to the Regal tomorrow – Roland is home on 7 days leave – went to see ‘Viva the Frisco Kid’ & ‘The Girl in Room 313’ at the West Park with Ken & Gee.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
4TH Went to the Regal with Mary & Elsie & Roland to see Mickey Rooney & Judy Garland in ‘Strike up the Band’ which we enjoyed very much – went to train after work – a very nice day again
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
5TH Met Roland after work & went to see Mary & Elsie at Hammonds – later met them from work went to the Newington at night with them – Don Madge & Gee were there
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had a good time – we break off diplomatic relations with Bulgaria 2 German bombers shot down in night raid on Cardiff – we land troops on Lofaten Isles & capture a few Germans & several Norwegian fishermen – 9 Italian planes shot down – Abyssinian patriots capture important position, our forces push on in Italian Somaliland
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
6TH. Went to Rolands to tea with Elsie Ken & Gee – listened to gramophone records – over 200 Germans captured in Lofaten raid – several Quislingites & 300 loyal Norwegians brought off – oil factories etc destroyed several enemy ships sunk including armed trawler – we suffer no casualties Short Sunderland attacked over Atlantic by two enemy bombers – one was shot down & the other severely damaged
[page break]
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
7TH met Mary from work & stayed in at night – Italian cruiser sunk in Med.
SAT
[underlined] 8TH [/underlined] Played RAFVR in pouring rain & on a very muddy ground won 6-1 had to go to work to firewatch all the night – Mother went to Grantham this morning to see Edith
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
9TH I stayed in until the night when I went to the Regal with Mary to a concert with Billy Scott Coomber & his Grenadiers & a good dance band on the programme – we enjoyed it very much
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
10TH Met Mary from work – stayed in at night & read
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
11TH Mary rang up to say
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that she wasn’t going to the Newington & so we went to see ‘Tom Browns School Days’ at the Cecil & we enjoyed it – 9 German planes brought down today
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
12TH Met Mary from work & talked over the dance arrangements stayed in at night – gunfire heard here nearly all the night – raiders were over Mersey side – 49 of them were brought down – we carry out the largest raid ever on Germany (Berlin & Bremen visited) – 2 more planes destroyed at dawn & 1 ME shot down whilst trying to intercept our bombers – German destroyer put out of action by torpedo from one of our planes – we lose 5 planes in both day & night raids.
[page break]
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
13TH Went for a walk with Don & Gee at night – a very nice sunny day – heavy raid here at night – (incendiaries dropped in the Avenue but soon put out [deleted] [underlined] FRI [/underlined] [/deleted] 13 German planes brought 141 down during raids – Sissons receives a hit & burns for a while many people killed in Hull
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
14TH Another raid tonight bombs dropped down Bean St. – 6 German planes brought down – met Mary from work Blackburn’s dance at the City Hall has been cancelled stayed in at night.
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
15TH Played Mersey St. O.B. & lost 2-1 (after leading 1-0 the greater part of the time) very good game & it was an ideal [deleted] game [/deleted]
[page break]
day for football – was very tired afterwards – went to the City Hall dancing at night with Mary, Elsie & Gee – had a moderate time – the band was poor –
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
16TH Went to the Cadets in the morning with Gee & went for a walk nearly to Anlaby in the afternoon with the gang – as it was a very nice day – went to the Regal at night with Mary Elsie & Gee to a concert with Issy Bonn & a broadcasting dance band did not enjoy it as much as last week – saw Mary home – Edith came home yesterday for the weekend.
[underlined] MON [/underlined] [inserted] 17TH [/inserted] Firewatched at work tonight & had a short warning at 5.15 AM Berbera retaken in Br Somaliland
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& we push on on all fronts Jugoslavia [sic] is ready to fight if invaded.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
18TH. A very heavy raid here tonight lasting from 9 o’clock until 4.0 o’clock in the morning – gunfire all the time & Jerry over continuously – bombs dropped on Anlaby Rd, Beverley Rd & many more districts – I stayed in at night – rang Mary in the morning – we lost 25 ships approx 98,000 tons last week
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
19TH Went to the Stellag Boxing Club & did a little training – very nice day met Mary from work – London receives a very heavy raid
THUR
20TH Went to see Tommy Trinder – Jack Hulbert
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[underlined] MARCH [/underlined]
in ‘Sailors Three’ at the Central with Don & Gee – a very funny picture – Lorient sub. base raided by R.A.F
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
21ST. Met Mary from work at night & stayed in Lorient sub. base again raided along with other objectives – the Bremen has been severely damaged by either the RAF or sabotage
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
22ND. Played the Queens Reg & lost 4-2 – went to the Cecil with Mary at night to see Ronald Colman & Ginger Rogers in ‘Lucky Partners’ had a good time & went right home with Mary afterwards walked home arrived about 11.30
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[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
23RD. Stayed in bed in the morning & went for a walk in the afternoon with the gang – arranged to meet Mary at night but she didn’t turn up so took a Preston Rd bus & walked down Hedon Rd into the town – YugoSlavia [sic] still resist attempts by Germany to make them sign a pact
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
24TH Met Mary from work – stayed in at night & wrote to Edith & Roland –
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
25TH Stayed in again at night – rained very hard – Yugo-Slavia signs pact with Nazi Russia & Turkey agree to remain neutral if one or the other is attacked
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
26TH Fire-watched at work all the night & luckily had nothing to do – growing unrest
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[underlined] MARCH [/underlined]
in Yugo-Slavia
[underlined] 27TH [/underlined]
[underlined] THUR [/underlined] Stayed in at night – riots in Yugo-Slavia – Prince Paul the Regent flees & King Peter takes over – ministers who signed pact are imprisoned – Keren the well defended strategic town in Abys. captured – raid by German dive bombers on Malta repulsed with heavy losses to the enemy
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
28TH Went to the Cecil at night with Mary to see ‘Hired Wife’ – Dunkirk & other Channel Ports bombed Roland is home
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
29TH Played the Hampshires with a short team – a very nice day & enjoyed the match very much lost 7-0 – went to the Regal at night with Mary – Elsie & Roland
[page break]
[underlined] MARCH [/underlined]
to see ‘Tin Pan Alley’ (Alice Faye) at the Regal – enjoyed it very much – it had such tunes in as ‘Katie’ You say the Cutest Things Baby’ ‘On Moonlight Bay’ [symbol] A.R.W & had to leave Mary after the show as I was fire-watching [inserted] (Honeysuckle Rose) [/inserted]
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
[underlined] 30TH [/underlined] Went to the Cadets in the morning & did a little Morse – a very nice day but fairly cold out of the sun – went for a walk with the gang in the afternoon Roland went back – stayed in at night.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
31ST Met Mary from work new boy starts at work – blitz here tonight from 8.0 – 11.30 heavy gunfire & many bombs dropped Shell Mex Office Infirmary ARP [indecipherable word]
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in Ferensway down – many places in town (Prospect St) severely damaged bombs in Beverley Rd, Hessle, Liverpool St & many other places – 4 Cruisers 3 Destroyers of the Italians sunk in night Med. action off Cape Palermo – one of our Cruisers acts as decoy when Italian force suspected & allows ‘Warspite’ ‘Formidable’ & other ships to make contact & shatter the ‘Wops’ with their broadsides – F.A.A does well – Italian warship 35000 tons reported torpedoed & unlikely to reach port – 2 of our aircraft lost are the only casualties – 2 German dive bombers shot down – stayed in at night.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
[underlined] 1st APRIL [/underlined] German destroyer sunk by our bombers – Bremen raided – Asmara (capital of
[page break]
Eritrea) captured – new type of bomb used on Emden last night smaller but has great destructive force – shipping losses are down this week (10 Br 6 Allied & 1 Neutral lost) 6 Germans brought down during today.
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
2ND Rang Mary but she isn’t going dancing tonight – went to the Newington & had a good time an Italian destroyer sunk –
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
3RD 2 more Italian destroyers sunk by our aircraft in the Red Sea – went to the Tower at night with Mary to see Brian Aherne in ‘The Lady in Question’ enjoyed it French family – juror adopts acquitted woman & takes her home – domestic love affairs & squabbles – humorous – half way home with Mary when
[page break]
buzzers go – made me leave her & walked home – she promised to go on Sat – gunfire just before I reach home – incendiaries dropped.
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
4TH Benghazi again evacuated by our troops as Italo-German force move – Brest with Gneisenau & Scharnhorst raiders in the docks raided by R.A.F – firewatched at work at night warnings & gunfire 9.15-10.0 & 1.0-2.40 – rang Mary this morning arranging to go out with her on Sunday with Edna & possible Wriggy.
[underlined] SAT. [/underlined]
5TH Played an Army team & lost 4-2 went to the Newington at night & had a good time – saw Mary home missed the bus & had to walk home arrived 11.40 – Addis Ababa taken
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
6TH Stayed in bed in the morning went for a walk to
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[underlined] APRIL [/underlined]
the golf course in the afternoon with the gang – went with Mary to the Regal to see the concert (Don Carlos – Alf Collins & Manchester Hip band etc) it was very good – met Mary & Bob inside – saw Don & Ken who later went with Joyce & Audrey who were also there – Germany declares war on Yugoslavia & Greece Russia signs no aggression pact with the former –
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
7TH German destroyer torpedoed & sunk by Coastal Command aircraft – Brest & other ports bombed – bombs dropped here at night (Spring Bank Kirklands Rd) – met Mary from work – 5 German planes brought down in widespread raids
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
8TH Firewatched at home & had long warnings 10.0
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[underlined] APRIL [/underlined]
2.0 & 2.15-4.00 went to bed at 1.30 – Kiel raided & over 30000 incendiaries dropped – warehouses gutted & destroyed in dock area – 1 sq mile of fire in centre of city – A.A defence gradually worn down & smoke envelopes town – largest raid ever – Yugo-Slavs retreat from Greek-Bulgarian border & Germans are therefore on the Greeks left flank – Slavs take Fiume & other towns in Albania
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
[inserted] [underlined] (9TH) [/underlined] [/inserted] Stayed in at night many more German planes brought down during raids on this country – Coventry & Birmingham raided – Berlin heavily raided – Germans take Salonica Yugo-Slavs advance into Albania
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
10TH Went with Don & Gee to the Criterion to see ‘Sky Murder’ fantastic & did not
[page break]
enjoy it – more German planes brought down in raids on this country.
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
11TH. Went for a walk with Don & Ken in the morning & went on the Pier with Ken in the afternoon – saw the two Mary’s – met Edith at the station – went with Alex Ken & Gee to the Langham to see ‘Charlie Chan on a Murder Cruise’ & enjoyed it very much
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
12TH. Went to Leconfield with the Cadets to play Rugby won 19-13 – I scored a try & had a good time – went to the Newington at night & had a good time although it was crowded – Edith & Peggy were there introduced them to Mary – 43 German planes have been brought down in recent
[page break]
moonlight raids
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
13TH Met Mary in the town on Sunday afternoon – went for a little walk but it started to rain so we went home – firewatched at work at night & had a clear night.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
14TH Stayed in bed in the morning & was going rowing in the afternoon but it rained all day up to tea time so we tried to get in the pictures but were unlucky – Don Gee & Joyce went dancing & I went to Ken’s – went to the Newington at night but Mary wasn’t there – Germans advancing in Lybia [sic]
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
15TH 27 German planes & 15 tanks 300 killed or wounded – destroyed in attack on Tobruk – went to work but had very little to do – went
[page break]
home at 3.30 – saw Mary in the town at lunch time – went to see ‘North West Mounted Police’ at the Cecil by myself as Mary was staying in to wash her hair (a fairly good picture with Gary Cooper Cary Grant & Preston Foster) – Air raid lasting from 9.30 until 5-0 in the morning – bombs dropped
[underlined] 16TH [/underlined]
WED. Rang Mary in the morning but she is staying in – stayed in & cleaned my bike – Don & Gee go to the Newington – Alex off work with cold – nice day – Yugo-Slavs have no unified command – are having to use guerrilla tactics – 165 German planes brought down by Y-S over Belgrade – bombers unescorted over 300 planes destroyed by their air force in 2 days (consists of Hurricanes
[page break]
[underlined] APRIL [/underlined]
& other British planes) our forces hold German thrusts – heavy casualties inflicted on enemy on raid on Tobruk
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
[underlined] 17TH [/underlined] Went to see ‘I Want a Divorce’ with Mary to the Cecil & thought it fairly flat – saw Mary home & walked home – London has worst raid yet – Germans attacking strongly in Greece – our forces retreating to form a straighter front –
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
18TH Berlin heavily bombed last night our new bombs & bombers used – stayed in at night
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
19TH Played Boulevard E.I & lost 3-2 went to the Newington at night & had a good time – saw Mary into the town – our forces at Tobruk repulse German attack – a few tanks destroyed & casualties
[page break]
inflicted – Roland is home on leave –
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
20TH Went for a walk with the gang in the morning when was warm & sunny – went for a cycle ride with Don Ken Gee & Wriggy left them & went by myself to Melton – gathered some wild violets went for a walk by myself at night up Hedon Rd, Preston Rd. – as Mary was unable to come out – Germans attacking strongly in Greece & losing many men – Anzacs in rear guard action cut them to pieces 15 German planes shot down in battle over Athens – 7 of ours (3 pilots safe.) more shot down or destroyed in Lybia [sic]
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
21ST Stayed in at night – Mary’s brother was married
[page break]
[underlined] APRIL [/underlined]
at our church this afternoon – supply ship torpedoed by H.M.S. Tetrarch (Sub) on way to Lybia [sic]
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
22ND. Fire-watched at work at night & had a quiet night wrote to Edith – met Mary from work – our forces in Greece take up defence line from Larissa stretching west to the opp. coast – Tripoli bombarded by the Navy & severe damage inflicted on port installations power station & many ships sunk in the harbour – F.AA planes shoot 4 out of 5 enemy transport planes down
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
23RD Went to the Tower at night with Mary to see Judy Canova in ‘Scatterbrain’ & Jene [sic] Autry in ‘Gaucho Serenade – both were very good flics
[page break]
and we laughed very much over the first – Greek Army in Epinea area of Albania has to surrender being cut off – King of Greece & Gov. go to Crete –
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
24TH Had the afternoon off went to the East Park with Mary Elsie, Joyce & Gee & had a good time – skipped, played a ball game went on the swings – went to the Langham at night with Gee to see ‘The Saint Strikes Back’ and enjoyed it very much.
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
25TH Stayed in at night, - bombs dropped here at night
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
26TH Went into the town in the afternoon with Don Wriggy & Gee went in Lyons & had ice cream & coffee & biscuits – later went with Wriggy to get a sports coat & Ken bought some trousers – Alex
[page break]
went to Grantham to see Edith, who rang me up earlier in the morning went to the Newington & had a good time – sirens go as we go into town Athens reported occupied by the Germans
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
27TH Went to Cadets in the morning – went for a walk in the afternoon with Mary, Elsie, Joyce Don & Gee – took a bus to Hessle – walked along the foreshore – across fields to Ferriby & took a bus home – met at night & all went to the Regal to see ’21 Days’ which was not very exciting – had a walk round the town after & then I saw Mary home – missed the last bus & had to walk home – arrived 11.30.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
28TH Cycled to Melton at night & found some primroses
[page break]
our troops are evacuated from Greece – Dessie taken along with 2,000 prisoners & material
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
29TH Went to see ‘Argentina Nights’ with Mary Joyce & Gee & enjoyed it (Ritz Bros & the Andrew Sisters starring) – saw Mary home & missed the last bus & had to walk home arrived 11.20
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
30TH Stated that at least 48,000 troops out of 60000 have been safely evacuated from Greece – heavy material left behind Greeks told us to evacuate to avoid needless bloodshed – which was very heroic of them – many Germans have been killed – stayed in at night – went to bed early – Plymouth raided last night – 5 planes shot down by A.A &
[page break]
[underlined] MAY [/underlined]
3 by fighters –
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
1 MAY Firewatched at work at night & had a quiet night – have a bad cold – 1 German plane shot down at night – raid on Merseyside –
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
2 MAY Rang Mary but she is going to Edna’s at night – stayed in as cold is a nuisance – evacuation of Greece completed – about 43,000 men escape – 500 lost at sea – Iraquian troops open fire on our men who have entered Iraq under our treaty – 4 German planes shot down in raid on Merseyside at night
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
3 MAY Played for Cadets against Lee. at Rugby lost 26-0 had a good time – went to the Newington at night but only had a fair time – enemy aircraft
[page break]
over tonight – dropped a couple of mines on Hedon Rd. – S.W also raided – Merseyside – 14 enemy planes brought down by fighters & 2 by A.A our forces attack Brest & other objectives
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
4TH Went to Cadets in the morning – very warm day – went for a walk round Cottingham in the afternoon with Mary & along Anlaby Rd & Holderness Rd. at night – had a good time – German planes pass over tonight heavy A.A fire – our bombers attack Iraqui troops & cause shelling of RAF aerodrome to cease – fighting continues – led by fanatic who has ceased [sic] power from loyal forces
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
5TH Rang Mary this morning & had a row somebody had been telling her a pack of lies about Sunday – stayed in at
[page break]
[underlined] MAY ]/underlined]
night & wrote to Fred 8 German planes brought down during last night & this morning – heavy gun fire here tonight – German Cruisers at Brest bombed 4 hit
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
6TH. Stayed in at night & wrote to Roland – received a letter this morning from Edith – rang Mary but she is staying in & believe that our going out together is all washed up 9 German aircraft brought down last night
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
7TH Blitz here tonight Hammond Thorntons & nearly all large buildings hit in the city – stayed in at night – 24 enemy planes brought down during night
[page break]
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
8TH Another blitz at night & more buildings hit – including Ranks, Reckitts & nearly all the dock area – office damaged went to see Crazy Gang in ‘Gasbags’ at the Cecil – which was later destroyed by bombs 15 enemy aircraft brought down
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
9TH We carry out heaviest raid on Germany yet (Hamburg Emden & [deleted] Ger [/deleted] Berlin as a subsidary [sic] target – went for a cycle ride to Preston Rd. at night & saw 1000’s of refugees leaving the city later went to Wriggys with the gang
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
10TH 33 German planes brought down in heavy raid (on London) by our night fighters (2 by A.A)
[page break]
[underlined] MAY [/underlined]
Played tennis in the afternoon with Don & Ken – fire watched at work at night – still blowing buildings up in the town
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
11TH Went for a walk in the afternoon with the gang – took a bus to Cottingham – cut across fields & walked to Willerby – caught bus home – went for a walk by myself at night – gunfire again tonight here
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
12TH Went to see John Garfield & Pat O Brien [sic] in ‘Flowing Gold’ at the Tower & enjoyed it very much
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
13TH Rudolph Hess (Hitler’s Deputy) has landed in Scotland by aeroplane & unaccompanied – stayed in at night – Roland is home on leave
[page break]
[underlined] MAY [/underlined]
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
14TH Mary rang up this morning & she was going back to Belton in the afternoon so that I met her in the town & saw her off – went to ‘Fighter Command’ at the Regal with Don & Gee – was not impressed
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
15TH Stayed in at night & wrote to Mary – German forces allowed passage in & through Syria by Vichy Gov. – 7 German fighters brought down today – 2 of ours losts [sic] – 1 pilot safe.
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
16TH Wrote to Edith today stayed in at night later went for a walk with Ken & Gee
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
17TH Played tennis at the Park with Ken & Don – went to St Johns to a dance at night.
[page break]
with Gee – did not enjoy it (J.F’s band – but a wrotten [sic] floor & rotten crowd) left early went for a walk went to firewatch at work but couldn’t get in – so went home – our troops advance in Gyrenaica [sic] take German prisoners & destroy material – reported surrender of Duke of Aosta from last defended position – terms asked for.
SUN
18TH A very warm day – went to Cadets in the morning – took a bus to Willerby in the afternoon with Wriggy Ken Don & Gee had a nice time – went to church at night – later met Ken Don & Gee coming from pictures – 22 enemy aircraft shot down in Med area since Sat. ([deleted] 1 or 2 [/deleted] Germans over Iraq) etc.
[page break]
[underlined] MAY [/underlined]
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
19TH. Went for a walk with the dog at night – Duke of Aosta surrenders & campaign therefore nearly over – our forces capture important position in Iraq – 5 German fighters brought down without loss many destroyed on ground in Syria
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
20TH Parachute troops land in Crete but are all killed or rounded up – went to Cadets at night – about 18,000 Italians have surrendered
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
21ST. Went for a short walk at night with Ken & Gee & wrote to Mary – [deleted] saw [/deleted] received a letter from her this morning – Germans try to land sea forces on Crete but convoy intercepted – 2 transports & 1 destroyer sunk – more parachutists land & battle continues – more successes round Tobruk
[page break]
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
22ND Went to a Red Cross dance at the Wenlock Barracks with the gang – very crowded & very warm visited the bar – went to Cadets earlier but lessons were too late – we carry out daylight raids on Germany & northern France & destroy Power plant etc. 2 bombers & 6 fighters lost – 5 German fighters shot down
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
23RD Went for a little walk at night – battle in Crete still severe
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
24TH Played tennis with Ken, Don & Wriggy in the afternoon started to rain – went to the Regal at night with Gee to see ‘Arizona’ enjoyed it. – HM.S Hood sunk near Greenland in battle against Nazi cruiser Bismarck which was
[page break]
damaged – but escaped – lucky shot in magazine blew ship up & very few men were saved.
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
25TH Went to Cadets in the morning & drilled Cadets for a few minutes – had arms drill & navigation from Capt Beare – played records & darts in Wriggy’s shed in the afternoon – rained at night so stayed in – H.M.S Hood sunk by lucky shot in mag by the Bismarck – blew up & very few saved – B. pursued & reported damaged by torpedoes – wrote to Mary
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
26TH Stayed in at night & wrote to Fred – still after Bismarck heavy fighting in Crete – Germans break through in one area & man drowned in attempts to land by
[page break]
[underlined] MAY [/underlined]
sea
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
[inserted] 27TH [/inserted] Bismarck has been sunk by torpedoes – two cruisers & 5 destroyers sunk during naval fights against Nazis bombers off Crete German patrols reach Egypt in recent action in Libya – went to Cadets at night & learnt morse have about 5 words a min.
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
28TH Went for a walk with Wriggy, Ken & Gee – later played darts in W’s shed – wrote to Alex our forces withdraw in Crete & also from Hell fire pass in Libia [sic] – A.R.W from 1.15 – 5.0 at night & was firewatching – gunfire & bombs heard went to bed at 3.15.
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
(29TH) Went to navigation lecture at Cadets & later went to Wriggys H.M.S York which was under repair
[page break]
in Suda Bay has been sunk only 3 survivors from the Hood we retreat in Crete in face of reinforced German troops
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
30TH Went to Wriggy’s at night – our forces push on in Iraq & Abysinia [sic] – but retreat in Crete – 100 survivors from the Bismarck landed (2000 on board) – but a destroyer was sunk by aircraft after the battle
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
31ST A very nice day today – played tennis at the Park with D. W & K went to see Fred at night (home for weekend) met Alan his friend & had a walk round the town.
SUN
[underlined] 1ST [/underlined] Up early & went to Sewerby with D.W.K & Gee – went for a walk to Flamborough in the afternoon & played football – called
[page break]
at the Ship Inn on the way & went in café there – went into Brid at night to the amusements – played cards until 3.30 (I went to bed early) – Crete evacuated 15,000 taken off – clothes rationed
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
2ND Went into Brid in the morning & had dinner at the Regal – went for a walk round the shops in the afternoon bought Mary a [deleted] brace [/deleted] necklace – had tea in a café in Sewerby – arrived home 8.0.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
3RD Bombs dropped here early this morning (after OK signal) did not hear them awok [sic] 8.45 too late to go to work – so stayed at home – wrote to Mary Kiel Canal bombed & shipping in daylight raid yesterday & the Ruhr & Berlin visited at night.
[page break]
[underlined] JUNE [/underlined]
WED
4TH Played tennis with Ken & Wriggy at the Park met 2 nice girls & arranged to play them on Friday – our forces in Iraq occupy Mosul important oil town
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
5TH Went to Nav. lecture at Cadets – we carry daylight raids on Germany – 5 bombers destroyed in last nights fairly intensive raids
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
6TH 2 supply ships & 1 armed trawler connected with the Bismarck were sunk during the action – played tennis with Wriggy at the Park – Don & Gee were also there
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
7TH Went to see the Marx Bros in ‘The M.B. – Go West’ & also the Farmers Daughter, both were very good films, with Don Louis Ken & Roland
[page break]
[underlined] JUNE [/underlined]
at the Regal – stayed in at night.
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
8TH Our troops march into Syria – went to Cadets in the morning a very warm sunny day – went for a walk in the afternoon & at night with Wriggy Ken & Gee
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
9TH Stayed in at night – 2 more Bismarck supply ships sunk – our forces in Syria push on – very slight opposition – Derna & Benghazi bombed 15 aircraft destroyed on the ground & explosions reported at various spots.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
10TH Went to Cadets at night for Morse instruction
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
11TH Went to see ‘The Mark of Zoro’ at the Dorchester with Ken, Wriggy & Gee (Tyrone Power, Basil Rathbone & Linda Darnell) enjoyed it very much – had a letter from Mary this morning
[page break]
[underlined] JUNE [/underlined]
our forces push on in Syria
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
12TH Went to Nav. lecture at Cadets – our forces carry out largest raid ever on Ruhr area – 6 aircraft lost. – our forces push on in Syria
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
13TH Stayed in – mended a puncture & cleaned by bike – a German pocket battleship torpedoed by Beaufort off Norway – retire at reduced speed with escort.
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
14TH Played the School at cricket (won 124 for 4 – 113) scored 4 took 2 wickets for 14. – went for a walk at night with Gee – 14 enemy aircraft shot down on all fronts – Ruhr district again heavily raided
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
15TH Stayed in bed in the morning & went for a walk in the afternoon & at night when I met Edith at the station
[page break]
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
16TH Played for OH’s against Hull lost 78 to 79 for 7. (scored 2 – caught 1) very warm & sunny today
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
17TH RAF daylight raid on Cologne 11 German fighters shot down & night raid on Ruhr – more enemy shipping sunk by Coastal Command – 14 planes shot down in Med. area – navy helps land forces in Syria – were [sic] there is heavy fighting – we launch new attack in Lybia [sic] – by our armoured divisions – fire watching at home tonight & had to get up – went to Morse at night
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
18TH We have invented a new device – Radio Location for detection of enemy aircraft etc – our troops are now a few miles from Damascus – our forces in Lybia [sic] retire to advance positions & capture many prisoners & destroy enemy tanks etc
[page break]
[underlined] JUNE [/underlined]
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
19TH Went to Nav. lecture at Cadets at night – more daylight raids by our fighters & bombers in daylight – many enemy fighters destroyed Turkey signs pact with Germany but it must in no way interfer [sic] with English Agreements
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
20TH Went to Cadets sports field to practise running.
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
21ST Went to Lec. to run & did very well in the Relay race after being cut off – drew with winner of the 100 yards sprint – had to hitch hike home – picked up by Wing Commander - & taken into Beverley caught another car into Hull – wrote to Mary at night – our bombers supported by later fighters carry out daylight sweep – 28 German fighters shot down 5 of ours lost
[page break]
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
22ND Went to Cadets in the morning & have transfered [sic] to Grammar School flight – very hot & sunny – played cricket for the officers in the afternoon & lost – played in my trousers – went for a walk with Wriggy & Ken at night into the town – another R.AF. daylight sweep & 30 Germans brought down to 2 of ours (1 Pilot safe) Germany declares war on Russia
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
23RD. Went to Nav lecture at Cadets – very little to report on Russian front – we advance in Syria another R.AF daylight sweep – less opposition encountered 7 planes shot down – 2 of ours lost
[underlined] TUES [/underlined] Went to Morse lecture at Cadets later went to Wriggy’s – Russians inflict losses on Germans both in tanks & men
[page break]
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
25TH Went for a walk with Don Ken, Tony Gowland & Gee – Russia hold Germans & destroy about 200 aeroplanes on the ground also 100 shot down – Russians lose about 300 nearly all on the ground.
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
26TH Went to Nav lecture at Cadets – Alex came home this dinner time – another daylight sweep by RAF 9-3 in our favour.
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
27TH Went to see ‘Argentine Night’ at the Regal (Don Ameche & Betty Grable) & enjoyed it also the supporting film ‘Private Detective’ – Russians hold Germans & inflict heavy losses – retreat to prepared positions in the North. – Finland is going to fight Russia – Sweden allowing German troops through her territory
[page break]
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
28TH Received a letter from Mary – went to C.C Assoc. meeting at Doncaster with Misses Clayton, Sandham & Geoff – had a moderate time – walked round Doncaster afterwards – more sweeps & bombing raids by RAF.
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
29TH Stayed in bed in the morning & sunbathed in the afternoon went to see Ronald Colman in ’Under Two Flags’ at the Carlton with Wriggy later went for a walk
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
30TH Played for O.H’s against Town Clerks lost 128-61 (scored 2 L.B.W. – stumped) Germans push on – Russians claim to be holding a line from Sweden to the Black Sea
[underlined] TUES:- [/underlined]
1ST Went to Morse at night
[page break]
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
2ND R.A.F attack German occupied aerodrome in daylight bomb buildings & dispersed aircraft 7 fighters & 2 bombers lost – 18 enemies shot down – went for a walk to Pickering Park with Gee & Ken at night
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
3RD Went to a Nav. lecture at Cadets stiff fighting on Russo-German front – our forces push on in Syria more daylight raids on Germany
[underlined] FRI. [/underlined]
4TH Essen Bremen bombed in daylight – 7 bombers lost – daylight sweep 16 enemy fighters shot down & 4 of ours lost – played tennis with Ken at night – wrote to Mary yesterday
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
5TH Played cricket for Cadets – went to a dance at night with Edith to Hessle also Sandy
[page break]
Nicky, Les & Clarie met Dick Burrell who was on leave – had to walk home
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
6TH Church parade this morning – boxed & trained in the afternoon at St Mary’s B.C – went for a walk later at night – still very warm –
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
7TH Played R.AMC lost 176 for 4 – 60 (scored 10 not out) – fighting breaks out between Ecuador & Peru Western Germany heavily attacked by RAF both during day & night – Russian peasants carry out Stalin’s order to destroy everything & Russians counter attack & take offensive – 2 German destroyers reported sunk by them in Baltic – our Med Subs. Sink Italian Cruiser – Indian forces push on in Syria – met Elsie as I was leaving work she is on holiday
[page break]
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
8TH Went to Morse lecture Russians are holding the Germans – R.A.F carry out extensive operations both by day & night
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
9TH Went to Wriggy’s at night Russians push German-Rumanian troops back
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
10TH Went to Cadets but there was no lecture – armistice in Syria asked for by Gen Denty – terms given – 16 Germans shot down in day light sweep we lose 9 – (2 Pilots safe) fairly heavy raid here tonight – Russians gain more victories
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
11TH Went to P.T instruction at the Training College – very good Russians obtain another victory over 3000 Germans killed & 2000 captured Naples bombed
[page break]
[underlined] JULY [/underlined]
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
12TH Wrote to Mary in the afternoon went to the pictures at night with Ken & Wriggy to see Bing Crosby in ‘Rhythmn [sic] on the River’ very warm – German thrust halted – fighting has stopped in Syria –
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
13TH Thunderstorm in the morning stayed in bed – went for a walk to the Pier in the afternoon very warm & went with Wriggy & Ken at night for a walk round Anlaby – we sign pact with Russia
MON
14TH Played Driffield lost – out first ball – bombs dropped here at night German attack has not started again more bombing raids by R.A.F
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
15TH Went to Cadets at night to Morse lecture – am improving – rained a lot today
[page break]
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
16TH Went to the Regal with Ken & Gee to see Will Hay & Claude Hulbert in ‘Ghost at St Mich Germans still held on Russian front
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
17TH A heavy raid here at night fires started Ricketts General Post Office, Smith & Stephens & Spillers damaged by fire – daylight raid on Rotterdam by Blenheims – 22 ships (145,000 tons) sunk in harbour & another 5 outside we lose 4 planes – Russians still do well – went to Nav. class at night
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
18TH Went to P.T at night had a good time later played crocquet [sic] at Wriggy’s – heavy fighting on Russian front heavy losses on both sides – battle of 700 tanks Russians do well
[page break]
SAT
19TH Went boxing at Leeds & lost on points – had a good time – went in Mr Smith’s car with his wife & [underlined] daughter [/underlined] – came back with Mr Johnson – boxed at Headingly football ground – Hull won championship
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
20TH Wrote to Mary – stayed in bed in the morning & stayed in in the afternoon & went for a walk with Wriggy at night met Irene & Ada Irene works with Don at Spillers
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
21ST. Played Sutton lost – I did well scored 13 & caught one – Moscow bombed at night – little damage done 22 Germans brought down by AA & night fighters – heavy fighting on Russian front had a letter from Mary.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
22ND Went to see Gene Autrey in ‘Melody Range’ at the Tower
[page break]
with Ken & Gee enjoyed it – saw Mary & Peggy when we were walking home –
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
23RD Went for a walk to Pickering Park with Ken & Gee
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
24TH Went to Nav lecture at night played croquet at Wriggy’s afternoon
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
25TH Daylight attacks on German battleships (Greisenau Scharnhorst) during day & night – by our big bombers Boeing Fortresses, Halifax, Stirling – Boeings operate at fantastic heights & score hits on battleship with armour piercing bombs – during operations since Wed. we lose 15 bombers & 7 fighters (shoot down 33 enemy fighters) H.M.S Fearless destroyer sunk in Med. during attack on convoy which get through unscathed – Russians destroy whole German division
[page break]
[underlined] JULY [/underlined]
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
26TH. Stayed in as it rained all the afternoon & night – read a book ‘Farthing Hall’ by Hugh Walpole E boats tried to raid harbour at Malta all sunk by shore batteries & our aircraft shoot down 3 planes which tried to cover their retreat
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
27TH Went to Cadets in the morning & also in the afternoon to a proficiency exam in morse, drill & P.T. – went to the New Theatre at night with Gee & Ken to see the Lanc Fusiliers Dance Orchestra enjoyed both the military & dance band
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
28TH Stayed in at night & swotted some navigation & maths
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
29TH Stayed in at night poured with rain all the day – later went to Wriggy’s & played
[page break]
cards at Wriggys – our planes carry out daylight sweep on Sicily 34 enemy planes destroyed – none of ours lost – Russians still holding the front & report 106 German planes shot down to 36 of their own.
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
30TH Went to Cadets at night but there was no Exam – so I went to see the lads later at night – Roland & Elsie came up later – Roland is on 48 hrs leave
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
31ST Went to a dance at the Wenlock Barracks at night had a moderate time – saw Joan home afterwards – small fair worked at Marcus’s lived top of St Georges Rd., - Don Madge & Gee were also there
[underlined] 1ST AUG [/underlined]
FRI. Went to a lecture on baseball RAF Proficiency Exam was on but
[page break]
AUGUST
did not take it – rained heavily today
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
2ND Went dancing at Hessle with Gee met Dickie Burrell & his girl had a good time met Judy Westoby & also Daphne Wells – walked home – R.A.F carry out heaviest bombing raid ever on Berlin – a flying fortress on reconnaissance bombs Wilhelmshaven from prodigous [sic] height unheard & unseen –
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
3RD Stayed in bed in the morning went for a walk with Ken Gee & Wriggy in the afternoon & to the pictures at night to see ‘Stagecoach’ at the Carlton – gunfire here at night – Russians destroy German 131 division which was rushed up to reinforce attack around Smolensk but was cut to pieces before it could form up to attack
[page break]
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
[underlined] 4TH [/underlined] [deleted] Went [/deleted] Cycled to Withernsea with Ken & Gee had a good time but it rained a lot so after having dinner on the sands we went to the pictures to see James Stewart in ‘No Time for Comedy’
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
5TH Went for a walk with Ken at night – our bombers carry out night raid on Hamburg etc in strong wind – heavy damage & extensive fires reported.
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
6TH Japan threatens Thai after occupation of Indo China is nearly complete – stayed in at night & wrote to Fred – had a letter from Roland.
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
7TH [deleted] Went for a walk at night with Ken [/deleted] – Gee has gone to Brid for the day – went
[page break]
[deleted] [underlined] FRI [/underlined] [/deleted]
8TH Went to the West Park at night to see ‘Old Bill & Son’
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
8TH Went to the dentist – went to see Wriggy later who is going to Scarborough tomorrow with Ken – Russians claim heavy German losses during the 7 weeks fighting
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
9TH Russians bombed Berlin the other night – Germans reported earlier, raid by RAF but we refute claim – went into the town with Edith in the afternoon to choose Alex’s present went to Hessle at night with Gee – had a moderate time Elsie was there – had to walk home in the pouring rain
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
10TH Stayed in bed in the morning went for a walk with Gee in the afternoon & to see George Formby in ‘No Limit’ at the Criterion at night
[page break]
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
11TH Went for a walk in the morning read in the Park afternoon – at night played Cricket did not bad wrotten [sic] game – R.A.F raid Cologne & Ruhr all return Russians again at Beken – heavy fighting all along the front
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
12TH Wrote to Roland – had a letter from Mary asking me to go over for the weekend – wrote accepting – morning walked into the town & also in the afternoon – went to see ‘The Saints Vacation’ at the West Park with Gee – bombers including flying fortresses at great height & roof top flying Blenheims escorted by fighters raid Western Germany in daylight hits on power plants. [inserted] Ediths [/inserted] Dennis has come for the weekend
[page break]
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
13TH Alex came home at night – is going abroad – went to the Priory with Gee to see ‘Angels with Wings’ met Mary there & we saw her home afterwards – went for a walk in the afternoon in between rain showers
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
14TH Went to Mrs Johnson’s in the morning with Alex – went for a walk with Gee in the afternoon & at night – Churchill has met Roosevelt in the Atlantic & peace aims formed
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
15TH A letter from Fred & postcard from Mary telling me about Sat. arrangements – went to the West Park at night to see Conrad Veidt in ‘The Spy in Black’ – enjoyed it very much Alex had a party at night & Sheila Wilf & his girl & Ron Crew were there
SAT
16TH Caught the 9.20 train with Edith & Alex – I went to Doncaster
[page break]
[underlined] AUG [/underlined]
Edith to Sheffield & Alex to Liverpool on his way to Canada missed the bus at Doncaster but caught one to Haxey & then on to Belton – met Mary who looked very nice – is getting fatter – had dinner & then went to Scunthorpe – looked round the shops & then went to the pictures to see ‘Seven Sinners’ Marlene Dietrich stayed in at night & talked – Mr Boatyman came over for the weekend
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
17TH Stayed in in the morning started to walk along the river but Mary wanted to go back – caught the 4.40 bus from Belton – called to see Mr & Mrs Axe – Mr Boatyman came back with me – air raid at night several people killed including Don Birkbeck’s father & sister Brenda
[page break]
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
18TH Went to the West Park with Ken & Gee to see ‘ A Night at Earl Carrolls’ enjoyed the singing we carry out heavy raids on Germany Germans advance in Ukraine Nickolieu captured (port on Black Sea) but Odessa further East is holding out.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
19TH Went to the dentists at night & stayed in later – R.AF carry out daylight sweeps & night offensive – wrote to Mary at night
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
20TH Stayed in at night & later went for a walk to Springhead I register on Sept 6th – Russians claim that 1 1/2 million Germans have been killed in the fighting up to now
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
21ST Went to the West Park at night to see ‘The Penalty’ a gangster film which I enjoyed
[page break]
[underlined] AUG [/underlined]
[inserted] FRI [/inserted] [underlined] 22ND [/underlined] Went to PT. at night & practised forward rolls, somersault etc. – ARW at night went to see the lads who were on duty – wrote for permission to volunteer.
[underlined] 23RD [/underlined]
SAT Nasty day raining – went to Wriggys in the afternoon & to the Danse de Laxe at night with Gee but did not enjoy it very much as the people were fairly common – although the band was good & also the dance floor.
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
24TH Went to Cadets in the morning but did not stay long a nice warm sunny day & a nice change – went for a walk by myself in the afternoon as the lads stayed in – went to the pictures with Wriggy Ken & Gee to see David Niven, Richard Green in ‘Four Men & a Prayer’ at the Carlton
[page break]
I enjoyed it very much it being one of the best I have seen recently Russians have inflicted heavy losses on Germans in counter attacks.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
25TH Went to the dentists at night later went to a Nav. lecture at Cadets 2 AR.W’s during day believed bombs dropped at Hornsea – British & Russian forces cross frontier into Iran – slight resistance offered to our forces.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
26TH Went to Cadets at night later went for a walk with the gang & raided Gee’s orchard at night – I have permission from the Dept. to join up.
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
27TH Again went to Cadets at night for reference – went for a walk by myself.
[page break]
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
28TH Volunteered for R.A.F. today – went to the Priory at night to see ‘Freedom Radio’ (Clive Brook) – Laval & Deat shot & wounded
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
29TH Stayed in at night & did some navigation – later went to Wriggys – warning sounded & so had to firewatch – had a letter from Mary this morning Duisburg heavily raided by Sterlings [sic] last night – Russians blow up Dnieper Dam (Took 6 yrs to construct) – went to dentists at night
SAT
30TH Went to bed in the afternoon – tired after last night – went to Hessle at night did not enjoy it as by myself
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
31ST A nice warm sunny day went to Wriggy in the afternoon later went for a walk by myself & met Louis & Jessie – went to
[page break]
Fred’s at night he was home for the weekend – sat in Pickering Park for an hour as he was out – had a talk later & was on my way home when bombs & gunfire started – a few people killed in raid.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
1 SEPT Went to Cadets (Nav.) at night – wrote to Mary today – warnings & gunfire again tonight
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
2ND Went to the Dorchester with Ken & Gee to see Artie Shaw in ‘Second Chorus’ battle of Leningrad expected soon – warnings & gunfire again
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
3RD Stayed in at night – Berlin bombed last night –
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
4TH Stayed in again at night battle still raging on Russian front – heavy fighting near Leningrad
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
5TH Went for a walk with Ken at night – later went
[page break]
to Wriggys – raided Gee’s orchard with Wriggy – U.S.A destroyer attacked by sub. on way to Iceland – depth charges dropped & sub. is now being hunted – passed my medical exam for R.A.F – over 70 German planes shot down over Leningrad & 100 over the Baltic – German sub. sunk in the Baltic – Italian sub. rammed & cut in half by HMS Hermione (Cruiser) in the Med – Italian Cruiser & large liner torpedoed by our sub in Med 10 enemy to 2 of ours shot down in this area
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
6TH I registered today – one more Italianian [sic] liner sunk – went to the Priory at night to see James Cagney in ‘The Fighting 69TH enjoyed the picture.
[page break]
[underlined] SEPT [/underlined]
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
[underlined] 7TH [/underlined] Got up late – went to Wriggys in the afternoon & practised with Gee’s air pistol – went to the ‘Rampant Horse’ at night
[underlined MON [/underlined]
8TH Went to see ‘Goodbye Mr Chips at the Carlton with Ken & Gee about 300 planes raided Berlin & did a lot of good – 20 missing – 2 Fortresses lost on reconnaisance [sic] U Boat captured by aeroplane – bomb it – comes to surface – machine gunned surrenders – guarded by Hudson until destroyer arrives – too rough to board – later boarded towed to port – Russians also capture one in Baltic
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
9TH Russians cut up 8 German divisions in counter attack went to dentists at night later
[page break]
[underlined] SEPT [/underlined]
cleaned my bike – received letter from Roland today – Spitsbergen occupied by our forces
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
10TH Stayed in mended my puncture & cleaned my bike – wrote to Fred today – Russians do well in central section counter attacks – kill about 7000 Germans
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
11TH Played football at night in practise match on Ella St. –
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
12TH Went for a cycle ride with Ken at night who went to sign in for night class later went to Wriggys
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
13TH Played Earles & won 4-0 on their ground played on hockey pitch – went dancing to Hessle at night by myself had a fairly decent time
[page break]
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
14TH Had to sign on this morning for fire-watching later went for a little walk with Ken & Gee went to Wriggys in the afternoon played cards & listened to gramo. records in their shed – went for a walk into the town together at night – they went drinking but I came home & went to bed early
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
15TH Gee has got his motor bike – we tried it out in the Avenue – Turin bombed by our long distance planes – three German transports sunk in the Baltic – received a letter from Mary
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
16TH Went to see ‘Men are not Gods’ at the Carlton with Gee – enjoyed it – based on the Play Othello (Rex Harrison Sebastian Shaw) attempted German landing
[page break]
[underlined] SEPT [/underlined]
[underlined] 16TH [/underlined] CONT on the island of Qesel – 2 more transports sunk by Russians along with motor launch etc. – Hamburg heavily raided by our planes – Shah of Persia abdicates through the trouble caused by difficulty over rounding up the 5th columnists
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
17TH Went to the dentists & had a couple of teeth out – Karlsruhe heavily raided by our bombers all return – Blenheims escorted by fighters attack power plant at Bethune – 1 Blenheim & 7 fighters IPS lost – 7 enemy fighters shot down 3 Swedish destroyers blow up & sink at moorings –
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
18TH Went to see ‘The Trail of the Vigilantes’ at the West Park with Roland & Gee (Broderick Crawford
[page break]
Franchot Tone Mischa Auer) – a tough western – a change –
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
19TH Wrote to Mary – Germans on the outskirts of Kiev – assaults on Leningrad beaten off – went to see ‘Target for Tonight’ & ‘City for Conquest’ (James Cagney Ann Rutherford) at the Regal with Roland – enjoyed the latter – sentimental – but a good story & good film.
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
20TH Should have played the RAF but they didn’t turn up – went to see ‘The Philadelphia Story’ at the Carlton with Roland & Ken enjoyed the film (Cary Grant Kath Hepburn, Ruth Hussey James Stewart later went to the ‘Rampant’ & [deleted] Palais de [/deleted] Danse de Luxe) for 15 mins
[page break]
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
21ST Went for a walk in the morning with the gang to see a motor [inserted] bike [/inserted] for Ken – went for a walk in the afternoon went to the pictures at night to see ‘Algiers’ (Hedy Lamar) – met a couple of girls – made a date which Gee is keeping for me – went to Roland’s for supper – gunfire here tonight
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
22ND Went to Cadets at night 2 large Italian transports sunk in Med – Kiev evacuated by Russians – another American ship sunk
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
23RD Firewatched at work at night
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
24TH Went for a short walk at night & then stayed in 5 more Italian ships sunk in
[page break]
the Med. by our subs. or aeroplanes
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
25TH Went for a walk at night & then stayed in & read until bed-time – still fighting hard on Russian front
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
26TH Went for a walk with the dog at night –
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
27TH Played the battery at Costello & won 2-1 – enjoyed the game although it was a bad pitch – went to the pictures with Trevor Russell but could not get in so we went dancing at ‘Chestnut Ave’ enjoyed it – only a radiogram – nice place RAF carry out sweep over N. France
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
28TH Stayed in all the day & did some navigation – another R.A.F sweep all our planes return still heavy fighting on the Russian front
[page break]
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
29TH Went to Cadets at night very interesting – RAF raid Turin, Genoa etc & targets in Sicily also Hamburg – I go for my medical on Friday – wrote to Roland
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
30TH Firewatched at work at night warning & slight gunfire 8.40 – 11.10 – wrote to Mary Stettin & Hamburg again raided – Convoy attack going through Med. 14 enemy planes shot down by fleet fighters (3 lost 2 crews safe) & gunfire H.M.S Nelson struck by torpedo nobody killed only causes reduction in speed – heavy shooting in Czech by new tyrant.
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
1 OCT Stayed in at night & more RAF raids – slight gunfire here tonight
[page break]
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
2 OCT Stayed in at night
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
3 OCT Went to Cardington today set off 11-00 arrived 5-20 – had a look round the camp at night
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
4 Oct Up at 6.30 & had small written test, medical etc sworn in photographs taken finished at 5.30 left the camp – went into Bedford with my two friends from Hull Tom Stacey & a boy from Bev. left our cases at the station – had tea at a restaurant – went back to the station & had a pint – caught the 9.30 train to Kettering – waited 30 mins there & caught the Edinburgh express to Leeds arrived 3.0 (We had a good wash & shave on the train) – caught a train to Hull arrived 5.30 & so to bed
[page break]
[underlined] OCT [/underlined]
SUN
[underlined] 5TH [/underlined] Got up at about half past twelve went for a walk in the afternoon & went to the Carlton at night with Ken & Gee to see Rosalind Russell & Cary Grant in ‘That Man Friday’
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
6TH Received a letter from Fred went to Gee’s & Wriggy’s at night exchange of sick prisoners held up by German attitude – heavy new German onslaught on the Russian front
[underlined] 7TH [/underlined]
TUES Received a letter from Mary this morning – firewatched at work at night – Germans launch big offensive – railway between Kharkov & Moscow reported cut
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
8TH Wrote to Mary at night Russians evacuate certain towns but retreat in orderly
[page break]
manner.
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
9TH Stayed in at night – Hull trawler captures a sub. in Med. – depth charges bring sub to surface – machine guns & large gun make crew surrender – sub sinks 40 survivors picked up (trawler was less heavily armed than the sub) rained all day today
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
10TH Wrote to Don – went to the VR. Class (Nav.) tonight warning & gunfire here tonight – Russian counter attack & are holding the Germans
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
11TH Played North Hull Amateurs won 11-0 with ten men – went to a dance at Chestnut Ave. with Trev & Ali (on leave) had a good time we all got to know somebody – met Jean – warning at night
[page break]
[underlined] OCT [/underlined]
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
12TH Stayed in bed in the morning – went for a walk in the afternoon with the lads – a very nice day warm, clear & fresh stayed in at night – warnings & gunfire tonight
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
13TH About 300 planes raid places in the Ruhr, Bevariatte & do well – fighters in daylight sweep destroy 20 enemy fighters lose 12 two pilots safe – heavy fighting on Russian front – went to the dentists at night – firewatched at work slept through one warning
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
14TH Took the dog for a walk after tea – stayed in at night – another heavy raid on Germany last night – SW. Germany again visited by our bombers
[page break]
[underlined] OCT [/underlined]
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
15TH Stayed in at night wrote to Alex
[underlined THUR [/underlined]
16TH Went to an RAFVR lecture in Morse & Maths taken by Mr Colbert [deleted] as [/deleted] Germans very near Moscow – heavy fighting
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
17TH Went to the dance at Chestnut Ave with Ali Mason & Trev. had a very good time Jean & Eileen were there – saw them home – given a lift from Willerby to Carew St arrived home 11.15
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
18TH Played East Hull Amts. won 6-0 in a very strong wind walked to Langham at night but could not get in – so walked home & listened to the wireless – Russians slow up German advance on Moscow which is now nearly at a standstill
[page break]
[underlined] OCT [/underlined]
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
19TH Stayed in bed in the morning – went for a short in the afternoon as it was very wet & it rained a little – improved after tea walked round to town could not get into the pictures so stayed in at night
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
20TH Went to see Judy Canova Bob Crosby & his wild Cats in ‘Sis Hopkins’ with Carbyon – warning & gunfire early tonight – received a letter from Mary
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
21ST Received a letter from Roland – stayed in at night – went with Edith to buy Mary’s birthday present after dinner – bought a powder compact
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
22ND Firewatched at work at night – gunfire but went to bed – wrote to Mary – Naples
[page break]
heavily raided last night - & also targets in Holland etc.
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
23RD Went to Morse & Nav. lectures –
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
24TH Went to a dance at Chestnut Ave. & had a very good time danced with Jean nearly all the time – had to walk home – warning at dinner & tea time –
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
25TH Played R.AFVR & won 3-2 went dancing again to Chestnut Ave as I couldn’t get into the pictures had to walk most of the way there & all of the way back – had a moderate time – Jean danced with somebody else most of the time & I would have socked the kid only she appeared to prefer his company or dancing to mine & I did not wish to appear ridiculous although
[page break]
[underlined] OCT [/underlined]
I felt like a fight
[underlined] 26TH [/underlined]
SUN Stayed in bed in the morning & went for a walk in the afternoon – went to see Jack Buchanan in ‘Middle Watch at the Priory at night.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
27TH Went to see James Cagney & Olivia de Haviland in ‘Strawberry Blonde’ at the Tower with Ken & Gee enjoyed it very much – Hamburg was the main target for our bombers reported frontier clash between Russian & Jap soldiers – Germans held near Moscow, but make progress in the Crimea.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
28TH Had a letter from Mary this morning – stayed in at night
[page break]
[underlined] OCT [/underlined]
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
29TH Wrote to Don at the night & stayed in – have a slight cold – Russians hold Moscow front but have to fall back in the Crimea – snowed today & was very cold.
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
30TH Stayed in again at night wrote to Roland – Coastal Command Hudsons raid Aalsund sink 4 transport ships – machine gun in oil factory – put out of action defence posts & guns – all return safely.
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
31ST Went to Nav. lecture at night also to the dentists for my teeth
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
1 NOV Played Endike Lane OB & won 3.0 in pouring rain & sleet stayed in at night & wrote to Mary firewatching at home & had to go
[page break]
[underlined] NOV [/underlined]
petrol & bad weather
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
9TH Up fairly early today – went for a walk in the afternoon with Ken, Wriggy & Gee – very cold but dry – firewatched at work at night – talked all night in bed about 1.0 & did not get up until 8.0 o’clock.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
1OTH Stayed in at night & wrote to Roland at the Office – Hamburg raided last night – HMS Aurora, Penelope & two destroyers attack convoy in Med & sink 10 ships, 2 destroyers & damage another we suffer no casualties – famous destroyer HM.S Cossack sunk
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
11TH Stayed in at night – do not feel very well still having trouble with – wrote to Mary had a couple of letters from
[page break]
[underlined] NOV [/underlined]
Alex today –
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
12TH Went to the Regal at night with Geoff to see ‘Married but Single’ Rosalind Russell & also a Dr Kildare film
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
13TH Stayed in at night received a letter from Roland.
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
14TH Went to VR class at night but Capt. Beere did not turn up so we did morse & Byrne gave us a lecture – HMS Ark Royal sunk
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
15TH Went for a walk round the town in the afternoon as I couldn’t get in at the Dorchester went dancing to the YU at night with Edith – had moderate time band was lousy – 1 casualty in Ark Royal
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
16TH Went to PT (VR) in the morning – played football
[page break]
[underlined] NOV [/underlined]
& did a little drill – went for a short walk in the afternoon but it started to rain so we played ‘Monopoly’ at Wriggys went to see ‘Oh Mr Porter’ at the Carlton with the gang at night.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
17TH Went to Court in the morning & afternoon nice change – stayed in at night – (Ark Royal hit by torpedo & after being towed sunk only 20 miles from Gib.)
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
18TH Went to Court again in the morning – very nice day firewatched at work at night had a quiet night.
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
19TH Very foggy tonight went to Sheila’s 21st & Wilf was also married in the afternoon Mary & Bob were at the party
[page break]
[underlined] NOV [/underlined]
arrived home 1.0
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
20TH Went to see ‘Andy Hardy’s Secretary’ with Mickey Rooney etc also ‘The Black Parrot’ at the Regal with Geoff and enjoyed it very much – Russians evacuate Kirsch in the Crimea – went to [deleted] [underlined] FRI [/underlined] [/deleted] Rolands after pictures until 11.30
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
21ST We start an offensive in Libya & are already 50 mls into the country – went to Nav. lecture at VR.
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
22ND Stayed in both at night & in the afternoon read most of the time – we do well in Libya – capture Fort Capuzzo.
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
23RD Went to P.T & drill in the morning & went for
[page break]
[underlined] NOV [/underlined]
a walk with Wriggy & Gee in the afternoon – played Monopoly at Wriggy’s at night.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
24TH Went to see ‘That Night in Rio’ (Don Ameche Alice Faye & Carmen Miranda) with Gee at the Carlton – tank battle in Libya continues – heavy fighting again near Moscow
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
25TH Stayed in & read at night – later went for a short walk – Russians are holding the Germans near Moscow& counter attacks gain ground.
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
26TH Received a letter from Mary this morning – stayed in at night – battle still raging in Libya –
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
27TH N.W Germany raided by RA.F wrote to Mary
[page break]
[underlined] NOV [/underlined]
our forces join up with Tobruk tank battle resumed both forces bringing up reserves went to VR class at night & later firewatched at work.
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
28TH [inserted] Received letter from Fred [/inserted] N.W Germany again raided – went dancing with Gee & his friend who was home on leave – had a fair night
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
29TH Rostov retaken by the Russians – Germans retreat still heavy fighting in Libya – played Tarraneans won 3-1 stayed in at night & read.
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
30TH Rolled downstairs about 11.0 wrote to Roland went for a walk with Wriggy, Ken & Gee – later went to Wriggy’s to tea (his birthday yesterday) & then went to see ‘Juarez’ Bette
[page break]
Davis, Paul Muni at the Carlton – then played monopoly at Wriggys
[underlined] DEC [/underlined]
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
1ST. Went to the pictures with Ken & Gee to see Barbara Stanwyck & Henry Fonda in ‘Lady Eve’ enjoyed it – later went for a walk.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
2ND Stayed in at night & wrote to Fred & Louis – received a letter from Louis this morning – Germans cut the corridor between Tobruk & our forces – 18 1/2 – 50 men to be called up – boys & girls between 16 – 18 to register for youth organisations A T.C etc. H.M S. Sydney (Cruiser) sunk after sinked [sic] large armed merchantman (HM.S Dorchester sank an armed merchantman but did not
[page break]
pick up survivors as there was a sub. in the vicinity)
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
3RD Went to [deleted] Roland [/deleted] work fire-watching & read all the night [inserted] received a letter from Mary. [/inserted]
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
4TH Russians pushing on to Taganrog - & hold Germans round Moscow went to Morse lecture at night later went to Rolands
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
5TH Went to a party at Rolands all the lads were there Doreen Jarvis, Doreen & Doreen Tadman Mary & Elsie didn’t turn up had a good time – arrived home 2.30
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
6TH Played Reckitts boys with 10 men lost 2-0 cold & started to rain near the end stayed in at night & wrote to Mary
SUN (7TH) Stayed in bed in
[page break]
[underlined] DEC [/underlined]
the morning & went for a walk in the afternoon with Roland, Gee, Ken & Wriggy – stayed in at night AR.W for a few hours – Japan raids Phillipine Isles Hawaii & American Naval Bases – heavy casualties inflicted – invade Thailand & N. Malay.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
8TH Went to Court today – Thailand stops resistance – more raids by Japs on American bases – Hong Kong attacked but our forces repell [sic] invaders. America declares war on Japan we, all our Dominions, Holland etc (we declared war on Finland Rumania & Hungary on Sat. 6TH)
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
9TH Went to Court in the morning – went to see ‘Dogs of the Air’ James Cagney Pat O’Brien
[page break]
[underlined] DEC [/underlined]
etc with Geoff – wrotten [sic] picture. Japs make very little ground in N. Malaya against our forces
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
10TH H.M.S Prince of Wales (new ship 35000 tons) & HMS Repulse sunk off Singapore – Russians retake Tikhvin – our forces in Hong Kong repulse attacks & inflict heavy losses – wrote to the RA.F. went to Maths lecture & later played billiards
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
11TH Stayed in & read – over 2300 men saved from Repulse & Prince of Wales: Admiral Sir Tom Phillips among the missing – the Japanese battleship Hamura 29000 tons has been sunk by aircraft.
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
12TH Went to Nav lecture at night – very interesting
[page break]
[underlined] DEC [/underlined]
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
13TH Played City Engineers & won 6-0 with 8 men – rotten game – firewatched at work at night – had a letter from Louis
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
14TH Stayed in bed & listened to the wireless in the morning – arrived home about 12.0 – played Monopoly at Wriggy’s in the afternoon & finished writing to Mary at night our forces in Med – sink Italian cruiser & seriously damage another
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
15TH Went to see Errol Flynn in ‘The Sea Hawk’ at the Carlton & enjoyed it very much Brest & Ostend raided – our forces push on in Libya – stated that 1 battleship & 5 other
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
16TH Stayed in at night Russians retake Kaunin
[page break]
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
17TH Received a letter from Mary – H.MS Dunedin (Cr. sunk in the Atlantic – stayed in at night.
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
18TH Stayed in at night – German & Italians in full retreat in Libya – Russians push on –
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
19TH Received a card from Mary this morning & rang her up – Japs make landing in Hong Kong – [deleted] Duchess of Gloucester [/deleted] – went to library & bought Christmas Cards – stayed in at [underlined] night [/underlined]
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
20TH Up early caught 9.20 train to Doncaster & bus to Epworth met Mary from work – arrived cottage 2.15 caught bus to Epworth 5.50 & saw ‘Keeping Company’ Ann Rutherford – enjoyed it – arrived
[page break]
home 9.30 & talked until bed time.
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
21ST Went for a walk after breakfast – called to see Mary’s aunt & then called for the milk, - had tea left at 4.0 to catch 5 o’clock bus from Belton – 6.50 train to Hull arrived 8.30 went home – changed & went to work to firewatch.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
22ND Very tired today – wrote to Mary at night – R.AF raid Brest etc Hong Kong still holds out.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
23RD Bought Mary’s present a bracelet – it had to be altered – went to see ‘Cottage to Let’ at the Dorchester & enjoyed it very much – Russians still push on – left off for Christmas
[page break]
[underlined] DEC [/underlined]
tonight
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
24TH Don came for me this morning – he is on embarkation leave – went a short walk – went for my bracelet but wasn’t ready – met Geoff in the town in the afternoon – went on the pier etc – collected our goose from Mrs Johnson – also called again for bracelet still not ready – went back later on my bike – eventually collected at 6.15 on my way to the dance at the Bev. Baths – enjoyed it very much Jean was there also Joyce (Les’s friend) finished at 11.0 – Denis has come for a few days – talked had a drink went to bed about 2.0 o’clock.
[page break]
[underlined] DEC [/underlined]
[deleted] [underlined] THUR [/underlined] [/deleted] [inserted] FRI [/inserted]
26TH [sic] Benghazi captured by 8TH Army stayed in at night – have toothache – posted Mary’s present this morning – went to see ‘Ziegfeld Girl’ at the Carlton in the afternoon – (James Stewart, Hedy Lamarr, [sic] Lana Turner & Judy Garland) Russians probe straightened German line.
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
25TH Stayed in bed in the morning – went to see Hull beat York 26-20 in the afternoon – stayed in at night played cards with dad & drank rum.
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
27TH Stayed in all day – teeth still bad – received a letter from R.A.F saying that I shall be called up in March
[page break]
[underlined] DEC [/underlined]
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
28TH Went for a walk with Wriggy & Ken in the afternoon – very cold but fresh went to see Sonja Henje [sic] at the Carlton with them at night in ‘My Lucky Star’ – later played Monopoly at Wriggy’s
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
29TH Firewatching at work – went to the Tivoli – rotten show – Norman Long etc. (Edna Squire-Brown in ‘Dance of the Doves’ good & also Kusharney) – in action in Libya 22 tanks destroyed & 20 damaged we make a small landing in Norway kill or capture whole German garrison & set fire to Oil stores etc & sink 5 ships – 2 armed trawlers & 1 armed tug – great cooperation by 3 Services Uncle Tom died yesterday
[page break]
[underlined] DEC [/underlined]
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
30TH Received a [inserted] Christmas [/inserted] letter from Marian & also from Alex – stayed in at night & wrote to Louis – our forces withdraw from Sarawak – Americans being pushed back in Phillipines – Russians capture important towns.
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
31ST Received a letter from Mary – stayed in at night – Russians make landing in Crimea & our forces push on in Libya –
[underlined] JAN [/underlined]
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
1ST Stayed in at night & wrote to Bert – we make another landing in Norway in Lofoten Isles – destroy communications sink a few ships – capture many Germans & Quislings – take back many Norwegians & destroy
[page break]
[underlined] JAN [/underlined]
oil plants etc we suffer no casualties –
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
2ND Went to see ’Sorochintse [sic] Fair’ at the New (Russian Ballet & Opera) & with Geoff & enjoyed it very much – Russians push on.
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
3RD Played for Constable St O.B. against R.AFVR & won 13-1 rained most of the time – Frodin is home on leave – went to work at night to firewatch – wrote to Mary – H.M.S. Neptune sunk by mine in Med – survivors taken prisoner – also destroyer HM.S Kandahar sunk when going to assist her – convoy of 30 ships also attacked for 4 days – only 3 ships sunk & our forces destroy 3 subs & a Konder raider
[page break]
[underlined] JAN [/underlined]
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
4TH Russians push on past Kaluga – Japs push on in Malaya & Philippines [sic] – went for a short walk in the afternoon with Ken & Gee it rained slightly – the lads came to our house at night & we played Monopoly.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
5TH Stayed in at night as Frod & Peggy came to supper – very cold today – very bad weather experienced in Libya
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
6TH Went to see ‘The Golden Hour’ at the Carlton with Geoff (James Stuart & Paulette Goddard) enjoyed it very much funny & witty – snowed during the night – very dirty underfoot Japs capture an aerodrome in Malaya – Americans sink destroyer & damage battleship
[page break]
[underlined] JAN [/underlined]
in raid on Jap convoy.
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
7TH Stayed in at night & read Russians still advance – we retreat in Malaya – still cold
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
8TH Went to Morse lecture at night – our forces in Libya force Rommels men to retreat from Jabanihal? – stated that 7 Jap naval craft were sunk in previous engagement – still cold & freezing
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
9TH Firewatched at work at night went to see ‘Footsteps in the Dark’ at the Tower with Geoff & Lucas (Errol Flynn) enjoyed it very much – Brest raided for the 5th night in succession
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
10TH Have a bad cold – curse it played Army Eleven – lost 8-3 went to the Bev Rd Baths at
[page break]
[underlined] JAN [/underlined]
night with Gee – thin time because of cold – freezing & foggy at night – letter from Mary.
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
11TH Stayed in all day as I have a cold – still very cold wrote to Marian.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
12TH Went to Court today – cold a little better – still very cold – wrote to Mary at night we retreat further in Malaya – evacuate Kualar [sic] Lumpur – received a letter from Roland.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
13TH We take Sollum – American in Philip. Stop Japs advance wrote to Alex at night – went to Court today – still very cold.
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
14TH Snowed hard this morning – wrote to Fred at work – went to the Regal at night with Geoff to see ‘Billy the Kid’ (Robert
[page break]
[underlined] JAN [/underlined]
Taylor & Brian Donbery) & ‘Elsie & Doris’s Weekend (Elsie & Doris Waters) Russians push on
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
15TH Hamburg & Emdin raided by the RAF – went to Morse lecture later firewatching at work – still very cold.
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
16TH Felt very ill & weak today believe cold – or perhaps the soup consumed other night – Hamburg again raided – stayed in at night
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
17TH Cleaned part of my bike in the afternoon danced at the Bev Rd at night & had a very good time Halfaya surrenders & many prisoners taken
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
18TH Stayed in bed in the morning – short walk in the afternoon with the lads – went
[page break]
[underlined] JAN [/underlined]
to Ken’s at night & played Monopoly – his sister also played – snowed a little at night – Von Reichenau – Nazie [sic] General reported dead of a seizure on way back from front after being dismissed – Churchill arrived back from America yesterday by aeroplane.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
19TH Went to George Hotel with Louis for lunch – went for haircut after work with Gee – made us very late – went with Gee & Ken to the Carlton to see ‘The Woman’s Face’ very good picture, - sat next to a very nice girl – wish the lads hadn’t been with me
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
20TH Went to the Tower with Fred who is
[page break]
[underlined] JAN [/underlined]
over on leave it was ‘Flight from Destiny’ also ‘The Dog in the Garden’ & was a very good picture – Mozaisk [sic] retaken from Germans – very cold today – received a letter from Mary
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
21ST Had a telegram from Alex this morning – he is back in England – went dancing with Gee to the Bev. Baths Russians push on in the Moscow sector – worst weather experienced for 10 years in Lybia [sic] – still very cold here
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
22ND Stayed in at night & wrote to Mary – very cold today – Japs. land in islands very near to Australia & our forces again retreat in Malaya
[page break]
[underlined] JAN [/underlined]
our bombers raid Emden, Hamburg etc & enemy aerodrome in Holland
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
23RD Very cold today – rained & froze when it fell in the morning – later rained heavily – Rommel’s forces take Jedabya – Russians push on stayed in at night
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
24TH Axis convoy attacked in the Med & several transp. sank also a destroyer & Cruiser played Endike Lane OB (4-4) very dirty game in both senses scored from pen. went to Bev Rd at night with Gee – pouring with rain so took an umbrella Joan who works with John was there with a friend Edith away for weekend
[page break]
[underlined] JAN [/underlined]
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
20TH Snowed heavily this morning – stayed in bed – went to Wriggys in the afternoon – pouring with rain also went at night & listened to the gramo. W’s friend Joan was also there
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
26TH Went to the Tower with Ken to see ‘A Night in the Tropics’ – more ships sunk by Americans in raid on Jap Convoy in Macassar Straits
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
27TH R.AF raid Brest – stayed in at night & read – wrote to Bert today – still very cold & more snow Rommels forces push on in Libya
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
28TH Firewatched at work at night – RAF
[page break]
[underlined] JAN [/underlined]
again raid Brest & other targets – Rommels push said to be held & slowered [sic] down Russians still advance
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
29TH Went to Morse lecture at night – reported H.M.S Barham (31,000) sunk in November Alex arrived home in the early hours of the morning – received a letter from Mary – rang Mary
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
30TH Received a letter from Roland Japs 18 mls from Singapore we evacuate Benghazi again – Russians push on – went to see Tauber in Schubert’s ‘Blossom Time’ with Geoff & Lucas at the New Theatre – snow gone.
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
31ST Stayed in & wrote to Mary in the afternoon danced at Bev Rd at night with
[page break]
[underlined] JAN [/underlined]
Gee – our forces evacuate Malaya & return into Singapore Island.
[underlined] FEB [/underlined]
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
1ST Went to Wriggys in the afternoon & to the Carlton with Ken, Wriggy & Gee at night to see George Formby in ‘Let George do it’ snowed at night – had a snowball fight after pictures
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
2ND Went to see ‘Love Crazy’ (Myrna Loy & Wm Powell) at the Carlton – very funny & amusing US. Navy sinks many ships by means of aircraft etc in raid on Jap occupied base in the Atlantic & 1 ft of snow at night
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
3RD Went to the dance at Bev Rd – had a fairly good time met Miss Clayton (works in Edith’s office – Esther & Mary
[page break]
[underlined] FEB [/underlined]
Vise were there – arrived work 11.50 – firewatching – snow is melting making seas of slush
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
4TH Alex comes back from Leeds & has to return to Bournemouth at night – saw him off at the station
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
5TH On holiday – finished cleaning my bike in morning – helped dad chop wood in the afternoon & also read – went to Morse lecture at night – had a letter from Mary she is coming over for the weekend
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
6TH Cleaned dance shoes, football boots, cycle bag – very busy this morning – went to work near dinner time to receive telephone
[page break]
[underlined] FEB [/underlined]
call from Mary – went to the pictures in the afternoon to the Dorchester to see Walter Pidgeon, Joan Bennett & George Sandys in ‘Man Hunt’ a very good picture – rang Mary again afterwards & stayed in & read at night
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
7TH Went to meet Mary in the afternoon – didn’t arrive telegram to say had missed connection – met 6.31 London train but didn’t arrive until 7.15 – dashed to Marys Uncle’s (Telford St) – then to the dance at the Baths – arrived 8.45 – took taxi home – talked & had supper until 12.10 walked home – arrived 1.15.
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
8TH Up early called for Mary later went to Edna’s & then saw Mary off in the
[page break]
[underlined] FEB [/underlined]
afternoon on the 4.25 train went to the pictures at night to see John Garfield & Priscilla Lane in ‘Dust be my Destiny’
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
9TH Firewatched at work at night & wrote to Mary – Japs make landing on Singapore Island – counter measures being taken fighting near Gezala in Libya –
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
10TH Court again this morning – went to see Arthur Askey etc in ‘I Thank you’ at the Dorchester – Japs take aerodrome on Singapore Island – only 10 mls from the town itself – wrote to Roland
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
11TH Stayed in at night – very nice day (for a change) – Japs approach Singapore City believe it is all up there
[page break]
[underlined] FEB [/underlined]
Bert came into the office this morning
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
12TH Bert came back from Scarborough tonight – had tea together went to Morse Exam a V.R. (100 per cent on 6 wp.m) whilst Bert went for Margaret – went to the Regimental Dance at the Bev. Rd Baths – not too crowded had a fair time – arrived home 12.30 still hanging on in Singapore
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
13TH Schamhorst, Prince Eugen & Greisenau move from Brest to Heligoland Bight & up the Channel – our air force (torpedo planes bombers & fighter bombers & escorts) attack supporting E boats, trawlers, destroyers & the 3 ships & also our destroyers & MTB take part – stated several hits
[page break]
[underlined] FEB [/underlined]
made which slowed their speed down to 18 Knots – we lost 6 Swordfish, 20 bombers & 16 fighters in the [deleted] ta [/deleted] attack – destroy 18 of their fighters – Japs capture Singapore’s City reservoir – report of successful American naval raid on Gilbert Isles – 18000 ton aircraft carrier sunk – many Jap planes destroyed & bases very severely damaged
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
14TH Played Hessle Amateurs lost 10-0 with 8 men – went to the Wenlock Barracks at night with Gee – not a very good dance too crowded – not a nice crowd – left early – our American fighters in Libya meet 30 enemy planes destroy 20 & damage the rest.
[page break]
[underlined] FEB [/underlined]
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
15TH Stayed in bed in the morning – went to Wriggy’s in the afternoon – firewatched at work at night – short warning – aeroplane over & machine gunned – later shot down – Singapore has surrendered
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
16TH Received a letter from Mary & Roland – stayed in at night & swotted some navigation – warning again tonight
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
17TH Received a letter from Louis – 2 Italian Cruisers & 1 Destroyer torpedoed in Med. stayed in at night & wrote to Mary
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
18TH Had another letter from Mary – finished writing to her at work today went to the Tower at night to see ‘The Tower of Terror’ a terrible film – ridiculous
[page break]
[underlined] FEB [/underlined]
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
19TH Went to Morse lecture at night – RAF raid Bremen etc. Japs raid Port Darwin in Australia
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
20TH Received a letter from Fred stayed at work for tea then went to the Regal with Geoff & Lucas to see ‘International Squadron’ which was a very good flying picture – also Robert Young & Jane Hussey in ‘Bachelors Honeymoon’
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
21ST Japs attack island of ‘Bali’ in preparation for invasion of Jurva – allied naval forces blow up 1 Cruiser sink 2 destroyers for one of our own & also several transports played for Grammar School ATC Squadron in the afternoon
[page break]
[underlined] FEB [/underlined]
in heavy snow – lose 6-0 with only 7 men – later went to work to firewatch & read part of the night – had a roaring fire kettle boiled on the hearth
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
22ND Arrived home 12.0 o’clock went for a walk in the afternoon – snowed a little – went to Wriggy’s at night played cards & dominoes
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
23RD Went to see Tommy Dorsey & his band in ‘The Gay City’ at the Tower with Ken & Gee – fair picture – more snow here today
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
24TH Stayed in at night & wrote to Roland – Japs take aerodrome on isle of Bali
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
25TH On holiday – wrote to Mary in the morning – a walk into town in the afternoon
[page break]
by Navy to effect the withdrawal Rangoon position serious – [inserted] FEB [/inserted] Convoy of troops approaching Java dispersed by allied Naval action.
[underlined] MARCH [/underlined]
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
1ST Took the Nav & Maths Exam at the Cadets in the afternoon – short walk at night with Ken & Gee – later went to Wriggy’s & played Austin’s Rummy – had to leave early as Fred was over on leave
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
2ND Stayed in at night & wrote to Roland – Japs make landings in Java.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
3RD Received a letter from Mary & wrote to her at night – she also rang me up this afternoon to see if I would go over to a dance – Japs held in Java but
[page break]
[underlined] MCH [/underlined]
Dutch Gov. leave Batavia & say they will not be able to hold Java
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
4TH Jap bombers attack U.S fleet in Pacific – 16 out of 18 shot down – no damage to Fleet – RAF raid Renaud works near Paris which is working for the Germans – Vichy say heavy damage & about 600 people killed over 1000 injured – started to snow at night went to the Bev Rd Baths had a moderate time
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
5TH Snowed all today went to V.R class later to work to firewatch – Japs infiltrate throughout Java – Russians push on.
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
6TH Stayed in at night have a rotten cold – communications with Java cease – Dutch
[page break]
say will fight to the end.
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
7TH Played City Engineers with 9 men lost 6-2 – thick snow enjoyed it really although cold was a nuisance – Trev. Russell home on leave – he played – stayed in at night – Russians push on
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
8TH Very nice day for a change up late – played cards at Wriggys in the afternoon – stayed in again at night – cold still bad wrote to Alex.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
9TH Japs make landings on New Guinea – Rangoon evacuated scorched earth policy taken – stayed in at night cold still bad received a letter from Roland
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
10TH Convoy attacked in Med – 1 Cruiser & 1 destroyer set on fire also a transport
[page break]
[underlined] MAR [/underlined]
details given of Japanese atrocities in Hong Kong – Rangoon evacuated – more landing on New Guinea – RAF again raid Essen
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
11TH Cold still bad went to the Tower at night to see ‘Moon Over Burma’ (Dorothy Lamour, Robert Preston, Preston Foster) enjoyed it – Tirpitz attacked off Norwegian Coast – escapes from our planes under a smoke screen
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
12TH Les & Peggy came round at night – received a letter from Mary & wrote to her at night
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
13TH Stated that 3 Subs were sunk in attack on our convoy last Dec. (in which one of our destroyers was sunk after sinking one of the U boats the day before – this sub was one of those sunk
[page break]
[underlined] MAR [/underlined]
Australian bombers attack Japs in New Guinea & prevent further landings being made – went dancing with Gee to a late dance at the Bev Rd Baths
SAT
14TH Very nice day warm & sunny played Earles lost 7-2 short team but a very good game – Roland is over on leave – went to late dance at Bev Rd Baths – very warm but had a very good time – Allied Naval forces lost in battles near Java – including H.M.S Exeter about 13 ships lost – several Jap ships sunk incl. 2 Cruisers – 10 German planes shot down over Channel area this week none of ours lost
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
15TH Went for a walk with Roland in the morning
[page break]
[underlined] MAR [/underlined]
a very nice day – listened to Roland’s records at Gee’s in the afternoon – went to Wriggy’s at night & played cards Dolcy Rogers was there.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
16TH At Court this morning went to see Errol Flynn in ‘Santa Fe Trail’ at the Tower with Roland Gee & Ken enjoyed it – had a drink after to celebrate my going away –
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
17TH At Court again this morning went to the Monica at night with Gee & Roland to see ‘The Road to Zanzibar’ – E. boats attack North Sea convoy – several accounted for by destroyers – also our aircraft encounter them later & sink or damage more – one of our destroyers lost
[page break]
MAR
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
18TH 25 Jap ships incl 10 battleships sunk or damaged off New Guinea – firewatched at work at night – received a letter from Mary & wrote to her & Fred at night
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
19TH Went to Morse class at night –
20TH
[underlined] FRI [/underlined] Stayed in at night –
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
21ST Stayed in bed in morning met Mary in Doncaster in the afternoon – had a walk round the town went to the Gaumont to see Sonja Henie & Glen Miller in ‘Sun Valley Serenade’ also ‘Badmen from Dakota’ enjoyed it very much – only had time for snack afterwards caught 9.0 o’clock bus to Belton – had a very nice journey.
[page break]
MCH
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
22ND Went out after breakfast called at Mary’s Aunts Eileen & Maisie’s and so back to The Turbay caught the 4.50 bus to Doncaster travelled home with Mary’s uncle.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
23RD Very busy at work today – left late – wrote to Mary at night received a letter from Bert & Fred
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
24TH Firewatched at work at night – wrote to Bert – Italian battleship & Cruisers attack our Med Convoy beaten off by light Cruisers & the battleship hit by torpedo
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
25TH Cleaned my bike – went to Cadets – R.A.F carry out heavy raid on the Ruhr area
THUR 26TH. Went dancing to the Blind with Edith
[page break]
[underlined] MAR [/underlined]
had a moderate time – gunfire here tonight – fighter escorted bombers raid Cologne – 8 enemy fighters destroyed – 2 of ours lost Chinese reported surrounded in area in Burma – fighting back & repulsing Japs.
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
26TH Went to the pictures with Geoff and Lucas at night
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
27TH Said goodbye at the Office – gave me 25/- to spend – very good of them – saw Mrs Johnson gave me eggs & oranges – met Mary at the Station in the afternoon – bought her a locket – saw the other Mary at Hammonds – brought Mary home to tea – later went to the YPI to dance – crowded not very nice – caught last bus walked home – our naval
[page break]
land & air forces attack St Nazaire
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
28TH Very nice day – went for Mary in the afternoon – said goodbye – travelled up to Doncaster with Mary – sorry to leave her – arrived London 9.35 – cup of tea at Salvation Army Canteen – directed to their Hostel in Russell Squ, very nice place – modern – many amenities ie billiards etc – nice bedroom
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
29TH Went to Lords – saw Alex – collected kit wrote to Mother & Mary at night Alex came round
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
30TH Had a dental exam & Maths lecture – did a lot of marching rained a little today – wrote to Roland at night – took uniform back to tailors.
[page break]
APRIL
[underlined] 1ST [/underlined]
WED. Morse lecture at Lords – night vision test & radiography – wrote to Mary at night
[underlined] 2ND [/underlined]
THUR Took Morse Exam (100 per cent) another Maths lecture collected uniform – C.O. paraded us at 17.15 & asked if anybody didn’t want to go overseas at the end of the month – looks promising – packed my civvies up and put a letter in
[underlined] 3RD [/underlined]
FRI Went to the Odeon to a lecture by C.O – Maths at the Zoo in the afternoon – wrote to Mary at night
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
4TH Morse in the morning – had a haircut in the afternoon went into town with Eric Bob & Harry – had a look round the Westminster Abbey
[page break]
[underlined] APRIL [/underlined]
saw Houses of Parliament – went to the YMCA for tea – went to see ‘Dumbo’ down Edgeware Rd. – went back to the YMCA for supper – back to billet by 23.57 (two mins to spare)
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
5TH Helped in Canteen in the morning – missed Church Parade – had a ball – polished buttons etc. went round the Zoo in the afternoon – on guard at night – wrote to Mother & Fred. (Guard 18.00 – 2000: 2400 – 2.00: 6.00 – 8.00)
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
6TH Late at the Odeon for sea lecture – (very sleepy this morning) also lecture by M.O – drill in afternoon – gas lecture – then P.T. stayed in at night.
[page break]
[underlined] APRIL [/underlined]
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
7TH Had inocculations [sic] & vaccinated today – do not feel too good but better than the rest – had a fairly quiet day – had flight photograph taken – wrote to Mary & the office at night – turned in early
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
8TH Had a quiet day – security lecture – went to London Pavilion at night with Bob & Frank – had a letter from Edith
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
9TH Rained nearly all day – had pay parade – cinema show on Careless Talk – aircraft rec etc – went into gas chamber – had to clean canteen up for the WAAF dance as the whole flight was on fatigue – wrote to Mary
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
10TH Went with Norman to
[page break]
[underlined] APRIL [/underlined]
have my photograph taken did very little today – went to another cinema show – had full kit parade on roof.
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
11TH Received a letter from Mary – our vaccination was inspected in the morning – later were issued with flying kit – vol. to help clean the Zoo canteen ready for the dance – got a free ticket & late pass – not very good dance – Alex was there
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
12TH Wrote to Mary – Church Parade – went into town with Frank & Bob – had a great time – saw Hyde Park went into Church Army Canteen there – then onto the Beaver Club – caught a lot of buses then went to YM in Tottenham Ct Rd & back to billets
[page break]
[underlined] APRIL [/underlined]
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
13TH Had a full kit parade before the C.O. today – lecture on Organisation in the morning – wrote to mother at night – Alex came round [inserted] (letter from Mary) [/inserted]
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
14TH Another lecture this morning on Law etc – went into centre of London to studio to hear dance [inserted] RAF [/inserted] band recording & also heard Pat Kirkwood & Elizabeth Welsh – wrote to Louis & the lads.
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
15TH Did very little today – flat orderly C.O. inspected billets – wrote to Mary at night – went to the Tottenham Ct Rd YW but there wasn’t a dance – went to Baker St for my photo
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
16TH Not posted today although part of our flight was including
[page break]
[underlined] APRIL [/underlined]
Bob, Eric, Harry & Norman – very disappointed – went to the Odeon at night with Frank to see ‘You’ll never get Rich’ Fred Astaire
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
17TH Did very little today – some drill & retired to YM in the afternoon for an hour or two – wrote to Mary at night – stayed in, received a letter from mother & Mary
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
18TH Received a letter from Fred Eric, Bob Norman & Harry left us – I was a runner this morning – went into the town in the afternoon also went to Beaver Club to tea later rowed on Regents Park with Frank.
SUN
19TH Church parade in the morning wrote to Mother – went into Regents Park in the afternoon – then Beaver Club for tea – came back to our
[page break]
[underlined] APRIL [/underlined]
[underlined] 19TH [/underlined] YM at night & went to bed early.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
20TH Wrote to Mary – did very little today – Alex came round at night – he is going to Blackpool tomorrow.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
21ST Had a letter from Edith & Mother wrote to Roland – then went to see ‘Appointment For Love’ (Charles Boyer) & ‘Paris Calling’ (Basil Rathbone, Eliza Bergner & Randolph Scott) at the Odeon rather late leaving had to run back to billets – did arms drill today
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
22ND Went dental sick in the morning – had one filled – wrote to Mary & Mother – had P.T in the afternoon – very nice – went to the New Victoria Cinema at night to take collection for RAF Benevolent Fund – saw Arthur Askey in
[page break]
‘The Boy from the Back Room’ & also ‘Texas’ – had a decent time went with 7 others from our flight – had a drink after arrived back 11.45.
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
23RD Had posting parade in the morning – posted to Scarborough pay parade & did very little in the afternoon – went with Frank & Ron to the London Pavilion at night to see ‘The Foreman went to France’ which was a super picture & also ‘Hay Foot’
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
24TH Had to stay in barracks at night – went for supper, a drink & more to eat – Group Captains inspection in the morning & FFI in the afternoon wrote to Mary
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
25TH Up early caught 10.0 train to York & so on to Scarborough arrived about 5.0 o’clock – went for
[page break]
[underlined] APRIL [/underlined]
a look round the town at night
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
26TH Did very little today – had FFI etc. & lecture by C.O. stayed in at night & wrote to Mother, Mary & Bert – food good here & having a good time
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
27TH Wrote to Fred at night stayed in – had aircraft rec. & P.T this morning -, drill & dental in the afternoon – very nice day.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
28TH Had P.T & drill Maths & Hygiene today – wrote to Mary at night very nice day but very windy – A.RW at night
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
29TH Had a letter from Sandy Alex, Mother & Mary – wrote to Mother & Alex – had Maths Morse & kit inspection in the afternoon.
THUR 30TH Had 2 letters from
[page break]
[underlined] APRIL [/underlined]
Mary & one from Mother – wrote to Mary at night – had Maths, Morse, Gas & aircraft rec as well as drill today – another air raid warning at night.
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
1ST MAY Went to the dance at the Royal at night – moderate time – had Morse Maths (100 per cent in yesterdays test) Hygiene Gas etc. – Paid today 34/-
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
2ND MAY Had Maths & march past the C.O went to the Odeon in the afternoon with Fred & Mike saw Tyrone Power in ‘Blood & Sand’ later went to the YM & wrote to Mary – received a letter from Louis & parcel from home.
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
3RD Went to early communion – sewed buttons on etc in the morning – went for a walk on the cliffs & sands with Mike & Fred in the afternoon
[page break]
[underlined] MAY [/underlined]
climbed cliffs explored wreckage on the shore.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
4TH Had a letter from Edith today wrote to Mary, Mother & Sandy at night – mine washing about under out hotel – went for a 5 ml cross country run in the afternoon came 15th out of 38
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
5TH Wrote up my notes at night played table tennis
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
6TH Wrote to Mary – at night did some aircraft rec. – sports day went to play golf but they hadn’t any balls – took a canoe out on Peasholme Park –
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
7TH Stayed in at night – wrote up some Gas notes – had letters from Fred and Mother
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
8TH Went to look up train & bus times at night – not very good to
[page break]
[underlined] MAY [/underlined]
Hull – wrote home at night received a letter from Mary.
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
9TH Acted as marker for cross country run – unable to run – stayed in at night – wrote to Mary.
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
10TH Went to Communion in the morning – Mother & Father came over for the day & we had a grand time dinner at the Victoria Hotel & tea at the Odeon – walked round by Olive’s Mount & down the front – had to catch 6.15 bus back.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
11TH Received a letter from Alex & Mary – wrote to Mary at night ran about 4 mls in the pouring rain up Olive’s Mount this afternoon – had Maths afterwards.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
12TH Wrote Louis at night another cross country run today
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
13TH Wrote to Fred at night
[page break]
[underlined] MAY [/underlined]
had our Maths today which was very easy received a letter from Mary & Sandy – wrote to Mary & sent her the photograph – played baseball this afternoon.
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
14TH Had Gas Exam today – parcel of food from mother
[deleted] [underlined] FRI [/underlined]
15TH [/deleted] Had a letter from Mary slight cold – paid today wrote to Mother & Mary – stayed in at night.
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
16TH Rained in the morning – nice day later on – did very little today Gas practise – inoculated again – went shopping in the afternoon stayed in at night – wrote to Alex went to bed early didn’t feel too grand
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
17TH Didn’t get up until 12 o’clock felt rotten – went onto the
[page break]
front in the afternoon & felt a little better – bed early.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
18TH Felt very unfit today with cold went sick but put on M & D on guard at night 10.0 – 12.0 wrote to Mary – played tennis in afternoon
[underlined] TUES. [/underlined]
19TH Letter from Edith – stayed in at night.
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
20TH Wrote to Edith – bathed in the sea & played football on sands in the afternoon – stayed in at night felt rotten
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
21ST Received a letter from Mother & Mary – wrote to Mary – had practise invasion parade with full kit & goodness knows what – in the afternoon – called out again for same thing at 10.45 at night
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
[deleted] 21ST [/deleted] Still feel far from fit on guard at night
[page break]
[underlined] MAY [/underlined]
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
23RD Very nice day received a letter from Alex – desk duties in afternoon – walked round town with Mac. – went to Futurist with Hobby & Mike at night to see Meet John Doe.
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
24TH Communion in the morning – wrote to Mary – Edith & Peg came over for the day had a grand time – saw Jean Thorley –
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
25TH [underlined] Whit-Mon [/underlined] – Rained in the afternoon – went ‘skeet’ shooting
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
26TH Wrote to Mary & Sandy at night
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
27TH Had medical in the afternoon navigation 4.0 – 6.0 – received a letter from Geoff
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
28TH Had a letter from Mother & Mary wrote to Mother at night – on
[page break]
[underlined] MAY [/underlined]
guard – had short Nav & Aircraft Rec exams.
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
29TH Went to dance at night – had a good time – pay parade
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
30TH Raining this morning only had CO march past – wrote to Mary – went to see ‘Each Dawn I Die’ with Mac at the Odeon – stayed in at night
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
31ST Went to Holy Communion at 7.0 & later wrote to Alex & Geoff – read in the Italian gardens in the afternoon went to the concert at night.
[underlined] MON [/underlined]
JUNE March past in the afternoon – also played tennis stayed in at night wrote to Mary.
[underlined] TUES [/underlined]
2ND Had a letter from Edith & heard that Don has had a serious accident another march past – wrote to
[page break]
Gee at night
[underlined] WED [/underlined]
[underlined] 3 [/underlined] RD Another march past which I missed by spending the afternoon in the NAAFI after dentists – very very [sic] warm today – wrote to Edith & Mary – on Guard at night.
[underlined] THUR [/underlined]
4TH Had march past AOC today & had a letter from Mary very very [sic] warm here today.
[underlined] FRI [/underlined]
5TH Had a letter from Mother went to the dance at night met Doris who worked in the Timber Control at Hull – bathed in the sea this morning – still very hot
[underlined] SAT [/underlined]
6TH Went bathing again this morning – into town in the afternoon – on guard at night
[underlined] SUN [/underlined]
7TH Wrote to Mary – went to bed until dinner after church – went for a walk in the afternoon &
[page break]
[underlined] 4/9 [/underlined]
Bear not false witness
slander not nor lie
Truth is the speech
of inward purity
Edward Arnold
[indecipherable words] MC95275
Letter, 10 Mch 1941 from dept re calling up
JL
19, Estcourt Ave
Headingly
Leeds 6
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
WALKER’S
DIARY
FOR
1942
Summer Time used from April 19 to October 4
[page break]
Give all thou canst: high Heaven rejects the lore
Of nicely calculated less or more.
Wordsworth.
[page break]
[details of memorable dates in 1942]
[page break]
Mr FD Cronin
48 Benhill Wood Rd.
Sutton
Surrey
Don Wakeling:- Home address
‘Windyridge’
Marton Corner
Sewerby
nr Bridlington
[page break]
Maths:- 97 per cent
Armaments 81 per cent
Gas. 83 per cent
Morse Sending 100 per cent Receiving 100 per cent
Aldis “ 90 per cent “ 100 per cent
Aircraft Rec 96 per cent
Law & Hygiene 67 per cent
Navigation 74 per cent
[page break]
JUNE 1942
Sunday 7
met Doris – went with Mac at night to the Odeon to see the Missing Million – poor film
Monday 8
Played tennis in the afternoon had a letter from Mary – did some swot at night
Tuesday 9
Received a parcel from Mother wrote to Mary & Fred Cronin at night
Wednesday 10
Stayed in at night – wrote to Mother & did some Arms revision
Thursday 11
Stayed in at night – did some Arms – bathed etc. – received a letter from Mary.
Friday 12
Went to the dance at night Arms Exam today – farce had own Corporal – letter from Bert & parcel from Mother
Saturday 13
Kit inspection 0730 rained rest of day – wrote to Mary, Roland & Fred
[page break]
Sunday 14
Church in morning – concert at night Doreen Howard & Paddy were also there after meeting in afternoon – wrote to Louis rained all day
XX Monday 15
Still raining hard – played table tennis at Yorks. Club – letter from Edith & Ken D.
Tuesday 16
Went to see ‘The Lady has Plans’ with Mac. – kitting parade
Wednesday 17
Stayed in at night & did some swot – went shooting on the Ranges in the afternoon
Thursday 18
On Guard at Marsden’s – wrote to Mary
Friday 19
Received letters from Mother, Mary & Roland – stayed in at night – prepared by route march.
Saturday 20
Route march from 0800 – 1700 17 mls – very warm with full pack & rifle – up Forge Valley & met Edith & Dennis after tea – sat & talked
[page break]
Sunday 21
Church in morning – wrote to Mother & Mary – saw Edith in the afternoon went to the concert at night with Mac & Mike
Monday 22
Stayed in – did Aldis & revised at night – went sick on 2 days light duties – glorious day today
Tuesday 23
Received a letter from Geoff & Mary – dental in afternoon very warm & sunny – aldis at night
Wednesday 24
Swam in the morning & on guard at night – wrote to Mary received a letter from Mary
Thursday 25
Did aldis & a little swot at night – wrote to Roland – received a letter from Fred Cronin
Friday 26
Received letters from Joan Burton Fred & Louis – saw Edith at night
Saturday 27
Drill pass out practise – round town in the afternoon – listened to wireless in the Bay Room at night – letter from Mother & Alex.
[page break]
Sunday 28
Church twice in morning – took Aldis later – stayed in in afternoon wrote to Mother did some swot with Mike at night
Monday 29
Stayed in at night – CO.’s interview – have a rotten cold
Tuesday 30
Had Morse, Aldis & Drill pass out today – letter from Mary – wrote to her Mrs Wakeling – bathed in the afternoon
Wednesday 1 July
Stayed in at night & swotted – had Flight Photo. taken – cold still bad
Thursday 2
Had Aircraft Rec. & Law & Hygiene in the morning – bathed in the afternoon lovely day – letter from Mary
Friday 3
Nav. Exam – pay, dentist taylor [sic] etc in the afternoon – dance at night plenty of beer – P.O Williams treats D Flight
Saturday 4
Arrived home 10.00 hrs – pictures in afternoon – met Mary at night & went again to the pictures – Alex came home & went for a walk with him
[page break]
Sunday 5
Geoff called early – went for a walk met Mary in the afternoon – came to tea Ron also came saw Mary to bus at night
Monday 6
Called in at the office – later went shopping with Mary – went into town again tin afternoon – pictures at night with Mary [inserted] ‘Weekend in Havana’ [/inserted]
Tuesday 7
Met Mary in the town in the morning – caught the afternoon train to Doncaster –
Wednesday 8
Walked to Epworth in morning [inserted] took short cut [/inserted] lost way stayed in in the afternoon – [symbol] went to see Andy Hardy picture at night – supper with Miss Brown
Thursday 9
Helped Mary with potatoes in the morning went into Doncaster to the pictures after dinner said goodbye & wrote to Mary when I arrived home
Friday 10
Went to Office in morning & to see Mrs Johnson – OB’s dance at night had great time – saw Dorothy – home
Saturday 11
Stayed in bed in the morning back to Scarboro’ in the afternoon letter from Roland
[page break]
Sunday 12
Church parade – walk with Mac Mike to Castle – ice cream hot day wrote to Fred, Don & Fred on guard at night
Monday 13
Played squash in the afternoon stayed in at night & wrote to Mary.
Tuesday 14
Had a letter from Mary – wrote to Louis went to see Gene Tierney in Sundown with Mike
Wednesday 15
Sunbathed & had dinghy drill in morning – good fun – wrote to Mary at night
Thursday 16
Stayed in at night & wrote to Mother
Friday 17
Birthday card from Mary – wrote to Bert & night went to the pictures with Mac – poured with rain
Saturday 18
Still raining – went into town sewed V.R’s on uniform – wrote to Roland.
[page break]
Sunday 19
Went home for day – 10.00 train arrived 12.10 left by bus 5.25 – arrived 8.10 went to church canteen for supper wrote to Mary
Monday 20
On OD’s at night – had to polish floors etc for Air Chief Marshals visit tomorrow
Tuesday 21
Went to see Robertson Hare & Alfred Drayton in Banana Ridge at Londests’ with Mike Wrote to Mother.
Wednesday 22
Stayed in at night & wrote to Mary – rained a lot today
Thursday 23
Went to Church Canteen at night raining again
Friday 24
Took train home on 48 hrs leave – arrived 8.15.
Saturday 25
Library in morning – saw King Solomons Mine at Tower with Ken in the afternoon danced at ‘Good Fellowship Inn’ at night with Ken – very enjoyable
[page break]
Sunday 26
Walk in morning with Ken [inserted] letter from Mary [/inserted] & into the park in the afternoon – went back by bus at night – saw Stan & Mr Noble before I went
Monday 27
Went to Peasholme to the bathing pool in afternoon – warm & sunny grand time Wrote to Mary & went to Pay Accounts at night
Tuesday 28
Went to the Odeon with Mike to see ‘Reap the Wild Wind’ a very fine sea story – wrote to Mother
Wednesday 29
Hamburg again heavily raided 32 missing – letter & photo from Mary on guard at night – wrote to Mary.
Thursday 30
Stayed in at night & wrote to Joan – beach in morning – very warm & sunny slept during Nav. in afternoon
Friday 31
Went gardening all afternoon had binge in town at night with Mac Mike Don, Priest Machin & Baxter
Saturday 1 August
Short run by ourselves in morning had invasion exercise in afternoon very warm Home Guard took part & ambush etc. gas bomb – stayed in at night
[page break]
Sunday 2
[indecipherable word] early morning wrote to Mary Geoff in the Bay Room after – had a walk Don & Mike in afternoon – Church canteen at night with Mike
Monday 3
FIFF etc for posting tomorrow went with Mike to Odeon see Green Eyed Lady [indecipherable word] of £32 wrote to Mary
Tuesday 4
[indecipherable words] Brough – stayed 2 hrs in Hull saw Mother & Edith – wrote to Mary at night
Wednesday 5
[indecipherable word] 75 mins today – grand fun wrote to Father
Thursday 6
[indecipherable word] straight & level in morning [three indecipherable words] in afternoon – wrote to [indecipherable word]
Friday 7
Another 65 mins today – spins & stalls 90 mins on [indecipherable word] training over Goole saw [indecipherable words] – wrote to Fred – Don arrived today
Saturday 8
Wrote to Roland – letter from Mary & Father [indecipherable words] today & raining – went home with [indecipherable words] – went to see ‘Next of Kin’ [indecipherable words]
[page break]
Sunday 9
Home in morning with Don – walk with Ken & Wriggy in the afternoon stayed in at night – Peggy came to tea took 9.00 train back
Monday 10
No flying today afternoon off went to office – haircut – saw Babes on Broadway [indecipherable words] with Geoff – wrote to Father & John – letter from Mary
Tuesday 11
No flying today letter from Mary wrote to Mary – half day went home –
Wednesday 12
No flying again – sports in afternoon – wrote to Mike.
Thursday 13
Did landings & take off today – had a grand time – letter from Mary & Father – wrote to Mary & Alex – saw Firebrand [indecipherable word]
Friday 14
Wrote to Louis – no flying church parade – walked 5 mls through Ellington at night.
Saturday 15
65 mins landing & taking off this morning flying stopped in afternoon – went home – letter from Don
[page break]
Sunday 16
Flying today landings & take offs 65 mins with F.O. Lamont – a very nice chap – wrote to Don & Mary
XX Monday 17
Birthday today – cards from Sandy Mother Dad Edith letter from Roland & Fred – 90 mins today – spins circuits & bumps
Tuesday 18
More circuits & bumps & 7 hrs test – did fairly well – letter from Alex
Wednesday 19
Letter from Louis – circuits & bumps in the afternoon still bad & have done 10 1/2 hrs – went to canteen at night – Dieppe area invaded –
Thursday 20
Went solo today & finished the Course – packed in the afternoon wrote to Mary & went to dance at night
Friday 21
Paid – medical in morning – home in afternoon went to see Wriggy & Gee’s people at night.
Saturday 22
Gee is home – went into the town in the morning & in the afternoon with Ken – went to the Good Fellowship at night – wrote to Don
[page break]
Sunday 23
Walk in morning with Gee & Ken & Wriggy came in the afternoon – Gee went back at night & I went to Communist meeting with Ken & W
Monday 24
Went to the office in morning – wrote to Roland & Mary – saw Bob Hope in Louisiana Purchase at Dorchester with Geoff at night
Tuesday 25
Wrang [sic] Mary today – went with Geoff to see ‘The Lady has Plans’ at Criterion at night
Wednesday 26
Went into town in afternoon called to see Mr Blocker & Margaret – chose a ring – went to dance at YPI at night – Wriggy was there
Thursday 27
Rang Mary & wrote at night – might come over at weekend
Friday 28
Went to see Grasson’s at Preston in afternoon – might go next week – Alex came home tonight
Saturday 29
Went into town in morning & in afternoon with Geoff – went to Good Fellowship at night with Alex – Ken & his girl Phil were there later came round to our place after dance
[page break]
Sunday 30
Stayed in all day – saw Alex off at night – wrote to Fred.
Monday 31
Went to Preston & helped Arthur on the farm all day – stooked & [two indecipherable words] – sulphate from Hedon –
Tuesday 1 SEPTEMBER
Louis home on leave called in morning went into office later – coffee at Miss Thompsons Drink at ‘George’ with Mr W & Phil etc went to Criterion with Geoff at night Bride came COD
Wednesday 2
Louis came home this morning had dinner with Mr Grasson in town later went to Criterion & to the Tivoli at night with Geoff
Thursday 3
Louis came over – played tennis in morning – rang Mary – went to Criterion to see Look how’s [sic] Laughing & Tivoli at night with Geoff
Friday 4
Went into town with Mother – had dinner out & went to Belton later in afternoon went to dance in village with Mary at night
Saturday 5
Up late – went into Doncaster with Mary in afternoon – had grand time saw One of our Aircraft is Missing & Brooklyn Orchid both very good pictures
[page break]
Sunday 6
Stayed in until after tea when Mary & I went for a walk – came back & played cards with Mary’s Mother & Father
Monday 7
Went to Scunthorpe with Mr & Mrs Boatyman & Mary – did some shopping in the morning & went to pictures in the afternoon saw ‘They Died with their [inserted] Boots on’ (Errol Flynn) [/inserted] & at night went to see Briggs Family & ‘Murder in the Air’ with Mary
Tuesday 8
Went for short walk at night with Mary & then spent rest of evening in doors.
Wednesday 9
Spent day in the garden & playing cards with Mary’s Mother & Father – went to see High Sierra with Mary at night – Mary accepts offer of engagement when I return from Canada
Thursday 10
Reached home dinner time – went in town in afternoon to the office
Friday 11
Went to office in morning & to see Miss Johnson – rang Mary – met Louis in town in the afternoon & stayed in at night
Saturday 12
Met Mary & brought her home to lunch – went shopping in the afternoon bought her a watch for her 21st – went to Good Fellowship at night & had a good time – took taxi home then cycled back.
[page break]
Sunday 13
Brought Mary home to dinner & talked etc until it was time to see her off – went to see The Ghost Breakers’ at Regal at night
Monday 14
Wrote to Mary – went to see Mrs Gateman Ken Wriggy & one or two more people – Ken came in at night.
Tuesday 15
Took 9 0 train to Manchester & travelled with 3 Sergeants – arrived dinner time wrote to Mary & Mother at night – letter from Bert
Wednesday 16
Church parade – FFI – CO’s lecture – today went into town at night with Brow Heath & Evan for haircut – didn’t succeed
Thursday 17
Told I am to be a Navigator – disappointed had a haircut in town at night & later wrote to Mary at the Y.M.
Friday 18
Letter from Mother & Fred – went to see Arthur Askey at the Palace with Johnny Jack Stanley & Evan – good show – did a little rowing this afternoon
Saturday 19
Letter from Mary – wrote to Mary & Mother had morning off – went into town with 3 lads had a look round – went to see Jungle Book at the Gaumont after tea
[page break]
Sunday 20
Read my book in the morning after parade on cookhouse duties in afternoon with Johnny & Jed from 2.0 to 6.0 – had shower afterwards.
Monday 21
In Canteen in morning – had afternoon off & went into Manchester – had tea & went to the Gaiety to see Bud Abbott & Lou Costello in ‘Rio Rita’ had a drink & returned early – wrote to Mary.
Tuesday 22
Raining again today – went to a lecture on Music in the morning – letter from Edith & Mary – stayed in at night.
Wednesday 23
Wrote to Mary – rained nearly all the morning [indecipherable word] the afternoon off so I went into Manchester with Jack & Johnny – ate in the Y.M. went to see Du Barry was a Lady at the Palace at night
Thursday 24
Rained again today – stayed in at night & wrote to Edith – had lectures today.
Friday 25
Went to the YM at night – wrote to Mary – letter from Alex – rained again today.
Saturday 26
Went swimming in the morning – went into Manchester after dinner with Johnny & Jack – went to Belle Vue – had chips & pie at a small café – drinks in the Zoo – went to the wrestling – met 3 girls etc. letter from Mary
[page break]
Sunday 27
Stayed in bed in the morning – after parade – went rowing in the afternoon & wrote to Don – went for a walk at night with the lads & met Sylvia, Betty, Doreen & Rona
Monday 28
Went to see ‘Next of Kin’ in morning – wrote to Alex, Fred & Mary – stayed in at night.
Tuesday 29
Had the morning free – on canteen duty in afternoon & until late at night
Wednesday 30
On duty until 2.0 o’clock – off in afternoon had shower – wrote to Mary went to see The Saint in Palm Springs & Dot Lamour in Beyond the Blue Horizon [inserted] with Roy & Jack [/inserted]
Thursday 1 October
had a letter from Mary & Mother Went to the ‘Ostrich Hotel with Jack & Roy played darts & dominoes
Friday 2
Wrang [sic] Mary – unable to come over for weekend left Manchester 6.30 arrived home 11.0 o’clock spent an hour in Leeds – had a letter from Sandy
Saturday 3
Up late – wrote to Mary had a bath – took Mother to a football match (Polish XI v Red Army XI) in the afternoon – went to the Langham at night to see Douglas Fairbanks Jnr in The Corsican Brothers – a very good film
[page break]
Sunday 4
Up late walked to the station to find out the times of trains – wrote to Sandy in the afternoon & caught the 4.25 to Manchester – arrived 8.30 – letters from Mary & Don waiting for me.
Monday 5
Stayed in at night – wrote to Mary & Roland – had P.T today
Tuesday 6
Went to the Odeon at night with Johnny & Jack to see ‘The First of the Few’ dealing with the birth of the Spitfire) – later went to the Long Bow & [indecipherable word] to celebrate Jack’s birthday became quite merry
Wednesday 7
Stayed in at night & wrote to Mary & Geoff – letter from Mary
Thursday 8
Rained a lot today – on assault course in the afternoon – Air Marshal Babbington here – haircut at night – letter from Mary wrote to Mary & Mother
Friday 9
Received parcel from home & letter from Bert & Roland – rained a lot today had talk on Canada & at night went to Long Bow with Jack & Johnny (they are posted) met Joan.
Saturday 10
Went into town & Belle Vue in the afternoon with Johnny & Jack – went to wrestling match in evening – missed the last bus (had to walk to Vic) – rained again
[page break]
Sunday 11
Stayed in bed until 12.0 o’clock – changed etc & wrote to Mary in the afternoon – went to the Ostrich at night with Johnny & Jack – nice warm sunny day.
Monday 12
J & J have gone today – I am posted went into town to meet Joan but she didn’t turn up – pleased really & went to see Red Skelton in ‘Ship Ahoy’ – very funny enjoyed it
Tuesday 13
FFI, Pay Parade – etc today – very foggy in morning – later cleared & sun shined wrote to Mary & had a letter from Mother
Wednesday 14
Up early – troop train right to Bridgnorth arrived 2.10 – on guard at night – after F.FI etc. very nice district, hilly wooded with a very pleasant river
Thursday 15
Had afternoon off went into town with Ron – to the Falcon had tea at the Crown & returned early – wrote Mother & Mary
Friday 16
Went for a ramble in the afternoon with Ron & to the camp pictures at night to see Bette Davis in ‘The Three Forces’ – wrote Mary
Saturday 17
Went into town in the afternoon with Jack & Johnny, Beaton & Drewery – ate apples & then went to the Swan & the Crown & then to the dance – didn’t dance – came back with Jubbs
[page break]
Sunday 18
Wrote to Roland, Don & Joan B – went for a walk with Jack in the afternoon – lovely day – were invited out to tea – spent rest of evening in N.A.A.F.I
Monday 19
Warm sunny day – had 3 hrs Navvy – drill & P.T. stayed in at night & wrote to Mary & Ken at night in the NAAFI.
Tuesday 20
Had a letter from Mary & paper from Mother today – wrote to Bert at night – rained heavily after tea – more Navvy drill & P.T. today
Wednesday 21
Letter from Mary – wrote to Alex – went to see ‘Dive Bomber’ at the Station Cinema with Johnny Jack & Ray – not very good true American
Thursday 22
Stayed in at night – wrote to Mother & Mary – Genoa & Turin bombed
Friday 23
Played a scratch game of soccer in afternoon – enjoyed it – [deleted] stayed in at night [/deleted] wrote to Louis – went to Station Cinema at night to see ‘They Met in Bombay’ – Clark Gable
Saturday 24
Went into town after tea with Jack – went to the Majestic to see Robert Young in ‘Meet Mr Jordan’ & Fred McMurray in another film – had fish & chip supper
[page break]
[inserted] [underlined] SAT [/underlined] (CONT) walked home – grand night full moon. [/inserted]
Saturday [circled 25] XXX
Up fairly early – wired Mary (her 21st birthday today) & then went into Bridgnorth to church – rained all afternoon stayed in & wrote to Mary
Monday 26
Offensive started by us in Egypt – parcel from Mother & Joan & Lilian – also letters from Alex, Mary, Sandy Fred Mother – stayed in – wrote home
Tuesday 27
Letter from Edith – wrote to Mary Joan & Miss Clayton – went boxing again and well-hurt my thumb – stayed in at night
Wednesday 28
Letter from Edith – wrote to Sandy at night very misty earlier this morning – went to NAAFI at night & [deleted] wrot [/deleted] letter from Mary
Thursday 29
Went to Camp pictures at night & saw ‘Sergeant York’ – Gary Cooper – very good film – wrote to Mary
Friday 30
Played Soccer today – rained & didn’t play very well won 5-2 – did very little work today letter from Geoff.
Saturday 31
Learned that I was posted – informed Mother & Mary – didn’t do any work & finished at 4 o’clock went into town after tea with Johnny & Jack – saw ‘Hot Spot’ at the Majestic
[page break]
NOVEMBER 1942
Sunday 1
Clothing parade in the morning – rained went for a walk with Bill Kelly in the afternoon collected chestnuts – went into the NAAFI at night after reading in front of the fire
Monday 2
Received letters from Louis, Roland & Don wrote to Fred – didn’t do any work all day – had pay parade & FFI – packed at night went to see Les.
Tuesday 3
Up early left Bridgnorth 8.30 & arrived Manchester 4.30 – thick fog today & had difficulty in finding my Hut – wrote to Mary at night
Wednesday 4
Did nothing but stand about all day – finished writing to Mary at night
Thursday 5
Feel far from well today – headache etc. – went to a lecture in the morning (Dutchman – reporter -) & to a Review Flying High in the afternoon.
Friday 6
On Camp Co-ops in morning & had talk by Padre in the afternoon – had bath at YM at night – wrote to Mary.
Saturday 7
In the Canteen in afternoon after Camp Co-ops in morning – went to Assembly Rooms (Cheatham Hill) with Johnny to a dance there – Rommel beaten
[page break]
Sunday 8
Canteen duty until after midday – went to the YM for tea & wrote to Edith later went to Premier to see ‘Third Finger L. hand’ had seen it – US Army lands in N.W Africa
Monday 9
Posted today – did very little besides hang about – stayed in at night & wrote to Mother & Mary – letter from Edith
Tuesday 10
Letter from Mary – packed etc at night later went to Heaton Park Cinema with Johnny & Roy – saw 3 Smart Girls – had a drink & chips after
Wednesday 11
Travelled to Bridgnorth today – on a Course at last – letter from Mary there – wrote to Mary & Edith
Thursday 12
Wrote to Don – did very little besides be equipped with books etc. – spent night in the NAAFI – met Lucas & Welborn – OH’s
Friday 13
Domestic night – stayed in read Met. notes – bed early – did very little today.
Saturday 14
Lectures all morning – soccer in the afternoon – lost 3-2 enjoyed the game fine day – went to see Bette Davis in The Great Lie at Station Cinema [inserted] (wrote to Mary [/inserted]
[page break]
Sunday 15
Wrote to Mother – church parade in the morning slept during the afternoon & went to the Station Cinema at night with Joe to see ‘Tall Dark & Handsome’ (Cesar Romero) very good
Monday 16
Stayed in at night – later went to boxing match & exhibition in the Gym – very good – enjoyed it.
Tuesday 17
Letter & paper from Mother – compulsory study tonight so wrote to Mary
Wednesday 18
Letter from Mary today – wrote again to her at night after compulsory study. – chose soccer team
Thursday 19
Played soccer in afternoon lost 5-3 we had most of the play – bath, shave collected laundry & wrote to Mother
Friday 20
Compulsory study at night – went to the pictures to see Bing Crosby in ‘Birth of the Blues.
Saturday 21
[deleted] [underlined] XXX [/underlined] [/deleted] Letter from Mary & parcel from home – wrote to Mary & Louis stayed in at night. – very cold today
[page break]
Those mighty periods of years
Which seem to us so vast,
Appear no more before Thy sight,
Than yesterday that’s past.
The Ninetieth Psalm.
[page break]
Sunday 22
Worked all day – compulsory study at night – very cold again today freezing in fact
Monday 23
Wrote home sent parcel – took special bus into Wolves with Johnny & Ron – had photo taken went to see Henry Fonda & Gene Tierney in ‘Rings on her Fingers’ – letter from Mary waiting for me when I came back
Tuesday 24
Stayed in last night & wrote to Mary – paper from Mother – domestic night. –
Wednesday 25
Stayed in at night – compulsory study – very cold
Thursday 26
Soccer this afternoon – drew 3-3 good game – stayed in at night & did nav. – wrote to Sandy
Friday 27
Letter from Edith – stayed in at night compulsory study – had a good game of rugger today for P.T
Saturday 28
Went to Station Cinema to see ‘Tess in a Taxi” later wrote to Mary – letter from Mary today
[page break]
Sunday 29
Went to church in the morning – had dinner at the Swan – came back to Camp & wrote to Fred – went to the pictures after tea saw ‘Hatters Castle’ Robert Newton Deborah Kerr Emlyn Williams – plotted at night
Monday 30
Compulsory study at night
Tuesday 1 December
Letter from Mary – wrote at night rained nearly all night – also letter from Alex.
Wednesday 2
Paid today – letter from Roland – took star sights at night – compulsory study.
Thursday 3
[deleted] Letter [/deleted] Rained this morning – sports in the afternoon & won 3-2 good game stayed in at night sent parcel home
Friday 4
Compulsory study at night – letter from Mary – boxed this afternoon did quite well
Saturday 5
Stayed in at night – worked astro-sights out & wrote to Mary
[page break]
Sunday 6
Working today – also compulsory study at night
Monday 7
Wrote to Alex – hitch hiked to Wolves bought a couple of present & went to see ‘All Through the Night’ – at flicks before coming back.
Tuesday 8
Domestic night wrote to Mary – papers from home & letter from Sandy
Wednesday 9
Compulsory study at night – letter from Mary.
Thursday 10
Stayed in at night – played soccer in pouring rain & icy wind lost 3-0 parcel from home – wrote home
Friday 11
Compulsory study – stayed in & did some revision
Saturday 12
Exam today – letter from Mary & stayed in at night to write to her – plotted a few Star sights etc. – listened to the wireless in the NAAFI
[page break]
Sunday 13
Up early went to Holy Communion – had a bath – wrote to Roland – took Sun sights & went for a walk in the afternoon worked sights out at night
Monday 14
Stayed in at night & swotted boxed in the afternoon – wrote to Mary.
Tuesday 15
Boxing match postponed – swotted Met nearly all the night
Wednesday 16
Met exam today – rained quite a lot – letter from Mary and wrote to her at night – swotted again at night – parcel from home.
Thursday 17
Stayed in at night & swotted – posted Christmas cards & parcel home
Friday 18
Letter from Mary & Don today wrote to Don at night – had Met [indecipherable word] Nav. Theory today.
Saturday 19
Plotting Exam – wrote to Mary at night & went to see HM Pulham Esq with Ernie – very good picture – Johnny & Ron go on the beer – Card from Sandy
[page break]
Sunday 20
Stayed in at night & worked out Astro sights. – went to Communion in the morning
Monday 21
[underlined] XXX [/underlined] Mothers birthday – sent telegram went into Bridgnorth with Jock in the afternoon – stayed in at night – parcel from home
Tuesday 22
Stayed in at night took Astro sights – wrote to Sandy – Christmas Card from Don
Wednesday 23
Went to the flicks at night with Johnny Ron Harry & Harold – saw ‘The Ball of Fire’ Barbara Stanwyck Gary Cooper [inserted] very good [/inserted] – wrote to Mary
Thursday 24
Cross country in the afternoon – 6 mls took it easy – a book photographs & Card from Mary – went to the ‘Ash’ at night with the boys met Pete bad show
Friday 25
Had superb meals all day – wrote to Mary – Card from home – went to see A Gentleman After Dark with Collins and Colm at night – YM afterwards enjoyed it
Saturday 26
Stayed in at night – wrote home – listened to the Music Hall in the NAAFI
[page break]
Sunday 27
Went to Communion this morning – wrote to Fred – did a little swot in the afternoon – on guard at night letter from Mary.
Monday 28
Felt very tired today turned in early – letter from Edith
Tuesday 29
Did more revision at night – wrote to Mary – letter from Mother – very cold today
Wednesday 30
Compulsory study at night – letter from Geoff – wrote to Mother at night – icy North wind.
Thursday 31
Stayed in at night to revise letter from Alex. – listened to wireless in NAAFI for a short time Johnnie comes back with cut nose after revelry
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
Auxiliary Hospital
Aske Hall,
Etwall
nr Derby.
[page break]
[blank page]
[page break]
For nothing this wide universe I call,
Save thou, my rose: in it thou art my all.
W. Shakespeare.
[page break]
5.8.42
Flying 30 mins morning 11A2 [inserted] ? [/inserted]
“ 45 “ afternoon 2,3
[page break]
Size ‘9 1/2’ stockings
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
Mervyn Adder diary 1941 and 1942
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending review
Description
An account of the resource
Day by day description of events and activities for 1941 and 1942. Records films seen, war news including RAF operations, football matches played, weather, going to cadets, air raids, dates with Mary, social events, meeting friends, fire watching duties, playing tennis and cricket, lectures at cadets, presents for Mary, invention of radar, German operations in Russia, medical issues. On 2 October went to Cardington for medical and photographs then returned home. Mentions his work, meting friends and mail from family members and Mary. Covers Japanese operations and war news,. Goes to London for aircrew reception centre 28 March 1942, describes activities and training. Posted to Scarborough 25 April 1942 and goes on to describe activities and training. Continues with daily activities, leaves, medical issues, Carries on to Manchester for more training September 1942. describes daily activities and training. Continued to Bridgnorth for training. Describes activities and training.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
M Adder
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1941
1942
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One hundred and twenty-seven handwritten diary entries
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
YAdderM170573v2
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--Yorkshire
England--Bedfordshire
England--Hull
England--London
England--Scarborough
England--Manchester
England--Shropshire
England--Lancashire
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-02-28
1942-04-25
1942-09
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Tricia Marshall
bombing
entertainment
military living conditions
military service conditions
RAF Bridgnorth
RAF Cardington
recruitment
sport
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1627/25332/BThickettPSaundersEJv10012.1.jpg
0113ce2573a97c2aa511b7365bbfaa74
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Saunders, Ernest John. Album 1
Description
An account of the resource
A history of Sam Saunders RAF experiences complete with a biography. It is presented in an album.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Penny Thicket
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2020-02-13
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Saunders, EJ
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
Sam Saunder's Operations
Description
An account of the resource
Some details about operations carried out by Sam after he transferred to 40 squadron.
Photo 1 is a vertical aerial photograph partly obscured by tracer fire.
Photo 2 is the 40 squadron crest.
Photo 3 is Sam in shorts and tee shirt in front of a tent.
Photo 4 is an airman beside a tent.
Photo 5 is a view across tents.
Photo 6 is an airman standing at the front of his tent.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Penny Thickett
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2013-10
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Two printed sheets with six b/w photographs
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Photograph
Text
Text. Personal research
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BThickettPSaundersEJv10012
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Egypt
Egypt--Suez
Libya
Libya--Tobruk
North Africa
Egypt--Alamayn
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-07
1942-08
1942-09
1942-10
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
40 Squadron
aerial photograph
anti-aircraft fire
bombing
Churchill, Winston (1874-1965)
Halifax
military living conditions
prisoner of war
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/743/31060/BCleggPVVerdonRoeLv1.2.pdf
83bc6da28284a7e751660162e8b591d5
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
Clegg, Peter Vernon
P V Clegg
Description
An account of the resource
Eight items and five sub-collections. Main collection contains a log of Pathfinder operations from RAF Wyton 1943 -1944, histories of the Avro repair facility at Bracebridge Heath, and Langar, a biography of Squadron Leader David James Baikie Wilson, biography of Squadron Leader Lighton Verdon-Roe, a book - Test Pilots of A.V. Roe & Co Ltd - S.A. 'Bill' Thorn, and two volumes of book - Roy Chadwick - no finer aircraft designer, Sub-collections contain a total of 29 items concerning the Aldborough Dairy and Cafe as well as biographical material, including log books for Alan Gibson, Peter Isaacson, Alistair Lang and Charles Martin. <br /><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/1772">Aldborough Dairy and Cafe</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/1768">Gibson, Alan</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/1769">Isaacson, Peter</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/1770">Lang, Alastair</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/1771">Martin, Charles</a><br /><br /><br />The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Peter Clegg 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
2015-07-02
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. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Clegg, PV
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
Biography of Squadron Leader Lighton Verdon-Roe DFC RAFVR -156 (PFF) Squadron
The antics of Lighton, Alastair Lang and Peter Isaacson
Description
An account of the resource
Second son of Sir Alliot Verdon-Roe founder of A.V. Roe & Co Ltd to be killed in the RAF Bomber Command in WWII. Starts with b/w photograph of head and shoulders portrait of an RAF officer wearing tunic with pilot's brevet, medal ribbon, pathfinder badge and peaked cap. Continues with early life, joining the Royal Air Force, training and posting to one of the first pathfinder squadrons. Goes on to describe his operations from September 1942 including losses on the squadron. Introduces his friend Alastair Lang and describes various antics and further operations. Gives description of marking, H2S, Oboe and Mosquito aircraft. Writes of Peter Isaacson's arrival on the squadron and of further activities, antics and operations. Continues with account of Pat Day, their intelligence officer and further operations including one to Dortmund where Lang was shot down. Describes Lighton's last operation to Duisburg from which he failed to return. Concludes with round up and stories of Peter Isaacson and Alastair Lang.
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
26 b/w photocopied sheets
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Personal research
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
BCleggPVVerdonRoeLv1
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Australian Air Force
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending review
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Gloucestershire
England--Shropshire
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Huntingdonshire
England--Yorkshire
Germany
Germany--Flensburg
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Germany--Kassel
Germany--Nuremberg
Germany--Saarbrücken
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Cologne
Italy
Italy--Genoa
Italy--Turin
Germany--Stuttgart
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Hamburg
Atlantic Ocean--Bay of Biscay
France
France--Lorient
Germany--Wilhelmshaven
France--Saint-Nazaire
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Kiel
Atlantic Ocean--Baltic Sea
Germany--Dortmund
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942
1942-09
1942-09-01
1942-09-02
1942-09-13
1942-09-14
1942-09-16
1942-09-17
1942-09-19
1942-09-20
1942-09-18
1942-09-19
1942-08-18
1942-08-19
1942-08-28
1942-08-29
1942-10-15
1942-11-07
1942-11-08
1942-11-20
1942-11-22
1942-11-23
1942-12-09
1942-12-11
1942-12-20
1943
1943-01-30
1943-02-02
1943-02-03
1943-02-04
1943-02-07
1943-02-13
1943-02-16
1943-02-19
1943-02-24
1943-02-25
1943-02-28
1943-03-01
1943-03-03
1943-03-04
1943-03-08
1943-03-27
1943-03-19
1943-03-21
1943-03-28
1943-03-29
1943-03-30
1943-04-04
1943-04-05
1943-04-12
1943-05-04
1943-05-12
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
PV Clegg
156 Squadron
35 Squadron
460 Squadron
7 Squadron
83 Squadron
aircrew
Bennett, Donald Clifford Tyndall (1910-1986)
bombing
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Flying Medal
Flying Training School
H2S
Halifax
killed in action
Lancaster
Mosquito
Oboe
Pathfinders
pilot
prisoner of war
RAF Breighton
RAF Shawbury
RAF South Cerney
RAF Warboys
RAF Wyton
Stalag Luft 3
Stirling
target indicator
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2180/38308/S102SqnRAF19170809v10004-0001.2.jpg
71d78dfc1066de12f5f15811c24f8aa1
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2180/38308/S102SqnRAF19170809v10004-0002.2.jpg
14a47b47bb74ee6facdc02191a216b59
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2180/38308/S102SqnRAF19170809v10004-0003.1.2.jpg
ac7550b0149f627d8d67e727742a8de7
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
102 Squadron Collection
Description
An account of the resource
Thirty-one items.
The collection concerns material from the 102 Squadron Association and contains part of a Tee Emm magazine, documents, photographs, accounts of Ceylonese in the RAF, a biography, poems, a log book, cartoons, intelligence and operational reports, an operations order and an account by a United States Army Air Force officers secret trip to Great Britain to arrange facilities for American forces.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Harry Bartlett and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2019-05-23
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
102 Squadron Association
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
Re the points you raise in paras 1 2 & 3 of your letter, here are my Comments:
I was in the [deleted] 3 [/deleted]rd batch of Ceylonese volunteers to the R A F under the Pilot/Navigator/Bombadier [sic] scheme. This recruitment was probably more streamlined than the previous two batches : viz an ad. in the local papers calling for volunteers with the necessary physical attributes and the [indecipherable word] Matriculation or equivalent pass.
After medical examinations and interviews before a board of three, eleven of us were chosen for this P/N/B training. We were all Matriculate with the exception of Dixon Kotalawala who with much less than the Matric was chosen, doubtless due to the influence of his uncle John Kotalawala who was a member of the selection Board. The others [sic] members of the Board were, D.S. Senanayake and a high ranking RAF officer.
The questions asked by the Board were mostly on Academic and Sports qualifications. However, I recollect a question leveled [sic] at me by John Kotalawala re my previous employment as a Sub Inspector of Police. He asked me whether I resigned or was sacked. I think I scored a good mark with the Board by pointing out that my discharge [inserted] certificate [/inserted] which was on their table, bore a remark from my Supdt. Sydney De Zoysa that my “resignation was a loss to the Police Force”.
Sportswise the 3rd batch volunteers had [inserted] done [/inserted] well: Dixon Kotalawala was a champion inter-schools boxer. C.H.S. Amarasekera was one of the top long distance runners in Ceylon. George Ferdinand was an Inter-schools champion relay runner. Dion Bennett was a Thomian champion swimmer. I was police boxer and Rugby player. Kingsley Werkmeister was a Thomian crickter [sic]. Royle Jansen was a Benedectine soccer player and so was Paramanathan from a Jaffna College. Clement Andrews, an Antonian soccer player.
We eleven trainees commenced our local Flying Training at Govt. expens in [underlined] Feb 1942 [/underlined]. This was done at the Aero Club at Ratmalana under F/Lt Duncanson and Flying Instructor Booth. All eleven Trainees were given abinito [sic] training up to solo standard on Tiger Moth aircraft. To enforce Military discipline and Training we took our oaths as Privates in the Ceylon Light Infantry. In lieu of Khaki uniforms, we wore civilian clothes with a CLI arm band. Sgt Tillekeratne was assigned to us. We were housed in tents near the airfield and the Sgt conducted our drill, arms training and rifle firing practise, etc, when we were not occupied with flying training. While under canvas, we experienced a couple of Jap air raids, and took to the rubber trees with our .303 rifles to fire at low flying Jap fighters.
[page break]
After six months of Flying and military training, we were issued [inserted] In [underlined] Au[missing letter/s] [/underlined] [/inserted] with passports. I reckon, the idea being to travel as civilians, [deleted] in [/deleted] case we fell into enemy hands. The first part of the journey was by train [inserted] to Talaimannar [/inserted] and ferry, and train to Bombay. We were about a week in Bombay, housed in a flat and then shipped off to the U.K. (I cant recollect the name of the troop ship).
Batchmates Mawalagedera and Ferdinand were detained due to illness and fol[missing letters]wed on a later ship. Our ship sailed off the Cape and way out into the North and west Atlantic into port Southampton in early [underlined] Nov. 1942 [/underlined]. The entire journey took two months – we embarked from Bombay in [underlined] Sept. 1942 [/underlined]. We stopped for a few days at an east African port and then at Durban for a few more where we were welcomed and loked [sic] after by an English South African Committee who had been briefed of our arrival. While sailing in the Atlantic, our [missing words] was trained [inserted] in [/inserted] and took turns in manning a heavy machine gun for possible use against enemy aircraft attack.
On the [underlined] 19th Nov. ’42 [/underlined] we enlisted at Euston as [underlined] AC2 [/underlined]. My [underlined] Airman No. 1811843 [/underlined] Our batch was then broken up and posted to diverse [underlined] Initial Training Wings [/underlined] C.H.S Amarasekera, Dion Bennett, Dixon Kotalawala and I commenced our ITW (Ground School training) at fighter station at Kenley in Surrey. After successfully completing this training, we were promoted to [underlined] Leading Aircraftmen (LAC) [/underlined]. After this, we were separated once again and shipped off to Canada [indecipherable letters] [underlined] Elementary Flying Training [/underlined]. My EFTS was at Windsor Mills in Quebec on Tig Moths. After successful flying and Ground School, I was posted to Service Flying Training School on Harvard aircraft. After about 40 hrs training on this aircraft, I had a difference of opinion with my instructor and agreed transfer to Navigator/Bombadier [sic] training at North Battleford in Sasketchwan [sic] On successful completion of this course, I received my wings as [underlined] Bombadier/[missing word] [/underlined] and was Commissioned as [underlined] Pilot Officer [/underlined] in [underlined] Nov.’44 (Officer No. 188121) [/underlined]. I re[missing letters] to the U.K. and was posted to Harrowgate [sic] in Yorkshire. From there I was transfered [sic] to [underlined] Transport Command [/underlined] to Staging Post, Jodpur, Rajputana, India as [underlined] Navigation Briefing Officer [/underlined] in [underlined] Feb ’45 [/underlined]. After a few months here, I obtai[missing letters] a transfer to Staging Post Ratmalana as NBO. and with RAF opening Katanaya as a Staging Post, transfered [sic] there [inserted] as Flying Officer [/inserted] and served there until [underlined] May ’47 [/underlined] when I requested and obtained a local release.
Here are some particulars of my batch:
[inserted] 1. [/inserted] [underlined] P.B. Mawalagedera [/underlined]. (Pilot) after war service flew as Line and Chief Pil[missing letters] and Operations Manager in Air Ceylon. Retired. resident in S.L. Address: 31/1 Attidiya Rd, Ratmalana.
[inserted] 2. [/inserted] [underlined] G.E.L. Ferdinand [/underlined]. (Pilot) after war service, served as Line and Chief [missing word] and Operations Manager, Air Lanka. (Deceased)
[indecipherable words]
[page break]
and then in Air Ceylon as Ground Instructor/Navigator/Link Instructor and later as Director Airports Authority and finally as Suptd. Civil Aviation Training Centre, Ratmalana.
[inserted] 4. [/inserted] [underlined] R.Jansen [/underlined]. (Aircraft Maintenance) after war service, worked in the U.K. as Aircraft maintenance Engineer, and then worked for a few years as an Engineer in Air Lanka. (Deceased)
[inserted] 5. [/inserted] [underlined] D. Kotalawala [/underlined]. (Trainee Pilot, medical release) flew as pilot on DC 3 aircraft in Air Ceylon for a few years and then functioned as Asst. Direct of Civil Aviation. Last known to reside in the U.K.
[inserted] 6. [/inserted] [underlined] D. Bennett [/underlined] (Pilot) after war service flew in command in an Indian airli[missing letters] and later in Air Ceylon on D C 3 and then as Capt. on Air Pacfic. [sic] Resident in Fiji. Address: [censored]
[inserted] 7. [/inserted] [underlined] H. Asserappa [/underlined]. (Pilot) after war service flew in an Indian airline as [missing word] Was residing in Negombo . .
[inserted] 8. [/inserted] [underlined] C.H.S. Amarasekera [/underlined]. (Pilot) after war service flew in an Indian airline, and then as Chief Flying Instructor, Air Academy and then was Director of Civil Aviation, S.L. for a few years. (Deceased)
[inserted] 9. [/inserted] [underlined] K. Werkmeister [/underlined]. (Aircraft Maintenance) after war service, lived in Perth Australia. (Deceased)
[inserted] 10. [/inserted] [underlined] C. Andrews [/underlined]. (Meterology) [sic] after war service worked as [indecipherable words] in S.L. Residing in Australia. Address: [censored]
[inserted] 11. [/inserted] [underlined] Paramanathan [/underlined]. [indecipherable words] shortly after obtaining ‘wings’ died in aircraft [missing letters]ent.
Re your other Queries: I have not heard of Stu Levell.
Re the Jacotine who served in WWI, M.R. de Silva would be able to give so[missing letters] information, also he would inform you of another Jacotine who was in the batch and made it to be a spitfire pilot to be killed in a raid over Ger[missing letters]
M.R. de S. said he would be writing to you after the Christmas rush.
Another 2nd batch spitfire pilot is R. Sielman who resides in the U.K
His Address: [censored]
The 2nd batch also included F/O Brohier who passed out as Navigator
We served together at Katunayake during my last year of service. His Ad[missing letters] [censored] Australia.
I have spoken to Lt. Col. C. Fernando who informs me that Maj. Gen Muttukumaru is alive and resident in Queensland (Australia)
I also met a Mr B. Claasen. who had war service in Singapore, and [missing word] be able to give you much information. His Address: [censored] Australia.
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 concerning third batch of Ceylonese joining the RAF
Description
An account of the resource
Author (probably Roy J de Niese) gives some information on recruitment and training of Ceylonese volunteers for the RAF. Includes his recruitment and initial training in Ceylon, travel to Great Britain, enlistment, elementary flying training and postings. Continues with information on individuals in his batch and further information on other Ceylonese.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Roy J de Niese
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-02
1942-09
1942-11-19
1944-11
1945-02
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Sri Lanka
Sri Lanka--Ratmalana
Great Britain
England--London
England--Surrey
Canada
Ontario
Saskatchewan--North Battleford
England--Yorkshire
England--Harrogate
Fiji
Fiji--Nadi
Australia
Saskatchewan
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. Transport Command
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Text. Personal research
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
Three typewritten sheets
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
S102SqnRAF19170809v10004
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
Paul Ross
aircrew
Asian heritage
C-47
ground personnel
Harvard
navigator
pilot
RAF Kenley
recruitment
Tiger Moth
training