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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1519/30375/BGambleATGambleATv1.2.pdf
2657924e2f12afbc9e2eaea6afe49c54
Dublin Core
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Title
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620 Squadron
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-06-23
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
620 Squadron
Description
An account of the resource
Twenty-three items. The collection concerns 620 Squadron and contains photographic slides or aircraft and places, an autobiography of Alan T Gamble, wireless operator training school documents, a memoir of operations on D-Day by Noel Chaffey and a short biography of him as well as noted of crews lost on 620 Squadron during Arnhem operation.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Darren Sladden and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Transcribed document
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
[underlined] WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE [/underlined]
By
ALAN T. GAMBLE
[line of stars]
[underlined] PART ONE [/underlined]
[underlined] “BY THE SEAT OF HIS PANTS” [/underlined]
[line of stars]
[underlined] PART TWO [/underlined]
[underlined] “NO PROBLEM SPORT” [/underlined]
[line of stars]
[page break]
TO THE MEMORY OF THE AIRCREW
OF
BOMBER COMMAND
WHO WERE KILLED OR MISSING
IN
OPERATIONS OVER EUROPE
1939—1945
[line of O’s]
[page break]
THERE ARE OLD PILOTS AND BOLD PILOTS
BUT
VERY FEW
OLD….BOLD PILOTS
Anon.
[page break]
[underlined] FORWARD [/underlined]
Like most impressionable youngsters I had ambitions; notwithstanding the fact that ambition is one thing and the chance of achieving it is something quite different.
In those early days I was not aware that there were so many factors involved. The only one that seemed obvious to me then was opportunity, or the lack of it, but on reflection it is obvious that both ability and motivation were most certainly lacking.
With the most important ingredients that one needed to guide one's path in life missing. I was stuck in a rut which seemed to be the normal lot of an average child from an average working family, although there may well have been a spark of a Walter Mitty trying to get out.
I had developed an interest in all things mechanical from bicycles to motor bikes then cars and aeroplanes. As far as aeroplanes were concerned I could not get enough of them. I read everything I could lay my hands on. I made models. I went to air shows to be thrilled by Alan Cobhams Flying Circus at Shoreham and to Tangmere for Air Days. On one occasion my hand built bicycle took me as far as Hendon for the Air Pageant and more thrills.
I once watched one of the giant German airships, the Hindenburg, cruise in from the Channel between Worthing and Lancing on it's way to Cardington, never suspecting that in a few years time there would be more lethal visitors following the same path.
Those early days were full of the exploits of aviators. Scott and Black and the original Comet. Amy Johnstone and Jim Mollison. The Schneider Trophy attempts and new records being made all the time by intrepid aviators on transatlantic and round the world flights from places like Hendon and other mysterious outposts of civilisation such as Mildenhall!.
For me to ever come into close contact with aeroplanes looked like remaining a schoolboy dream forever.
My schooling was not spectacular. I reached no academic heights. I could not even qualify for High School. I don't think I ever
[page break]
had a school leaving certificate but if there was one perhaps the kindest comment that could ever have been made on it would have been "goodbye"!.
On leaving school I had taken up an apprenticeship as a cabinet maker/polisher and the years passed by as the world lurched from one crisis to another until the prospect of another war loomed on the horizon.
Eventually the day came when ultimatums were given and promises were broken which resulted in the Prime Minister broadcasting the declaration of war against the German Nazi State over the radio on 3rd September 1939.
I had already made tentative enquiries about joining the RAF which attracted me like a magnet. Perhaps that is when I should have joined but I didn't; and the story that unfolds is the result.
[line of stars]
[page break]
It is difficult to describe one's feelings at the time of a declaration of full scale war in the knowledge that is was likely to be a very messy business.
For myself I could only recall all the stories that my father and my uncles had related of all the horrors that they had experienced or that they knew of and it was only 21 years since the last terrible conflict had ended with all of the human debris and suffering still evident in everyday life.
Even the Sunday walks along the prom. at Worthing were not without their reminders, with the war wounded from a nearby base being taken out in their basket chairs. They were the blinded and the limbless and those with such disfiguring injuries that they had so be covered with netting to avoid upsetting the kids or the sensibilities of some people whose war had only meant a few shortages and would rather that such unfortunates were kept out of sight.
There seemed hardly a family that had not lost a loved one, some having disappeared from the face of the earth with no resting place, and it looked as if we were going to have to go through it all again.
I had a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach as I made my way to the front garden gate with my friends after we had heard the broadcast by the Prime Minister; “....we are at war with Germany .....”. We were very quiet for a while as we contemplated what it was going to mean to us all and were each busy with our own thoughts when the wailing of the air raid siren jolted us back to reality.
As is turned out it was a false alarm but it certainly go things moving. Almost before the siren whined down an Air Raid Warden dashed by on his bike frantically ringing his hand bell and shouting to us to take cover which made very little impression on us except to shout back and tell him what to do with his bell. After that initial jolt the conversation turned to what we were going to do about it as there was little doubt to our minds, at our age, we were bound to be involved and would be likely to join a lot of our other friends who had already joined the services.
[page break]
I had made up my mind that it was going to be the Air Force for me but it was a long time before it was possible to get anything near what I wanted.
Every time I went to the recruiting office I found that their priorities did not coincide with mine and in the end I left it in the lap of the Gods.
Shortly before my 20th birthday I was called up!.
A great deal had already happened. Norway and Denmark had been lost to German domination and most of the continent of Europe was under the NAZI jackboot.
We had suffered serious setbacks all over the world and our resources were stretched to the limit. We had fought the Battle of Britian [sic] and only won it by the skin of our teeth. The threat of invasion of our shores still hung over us, which I and a good many others, as civilians, had been prepared to defend in the uniform of the LDV. (Local Defence Volunteers), later to be renamed 'The Home Guard' or more affectionately known later as 'Dads Army'.
I still wanted to change my kharki [sic] uniform for a blue one so when the time came it was 'in for a penny-in for a pound', I volunteered for aircrew; and much to my surprise, was accepted. There were still hurdles to be overcome like the medical examination and that was a tough one but when it case to deciding the aircrew category that I wanted the selection board and I had a little problem.
With so many young men joining, mostly with ambitions to become a pilot like myself, there was little chance for me with my educational qualifications; or lack of them!
They said No to pilot, No to Navigator, and No to Flight Engineer, which was actually my second choice, but they finally agreed that I might make the grade as a Wireless Operator/Air Gunner. That was good enough for me, especially as there were a lot of other things that I did not want to be!.
That was it, and I still had a chance of getting into the air but it took a long time. Nearly two years; and not without a few ups and downs along the way and a lot of hard work to make up for my mis-spent youth.
[page break]
With a great deal of excitement I followed the instructions that I had been given and found my way to Cardington in February 1941 for 'induction', which seemed to me to be a new word for a monstrous machine that devoured humans but had none of the glamour that I had expected of the place that I had previously known from news reels and books. The home of the airship.
Anyone that went through that routine will recall that as soon as the gates were behind you and you got a number that is all you were.
Most areas were out of bounds and we were confined to camp. No longer was our life our own so I suppose it is not surprising that I only saw the airship sheds close up on one occasion whilst I was there.
I saw more of a highly polished floor under my nose, and of the plumbing of the latrines, and the mess kitchens on fatigue detail and of uniform beds and uniform lockers and contents until I was utterly sick of the sight and smell of boot polish, floor polish, metal polish, stained porcelain and disinfectant and stacks of greasy tins.
It did not take long to learn that everything was best done by numbers if I was going to survive without getting into too much trouble.
There was the one time that I made the mistake of allowing myself some original thought when I forget that airman were not supposed to think and that the order of the day was still "yours is not to reason why, yours is but to do and die". The very backbone of blind discipline, in that terrible place.
One wet day the hut sprung a leak allowing a steady drip of water to splash onto our brightly polished stove in it's immaculately whitened surround next to a highly burnished coal bin which contained a load of rubbish under a carefully placed top layer of dusted and polished coal.
I would go as far as to suggest that the coal was kept just for inspection time and was otherwise locked away, whilst we did our best to burn the rubbish and the dust. With very little success of course.
The net result was that the leak was threatening to destroy all of our hard work just before an inspection by an officer was due.
[page break]
It seemed that the easiest thing to do was just to place a fire bucket on the stove until the last moment but the Sergeant in charge had different ideas when he came in for his final look around.
I was left speechless after a good dressing down for mis-use of fire fighting equipment when the offending bucket had been removed from the hot stove and the guilty person identified.
He roared; as only Sergeants can, "you, can't put out a fire with 'ot water you stupid airman: what are you?". By that time I had also learned in a very short space of time that the safest thing to do was agree with anyone with stripes on his arm, and admit sheepishly,to the accusation.
After that it was just a case of keeping the head down and only doing what I was told to do in that soul destroying place and hope that my turn would come later.
Most of my off duty time; and there was not such of that, was spent resting or sleeping. I was too damn tired to do such else after being on the go for about 14 hours a day.
It was obviously more than some people could take and it was not unusual at night to hear a little weeping going on in the darkness by someone who was finding it particularly hard going. Our civilian clothes and most of our personal posessions [sic] were sent home in a cardboard box at the RAF's expense and then we belonged to the Air Force body and soul. After that it was just a matter of settling down and running around like headless chickens.
We learned all the basic things that were expected of us. Who and who not to salute and how. Great chunks of Air Force Law and the Air Force Act were thrust down our throats, including the riot act; to leave us in no doubt what-so-ever as to the very meaning of the word 'discipline' as applied to the forces of the Crown.
It was definitely "yours is not to reason why" etc,...and after three weeks of agony, having been confined to camp all of that time, we were considered fit to go out in public with our bright new uniforms and partially shaven heads.
[line of stars]
[page break]
Going out in public did not mean that we were free. We went in a large party by train, more or less under escort of several NCO's and were delivered to a unit at Skegness for more 'square bashing'.
After being herded and marched about we eventually finished up being allocated billets in what had previously been holiday boarding houses, but there was a difference. Air Force beds and the three 'biscuit' sections of mattress had taken the place of the more comfortable Slumberlands that pre-war paying guests had enjoyed, and as many as possible had been packed into each room.
We were rounded up every morning and marched about and drilled first without rifles and than with, and drilled some more, and then some more until at times I wondered if my feet still belonged to me. They finished up a mass of blisters on top of blisters until a visit to the MO determined that synthetic soled boots did not agree with me and the inflamation [sic] subsided after changing to leather. How glad I was that I had not gone into the Army. I wondered if they would have been as sympathetic?.
At last we were moulded by our drill instructors into regimented lumps of humanity and with the passing out parade in sight there was considerable competition to be the best flight on parade.
Well; among the instructors anyway.
My efforts made sure that we were not!.
It was still common practice in those days to wear such things as sock suspenders as socks were not made to stay up on their own any more than trousers were, so it was not unusual for me to be wearing them.
Unfortunately one of mine came adrift on the march as we pounded our way towards the saluting base with rifles and fixed bayonets. It was causing a bit of a problem as the chap behind me kept crashing his No.9's down on the trailing bit and although it was a bit of a lurching job as it twanged it's way back I am sure we could have got away with it.
Nevertheless, a young officer on the flank worked his way across and came alongside me as I was in the outside file, and hissed out of the corner of his mouth, "step out of line and fix that quickly", so I did.
I stepped smartly out of line by half a pace and bent down to
[page break]
rip off the offending article but half a pace was not enough. Four others tumbled over the top of me in a tangle of arms legs and rifles.
We managed to recover sufficiently, minus a sock suspender, to get back in line before we marched past the saluting base but it goes without saying that there were some very red faces. I was of course carpeted by the flight commander and threatened with all sorts of punishments and it was the first time that I had been on a charge of any sort. I'm not sure what the charge was though but I was beginning to get the hang of things by that time. I do remember that with tongue in cheek I stated in my defence that I had only done what I had been told to do like a good airman and the fact that it went wrong was hardly my fault……there were a lot more red faces and a great deal of spluttering. The case was dismissed and I was told that I should go a long way in the Air Force. The further the better…..like TIMBUKTOO!.
As far as postings were concerned I kept my fingers crossed for a few days and was agreeably suprised [sic] to find that I was going to Mildenhall in Suffolk, instead of some isolated outpost, to continue the process of turning me into aircrew.
Sometimes I have thought that Mildenhall might have been better off without me!.
[line of stars]
[page break]
At Mildenhall my 'on the job training' started off in 'A flight office of 149 Squadron and there I started, to familiarise myself with the workings of a flying unit and aeroplanes.
I sort of bumbled along quite happily as the work of the unit grew on me.
It was one big thrill to be soaking up the atmosphere of this very famous RAF station that had been the scene of numerous departures of record breaking flights before the war and had at one time even been inspected by representatives of the German Air Force High Command.
Currently it was flying almost nightly operations against targets in Germany and German occupied territory, particularly ports and invasion barge concentrations.
I was moved out to the flights after a certain incident which was the result of been asked for assistance by the flight commander. It seemed that he had mis-laid his safe key and as he was 'ops' that night "could I help by getting his pistol out of the safe”?.
It was yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir. That request was as good as an order from such an exalted person and it certainly never occurred to me to refer the matter to the Flight Sergeant in charge.
Many years later I was to find out the correct procedure to achieve access to a safe when the key had been mislaid, but then; if the officer did not seem to know what to do why should a 'bloggs' with only a few months in the service be any better informed!.
'Sir' was quite happy to find his pistol, all oiled and cleaned, with ammunition, laying on his desk when be returned from briefing and with many other things on his mind he did not have time to ask questions.
It was two days later when the subject came up again as he still could not get into his safe so I was obliged to show him how. All I had to do was pull it away from the wall diclosing [sic] the hole in the back created by a circle of holes done with the aid of a Wolf electric drill. He seemed very upset and reckoned with a bit of luck that he would become a casualty before anyone found out. I must confess that…………………
[page break]
in my ignorance I could not understand his concern.
People and aircraft were being lost and damaged right left and centre but 'slight' damage to a safe seemed to be a much more serious problem.
I am not too sure of it but I do believe, that he was the great P.C.Pickard and that somehow he overcome the case of his damaged safe.
As for me, I was dispatched to the flight line and actually let loose with a tractor and refuellers. I don’t remember anyone asking me if I could drive but as it happened the only thing that I had been behind the wheel of before had been a Bren gun carrier,(in the Home Guard-days), when training with local regular units; but no-one seemed unduly concerned and I was soon charging about happily with petrol and oil refuellers as well as towing aircraft about.
It did not take long for the administration to find out that I did not hold a driving licence for my various sorties onto the public highway when I thought it was about time I tried to qualify for a full service licence. Not only was no-one interested but I found myself restricted to camp boundries [sic] only. No harm in trying anyway!.
In due course I found myself having to undertake a different sort of training.
Everyone was required to do a short local course of field training to ensure that they were proficient in the use of certain basic weapons, and as a relatively new arrival I was detailed to report.
I had handled enough weaponry in the Home Guard to know my way around most of what the RAF could produce and I had been awarded a marksmans proficiency in basic training apart from handling all sorts of non-standard stuff.
We had been issued with Canadian Ross .300 rifles of 1916 vintage that had never seen the light of day since they had been manufactured. They had hastily been taken out of storage as the result of an appeal made by Churchill for assistance after Dunkirk,and had been shipped to us urgently with millions of rounds of ammunition in a special convoy. Along the other items were more hand grenades, some Browning automatic .303 rifles and perhaps the most potent of all; the Boys .5ins anti-tank
[page break]
rifle which looked like a king sized rifle which fired armour piercing shot.
This latter item was looked at very suspiciously by the 1914/1918 veterans who were 90% of our ranks and when it had arrived and been degreased along with everything else there had been a lot of dicussion [sic] as to who was going to do the test firing of the thing. The net result was that they; and that included my father, encouraged me to do it, so off we trooped to the range up in the Downs to try and prove something.
Having given the Brownings a satifactory [sic] work-out the time case for the Big-one!
Despite the fact that it was on a bipod and it's heavily padded butt was pulled tightly into my shoulder, and I was in the classical prone position; when it went off I thought the heavens had fallen in. I was forced back several inches but despite the painful process the shot went where it was intended and everyone was satisfied. I promtly [sic] became No.1. on the gun.
The idea was to have a crew of four but it was questionable whether I would have the rest of the crew with me to spot and load when we were confronted by an enemy vehicle, despite the fact that in those desperate days we were expected to stand and fight to the last.
What we lacked in experience then we made up for by our determination to defend our homeland. The order of the day when things were at their worst was 'take one with you' which spelled out some very nasty goings on both for our unit and any Germans that got further than the units manning the beach defences.
Among the assortment of weapons were the 'Molotov Cocktails';bottles of mixed petrol, oil, and parafin [sic] to back up the lavish use of hand grenades.
Part of our defensive plan was to throw then all out of the upper windows to saturate the road junctions with splinters and flame; so my attitude towards that course was one of mild amusement. And a certain amount of smuggness [sic] .
[page break]
It therefore presented no problem when, at a certain part of the course we were in the weapons pit and the Flight Sergeant was calling us in one at a time and going through the procedure of throwing a hand grenade. After a series of bangs I was next in line, so it was "next one, step forward" etc and it was my turn to turn the corner into the active part of the pit.
I think that the Flight Sergeant had probably had one or two nasty experiences with the highly sensitive and nervous types as he seemed very tense when I arrived on the scene.
We had all done a dry run in practice so the rest was done in time honoured fashion as I was handed the grenade.
It was "by numbers-one, pull the grenade off of the safety pin, holding down the lever" ...."Two, throw the grenade overarm...and get down". The lever would fly off as it was thrown and then it would go off in either four or seven seconds from the time of throwing according to the fuse that had been inserted, and I doubt if many people hung about after the pin was out.
In the Home Guard we had practiced a short count after releasing the lever so that an air burst would result but what we were doing was not quite as sophisticated so I thought I would show off a bit. After pulling the pin and holding down the lever I enquired of the F/Sgt "now?".
He went a strange puce colour and kept shouting "now, now, now" as I continued to hold down the lever in the throwing position. Then he changed his cry to "everyone out" which was followed by a mad scramble as the trench was cleared in record time.
I contemplated putting the pin back in and handing it back to him but figured that was pushing my luck so I lobbed it down range where it went off with a satisfying bang.
I soon found myself facing a very irate 'chiefy' who suprisingly [sic] enough just sent me back to my place of work instead of escorting me to the Guard Room on a charge of some sort. But not without my ears burning.
He hurled several unkind remarks after me as I departed about "clever s...." and expressed the hope that the nest time I tried anything like that I would blow my f…… head off!!. Charming!.
[page break]
I soon found that there were plenty of other explosive articles about the place that one had to be very suspicious of in the absence of adequate instruction.
On my introduction to the innards of a Wellington I was told that the 'magic box' with a loose red cover on it in the navigators compartment had a demolition charge inside it and could make a nasty mess of things if interfered with. The same applied to the red cover over the firing switch on the table.
Other nasty devices were the explosive cable cutters set in the leading edges of the wings. It was good bye fingers if they were accidentally triggered and a short 12 bore type cartridge fired a chisel head into a plate.
A job that I did not particularly care for was towing a fully fuelled and armed Wellington about when repositioning was necessary.
It was a very rare job which I did very gently in case anything fell off despite being assured by many people that it was perfectly safe. After all; it was argued, the pilots had to taxy then around and fly them in that condition.
So they might have done but that did not make me feel any happier about the task.
Too many things just seemed to be taken for granted such as the incident out near 'A' Flight dispersals, no more than 100 yards from the 'Bird in Hand' and less than that from a fuel dump.
I came across an armourer sitting astride one of the new 4000lb. 'cookie' bombs on a bomb trolley. He was carefully chipping away a groove around it's middle with a hammer and a cold chisel as they had a tendency to slip out of the bomb hoist sling when arming up!.
The expression on my face must have been one of absolute horror if it reflected what was in my heart but once again I was assured that it was perfectly safe. Nevertheless, I took off at a high rate of knots to the other side of the airfield until he had finished.
I was to learn later that activities such as that really were quite safe. It was just a question of learning about what made things tick but I always remained a little suspicious ever since the occasion when a Cpl fitter had climbed into a Wellington
[page break]
undercarriage wheel wall to investigate the malfunction of an indicator micro switch. I had been shown such things when the safety locks had been in but on this occasion he had said "perfectly safe"…….but it wasn't. The undercarriage collapsed and he was crushed into a very small space and that, unfortunately was the end of his waiting for a pilots course to come through. It was a very unpleasant and messy business for everyone involved.
I generally tried to steer clear of trouble but it was not easy. I once got a loaded petrol bowser stuck in the sand on the way out to 'B' Flight. The Flight Sergeant was called to sort everything out, and me!.
Everyone stood around making various suggestions and I foolishly put in my pennyworth but got told to "belt up” for my suggestion so I just stood back and watched the fun. But I had a feeling that attaching a tow [underlined] above [/underlined] the tractor axle was not a good idea. There were lots of strong words when the tractor and the F/Sgt finished up on their backs but it eventually came out, I finished refuelling. and the aircraft went on ops. despite my efforts.
I still remained on towing and refuelling, even after I was left to refuel a Wellington on my own but I did not secure the filler caps correctly; mainly because as far as I can recall no-one had ever shown us how they should have been done.
It was a very alarmed pilot who landed immediately after take-off with petrol pouring from his wings, and the aircraft was unserviceable for some time whilst drying out. Even then I only had a dressing down and some belated instruction but perhaps the final effort was when I tried to put 'F' Freddie into dispersal on my own.
I had marshalled it in onto the taxyway opposite the dispersal pan and the Sgt. pilot airily told me to put it away; so I tried, but not very successfully.
Although I was fairly adept at hitching up the tow bar and operating the air brakes from the cockpit and I got nicely lined up going into the dispersal I had overlooked the fact that it was a bit of a down hill gradient and the brakes of a Fordson agricultural were not designed to hold a ten ton aircraft in such circumstances....and neither did it!.
Not only did the brakes not hold but the aircraft pushed the
[page break]
tractor, and me, through the hedge sideways resulting in a bent tractor and bent rear guns as well.
Eventually someone realised that perhaps a lot of responsibility was being placed upon 'Bloggs' from time to time, inexperienced as he was, and however willing he might be. From then on, although I still towed things about the fitters and mechanics, who were after all the responsible tradesmen, did the jobs that they were qualified and paid for....and more importantly, signed the Form.700 accordingly.
There were still some dirty and unpleasant jobs to be done from time to time; such as cleaning out the remains of a rear gunner from a battle damaged Wellington. A very unpleasant memory to carry with me when I subsequently set off for aircrew training. Despite the banishment to the more mundane jobs I did some-how get dragged in as an 'extra' in the film 'Target for Tonight', by being allowed on the mainplane and going through the motions of refuelling.
It was a great dissapointment [sic] when I saw the film after the editors had been at it. I appeared in a two second flash out of what I recall was at least a two minute take.
There is always the possibility that when they saw the proofs and noticed this leering airman on the wing trying to look like Errol Flynn they were obliged to do more drastic cutting rather than re-take it. We will never know as the film was also darkened by filters to give a night effect although it was taken in daylight!
[page break]
Piece by piece the vast programme of aircrew training which involved thousands of people was inexorably sucking me, and others, into it's system as it churned out the crews to man the thousands of aircraft that were pouring off of the production lines. My name came up to the top of the list and I was off on my travels again.
This time it was to Blackpool for the beginning of Wireless Operator training; which turned out to be just another production line although it was not nuts and bolts coming off of the end. Blackpool by that time was a sea of blue. Even Reginald Dixon the well known organist at the Tower Ballroom was in uniform as a Corporal drill instructor and his duties seemed to leave him a lot of time to continue to play the organ.
It was a welcome break to go along to the ballroom to enjoy his recitals. 'Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside' always seemed to be booming out some time of the day, but it was no holiday for us.
The boarding houses had been taken over in the same way as they had been at Skegness and they had crammed even more double bunks in so that there were about ten times the number of "guests" that would have normally have been accommodated in peace time.
It was a new experience to eat in our billets which was a change from the mass catering that I had been getting used to but although the landladies did their best with the ration allowances they did seem to dish up some strange things at times. Nevertheless, my taste buds had already undergone a change and I recall that I was eating a lot of dishes that I would have previously turned up my nose at. It was either that or go hungry!.
Our days were divided between morse training and drill with weekly visits to the swimming pool for our bath. The bath arrangement killed two birds with one stone as all the boarding house bathrooms were either locked up or otherwise out of bounds to us. We used the bedroom washbasins. The alternative to a [underlined] real [/underlined] bath was to partially heat a swimming pool.
The tram-car sheds had been converted for signals training and had been fitted with long tables equipped with headsets and morse keys, and stony faced civilian instructors seated at the
[page break]
end of each table.
Half the day was taken up in this environment getting used to the incessant dit,dit,dit,dah,dah,dah, at increasing speeds until the bell went to give us a break or when someone cracked up under the pressure and had to be carried away screaming or crying. It was not only the WAAFS that were affected that way!. No-one who ever went out that way ever came back but there were other ways of being withdrawn from training. It very nearly happened to me when I got 'stuck' at one speed and it was only after pleading with the chief instructor that I finally made the breakthrough.
Then one reached the stage where there was a progress test undertaken in the most nerve racking place. It was in the upper floor cutting rooms of Burtons, 'The Fifty Shilling Tailors', which had also been requisitioned.
The room was set out in a semi circle of tables facing a raised dais upon which there was one table with an elaborate brass morse sending key and a headset. All of the other tables just had headsets.
As we progressed through the course we were tested at an appropriate speed with no re-test if we could not meet the requirements, until the final test came up.
If anyone failed at that point they were washed out, finished, ceased training, call it what you like; and were sent off somewhere else to be something else.
The tension started to mount when the Warrant Officer who was conducting the test, appeared in his white dust coat and issued a dire warning about cheating. After that he set a metronome going to monitor the speed, and by the time he made his first signals check to ensure that everyone was hearing satisfactorily every nerve in the body was jangling.
By the time the opening dit,dit,dit,dah,dit, had come across some people had already gone to pieces but the remainder squared up their papers, checked that their half a dozen pencils were at the ready in case of breakages, and with one more deep breath just ploughed on hoping to get the test piece down with no more than the permitted number of mistakes.
It was inevitable that a good many people 'went for a Burton' in that place. 'Going for a Burton' was a phrase among aircrew
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when referring to those who for obvious reasons had disappeared from active service. That was the signals side of Blackpool apart from the fact that we even tried to read everything in dots and dashes. The paper, the hoardings, even our letters from home. The locals must have thought we were all daft but as in most skills it was a case of practice making things perfect or at least proficient, but I recall that we used to get some strange looks.
A lot of our time was spent in Stanley Park, the Tower Ballroom, and the public baths where we had our weekly bath; (unless one was rich enough to bribe a landlady). and that weekly bath in our case was combined with dinghy drill.
It is indellibly [sic] imprinted on my mind.
Stanley Park was bad enough with incessant marching up and down doing rifle and bayonet drill with a crazy old F/Sgt who worked us up to a pitch where we could have quite cheerfully put one through him. I'm sure old Freddie Fox knew that too.
The baths were something quite different.
Few people had swimwear and in fact it was considered 'cissy' to wear it anyway so several hundred blokes in their birthday suit's were quite a sight and there was a great deal of speculation as to the sight when they were replaced by WAAFS in the same state of undress. The mind boggled!.
To my knowledge no-one ever found out although there were a few bets taken. but security was very strict and WAAF Police replaced RAF Police when the switch was made and a roll call confirmed before the actual change over was made.
Despite the fact that I had been brought up by the seaside I was not a good swimmer, probably due to the fact that I had been pushed in at the deep end at an early learning stage. Being a slow learner I had swallowed a lot of water before being dragged out and pumped dry. It is hardly surprising that thereafter I was not attracted to deep water. Especially the cold variety.
Nevertheless, I did manage to swim the required width across the deep end to qualify as proficient but it was only the preliminary to the so called 'dinghy drill'.
I always seemed to go straight into a state of shock when it came to donning an icy cold, wet and heavy Sidcot
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flying suit, plus parachute harness and 'Mae West' life jacket which was inflated by the mouth after being thrown in. In practice the inflation was done by operating a pressure cylinder toggle but we had to do it the hard way.
There was an awful lot of floundering around after entering the water without swallowing too much especially with all the weight one was carrying, and suffering from the others making waves and generally simulating heavy seas before getting into the dinghy. It made things very difficult and I did not even enjoy doing the aggravation bit to others either.
There were times I could have cheerfully packed it in and remustered to a less demanding ground job but somehow I stuck it out.
[line of stars]
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The day finally dawned when the agony was over and with others I was off to Yatesbury in Wiltshire to learn all about procedures and equipment.
At last I was doing something tangible and I sailed through the course to be awarded the 'sparks' badge at the end plus a few more pennies in my pocket.
I certainly needed the latter as at Mildenhall I had for some reason been overpaid to the extent of being some £5 in the red at one time so deductions had been savagely made until the debt had been paid off. I could have settled it in cash at the time but I was told that the accounts section did not have a procedure for it so for a long time I had only been receiving 5/- five shillings, (25p) every two weeks and in a place like Blackpool my cash balance did not last long. It was no fun at all.
I was very glad when it had been finally settled and I no longer had to rely on the kindness of others for the odd cigarette, cups of tea and buns as well as the odd postal order from home. I'm sure a lot of others were pleased about it too.
I did manage to make up for the lack of certain 'home comforts', namely food, on one occasion though.
On a physical training run at Yatesbury one afternoon I decided that I had had enough and dodged the column by peeling off between some huts followed by a shout from a Cpl. who had seen me go. With that I put on a spurt with the intention of rejoining the party further down the route but did not reckon on the ability of the PTI.(Physical Training Instructor). He caught up with me first and that was me on a charge.
Later, when asked by the officer why I had not stopped when told to do so I simply told the truth and said that I thought that I could run faster than the PTI and that I had hoped to beat him back to the group. My award for failing to do so was three days C.C. (confined to camp), full marching kit parades twice a day at the guard room and kitchen fatigues to go with it. I didn't mind one bit!. I had nowhere to go anyway and I finished up being one of the few people in that place who was getting [underlined] four [/underlined] meals a day for a while.
It was worth peeling buckets of spuds and cleaning a mountain of dirty dishes and pans. The cooks were sympathetic and served up generous helpings as they would for themselves. I do not
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ever recall seeing a skinny cook!.
Someone had got hold of the idea that if you were particularly good at morse beyond the basic standard required then there would be a chance of being earmarked for Coastal Command so with others I put in the extra effort and time and achieved the extra speed almost up to Navy Telegraphist standard.
In principal it seemed a good idea when Bomber Command losses were reaching somewhat frightening proportions but it did not do me or anyone else any good at all as far as I can recall.
As soon as the course was over we were dispersed all over the place; mainly in Bomber Command, to consolidate the training doing all the things that Wireless Operators did and still wondering if it was all worth while.
I went to Marham in Norfolk.
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Photo
YATESBURY 1941
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I covered a lot of ground whilst I was at Marham but I still had to get airborne and there was a long way to go.
I suppose that being aircrew under training had a lot to do with the fact that I was given a wide experience of different jobs in a very short space of time. That is what I thought at the time anyway!.
I started out on the flight line doing daily inspections and ground tests on Wellington and Stirling radio equipments and was later transferred to what was then called Flying Control; as the R/T (Radio Telephone) operator.
Theoretically my job was to relay the controllers instructions to aircraft but everything seemed so incredibly slap-happy during daylight hours that I often found myself doing the actual control whilst the controller kept an ear open in the background.
I found myself particularly attracted to the two Thompson machine guns that were kept in boxes in the control tower. So much so that I was permitted to clean and polish then regularly; provided that I did not put the magazines on!. One particular controller seemed pleased to have someone around that was familiar with then as he certainly was not. My Hone Guard experience again. We only had one in the platoon but everyone knew how to use it!.
On one occasion during a quiet lunchtime with no movements notified I was on my own in the control tower when a Stirling arrived in the circuit and the pilot asked for landing instructions, but the pilot would not circle whilst I got in touch with the controller so I finally gave landing permission. Having given taxying and parking instructions I dashed out of the tower to marshall [sic] it in next to the tower. I was amazed to find that the pilot was a very small lady of the ATA. (Air Transport Auxillary [sic] ) and her only crew was a flight engineer.
I did not have such choice after that but to sign for the aircraft and then had another surprise when an Anson landed and taxied in without any warning at all. The pilot was non other than Jim Mollison who was doing the taxi driving to take the Stirling crew out.
The controller who had seen the activity from the Mess soon came dashing along after he had seen the aircraft in the.......
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circuit and were very surprised to find a brand new Stirling neatly parked but I got a hell of a rollicking for my efforts.
Things got tightened up eventually when another aircraft arrived that no-one seemed to know about. As R/T operator I also performed the duties of 'airmen of the watch' and although I had registered the notification signal in the log and written the details on the movements board it would appear that the controller had not placed a great deal of importance on the movement. As a result he was unaware of the visit of a VIP, (Very Important Person). None other than the Under secretary of State for Air!. Phew!, that caused a stir when he did realise what the score was. The Station Commander was not too pleased either!.
I suppose someone's head had to roll and it was possibly mine as I started a series of detachments to widen my scope of knowledge; unless it was to keep me out of the way!.
I did the rounds of Honington and East Wretham and numerous jobs and being of an inquisitive nature soon found out how things ticked.
At one time I was surprised to find that elements of the Czeck [sic] . Air Force were making a great deal of fuss over what they considered to be their low pay (they were paid RAF rates, Sgt's about £4.50 a week) then the unit moved and things went quiet.
Although I was expecting to be recalled to Marham it was still a shock when it happened. Even more so when I was required to draw flying clothing and prepare to go back to Yatesbury for the air training course. After that everything happened so fast that I wondered what had hit me. It was already mid 1942 and as our activities increased so were our aircraft losses increasing. It was with some apprehension that I embarked on this part of my training. My feelings were not improved when on the morning of departure; waiting for transport at the Guard Room. I was detailed off by the SWO (Station Warrant Officer), to help collect a coffin from the morgue and load it on the transport where it was draped with the Union flag.
I don't know if the SWO had remembered me from another incident which surely should have stuck in his mind, but whether he did or not I have reason to remember it as I was taught another lesson.
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It so happened that I snored; even in those days, which was not a good thing in amongst a crowd of people. In the barracks where we were jammed in with hardly room to move between the beds it was a considerable source of annoyance to my neighbours; if not the whole room although I was not the only one with the problem. It was just worse when I had put a few pints under the belt.
It was not unusual to wake up in the morning to find myself surrounded by a selection of footwear that had been hurled in my direction during the night. Whether any found it's target I would not know. I was usually too far gone.
There was one night that the others in the room could no longer put up with it even when well aimed No. 9's did not do the job and suffice to say that when the SWO marched onto the parade ground is the morning for the colour hoisting parade there I was, still fast asleep in my bed at the foot of the flag pole.
It was a hell of a situation as I struggled back to the billet with my bed and bedding with the SWO hurling dire threats after me. Good job I wore singlet and PT shorts in bed!.
However. it had not resulted in direct punishment. I was still on the mat of course but in my defence I stated that as I had known absolutely nothing about it by virtue of being asleep throughout the whole episode I could not be held responsible.
You can't tell SWO's things like that and get away with it even if the case was dismissed. It was not surprising that after the incident I found myself on guard duty every other night for two weeks, and that included the evening parade as well as the morning colour hoisting parade that the duty people did. It was very uncomfortable being under the eagle eye of the SWO all the time so my turnout and drill had to be impeccable to avoid further punishment. Somehow I got away with it. When detailed off for the loading up I was foolish enough to ask what had happened to the poor chap in the box; only to be told by the man, with a glint in his eye, that it was a Sgt. Air Gunner who had 'copped a packet' a few night [sic] previously. After that I was only too glad to see the coffin subsequently placed in the guards van and draped with the union flag in the care.....
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of the escorts whilst I took off to another part of the train and tried to forget about it.
Back at Yatesbury there were some familiar faces among the entry and we were in a different part of the camp; more or less segregated from the 'sprog' wireless operators, but otherwise there was little difference.
It was not long before many of us were sporting Leading Aircraftsman 'props', and a few more pennies came in useful as well. There was no such thing as a flying pay supplement in those days.
As usual the day was split between job training and other activities, and I was looking forward to the air experience part of it. At last I was going to get airborne and I was all set to enjoy it. It was the beginning of many occasions when I was to feel somewhat disillusioned about taking to the air.
Our initial flying was done in the De.Haviland Dominie as the RAF called them. Many were in fact ex. civilian Rapide's that had been requisitioned and as a result had had a name change and were flown by a mixture of civilian and service pilots.
They were fitted out with several radio positions at which we carried out exercises under the supervision of a Cpl. Instructor with a similar set-up on the ground where we also worked in rotation.
There was of course no toilet compartment, and not even the paper bag that is standard in today's aircraft. There was just an open square biscuit tin of the type that the ancient 'hard tack' biscuit came in, (circa 1917), and there were plenty of those.
That type of biscuit was being substituted for bread several times a week in most units as a great deal of our flour was being sent to the bottom of the Atlantic by the U.Boats, and the civilian population had preference when what limited flour supplies were being distributed. Hence the endless supply of tins. We were obliged to use them instead of paper bags but it was all very crude. It was loose on the floor for anyone to use as necessary. Ugh!!!.
It was a most nauseating experience as most of us were getting airborne for the first time so we were a bit queasy, and more!. It was all part of the elimination process. Anyone who spent
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more time at the 'throw-up' tin was threatened with withdrawal from training and remustered to ground wireless operator.
It was very difficult to force one's self to overcome the discomfort sufficiently to get back to work but the process was motivated by the fact that the rule was that the last one to use the tin was the one that had to dispose of it after landing. Yuk!. I made sure that it was not me.
I was not sorry to progress from that stage to the single engined Proctor for solo exercises. Then I only had myself to worry about…….and the pilot!.
By that time I was getting increasingly aware of the varying abilities of pilots. Not that I had had any alarming experiences, but the seat of my pants was always a very sensitive indicator of how a machine was handled.
It is difficult to explain but I had always had the same sensitivity either in a car or on the back of a motor-bike and that feeling was beginning to develops in respect of pilots. I had come to the conclusion that there were pilots and 'drivers airframe' to use a stores nomenclature description of an item, and it was always to be the same. I knew whether I was comfortable or not.
THEN I MET A PILOT WITH A REPUTATION…………..!!!!!!!!!!!!
[line of stars]
Photo
YATESBURY 1942
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On completion of the course the next move was to an Advanced Flying Unit at Penrhos, North Wales, on the Lleyn peninsular.
I fell in love with that area right from the start and still have a soft spot for it. The years have changed it very little. It was only a small airfield operating Ansons in which Wireless Operators and Navigators carried out more advanced exercises which covered a lot more countryside and took us almost up to the level where oxygen was needed. Just one more thing to contend with.
The pilots were all service types doing a stint as taxy driver to get more hours and experience as they progressed in their training but I had hardly settled in when I picked up a 'buzz' that was going around concerning a certain pilot who apparently was putting the wind up a lot of people.
He had gained a reputation for doing some crazy things and until quite recently had made a habit of flying under the Menai bridge which is the magnificent old bridge built by Thomas Telford across the straits between the mainland and Anglesey.
The practice had just been strictly forbidden under threat of the most severe punishment because someone else had tried it but had killed himself and a few others in the process.
Most people seemed to be keeping their fingers crossed hoping that they could avoid flying with him so I faced the future with some apprehension when I found myself on a flight detail with him as pilot.
My first impression of Sergeant. Francis, Cadell, Macdonald was that he did not look the sort that could put the wind up anyone. I had expected a 'jolly hockey stick' type such as the Pilot Officer Prune, (the accident prone cartoon twit), who featured in an Air Force Magazine, but as he did not fit that category I was forced to the conclusion that he must be downright ham-fisted.
It was a surprise to find that he was a little older than the average pilot, certainly on the wrong side of thirty, and it was many, many years before I was to find out exactly how old he was.
First impressions were of a strangely rugged character with rusty fuze wire type of hair with a heavy drooping moustache to match who seemed strangely out of proportion.
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It took a second look to find the real reason for that impression. His torso was that of a six footer, with well developed chest, arms like the branches of a tree but he had short stocky legs giving him an overall height of no more than 5ft 7ins.
In standard battledress which was designed to be purely functional he looked as if he was suffering from a severe case of 'ducks disease'.
We climbed aboard the aircraft after a briefing that was brief and to the point. "If we get into trouble I will tell you what to do, whether you jump or not, and you only jump when I tell you to. Got that?”. Then he started up, taxied out and took off and although I had my eyes shut during the first part of the routine I opened when there were no unusual sensations and wondered what all the fuss had been about. My sensitive parts had given out no alert signals and it all seemed pretty normal to me.
As the exercise progressed I virtually forgot that I was in an aeroplane despite what he was doing with the machine although it was impossible not to notice that he seemed to be trying to turn it inside out in the gentlest possible way.
The main issue was that I did feel any discomfort at all although a few hill sheep might have done so as we steamed up one side of Snowdon and down the other and we seemed to balanced on one wingtip as we went around the Great Orme on Anglesey with Puffins and other sea birds getting somewhat agitated by the disturbance. My insides took no longer to settle down after that flight than they normally did so I decided that I could cope with that sort of treatment at any time and it certainly made life interesting. My companions still had different ideas though as the stories of his various escapades became more and more exagerated [sic].
Before I left Penrhos I learned a little more about him whilst he was still scaring the daylights out of others.
He was reputed to have previously been Chief Engineer to Gar Wood the racing driver of pre-war years and although I have never found the need to verify the story I have never had reason
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to doubt it either.
As far as I was concerned he certainly knew what he was doing and that was good enough for me.
The operator training became more and more demanding as time went on and I had reached a point where there was a great deal of satisfaction in being able to transmit and receive messages in morse, juggle with frequencies and identify my control station through a cacophany [sic] of background noise. It was gratifying to be able to code and encode messages efficiently but as usual it was not all work and no play. I think we would have gone daft under the pressure if it had been. The pattern was the same as before with the days split between training and exercising.
There were invariably some high jinks in Pwllheli where the Royal Navy had taken over the nearby Butlins as a training establishment and in the traditional Navy way had named it HMS something or other.
There were all sorts of derisive remarks about Nary terminoligy [sic] as they called the bus the 'liberty boat' and they had to salute the 'quarter deck' on leaving and boarding their 'ship'. We called it the main gate!.
Of course we countered with suitable remarks about our 'wizard prangs', 'bombs away' and 'chocks away', but some they resented their 'ship' being called HMS Bullshit, all of which resulted in some good nattered rowdy exchanges in the local pubs.
There was a lot of ale sloshed around. and a great many fried eggs consumed in the basement kitchen of a sea front hotel after chuckout time at 6d, (2 1/2 new pence) each.
The 'end of course' party was a great success and I recall putting in a great deal of effort into assisting one member of the course with some conjuring tricks. He was a member of the Magic Circle and why he picked me I haven't the slightest idea. Little did he know what that did for my confidence which was being somewhat undermined by the realisation that I seemed to be accident prone. As it happened, the, programme went without a hitch and that little exercise did me a great deal of good.
I only vaguely remember the return to camp after that party. It was somewhat hilarious as we came back via the beach where several of us had to be rescued from the sand dunes where we
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had capsised [sic] and ploughed up a lot of sand.
I finally collected my flying log book that recorded the entry of the flight with one Sgt.F.C.Macdonald and normally it would have been just one more entry without much significance as I continued on my travels once more.
[underlined] Fate decreed that we would meet up again!!. [/underlined]
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Photo
PENRHOS 1942
Page 30 And there’s more!
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I continued the process of going up and down the countryside like a yo-yo which was quite an experience for someone like me who had never ventured very far from the home town before the war and I was certainly getting to know my way around.
My next journey was to a gunnery school on Walney Island just off Barrow-in-Furness, flying old hacks such as Blackburn Botha's and Bolton Paul Defiants which seemed to be a very chancy business.
Most of the time the direction of take-off was straight towards a hill and if that was not bad enough the Botha was a death trap on one engine. If there was an engine failure it could not maintain height on one and the emergency exit was straight into the propellor. Turning or not it was dicey.
The Defiant was not so bad although it had a nasty habit of flopping onto it's side in the air if the gunner failed to inform the pilot that he was rotating and firing on the beam. The pilot needed that information so that he could counteract his controls and it was not all that easy to get out of either if in trouble. I have the greatest admiration for the chaps that went into battle in those things.
Somehow I struggled through that period in the depths of winter and at one stage I was very close to being put back in training when I went down with a severe cold and only just avoided going sick, especially as we had strict orders about flying whilst suffering from a cold which resulted in bunged up nose and ears. I felt so bad one evening that I doped myself with whisky and asprin and retired to bed early after a hot shower even though it meant going to and from the ablutions through several inches of snow.
By the time the others came back to the hut later in the evening my condition had them so worried that they woke me up.
There was a considerable cloud of steam rising from me but once they were assured that I was not on fire the threw more blankets on me to continue sweating it out.
Despite the fact that I was a bit wobbly in the morning I still managed to fly my last detail and in fact even get a good score but the rest of the time there is a blurr [sic] .
I have vague recollections of Northen [sic] ale which appeared to be a lot stronger than average and of an hilarious evening at
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a vaudeville in Borrow where most of the course occupied the front row of the stalls, booing and cheering the acts as seemed appropriate.
There were often rowdy exchanges with the conciencious [sic] objectors who were formed into non-combatant pioneer units to man things like smoke generators to mask the docks from air raids, and some energetic clashes with strong minded and well muscled WAAFS who manned a lot of the searchlights and barrage balloons. All good clean fun!.
Eventually, in the end came the passing out parade and the award of the cherished Air Gunners brevet with promotion to Sergeant, and although that was only the outward sign of qualified aircrew it did at least take the place of what had by that time a very grubby white cap flash.
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There was still a lot of training to do, and more travelling as well.
The travelling was not so easy by that time as most of us had gathered more flying kit so everywhere we went it meant struggling with two kit bags.
The next port of call was a Wellington Operational Training Unit at Turweston, which was a satelight [sic] unit of No.12 OUT Chipping Warden, both near Banbury. Oxford. 'A' and 'B' Flights were at Chipping Warden and 'C' and 'D' Flights were at Turweston.
It was there that crews were put together more or less by mutual agreement.
In the first 24 hours everyone just browsed around gathering more paperwork, dealing with arrival procedures and generally making one's self known.
I had hardly settled in when the 'jungle telegraph' was sending out the news that a certain Scotsmen had also turned up. The notorious F.C. Macdonald!.
There were frantic efforts being made by people to find themselves another pilot of their choice. Anyone but him!.
I was not fussy, or for that matter as quick off the mark as some. I had met a Navigator who had also been at Penrhos and had not yet found himself a pilot and although he could not remember Macdonald he found him and introduced himself.
By the next day Macdonald had made up his mind and the crew lists went up on the notice board.
I was looking them over when he came up with a group and announced rather ungraciously, “so we have got you have we?".
A remark that was not designed to inspire confidence although I must confess that I felt a lot happier with someone of known qualities so I was not unduly concerned.
That was the way that the crew came together. I don't think any of us were very special.
Macdonalds background was still vague and was always remain so although I gathered that he was married but separated.
Peter Hobbs, the navigator, was an ex Cpl. accounts clerk who
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had been in the Voluntary Reserve. Both he and Macdonald were a little older than the average and were newly commissioned Pilot Officers.
We actually started with a commissioned Observer/Bomb Aimer but he did not last long.
It transpired that he had already flunked a pilots course, and a navigators coarse so they made him a Bomb/Aimer before they found out that he was too tall for the front turret so off he went to retrain once more.
He might well have been doing courses later on in the war to qualify for some-thing although it is just as likely that he may well have distinguished himself somehow.
He had certainly been been [sic] determined to be aircrew anyway but I must admit that his case was the result of a policy that I was never able to come to terms with.
To commission someone first and then go to considerable lengths to see if he was any good at anything was odd to say the least. However, that is another story!.
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In the place of 'mastermind' we got 'Hoppy’ Hill, so named because he bounced and rolled on the balls of his feet when he walked around invariably with a novel of some sort tucked under his arm. I never did find out what he had been doing before he joined the RAF.
Then we had another Mac. McIlroy, a Canadian Rear Gunner who had been at Walney Island at the same time as myself although I could not recall him. He had been with the Canadian Pacific Railway in some capacity although in his own words he had spent most of his time doing trying to do nothing.
Then there was me. A cabinet maker/polisher who had finished up doing almost anything to remain employed; and I mean anything. My last civilian employment had bees as a milk roundsman!.
Nevertheless, whatever we had been doing we were all in the same boat (or aeroplane) and we all had one thing to common. That was to get on with it and hope to come out of it is one piece.
We were a fairly wild bunch in our off duty periods but I would not think that we were any worse than any other crew.
It was from that point onward that living, working and playing as a crew started. It was for me anyway. Almost to the exclusion of everything else.
Suddenly it seemed that my youthful ambitions had been fullfilled [sic] although it was a pity it had come about under such circumstances.
The most important thing was that we got on well together and we concentrated on getting moulded into a crew which involved an airborne discipline that few people could understand considering our peculiar life style.
Although our crew seemed to be the ideal balance of officers and NCO's with commissioned Pilot and Navigator some crews had formed up with some very odd mixtures with Sgt. pilots and commissioned gunners but which ever way they were mixed the pilot was always the captain is the air.
This arrangement was incomprehensible to some Army and Navy types and even the USAAF. It did not seem compatable [sic] with the normal chain of command yet it worked satisfactorily within the RAF.
Mac, as he was always to be knows, still looked as lumpy in
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his new uniform as he did when we had first met despite a change of rank insignia and a fancy cap but there were more important things to concern ourselves with than how people looked.
We had far more serious things on our minds.
Flying had become a very serious business and if we were going to be together for any length of time we would be relying on each other a great deal for survival and it was to that end that Mac went about his part of the programme as if he had been born with wings.
As far as I was concerned he was an absolute natural and on more than one occasion I was asked by wireless operators in other crews how I got on with him.
I think some of then may well have been regretting their choice of pilot and were looking for a way out but I usually pointed out that I was in no way considering a change. Particularly as no-one saw us overshooting from missed approaches to the runway or had seen us swinging about all over the place on landing or take-off as I had often seen others doing, so what more could I ask?.
On more then one occasion I was told that I would be sorry, (as if I had made the choice): But I never was....Not once!.
I got the distinct impression that for some reason Mac was not very impressed with wireless operators, although from his occasional remark he seemed more interested in having a spare gunner aboard, and I was beginning to feel very spare until one night I had the opportunity to exercise some of my training. We were flying is the local area of Chipping Warden one night when the voltage regulator down by my left foot went haywire and burst into flames.
The voltage shot up and batteries started to cook immediately so I had to work very fast to tell Mac what I was going to do before switching the Ground/Flight switch to ground which cut us off of the engine driven generators, then go rapidly through the fire drill whilst Mac called control for an emergency landing on what little internal battery power we had left.
He did happen to mention afterwards that perhaps a wireless op. might have some use in a crew after all. Only perhaps!.
As time went on we did get to know him a little better although he was one of those chaps you could never get really close to.
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He was not actually unsociable but uncommunicative. More often then not when asked a question on a subject which was not directly related to what we were currently doing his answer would be a knowing wink, a tap on the side of his nose with his forfinger [sic] which could be taken to mean anything; like, "I don't know", or, " leave it to me” or," mind your own bloody business!".
No doubt some people would call it the attitude of a dour, canny Scot but I did get a satisfactory answer on one occasion when I asked him about flying under the Menie [sic] Bridge. His words for once were encouraging.
"Only a bloody fool would attempt that without the wind on the nose, at low tide and through the widest span'", and then I knew that he was not as crazy as some people would like to think.
That in my book added up to a calculated risk, and there were some more to come.
As we ploughed on through the course a great deal of time was spent in the 'Harwell Box' which was a compartmented type of simulator in which we practiced all of the airborne procedures for a bombing sortie, [underlined] only at twice normal speed!. [/underlined]
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All the clock faces had been altered to achieve the time factor and we had to work frantically to keep up with all of the information that was being fed to us from umpteen different sources: It certainly kept us on the ball, particularly the navigator.
That was not the only simulation. For the first time our operating heights were soon to be up in the rarified [sic] air above 10,000ft for lengthy periods. Above that height the use of oxygen was essential and mandatory, and just to wake sure that no-one treated the matter lightly we were introduced to the decompression chamber.
Eight at a time with a medical orderly, we entered the tank which was fitted with inter-comm and after it was sealed the pumps started to reduce the pressure as one would experience in flight.
When 10,000ft was reached on the internal altimeter we fitted our oxygen masks and then the pressure was progressivly [sic] reduced until the altimeter read first 15,000ft, then 20,000 and finally 25,000ft by which time various parts of our internal plumbing were beginning to respond to the pressure change.
We had been provided with note pads and pencils and were than told to start writing our names on the pads as the oxygen supply was turned off.
I was no different from the others when the voice on the inter comm said that the oxygen was back on and we were called by our names and asked to describe any sensations that we had experienced and the answer was unanimous. Nothing!. But the shock came when we were told to look at our pads.
Our signatures had tailed off into an unintellible [sic] scribble and then re-appeared at the bottom of the page.
The realisation hit us all. Although most of us had experienced some light headedness as the pressure lowered we had not been aware that that was the warning that could lead to oblivion and possible death. It was frightening to think that the process was so insidious that it was possible to be unaware of it.
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After that little demonstration no-one needed any further warning on how to recognise the early effects of the lack of oxygen and I was later to find that my tolerance was quite low and I usually needed oxygen at 8,000ft, and that if I needed to move about I had to be fairly quick when going from a main point to a portable bottle especially later on when I was often sitting next to a damned great hole at the back end of the aircraft where there was no main outlet.
The training got more and more realistic both in the air and on the ground. We had got used to the parachute harness and packs by that time and the short briefing on it's use such as "after you have jumped, count ten and pull that", but suddenly it got serious now that we were going to have to face all sorts of unknown difficulties whilst we were defying the laws of gravity.
We started more intensive training off a rig. First without 'chutes just jumping off of a 12ft platform onto coco mats and then right up in the eaves of a hanger with harness and weighted cable system.
The landings were the same spine jarring thump either way as we made contact with the ground with feet together, knees slightly bent, slight angle to the direction of landing to roll over shoulder and hip on contact.
That was the classical way of doing it if you had the opportunity!. A very good friend was not so lucky when his turn came. He had already received a smashed arm when the aircraft was hit but although some of the crew put his 'chute on and threw him out he lost consciousness on the way down and busted a leg is several places on landing. But he fared better than the others. They all went down with the aeroplane!
Perhaps I was fortunate in my approach to the training and found no great difficulty but others were not so lucky and were required to do it again and again until they had improved their technique but not without a few sprains and bruises as one ploughed on through the course.
We finally completed it with a better than average crew assessment and then we were all on our travels again, but for the first time as a crew.
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Our next destination was to a Stirling Conversion Unit at Stradishall, near Bury St Edmunds. Back in-Bomber country again!. We had known that we were destined for "heavies' long before we left OTU. In fact, I had known before I left gunnery school as I had only done the short course for wireless operators and bomb-aimers, and my log book had been annotated accordingly.
Nevertheless, I had hoped that I would finish up on Lancasters or Halifax's as I already knew enough about Stirlings to be very wary of them.
When I had marshalled in a new one on delivery to Mareham [sic] I had been amazed that the pilot of the monster had been a very small lady of the ATA.
The Stirling was impressive. Although it looked very big it’s dimensions were not much more than the other 'heavies'. It was just that it looked so incredibly bulky.
It stood high on an undercarriage that looked more like some scaffolding around a building, placing the pilot's eye some 22 1/2 ft above the ground which was very high for those days and did not make the assessment of the distance between the wheels and the runway any easier whom landing the thing.
I was also well aware that they had been causing all sorts of problems when the Marham Squadrons were converting to them resulting in all sorts of hair raising incidents and bent aeroplanes.
At least I was familiar with it, and the radio compartment but the fact that I was going to finish up as a crew member on one was a thought that I had not entertained.
Soon after arrival the crew was made up to seven by the addition of a Flight Engineer and a Mid-Upper Gunner.
'Paddy', the flight engineer was of course from the emerald isle and was no stranger to the Stirling having been a ground engineer on them at Waterbeach until he had remustered. He was several weeks into his conversion training and it was a long time afterwards that I learned that he had never flown before he got airborne with us. He must have wondered what he had let himself in for.
Certainly he had a nasty shock when instead of finding his pilot to be another fresh faced youngster he got this 'gnarled old man' as someone described his.
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It was suggested that his main task would be to help the poor old bloke in and out of the driving seat!.
It did not take him long to find out that Mac was something different.
The mid-upper was at the other end of the age scale. Ralph was a fresh faced youngster who had just about changed his Air Cadets uniform for RAF uniform although of course he had done the gunners course since joining and had been at Stradishall for a few weeks on a familaristion [sic] course. But he had not long been out of school.
The crew was now complete. although for a while there was a little doubt about us staying together as Mac found out that he was not exactly built for the Stirling; or visa versa.
The lady ATA pilot had been small but she had seemed to cope but I suppose it was a matter of proportion, and Mac's proportions were somewhat different.
With the controls and the seat adjusted to their limits he still needed some special padding made up to improve things. and the seat of his pants took a terrific beating as he wrestled, wriggled and sqirmed [sic] to handle the thing.
The take-off and landing characteristics of the machine did not help such either. An uncontrollable swing to starboard could develop very easily and the tall undercarriage would be incapable of standing the strain and 'crunch', another one would bite the dust adding to the numbers that ended up damaged by that sort of accident which was already in excess of the numbers lost by enemy action.
It usually depended on how fast you were going at the time whether you walked away or were carried away from the wreckage. Not a pleasant prospect!.
In theory the idea was that the engines were opened up on a staggered basis having due regard to any cross wind. until a speed was reached when the rudder would give effective control, then all engines could be taken to full power.
The snag was that with a full load there was never a lot of runway to spare so it was usually a choice of two evils. You either took a chance of running out of runway if you did not get the power on soon enough or you slammed it on at the beginning of the take off run and took your chance with a
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swinger'.
Mac seemed to have it down to a fine art.
Whatever the length of the runway. Whatever the load, the strength and direction of the wind. Whether the runway was uphill, downhill, or both, with bump or a hollow in the middle, his computer brain had it worked out. Whatever the circumstances and however tired he was we always seemed to make a perfect take-off and landing. So far I had not experienced a bad one with his at the controls.
Nevertheless, he was wearing out his pants at an alarming rate in the process.
So much so that the instructors were having serious doubts as to whether Mac and the Stirling were quite right for each other.
Then something happened that removed all the doubts.
On the night of 13th June 1943 we were doing night circuits and bumps in preparation for his first night solo.
After several circuits the check pilot gave Mac the thumbs up after another satisfactory landing and vacated the aircraft the aircraft in the vicinity of the control tower before we taxied around again for the next take-off.
After the usual pause for the routine cockpit check we entered the runway and were soon thundering along gathering speed; when it happened.
At the most critical point, almost half way down the runway, with about 90mph. on the clock, the port outer seized with a crunch that could be felt throughout the aircraft despite all the other sensations, and 30 tons of Stirling started to swing to port.
It was a wonder that the prop did not sheer off which would have been normal but the reflex action that went on in the cockpit was fast and furious. It had to be to prevent us from becoming another statistic.
Paddy closed down the dead engine by stabbing buttons and switches that cut the ignition to the engine, cut off the fuel, operated the bulkhead fire extinguishers and 'feathered' the propellor as Mac called for maximum power on the inboard engines as obviously his hands were very busy with the controls.
As Paddy took over the throttles and the propeller pitch controls the power came on with a bellow as he shoved the inboard
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We were just at the 'unstick' point and almost at take-off speed as the swing to port became more pronounced with Mac struggling desperately.
At least we were almost airborne which was better than being splattered all over the airfield and his efforts were being rewarded as we then started to go slowly into a starboard turn with only just enough speed on to keep us flying.
Standard procedures dictated that we had to go into a right hand circuit as it was invariably neccessary [sic] to turn away from the dead engine. There was so little margin of control if you went the other way that a nasty mess was the likely result.
Still close to the ground with wheels and flaps still down Mac was straining every muscle to maintain control but slowly and surely we increased our speed still swinging to starboard.
From my position in the astro dome I could see the hangars and the control tower dead ahead!.
If that wasn't out of the frying pan and into the fire!.
It looked as if it was going to be decidedly messy and certainly it was going to do me no good at all if I dived for my crash position…...and then we started to climb and bank as the speed had built up sufficiently.
With wings almost vertical we went between No's. 1 and 2 hangers, taking a telephone line with us. I had a very unusual view of the water tower as we went around it straight into a very low level emergency right hand circuit for a landing that was just like all the others. As smooth as silk. Even under those circumstances.
It was shortly after we had landed that I became aware of the fact that I seemed to have been holding my breath for a very long time and I had been very close to ceasing to breath altogether.
We taxied around to the control tower to pick up the instuctor [sic] pilot and when he came aboard he was still very much out of breath as like most of the staff in the tower, he had abandoned it rapidly as we headed straight for it.
He just managed to gasp "you'll' do" before we taxied back to dispersal.
There was so doubt in our minds anyway. He had tamed the beast and there congratulations all round.
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Mac's reaction was normal. A wink and a tap on the side of his nose. No comment!.
After that there was very little let up as the training including flying intensified. Mac continued to wear out his trousers in his efforts to maintain control and that’s what it was all about as far as he was concerned. Total perfection, and he never, ever, let the machine take over. We had absolute confidence in him.
The only other incident of any note throughout the course occurred shortly after we had landed one night and had got back to the billet. A Ju.88 intruder who had followed someone in tried to shoot him up on the runway without success. He sprayed lead all over the place and I think the most damage was done to a window above my bed in the barrack block. I was under it!. There was no one hurt although my bed was showered with glass.
That sort of effort did not impress us very much if that was the best they could do. It all seemed a bit panic stricken and I had seen plenty of similar activity on the South Coast where air raids on Worthing had been mainly of the hit and run type.
I had been close to several attacks as they came blasting along the railway line and the shunting yards but they never hit the gas works which was opposite the hospital; which was just as well as my father was invariably fire watching on top during a raid.
Not one bomb fell on the railway line or the signal boxes in the local area but there was a fair amount of damage to civilian property and loss of life. The flat in which I had spent the first few years of my life was one that collected a direct hit although mostly the bombs fell in open ground.
There is still evidence to this day of the occasion when an Me.110 straffed [sic] along the line. The metal footbridge between East Worthing and Worthing Central still has the canon shell holes in it and my wife remembers it well.
She was walking along the road parallel to the railway when this chap came blasting in firing both front and rear guns and she was obliged to make a hasty dive over a low wall into someone's garden for safety.
Even then I thought it was a bit panic stricken and not very effective.
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It was whilst I was at Stradishall that I saw the half scale Stirling in one of the hangars. A very interesting little machine. It was about the size of a Wellington with a cockpit just big enough for two in tandem, and four little two blade props on Pobjoy engines. It had been built for test purposes early on, whilst the full size machine was still in the design stage. Even then it was-fall of snags but they pressed on.
No-one sees to know what happened to it eventually. It had been pranged and was not airworthy but it just seems to have dissapeared [sic] . Perhaps it will turn up at the back of a barn one days!.
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[underlined] THE SHORT BROS. S.29."STIRLING" [/underlined]
Built by Short Brothers, Rochester & Belfast and Austins, Longbridge.
First flight (Mk.I) 14th May 1939. Followed by Mk's II, III, IV & V.
Began with daylight operations in 1941 before switching to night operations until the end of 1943. Later used as glider tugs. paratroop and supply dropping and finally transports.
2,374 of all types manufactured but none remained in flying service after the early 1950's.
[line of stars]
[underlined] Model B.Mklll [/underlined]
Span...................99ft 1in.
Length………………87ft 3in.
Max. all-up weight…………70,000lb.
Max. speed…………270 mph. (Economical cruising 180mph. fully loaded)
Range……………….Max. 2010mls. (According to load).
Service ceiling………17,000ft.(14-15,000ft with max. load)
Engines………Four 1,650bhp. Bristol Hercules Mk.XVl
2 stage, supercharged, sleeve valve, 14 cylinder radials.
Defensive armament…….8 .303in. Browning m/g. 2 in dorsal and front turrets. 4 in rear turret. All power operated.
Max. bomb load………..14,000lb. (Max. bomb size 2000lb.
[line of stars]
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[deleted] 44 [/deleted]
[underlined] FOR NORMAL BOMBER OPERATIONS THE CREW CONSISTED OF:- [/underlined]
Pilot………………………..………..who was always the captain.
Navigator……………………..…..who was also trained as a bomb aimer.
Observer/bomb aimer…..….who was also trained in navigation and was front gunner.
Flight Engineer………..………...was responsible for monitoring the engines and other systems. Often acted as co-pilot.
Wireless operator/gunner….communications, radio direction finding and trained reserve gunner.
Mid-upper gunner……………..)were interchangable [sic] between positions
Rear Gunner……………….…….)but generally preferred one position.
Note:- On occasions another pilot was allocated to the basic crew for operational familiarisation and became the co-pilot.
[line of stars]
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[deleted] 45 [/deleted]
It was the middle of June when we left Stradishall and it was a pleasant change not to have to travel too far to our new unit. We moved by truck just a few miles up the road to Chedburgh, a satelite [sic] station of Stradishall.
Most Stirling units were concentrated in East Anglia and we were to join a new Squadron being formed on the day we arrived. The Squadron had been numbered 620 and we would be the partner to 214 Squadron which had been in residence for some time. It had been formed by the standard procedure of hiving off 'C' flights from established Squadrons. In this case 'C' flights from both 214 Squadron and 149 from Mildenhall; by coincidence the same Squadron that I had been with at Mildenhall previously. To assist the rapid build-up new crews direct from training were being added so with virtually a snap of the fingers the new Squadron was born on the 17th June 1943.
Chedburgh was just another war-time airfield that like so many had just mushroomed all over the countryside by the hundred. A tremendous achievement both in planning and engineering considering the enormous amount of material and man-power each one absorbed. It was not surprising that Britian [sic] was often referred to as an unsinkable aircraft carrier. There were over 100 airfields in East Anglia alone!.
They were all built to the same basic pattern with Nissen huts all over the place with dispersed accomodation [sic] tucked away in woods and down country lanes that ensured that everyone had plenty of exercise in the process of getting to and from their place of work.
The airfield was situated alongside the A143 Bury St Edmunds to Haverhill road and the set up was much the same as any other unit.
The Station support services comprised an Administrative Wing, a Technical Wing and a Flying Wing and within the latter were the flying units, the Squadrons, which were independant [sic] units.
Altogether the station was manned by between 1800 and 2000 people including Squadron personnel, with an establishment of 16 air-craft per Squadron. plus 4 reserves. Theorhetically [sic] that should have given the station a total of 40 aircraft but we were rarely up to even the basic strength and then not for very
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All the arrival formalities that we had done so often were soon completed with introductions to the Squadron and Flight Commander as well as the specialist leaders, in my case the Signals Leader, who was an operational Wireless Operator filling the position by virtue of his previous experience and seniority.
With all that attended to Mac had received his instructions from 'B' Flight Commander and we boarded the bus that continually circled the outer edge of the airfield where the aircraft were dispersed.
On the way we passed many Stirlings poised like great vultures, except for the odd one that looked as if the vultures had been at them and had gangs of men working on them.
When we stopped at one dispersal pan Mac said "this is it". 'This' was a pleasant surprise. We had become so used to flying old hacks that had seen better days that to be looking at what appeared to be a new one was unique. Even more of a surprise was to be told that this one was 'ours'.
This particular Stirling was serial No.EF433, built by Shorts at Belfast, and was still new enough to have a new smell about it.
The Squadron identification letters of QS and aircraft letter 'W' had been freshly painted on it's sides over some other lettering that turned out to have been 214 Squadron's identification, with whom it had apparently done three operations before being transferred on the formation of the Squadron.
We were concerned with getting to know that piece of machinery more intimately than anything else we had had dealings with in the past.
We spent hours going over it with the ground crew; testing and adjusting until we had it ticking over like a well oiled sewing machine. We air tested it and put it through it's paces again and again. The gunners tested their guns over the sea. Pete checked his box of tricks. Hoppy put the bomb release mechanism through it's sequences and tested the front guns. I tuned my radio and made contact with the control stations as well as testing the radio direction finding system. Mac and Paddy did everything they could to ensure that the engines and controls gave the right responses by throwing it around at height including a landing procedure with first one then two engines
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feathered and everything throttled back just to see how she stalled as well as a maximum height climb until they were at last satisfied that if anything went wrong with it it [sic] would not be our fault.
When all that was done we were ready for anything and both crew and aeroplane were in a partnership which we hoped would be for some time. As it turned out it was longer than than [sic] the average!.
We were soon to find out what we had let ourselves in for on a series of night operations that were not without a little excitement.
[line of stars]
Four days after leaving Stradishall we found ourselves on the Battle Order for the night of the 22nd June and from the moment the order went on the board everything started clicking into place as we started a procedure that hundreds of other crews were doing up and down the country in order to deliver thousands of tons of bombs and incendiaries to the enemy.
Mac had already been through it the night before, flying as second pilot with a crew to Krefeld, but the only thing he would say about it was that we would find out soon enough, accompanied of course by that tap on the nose.
I was naturally apprehensive at the prospect of flying over enemy territory now that we were finally committed and not unaware of the losses that had already occurred in 214 Squadron in the short time we had been on the base. Fortunately there was plenty to do to take our minds off of the inevitable as the procedure had become standard for major exercises and operations and we knew precicely [sic] what to do.
The first thing was to ground test and then air test the aeroplane and with [deleted] that [/deleted] over to try and get some sleep before the briefing and all the other business whilst the ground crew prepared it for the flight with bombs, fuel, flares, ammunition, oxygen, first aid packs and safety equipment such as the dinghy, inclusive of the distress radio and a multitude of other individual items to be checked over or stowed.
Our next step was to change into clean underwear of the aircrew type. The pure wool and silk mixture. Not only for warmth in the sub zero conditions we were likely to
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encounter at altitude but just as important to reduce the risk of infection if injured. That was the general idea anyway, but at the rate we were soon to be flying we very often had to wear underclothes a week or more before the laundry caught up with us.
'Night Flying supper' was always something to look forward to at whatever time it was scheduled. The rare operational egg and bacon special. That meal was not just a 'perk' but possibly the last one that one would get for some time depending on the circumstances, and then we were off to the operations block.
Once we got there we were cut off from the outside world. All the outside telephone lines had either been disconnected or were at least monitored and even the local telephone boxes had been disconnected or secured as soon as the teleprinters had started clacking away earlier to advise that the operations order was following.
Within that environment there was a lot of activity and the amount of stuff we had to get together was quite extraordinary.
There was basic stuff such as parachute harness and pack. Life jacket, (the Mae West), helmet complete with earphones, microphone and oxygen mask, all to be tested on the rig in the safety equipment section. Then to change into sea boot socks and flying boots. Then to empty pockets into the locker and don the heavy fishermans roll neck sweater. The next step was to draw rations and escape and evasion packs that all had to be stowed into the numerous pockets of the life jacket and as if that was not enough we then gathered up our specialist equipment.
The navigator and wireless operator carried the most and it was quite a pile of stuff. Maps, charts, rulers, pencils, computer, (of the Dalton circlar type for wind calculations etc) , sextant, star tables, code books, lists of call-signs, frequencies, identification beacons. colours of the day information etc. Some of the secret stuff was typed on rice paper for the purpose of disposing of it by eating it if if [sic] the need arose.
It was hardly surprising that we needed large canvas flight bags for all of the odds and ends apart from having to carry all of the other gear.
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After assembling all that there was a short briefing by the specialist leaders before the main briefing took place, and it was at this point that the pilot, navigator and bomb-aimer were given advance knowledge of the target so that they could make their special studies of route, and target photographs before everyone else trooped into the main briefing room where the whole thing was put together so that everyone knew what was going on.
The teleprinters had been spewing out stuff for a long time after the planners at Command and Group HQ had held their planning meetings and sometimes the Operations Order was yards long. The operations order contained details of take-off times, route, turning points, target data, ack-ack defences, possible fighter activities, heights to fly and speeds, winds and weather en-route and return, fuel and bomb loads, pathfinder marking, alternative and emergency airfields, radio procedures, radio beacons, frequencies and callsigns, etc, etc. and even details of any POW camps if they were near the target.
The complex mass of stuff had been sorted out and the whole station was in top gear as we at last struggled into the main hall to assemble around our own table where there was a great deal of chat with clouds of tobacco smoke floating about by the time the whole assembly was called to order by the senior briefing officer. That was always a dramatic moment and the climax of all the activity that invariably seemed to be a race against the clock. Heaven help a crew that was late!.
The windows had been shuttered as soon as preparations had commenced and the 'fug' must have been murder for non-smokers.
As soon as everyone was in and accounted for the main doors were closed and two RAF Policemen took up position outside. Everyone settled down within the chaos of equipment all strewn around the floor and on the tables as the briefing got under way as soon as the big wall map was uncovered.
The briefing officers included the Flying Control and Met.Officers. The Armament and Engineering Officers, The Wing and the Squadron and Flight Commanders, and very often the Station Commander
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who took no part in the proceedings although he occasional took part in the operation with a 'scratch' crew but he invariably had a few words of encouragement at the end of the briefing.
When the curtains were drawn back from the wall map there was a bit of a gasp as eyes followed the coloured tapes across to the target..Mulheim, and then with such waving about of an old billiard cue that had been 'liberated' from one of the messes the show got under way.
It was a source of relief to find that we were not part of the main force. Our detail was 'Gardening'. The code name for mining, which we would be doing by flying part of the route with the main force and then dropping out to sow our 'veg' as we approached the Frisian Islands. I was glad of that and would not have cared for a trip to Mulheim first time out.
Mac would still say nothing about his trip to Krefeld. In fact very few people would. When asked, the usual answer was, "you will find out soon enough", and as far as Mulheim was concerned Mac would only say that we should think ourselves lucky that we were not going there. No-one argued with that!.
As soon as briefing was over there was a mad scramble for the crew bus to take us out to dispersal and to load all the gear into the aeroplane.
Having stowed everything where it should be there was time for a tour around the outside to make sure that all protective covers and control locks had been removed.
When all was ready it was just a matter of waiting for start up time with a few minutes quiet contemplation, a pee on a wheel, and a cigarette.
Any chatter there was at that stage was about anything other then the operation ahead of us.
Although the start up and taxy times had been given at briefing there was usually a signal from the control tower as back up bearing in mind that radio silence was strictly imposed from the time that the operation had been notified.
The signals were yellow/green verey flare for start up or a double red for cancellation so when the yellow/green went up the game was on. Some game!. Suddenly it was all deadly serious.
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My only consolation was that it was my own choice. I could have been blown to bits in the infantry, or roasted in a tank, or faced several different ways of drowning in the navy so it seemed as good a way as any of taking my chance.
With the start up everything in the aircraft seemed accentuated. The smell of paint, leather and fuel brat was all mixed up to create the odour that was peculiar to an aeroplane.
There was the additional smell of the rubber oxygen mask that was attached to the now sticky leather helmet and would be stuck to my head for the next few hours.
There was no way around that as the earphones and microphone were an integral part of the helmet.
Then there were the atmospherics on the otherwise silent radio receivers that mingled with all the other muffled noises as the aeroplane case to life in the hands of Mac and Paddy.
Starter motors whined. Engines coughed and spluttered and the airframe vibrated from end to end with the initial rough running in rich mixture. Flaps were operated, bomb doors were closed and brakes released with hissing air and sighing hydraulic systems after the wheel chocks were waived away, followed by the rolling motion of the heavily laden aircraft as we taxied to the marshalling point near the runway threshold. Depending where the dispersal was in relation to the runway in use determined the length of time taxying, and the order of take off, but normally by the time we reached the threshold the oil temperatures and pressures, and cylinder head temperatures had risen sufficiently for the engines to be run at near full power against the brakes to test the magnetoes [sic] .
As was usual in aero engines there were two magneto's to each engine, each serving one of the two sets of plugs per cylinder. That added up to 112 spark plugs altogether and it was neccessary [sic] that every one was doing it's bit when full power was called for. Then the superchargers were tested, and the variable pitch propellors, with the aircraft shaking and rattling until all four engines had been tested after which they were throttled back to a nice healthy tick over.
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That was the decision point of 'go,no-go'. The engines had to give power within certain tolerances before a full load take-off could be attempted, and a decision that we would have to 'abort' if all was not well would here been an anti climax at that stage.
It would have meant entering the runway at the allotted time, rolling down and turning off at the intersection or the end, and then justifying it to the engineering officer and the flight commander. It was not a decision to be taken lightly.
That first time, with a live load and everything checked out satisfactorily, a green aldis lamp signal flashed from the caravan in acknowledgement of the aircraft's letter signalled on the downward identification light and we were ready to go.
We entered the runway with the one hundred and one checks complete and the adrenelin [sic] started to flow as we went through the familiar procedure.
Line up, brakes on, one third flap, engine cooling gills set, superchargers in low gear, props in fine pitch, mixture rich, engines wound up, a momentary pause for a final check of revs and boost with the aircraft straining against the brakes....brakes off; and a surge of acceleration as we started down the runway. Then the continuing acceleration and the tail coming up followed by a final bellow from the engines as the throttles were shoved to the stops.
The runway lights flashed by at ever increasing speed. The aircraft gave a little sideways fidget as the line was corrected and we were soon approaching the critical speed.
Very mindful of several tons of high explosive and a great deal of high octane fuel surrounding us we continued to thunder down the runway until those of us not in the cockpit knew by all the familiar sounds and sensations that all was well up front. The flight engineer who had followed the pilots hand on the throttles up to the stops had now taken them over and applied the friction locks as Mac devoted all his attention to controlling the aircraft as at the same time the engineer was calling out the increasing air speed.
The rumbling stopped; the attitude changed and we knew we were airborne. The next call was "undercarriage up" and as soon as they were showing up the next call was "flaps in" and another
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change of attitude as the aircraft was 'cleaned up' before there was a final change of engine note as they were throttled back after reaching a safe height and speed.
At that point we all started to breath [sic] a little easier.
All the time the intercom between the pilot and enginneer [sic] was lively as the action and subsequent indicator response was called out and acknowledged.
With so such to do and so such depending on it being done correctly it was a rigid discipline, and very soon we were climbing on the first heading to the rendezvous position before climbing further to our operating height.
On that first occasion we set off at medium level under cover of the main force and once more we were on our way. This time with a difference……it was for real!..
[line of stars]
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As soon as we got clear of the coast the gunners tested their guns with a couple of bursts and the smell of cordite drifted around for a while, after which they settled down to their long spell of sky searching.
It was a lonely and demanding job but very neccessary [sic] as they methodically scanned up and down and left and right with the turrets following their search.
You could not see them out there but there were a lot of aircraft milling about with between 600 and 700 hundred converging on the main rendezvous position from East Anglia, Lincolnshire and Yorkshire to make up a solid stream. Even in good night conditions you were lucky to be able to see further than 700 yards so that if anything did show up there was not a lot of time to take action.
Some separation was provided by the various waves being at predetermined heights, and by time separation between the waves going through a check point or turning position, but nevertheless there were still a large number of aircraft packed into a relatively small area of sky at any one time.
When I was not in the radio compartment my position was in the Astro dome. That was the clear vision dome on top where the navigator took his star shots from and where I could assist in the search.
From there I could still remain plugged into the communication system and listen for routine broadcasts from the Group control station every half hour. These included up-dated forcasts [sic] of the weather in the target area and a common barometric pressure setting for the altimeter to ensure that we were all flying on the same datum.
Any message received was rapidly de-coded and passed to the navigator or the pilot although it was more common that only the station identification would be transmitted, (no message). It did not do to miss anything like a recall though, and to find that you were the only one over the target and getting a great deal of attention.
On occasions I would be required to release a flare over the sea for assessment of the wind drift. It was released down the flare chute and ignited after entering the water and then the rear gunner kept his sights on it to read off the drift angle.
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whilst the navigator did the timing and his sums which was very crude by modern standards but the results were a very useful check against the Met. forecast which with the best will in the world was often well out and navigators needed everything they could get to keep us on track. Pete was forever beavering away with his rulers, dividers and computer to cross check everything and did not rely on any one specific facility. The best I could do for his were radio bearings from the UK using the direction finder equipment.
Unfortunately that became suspect as we got deeper and deeper into enemy airspace. The Germans sent out false signals on the same frequency to confuse things and the continental broadcasting stations were suspect as well due to them being made on linked geographically located transmitters. [underlined] The same as we did for UK broadcasts. [/underlined] It was impossible to get bearings on that network. One equipment that they found difficult to interfere with was 'GEE', which was our most important navigational aid up to a certain distance imposed by range and height. That was the 'Magic Box' which used Information from a number of special high frequency transmissions which were received and displayed on an oscillascope [sic] . When the information had been transcribed to some special lattice charts positions could be fixed with considerable accuracy, and from running fixes it was possible to assess wind speed and direction for the purpose of correcting headings. It did not do to stray far off track.
The flight engineer continually monitored the engines, and all the vital functions that kept us going including fuel flow and fuel remaining as well as transferring fuel from the smaller tanks to keep the main one's topped up. There was very close co-operation between Mac and Paddy as Mac was meticulous in his handling of the engines.
The bomb-aimer/observer whose main function occupied very little time often spent time as co-pilot or assisted in map reading when conditions were favourable, so everyone had their job to do and a little bit more. It was team work all the way.
Positioning for mine dropping was meticulous. The Navy provided the charts and told us where they wanted them dropped, and the charts went back to the Navy.
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The mines went down in their specified area on their parachutes which softened the blow of them entering the water after which they submerged to do their evil business at a later date.
I was glad to see those go. Their explosive content of Torpex was far more devastating than that in our bombs; not that the outcome would be any different if we had a direct hit in the bomb bay!.
It all seemed too easy. We saw a little sparkling flak in the distance that someone had stirred up, possibly a flak ship.
Those were the blighters that could crop up anywhere so every sighted had to be logged so that some might be done about them later; if only to give instructions to avoid the area. The trouble was that it was easy for them to more from one anchorage to another before the next day!.
As we droned back to base I found it difficult to reconcile the fact that it really was me going through it all. It all seemed so unreal like a dream.
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I had moved on.
Someone else now had the refuelling job.
If ever I needed to call the W/T (morse) fixer service I knew what was at the other end of the facility and how they could help us.
I had worked in one of Bomber Command's transmitting stations at Honington, (mainly polishing the wretched floor), but as a qualified wireless operator I had often been allowed to plug into the transmitter side-tone as it squawked away and take down the transmission for practice.
Mostly of course at that time it was incomprehensible as it was in code, but now I had found out what it was all about being one of the recipients within a collective call sign.
There were facilities available on the shorter range R/T (radio telephone) service usually need directly by the pilot and although I had means of using it from my compartment it was very rarely necessary [sic] .
Apart from air to air and normal air to ground control there were some very useful services to be obtained such as the D/F (direction finder) cabins which I had also spent time in.
These were the strange tepee like wooden cabins stuck out in some field near the airfield with their double walls filled with fine shingle for protection against shot and shell and an aerial array sticking out of the top. I [sic] was from there that a highly experienced operator was able to give pilots a course to steer for base, or a bearing, and in dire emergency, assistance with a descent through cloud procedure.
I had spent more time in the teleprinter communication cabins and had done duty as the R/T operator in what was then called Flying Control as well as doing daily inspections on aircraft radio equipments.
I had time to reflect on what it all added up to as we droned steadily towards base. There was little else to do except listen out on the control frequency, load the colours of the day into the verey pistol and switch an the IFF (radar identification signal), make up the log etc as we approached the coast, descended and identified the flashing beacons that pin-pointed airfields and other geographical locations by their code. (I had even
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been part of the operating team on one of those at one time); until we identified Chedburgh's among the dozens that were winking through the night.
With navigation lights on and gunners still keeping a good look out for intruders we called the tower and got our joining instructions; joined the circuit, landed and taxied around to our dispersal.
The ground crew were waiting and marshalled us into position and finally when the chocks were in place everything was shut off and at last the dull roar that had been going on in our ears for hours finally subsided.
It took some time to adjust and we found that we still shouting at each other for a long time afterwards.
Apart from that and to get the tacky helmet off perhaps the most relief was gained by being able to slacken the lower straps of the parachute harness that if properly adjusted made life very uncomfortable, and then to have a good pee on a wheel and light a cigarette. What a blessed relief that was!. It became almost a ceremony!.
There were a few minutes to wait whilst the skipper had a few words with the crew chief to pass on any information relative to defects or malfunctions and then finally the crew bus arrived and we boarded on route to operations still drawing hungrily on our cigarettes, that as I recall, tasted pretty horrible at the time.
On arrival at the ops. room for debriefing there were excited exchanges with other crews all milling about after we checked in our parachutes. The room was still thick with tobacco smoke as the windows had remained closed since the briefing and would remain so until until [sic] the end of the de-briefing or to the time when all was quiet. The time when all aircraft had landed back at base or had been notified as landing elsewhere or endurance times had been reached. After that time aircraft that had failed to turn up were chalked up on the state board as FTR. (Failed to return).
We then spent a little more time answering questions put by the Intelligence Officers and their assistants as they probed for information, and completed combat reports as appropriate as they pushed more cigarette across the table.
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Finally came the specialist debrief when we handed in our logs and code books. Returning all equipment. Changing out of our flying clothing and at last making our way to the mess hall for our eggs and bacon, and to top it all off, a nice long walk back to our tin hut where others were already asleep or just tumbling into bed.
That is when it hit. When you were winding down. When it was all over and you felt completely drained. I know I did. Apart from anything else I was never very good at being up half of the night.
It might have been a routine trip for us but later as we found that [underlined] Eleven [/underlined] out [sic] 96 Stirlings had failed to return from the Mulheim raid and one of them had been from our Squadron. The casualty procedure was already under way and we had not even been there long enough to know the unfortunates concerned!.
That was the pattern of our lives. We usually reported to the flight office at 1400 hours the next afternoon whatever time we had landed, to see what was in store for us and a special effort was made for more than one reason.
If we had slept late and had to make a dash for it it [sic] was easy to miss lunch and we would have to go through to tea time before eating again. There was no other way of finding something edible unless one happened to find a mobile NAAFI wagon doing it's rounds. Even the so called 'sausage rolls' or the inevitable currant bun was welcome then. We very soon got around to keeping a tuck box of some sort to tide us over by hoarding some of our flying rations.
If there was no flying there was a serious attempt to be the first in the queue for supper. We always seemed to be hungry in those days. Or perhaps it was just me!
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On the 25th we were detailed for another mining job. This time in the Bay of Biscay, off the estuary the Geronde [sic] and in the approaches to the Atlantic U.boat bases.
Again it was hours of concentrated low flying over moonlit waters that could be so very, very deceptive. It placed a great deal of strain on Mac but that is where he seemed to be in his element and we were glad to get home again after a flight of 5 hours 45 minutes.
The mines had been placed with the same meticulous care as before and everyone seemed of the opinion that mining was 'a piece of cake' although not everyone was happy about spending so much time near the wave tops, especially as on one occasion Mac was close enough to cause the rear gunner to complain about the spray drenching his turret!.
There was some speculation about whether Mac was volunteering for mining but we never found out. What went on in the confines of the Flight Commanders office only ever translated itself into what went on the Battle Order and the Flight Authorisation Book.
That night others were not so lucky and another aircraft and crew from the Squadron failed to return.
We were all beginning to feel a little jaded by that time and we were hoping for some free time, if only to catch up on some sleep; but we had to wait for that.
[line of stars]
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We dragged ourselves down to the flight office in the afternoon hoping to hear the magic words "stand down", only to find that we were on the Battle Order again for another operation that night, and later on, in the briefing room, I was to experience a very strange feeling in my innards, somewhere between my heart and my stomach when the target was announced as Gelsenkirchen, in the Ruhr, or 'Happy Valley' as it was commonly dubbed by aircrew. It had to happen sometime!.
For Mac, it was already his fourth operation in five nights so it was not surprising that he was tight lipped about it. He knew what we were in for!.
For the rest of us it was to be our first time over the enemy coast to face all the perils that went with it. Since no-one would talk about it it [sic] had to be imagined although it not do to dwell on it.
I do know that as we approached the target that I was glad that I was not a pilot after all. How I would have reacted in those circumstances I am really not sure. Perhaps I would have coped but since my responsibilities towards the crew at that moment in time were limited I decided that on looking at that scene as we approached I would rather not know. I promptly retired to the protection of my armour plated seat. As if that made any difference!.
It did not seem possible that anything could fly through that unscathed. There were a lot of explosions and steel splinters out there but it soon occurred to me that the armour plating was only psychological protection. The others had a lot less protection so I went back to keeping a look-out and to hell with it.
As we started the bombing run the sight of the destruction being wrought upon a town by hundreds of tons of high explosive and incendiaries was bad enough but there was also evidence of life or death struggles going on around us as there had been on the run in. The searchlights probed and flak peppered the sky and through it all, flying more or less straight and level, Hoppy guided Mac to the aiming point chanting his left's, steadie's . and right a bit as the target slid up the sight wires.
In the initial stages of the approach the flak had been scattered as the guns went for individual aircraft but as the 'stream'
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Mac had laid down his own ground rules about what was expected of us when we were away from home shores.
In any case he strictly limited the use of the IFF. This was the device that sent out an identification signal to our radar stations, but which some people were known to use over enemy territory in an attempt to confuse the enemy radar. We most certainly did not!, and On/Off entries were made in both the signals and the nav. logs accordingly.
He would not permit the use of the infra-red rear facing fighter warning system which was just as well as we were to find out later that their fighter A.I. (airborne intercept) radar could home on it.
He was insistant [sic] that there should be the absolute minimum use of any radio equipment, and if it was not needed it was to be switched off. (He even used to switch off his R/T set unless there was a very good reason for having it on!.)
The ban even included navigational equipment if there was any chance of an emmission [sic] from it.
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Perhaps he knew something that we didn't but he was never one for explanations and since he was the boss what he said was never questioned. Not openly anyway!.
Like most pilots he carried a mini route map to help him keep orientated and the navigator was kept hard at it to keep us on track and on time as well as keeping in the middle of the stream rather than being a sitting duck waffling around on the fringe where we could be picked off by a roaming night fighter.
My duties had become very restricted by the limitations imposed by Mac. I could not even use the main transmitter without his permission and he was even reluctant to have it switched into the stand-by position which kept it warm and ready for use.
Only the main receiver plus it's associated direction finding equipment were available to me so I was not able to do much to assist in the navigation although there were plenty of other jobs to keep me occupied.
The results of people straying off track had already been obvious when sparkling exchanges of fire between aircraft were seen, or a sudden concentration of ack-ack and the probing fingers of a cone of searchlights and occasionally an orange ball of fire in the sky that would fall to earth and disintregate [sic] . Having no wish to be part of that scene it was 'softly softly catchee monkey'.
One job I often did was chucking leaflets out of the lower rear escape hatch but generally in the final stages of the bombing run I had another job that was another of Mac's specific requirements.
In order to take a photograph of the bomb strike a photo flash was released automatically down the flare chute and a barometric capsule activated it's 'chute and ignited it. Some photo flash!. It contained about 25lbs of magnesium mixture that produced a 3,000,000 candle power flash but the release mechanism of this thing had been known to fail with disastrous results. If it went off inside the chute or failed to clear the aircraft if it malfunctioned the results were as spectacular as getting a direct hit with an ack-ack shell.
It was usually assisted on it's way by a shove from me when I was not otherwise engaged. Just another safety measure that Mac had very quickly picked up from somewhere,
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and I imagine that the rest of the crew were somewhat relieved to hear the call "flash away---chute clear" call on the intercom before I went back to my other duties.
Once more we had run the gauntlet without problems and although the homeward journey was tedious we were eventually back over base and once more flopping into our beds an hour later when it was all over. Even then sleep did not come easily.
There were some more mines to be dropped in the Bay of Biscay on the 25th; again in the approaches to the Atlantic ports and U.boat bases and once more they went down bang on the button.
There was a special technique for accurate positioning but as usual Mac had his own variation. The brief was to transit at medium height and then down to the dropping height after a 'GEE' fix. Our way was to go down to the wave tops after the fix and then climb to dropping height after which we went down to the wave tops again to avoid being picked up by the Coastal radar stations.
It was not only the position in which they were dropped that was important but [underlined] how [/underlined] they were dropped. Too high and they could be out of position and possibly break up on impact. Too low and they were still likely to go up on impact by hitting the water before the 'chute deployed. Either of those results made the effort a waste of time....and there is no fun being blown up by your own mines!.
As soon as they were gone we were racing home again with the taps wide open to avoid the attentions of any prowling Ju.88's in the area….and then we climbed back up to above 2000ft. On that occasion our flight time was 5hrs 35mins.
By that time I was finding it difficult to reconcile our efforts with all the experiences that I had had on operational stations and of other lurid stories told by others of combats, fires, crashes, injuries and deaths. I knew it was not a myth and that it could and did happen so perhaps some people were just unlucky as the BBC news bulletins were regularly giving out that "XXXXX of our aircraft are missing". Just a cold statement of fact but often they were crewed by people we knew. The figure was frighteningly high on occasions, especially among the Stirling force, and there were not only operational losses. On the 2nd July two of the Squadron's aircraft collided in the Chedburgh
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circuit and crashed nearby with the loss of 15 lives. There was only one survivor from that tragic accident which included some ground crew getting some air experience.
We had a few days break before the next operation and like the I others I managed to catch up on some sleep and letter writing as well as sinking a few jars in the Mess but it was not all fun and games.
Hoppy and I took time off to go to Ely for a look around the Cathedral which we had so often seen from the air or the train and of course there were other activities laid on if there was no flying.
There was the often repeated talk about our conduct should we be unfortunate enough to become POW's and it was sometimes made all the more interesting when the talks were from people who had already escaped or evaded to make a home run. There talks on first aid and sea survival and how to make the most of all the equipment that was available to us if we got into trouble. There were not many idle moments but on those days we achieved some sort of normality. One could not be in the front line all the time, and it was too good to last. On the 3rd July we were on the Battle Order again to find that at briefing targets at Cologne were detailed so off we went again.
The defences were even more lively than I had ever seen before. There was evidence of a lot of fighter activity around the City and some very nasty sights as aircraft were hit in their vitals. There must have been some desperate situations as people fought for their lives if they had not already been blasted into eternity. How we went through that inferno I will never know and we were very relieved when we came out into the clear again and were heading for home, still keeping a good look-out for a long time.
It took time after slipping between the sheets before that scene finally faded from the mind. The brain needed time to wind down allowing the need for sleep to take over.
There were [underlined] seven [/underlined] Stirlings lost that time, again about 10% of the Stirling force among the total losses for the operation. It did not bear thinking about for too long and it was rarely the subject of conversation. At that rate according to the law of averages it would not be long before our number came up but
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people normally kept such thoughts to themselves, or shared their fears with their Chaplains.
For me, I soon gave up the struggle of concience [sic] . If people were getting killed or maimed on both side fighting for God and country then any rational person was bound to have doubts at some time. Possibly most people, like me, tried to push such thoughts to the back of the mind and just concentrated on eliminating the enemy, trusting that a forgiving God would understand.
I suppose it was a sort of psychological con. trick that one played on one's self.
It couldn't happen to us!!!!!
[line of stars]
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On one break between operations and sleeping there was flying practice of the kind that I found the most-enjoyable.
Fighter affiliation was the one exercise that involved us all except the navigator. He could get his head out of the 'office' and enjoy the fun. It allowed Mac to demonstrate his skill by causing more than a few Thunderbolt, Hurricane and Spitfire pilots to have to work very hard to get a bead on us, with a very good chance of getting them in our sights first, which Mac insisted was the object of the exercise.
It required complete team work between gunners and pilot and they had a fine old time giving their running commentaries and instructions which were interpreted by Mac into evasive action. The inter-comm was alive. A team of acrobats could not have put a routine together any better as we skidded and banked and slithered this way and that way to the frustration of the fighter pilots.
My place was in the Astro-dome as usual looking for any attacks that the gunners were not concentrating on....just in case!. I never had the opportunity to get into the turrets. The only way that I was ever going to do that was if one of the gunners became a casualty and although I was not over anxious for that experience I still had to keep in practice.
It was inevitable that Mac would get the opportunity to show off to our American friends one day.
We had recently had a liaison visit from USAAF crews and we had shown off our aeroplane only to be left smarting from some tactless remarks about our 'pop-guns' and the lack of them in certain parts, and "where did we stow the pool table", etc, etc. Certainly the fusulage [sic] of the Stirling was big enough for one, but they were more subdued when we told them that we could carry some three times the weight of bombs that they could!. We kept quiet about the fact that they could fly more than twice as high as we could, and very often did.
On one particular occasion we had just completed our exercise and the fighter was orbitting [sic] out of range somewhere when a B.17. (Flying Fortress), came stooging in looking for all the world like a porcupine with guns sticking out of everywhere.
We were a little above him so Mac shoved the nose down, piled on the power to build up the speed quickly, then stopped and
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'feathered'; (turned the propellor blades edge on to the slip stream) both outboard engines before coming up alongside him. After a little hand waving came the big surprise. We then slid up, over the top of him, came down the other side, then underneath and back into the original position before waiving [sic] goodbye to the astonished, and possibly alarmed B.17. pilot and then peeling off like a fighter. All that on two engines!!!!. Very good for morale!.
It has to be said that although the Stirling could not get to a decent altitude it could be thrown about in a very lively fashion and Mac's handling of it had to be experienced to be believed. We might have done some strange things at times and he threatened on several occasions that he would loop it but one thing I do not ever remember him doing was a heavy landing of the sort that some people seemed to make a habit of.
One measure of the quality of successive landings could always be taken from what was known as 'creep' marks on the tyres and wheels.
When a tyre was fitted on one of those enormous wheels a line was painted across wheel rim and tyre so that after a number of landings with the wheel being jerked into motion by the impact with the runway it was possible to see how far the tyre was creeping around the rim. It was only allowed to go so far otherwise the inner tube could distort and fail.
In most cases tyres needed re-fitting about every seven landings but I do know that our aircraft did not have a refitting as often as that.
As for looping, we never did, although we were never very far from it on the occasion when he did attempt it. He had several tries but the result was the same every time. We started running out of air-speed long before we got up to the top and he was obliged to roll out of it with dust, fluff and debris of all sorts floating about loosely in a brief spell of weightlessness. He gave it up after a while having calculated that he needed at least 300mph on the clock before the pull up to make sure of getting over the top but one thing he would not do was to push 'Willie' to that extent,
Someone else's aircraft maybe, but not ours!.
It goes without saying that such fun and games were never
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attempted without a lot of airspace under us. At least 7000ft. of it to make sure that to make sure of recovery if anything did go wrong, and I loved every minute of it.
On the 9th we were back to mining in the Frisian [sic] Islands this time, in the approaches to Wilhelmshaven and Bremerhaven. There was a lot of flak going up from the islands or ships but we had gone in on track fairly low and as soon as the mines had gone down we went again, skimming the wave tops and once more we skirted all the defences finally arriving back at base with no more problems other than just feeling tired even if it was one of the shorter trips.
Someone did mention to Mac that he was likely to slam into the side of a flak ship one night but he reckoned he would always jink around it before they could bring any guns to bear.
[line of stars]
Among the odd jobs that cropped up between operations were trips to pick up a crew or part of one that had diverted or pranged somewhere, or taking a crew to pick up an aeroplane after it had been repaired. Every day it was something different, and some nights as well with a mass exercise to test some procedure or just to keep the enemy guessing. Spoof exercises were boring but very worthwhile as it put the German defences on the alert only to find that the force had turned away half way across the North Sea.
Mac still went out of his way to practice low flying and I recall with shame the number of sailing boats all over the Broads that we capsized with our slipstream as we steamed along with about 200mph on the clock.
It seemed funny at the time anyway. Especially the poor bloke on a bike who was wobbling all over the place as he was looking over his shoulder at a massive Stirling at about 30ft bearing down on him, to be finally flung, bike and all, into the dyke.
None of it was authorised of course but Mac always used to say that if the flight authorisation book was annotated 'local flying' it looked suprisingly [sic] like 'low flying' and that is what he would be doing for as long as he could get away with it.
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On the 24th we were briefed for a raid on the docks and the U.Boat construction plants at Hamburg with a maximum effort being called for.
Every available aircraft was put on; many with 'scratch' crews drawn from the operations staff. This was one with a difference!. The briefing was long and detailed as we were going to drop 'Window' for the first time.
'Window' was the code name for the bundles of foil strips that were to be discharged from aircraft at a steady rate from a given position en route and as every aircraft in the force was contributing it was expected to cause such a smother of signals on the enemy radar that it would be quite impossible to track individual aircraft. It sounded like a good idea to me and I was quite content to spend a lot of time shoving that stuff down the flare chute if it was going to keep us out of trouble.
It did work and losses were cut considerably despite the fact that three of the Stirling force failed to return out of a total of 791 aircraft dispatched. Nine others were also missing.
It was a fairly long flight of 6 hours 55 mins. but was without incident until we were over base on return. Someone ahead of us had done a 'swinger' and blocked the runway so we were diverted to Mildenhall and it was a strange bed for the night for us. The arrangements for diverted crews were a bit rough and ready. After debriefing we were given bedding and then had to hump it, with all of our other gear, around the camp, through the main gate to the pre-war airmens married quarters which were being used as barracks, and we finally flopped into hastily made beds in the kitchen of one of them, dead beat. I'm sure we could have slept the clock around but it was not to be.
We were hauled out of our beds at mid-day by the RAF Police as there was a panic to get back to base. We had no time to have a drink or a meal or clean our teeth or wash or shave. It was a mad scramble to get out to the aircraft as quickly as possible after returning the bedding. That basically is what caused my problem. It was not until we had got airborne that I realised that in the 'flap' I had left my flight bag in the billet and that was
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serious. Among the contents of that bag were secret code books but Mac was adament [sic] when I asked for a turn round. His comment was simply "hard luck". so when I reported the loss on return to base the cat really was among the pigeons.
It was a long time before the enquiry was concluded.
I could have shortened the period, and certainly Mac was soon wishing he had turned-back but he would not take me over later in his car, or lend it to me (not that I had a driving licence), so we had to put up with a Squadron Leader chasing us all around for statements. It must have been time consuming and frustrating for him when we kept disappearing into the protection of the briefing room which were 'off-limits' to him.
The bag was eventually recovered from where I said it was. It was in one of the cupboards in the kitchen where we spent the night. (I had put it there for safety!), and later I got a formal reprimand for my sins. It did not make a lot of difference in the long run.
[line of stars]
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Nevertheless, I was feeling very apprehensive about the outcome of the oversight as we set course for base, air testing the aircraft on the way, and once the loss was reported I was issued with a new kit before we dashed off to try and get a few hours more sleep and a clean up. There was not much time to spare as we were on the Battle Order again. Hence the panic to get us back!.
Even then none of us felt particularly wide awake as we dragged ourselves into the briefing room once more. This time to be briefed for a raid on the Krupps complex at Essen.
Essen was considered to be one of the hottest targets in the Ruhr, being right in the middle with some fairly formidable defences to work our way through.
It was a case of running the gauntlet for a long time with a big of a wiggle here and there to dodge the ack-ack and the searchlights that someone else had stirred up but nevertheless, around Essen itself it was pretty fearsome.
Somehow we got through it and were homeward bound just wanting our beds but it was not to be. Routine W/T (Wireless Telegraphy-morse) broadcasts from Group HQ confirmed that the weather had indeed taken a turn for the worse, as we had been warned about at briefing.
Fog was forming all over East Anglia and we did not have a lot of reserve fuel. We had carried a maximum bomb load instead so someone at Group HQ planning must have been keeping his fingers crossed. The problem was that there were a lot of pilots wanting to get on the ground quickly as the low swirling fog was thickening up rapidly.
The countryside was covered in almost 100% cotton wool with church spires and masts sticking up through it and it did not make it easy to find a runway underneath it.
Our diversion was to Waterbeach and by the time we arrived on the scene it was going full blast. Aircraft were milling around over the top burning up precious fuel and others who had been called in had made missed approaches and rejoined those circling so when we were called in without too much delay Mac pulled out all the stops and made it first time on the BABS (Blind Approach Beam System), much to the relief of all concerned.
There was a lot of nail biting and it did not improve matters
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when we actually passed over one flaming wreck on the final approach. We had made it but some others holding off near the coast ran out of fuel and had to abandon with the inevitable loss of life due to parachute failures, crash landings and drownings.
At least we were home and dry once more even if it was going to be another cold and somewhat damp bed for the night, which was more than could be said for some poor blokes. Nothing at all was heard from another six Stirlings, Three of then from our Squadron. There was another large gap in the ranks that would need filling!.
The weather had cleared up by mid-morning and we were hauled out of our beds again feeling more dead than alive, with another panic to get back to base as we were on the Battle Order yet again!.
I must confess that at the time I felt that we were really pushing our luck.
"Willie' did not come up to scratch as we airtested it on the way back. We had actually taken off with what would normally have been an unacceptable 'mag' drop being unladen but it really did not make a lot of difference so we handed it over to the ground crew to sort out and once again we went through the same procedure as before. Grabbing some sleep, cleaning ourselves up etc. but when it came to briefing time 'W' still had not become serviceable despite Mac's rantings and ravings. He and Paddy had spent quite a lot of time out at the dispersal with their sleeves rolled up. We were allocated EF492 which someone else had air tested.
It finally resolved itself as the operation was cancelled almost immediately after the briefing. That was one time I was very relieved when the 'op. scrubbed' message came through considering the diabolical weather that had been forecast.
Despite the extra time that was available 'W' still failed to give satisfactory engine responses even after they changed all the plugs, ignition leads and magneto's on the troublesome engine so we were still down for EF492 when we were briefed on the following day for Hamburg yet again.
'Windowing' was the routine once more starting long before we entered the flak and fighter belt.
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The only break in that routine was when the flare was loaded as we once again approached the target in the midst of the docklands complex.
There was a lot of chatter and excitement from those up front as we got nearer. I went forward to join Pete who had virtually abandoned his charts about fifty miles from the city. There was absolutely no doubt where the target was. No spoof target fire could have possibly looked like that.
There was a damn great fire up ahead that, obliterated any aiming point so we jostled ourselves into the stream and Hoppy aimed for the middle.
The scene was almost beyond description, with a carpet of fires delineated by the waterways and streets with bursting bombs and other erupting areas of fire with photo flashes and flak tracers climbing lazily into the sky. Probing fingers of searchlights and cascading chandeliers of red and green Pyrotechnic markers.
It was an obsolutely [sic] apalling [sic] inferno down below us. It was sea of flame with smoke reaching up almost to our height to even penetrate the aircraft which bounced and bucked in the updraft.
I had never seen anything like it before and it was a long time before the flames faded into the distance as we left it all behind us. The rear gunner reckoned that he could still see them nearly 100 miles away and everyone was wondering what could have caused such a conflagration. We were to find out later that a combination of freak conditions had caused what was to be known as the 'firestorm’ but it was with some relief that we eventually arrived back at Chedburgh, into a hut now full of new people and to flop into our own untidy beds ready to sleep for a week.
[line of stars]
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We had another free day before the next operation was scheduled.
A day of rest and an opportunity to write to my parents, who, although they never showed their feelings in their letters about the family must have dreaded each day for what news it might bring them, knowing what I was doing. But the following day we were on the Battle Order once again.
We had a shock when we found that the target was Hamburg once more, and there seemed something sinister in going for the place so soon after the last attack that surely must have torn the heart out of the place.
EF433 was back in business as they had sorted it out at last and we had a rough time weaving in and out of a multi searchlight cone and concentrations of flak as we approached the target area. Once again it was a combination of Mac's skill in weaving about and a fair slice of luck. It was not surprising that our gunners were getting a bit 'twitchy' by this time, and so would I have been in their situation. One moment of slackening concentration on their part and we could easily be one of the 'flamers' we saw all too often so when Ralph blasted away at a shadow that swept across the top of us without warning the very fact that he identified it as a Halifax almost immediately was taken for granted. We learned later that Ralph's fire had been accurate enough to have wounded the Halifax engineer in the foot!. It was unfortunate but it really was a case of shoot first and ask questions afterwards. A split second hesitation and there was no second chance if it had been a roaming night fighter trying to drop something nasty on us. We had been warned about that possibility.
Worst things could happen in the 'stream' with hundreds of aircraft converging on one spot with a night visibility of 500 to 600 yds. at best. Collisions were always a possibilty [sic] despite the attempts to achieve separation in the planning, but if someone was out is his timing, and at the wrong height that was it. What the Halifax was doing at our height and mixed up with the Stirlings is anyone's guess. Pete was adament [sic] that we were on time but a total of six Stirlings were lost that night despite the protection of 'Window' and other methods that were being used to give us some cover.
The Special Duties Force had all sorts of tricks up their sleeve
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to confuse and jamb the German fighter control system including German speaking operators on board to imitate their controllers and transmit spurious instructions.
They played merry hell with the system causing Luftwaffe pilots to continuously change channels and in the general confusion they were soon forced to make some drastic changes and then the main force joined in as soon as they entered the fighter belt. Every aircraft transmitted noise on a selection of frequencies which overlapped and were manipulated in such a way as to produce a solid spread of noise across their operating band.
It caused a buzz of excitement when this was detailed at briefing but was Mac was still reluctant to have our main transmitter in use. It produced a typical comment, "It's all very well these clever sods deciding that we will do this and that and the other, but I'm not having a fighter home on our transmissions right up our chuff".
Nevertheless, I had my orders and I could appreciate the value of it. He was finally convinced when I asked him try to listen into the din that was going out on the airways. There was a solid spread of noise from hundreds of aircraft using a microphone in an engine housing feeding to the transmitter. It blotted out everything else so I was allowed to add my bit. Operation 'Tinsel' was good value as far as I was concerned.
Once more the journey was made over the North Sea which always looked so angry and inhospitable when there was sight of it. The very thought of finishing up in the 'oggin' filled me with dread but that was the way so many went following an emergency signal going out at frantic speed to the fixer service. If the sender was lucky it would be followed by a long transmission when the key was clamped down before he dived for his crash position and the transmission ceased when the inevitable occurred.
Everyone who heard those transmissions logged whatever they heard and a D/F bearing if they managed to get one although the transmission would be acknowledged smartly by the base operator for the benefit of all those that might be listening.
The sender would no longer be listening. He would have far more important things to occupy his mind; if he had been lucky!.
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It was not always easy to ditch copy-book style, with the tail down, along the bottom of the swell, exactly at the right speed, at night, and with the aircraft flying like a brick lavatory. Maybe without even a qualified pilot at the controls. But some made it just the same and the rescue services did the rest.
For us once more there were the dulcet tones of the WRAF in the control tower when Mac called for landing instructions, and eventually after all the paraphinalia [sic] had been attended to; to climb into a cold and untidy bed, for most of us, in the same state as we had got out of it!.
The next night we were off to Remchiede [sic] in the Ruhr and marking was carried out to the ultimate. Something different was being tried. There were route markers, turning point markers, target markers, back up markers and shifters, but it was not to Mac's liking. It might have helped to place more bombs in the right place but it also seemed to be an invitation to the night fighters to concentrate their efforts in a nicely defined corridor.
That was the night I did something that I only ever did the once. We were carrying a second pilot on his first operational trip. Paddy spent most of his time in the astro dome, the flare was loaded and there was no window to throw out so I was virtually 'spare'. I retired to my armour plated seat, receiver volume turned right up so that I would be alerted at the first signs of a transmission; and then I dozed off!. At that point in time I decided that if I was going to get killed I did not want to know about it.
It is not possible to go right off in such circumstances so I was still conscious of thumps, bounces and weaving sensations but we still sailed right through it all although eight other Stirling were not so lucky. Two of them from our Squadron!.
[line of stars]
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There was hardly time to get our breath back before we were at it again. We went through the old familiar routine and there were a few gasps when we found that the target was Hamburg once more.
In the meantime a story had gone around in respect of an NCO crew who had turned up for a briefing in their best uniforms, having told their commissioned captain in advance that they were refusing to go, but when they announced that fact to all and sundry that they really had had enough after their last rough trip there was one hell of a commotion. They had all been placed under close arrest and were stripped of their rank and aircrew insignia after which they finished up in the ‘glasshouse'. Subsequently, when they had completed their term they were employed in the Sgt's Mess of another operational station with the glaring signs of removed badges for all to see………and lesson to everyone!.
How much truth there was in that story is anyone's guess but it did show up the anomaly in the aircrew set up that everyone was well aware of.
Despite the fact that all aircrew were volunteers once you were in that was it. There was no going back and staying that you did not like it or you did not want to do it, on moral or any other grounds. You were stuck with it.
Failure or refusal to carry out your duty in the air was classified as LMF. (Lack of Moral Fibre) and led immediately to a Courts Martial. The action was swift although there was a subtle difference between that charge and 'cowardice in the face of the enemy'.
I am sure that a lot of people who were justifiably scared out of their wits still pressed on rather than give way and be labelled with that stigma. In many cases the condition was recognised by other crew members and the individual often 'rested' on medical. grounds which eventually sorted the chap out one way or the other.
In this particular case where there was more than one person involved it was much more serious and no doubt could have been construed as mutiny rather than LMF. It begs the question of how a similar problem would have been dealt with in either of the other services. I have a fairly good idea...but this was
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the Air Force way!!!!!!!.
The briefing was well under way and everyone did their little bit until it finally came to the Met. man's turn.
He commenced to put up a chart such as I had never seen before; or since.
It was smothered in the usual blue and-red symbols of high and low pressure systems. Warm fronts. Cold fronts. Occluded fronts, and the craziest pattern of isobars that looked as if they had been put on by a demented spider.
There was a buzz of anticipation as he finished pinning up his chart, then he turned around, coughed nervously and confessed that he had not got a clue.
What a brave chap!.
The announcement was greeted with good natured hoots, howls, and whistles accompanied by the stamping of feet until, he had an opportunity to explain that the situation was very complex and that it was impossible to draw up really accurate forecast. This was the best that he could do.
His forecast was absolutely grim. We were to expect anything and everything. There were no soft options.
He probably did not realise at the time that all the noise we had made was little more than a cover for the twinges we nearly all had in our guts.
His chart may have been a joke but the weather was not. There were umpteen layers of cloud with heaped up cumulous and dirty great Cumulo [sic] Nimbus embedded in the layers with the most incredible wind sheers in them that was a navigators nightmare quite apart from the fact that if you did happen to be unfortunate enough to blunder into the worst of that it was enough to tear your wings off with updrafts and downdrafts of around 100mph adjacent to each other!.
We encountered ice, snow, hail, rain, thunder and lightning and even that rare phenomenae [sic] 'St Elmo's fire' that lit up the aircraft with a silvery blue glow of discharged static electricity around all of it's extremeties [sic] including the propellors that were turned into enormous catherine wheels.
Mac fought the elements and that aeroplane for hours as it bucked, bounced, and groaned with every lurch. We couldn't get above it so there was only one way....onward!
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Hail about the size of marbles hammered us until we thought that every piece of perspex must give way under the onslaught but somehow we got through although we had to bomb under the parachute sky markers that the Pathfinders had been forced to drop above the diffused glow of the doomed city below us.
It must have been too much for some. It was a shocking night all round. For us as well as Hamburg. We lost thirty aircraft altogether and another 50 were badly damaged, without a doubt as much by the elements than by enemy action and on the whole it is not suprising [sic] that the bombing was scattered all over the place.
We were all utterly exhausted after that. None more so than Mac, and were very relieved to get back to base and flop into our beds again. We were very lucky. A lot of good blokes went to a more permanent resting place that night without achieving a lot on that ill fated mission.
There were some angry mutterings directed at the commanders who had made the decision to go out an such a night.
There is a story told of one Aussie pilot who was so incensed at the debriefing he insisted on phoning Group HQ and when he was connected fired a real Aussie broadside down the line. The story goes that when he had finished the person at the other end said "do you know who you are talking to?", "No" said our Aussie. "This is the C in C, Air Chief Marshall Harris" (short pause), the next question was from our Aussie friend, "do you knew who this is?" to which the C in C said "No". "Thank Christ far that" was the answer to that before the phone was promptly replaced!.
[underlined] Noel [/underlined]
Happy reading
[line]
and there are another 70 pages to ‘Water under the Bridge’ Part 1
[underlined] Alan [/underlined]
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On the lighter side there were a few evenings out together in Bury St Edmunds where someone had found a pub that was just right for us.
It was a back street 'spit and sawdust' place with the very apt name of 'The King William', and give us a common meeting place that we were otherwise denied as we were split between two Messes.
Mac used to get a small recreational petrol allowance for his car but it didn't go far. One or two sorties had proved fruitless as everywhere we went we seemed to be up to our armpits in aircrew and allied troops of all nations, and despite various reports about a certain pub having some beer we would be lucky to get in the door before they sold out. In others it was not unusual to get a watered pint. With war-time beer being limited to 2 1/2% alcohol to start with who wanted a watered pint! We most certainly didn't so once we found the 'King Willie' we kept very quiet about it.
The landlord and his wife had recently heard of a service bereavement in the family and when we turned up they virtually adopted us. We were treated like family and we could not have asked for more. In those days such a place that never ran out of beer, eggs and bacon, or time was the nearest thing to home. We probably spent more time in the private rooms than in the bar.
After 50 years that old `pub` no longer dispenses jars of ale. It has been converted into a private dwelling but the old pub sign boarding across the front that used to bear the name has been painted over, but it will always be the 'King Willie' as far as I am concerned.
I will always have a soft spot for that place and 'mine hosts'. There must have been times when Mac's elderly but mechanically perfect Triumph Dolomite was on auto pilot when we were on our way back from Bury after an excursion but it always did it without fuss even if it was grossly overloaded. Anyway, Mac was quite used to nursing a grossly overloaded machine and under the circumstances I never had any worries.
There was the consolation that of course if anything did go wrong; and one day it did when I was not with then, we would not have far to fall, and on occasions we were past caring.
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After a short break we were on the Battle Order again on the 10th August and that night we had a very close shave.
The targets were at Nuremburg, and everything was as normal as it could have been under such circumstances until we were in the final stages of the bombing run when Ralph suddenly snapped out "go port--go-go-go", and Mac threw the aircraft over without hesitation.
I searched around frantically to see what it was all about because I was as usual looking in the opposite direction to where Ralphs turret was pointing.
My heart nearly stopped when I saw a Lancaster no move than 100 feet above us, sliding diagonaly [sic] across, with a 'cookie'. 4000lb blast bomb just leaving it's bomb bay!.
That instant `jink' undoubtedly saved us as we actually felt the displacement of air buffet us as it passed within a few feet of us between the mainplane and tailplane....and then it was gone. So was the Lanc!
Whether we were late on target or the Lanc. was early, or why the Lanc. was at our height, or why the bomb aimer had not seen us goodness only knows. There were lots of theories put forward and Mac had a lot to say about it for a change.
Our own theory was that a new Lanc. crew had done a panic stricken dive to the target and were more intent on getting rid of their load and out of it, and we were well aware that such things did happen from the whispers that did the rounds.
Hoppy was more concerned that the manoeuvre had spoiled his bombing run and he had lost his initial aiming paint so all he could do was to dump the bombs into the inferno that was Nuremberg below us but we were still sweating over that incident for some time afterwards.
It certainly had the affect of increasing our vigilance in the future and we were not going to be caught out like that again if we could avoid it. Things were dangerous enough as it was without being 'bombed' by our own aircraft.
Sixteen aircraft failed to return that night and three of them were Stirlings out of the 119 Stirlings sent out!.
Despite the savage losses within the Stirling force we were
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off again on the 12th but from all around the briefing room there were sharp intakes of breath when we saw just how far the tapes stretched across the wall map, right down to Turin, Italy, and everyone knew immediately that it was going to be a 'hairy' one. Mainly because every Stirling crew member was only too well aware of just how high a Stirling would go. Even the Wellington and some of the 'oldies' could do better than us so we knew that there was no way we would be flying over the Alps...it had to be through them!. As the plan unfolded we soon learned that that was exactly what we were going to do. The bolt hole if in trouble was North Africa!. Our Stirlings were a standing joke in Bomber Command. Even WWI aircraft could get to greater altitudes. We were lucky in normal circumstances to get above 15,000ft fully loaded despite the fact that the Operations Order often called for heights that were unobtainable. There were occasions when we managed to 'claw' a bit more at the expense of high fuel consumption by using more revs and boost and with a bit of luck, climbing at a ridiculous 200 feet per minute with 5deg. of flap when it was possible to gain another 1000 to 1500ft before starting the run in to the target but it was not always a good idea as it reduced the airspeed at the most vulnerable time. It did of course produce an increase in airspeed in a nose down approach to the target but it was a 'swings and roundabout' situation. It was certainly a waste of time gaining height that way for any other reason as having achieved it it [sic] could not be held in level flight and would slowly sink back to it's own level like a waterlogged hippo. The net result was that we got the full treatment from both the medium and the heavy flak as well as being bombed by our own aircraft!. The die was cast and we were stuck with it and it seems appropriate to relate an incident as I recall it.
A New Zealand pilot of 214 Squadron received a replacement rebuilt machine and to his delight he found that it out-performed any other Stirling that he had ever flown and kept singing it's praises until the news got around and an investigation was started to try and find out all about this 'Super' Stirling.
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All sorts of people flew it and sure enough it went up to around 20,000ft feet just like a Lanc. and there was much scratching of heads. Then they brought the jigs in from the repair depot, (SEBRO), at Cambridge and the matter was solved. They found out that the tailplane was out of incidence, so they promptly put it back to the 'correct' specification and 'presto', it was back to what a Stirling should be.
It might have solved the technical problem but it did not help the pilot much. He was so peeved about that he refused to fly it until it was changed back and he was threatened with disciplinary action but it was overcome by allocating him another 'normal' aircraft so he had to fly that or face the consequences. My recollection of the final verdict is that the powers that be decided that an incorrectly rigged tailplane could cause a structural failure in flight and that was the last word as far as I am aware. Stirlings continued to be produced to the same specification and displayed the same problem right to the end of it's days, even when many were converted or built as Mk.lV and Mk.V transports that were subsequently to be found littered around airfields all over the world.
I think most of us at that time would have been prepared to have taken a chance if there had been a choice of the two evils and Mac summed it up in his own inimitable way. "Bloody stupid sods", but since there was no choice through the Alps it was.
At the other end of the spectrum there was another `rogue' aircraft that arrived on the Squadron after a rebuild but it must have had a very limited test flight prior to delivery. Rogue is hardly the word that it's crew called it after air testing It. It creaked and groaned. The wing tips fluttered and it could not be trimmed from a lop-sided attitude in flight. Despite the most careful handling it showed great reluctance to exceed 9,000ft and was finally landed very delicately as it seemed that it was about to fall apart. It still took another independent short air test to confirm it's condition before it was promptly grounded and handed back to engineering!.
Despite the problems with the aircraft and the conditions encountered in flying right down to the South of France, skirting around Switzerland and heading through the mountains the Fiat factory......
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in Turin received our calling card but Mac was not at all happy with the return journey.
We had used a lot of fuel as a result of the engine settings that he had insisted on as we had weaved in and out of the mountain tops and to make matters worse it seemed to be getting light much earlier than anticipated.
The planned route was given up in favour of a straight line course for home shores and in the improving light Mac went down to deck level to get under radar cover and to make sure that no-one could get underneath us.
There was little I could do. Radio communication was out of the question even if it had been needed. We were far to low for reeling out the trailing aerial without loosing it so I went into the front turret as all of the others up front concentrated on map reading and safety look-out.
We were scudding along and were about 30 to 40 miles South of Paris when Mac let out a yell, "all gunners stand-by.....open bomb doors". He had spotted something that looked like a good place to jettison the incendiary containers. That 'something' appeared to be a German troops early morning parade forming up in a barrack square and we blasted into the parade ground leaving a very nasty mess behind us from front and rear guns as well as the containers.
That got rid of a bit of weight and we continued to steam along until we came to the shores of the Normandy coast where we spotted what looked like another troop assembly for morning bathing which we blasted into as well leaving that area rather messed up as well.
It did seem as if Mac's apptitude [sic] for low level flying was paying off as we had no-one chasing us so we stayed down low until half way across the Channel by which time I had vacated the front turret then it was back up to height, IFF on for radar identification, and on to base.
Mac had his own reasons for imposing a discreet silence about that episode despite what might have been a considerable contribution to the war effort. As far as anyone else was concerned we had dumped the containers and fired off the ammunition in the Channel to lose weight but having run for home more or less in in a straight line we got it........
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in the neck for arriving home early, a little earlier than others. There was even an accusation that we might not have even been to Turin and Pete's charts were impounded, but the target photo proved that we had. What they thought we had been doing for 7hrs 25mins. I really do not know but it was not very pleasant until we were proved to be in the clear but our unauthorised activities were [underlined] never [/underlined] reported.
The relief of crossing home shores again on the return journey was always an anti-climax as there were many hidden dangers on the home run with most of the crew drained by the physical and mental concentration of picking a safe pasage [sic] through enemy defences.
It was too easy to relax too soon with the gunners fighting the overwhelming desire to close their eyes, and even up front it was just as easy to be lulled by the steady throb of carefully synchronised engines with the aircraft flying itself on auto-pilot, particularly during the dark hours.
It was not unknown for the occasional Luftwaffe fighter bomber to infiltrate the home going bomber screen [sic] with a chance of shooting one down or following it through the radar screen to his base to shoot him down when he was most vulnerable during the landing and to give the base a plastering as well.
There was one occasion that I thought Mac had gone barmy when we were homeward bound over the sea and he called me up to take over his seat whilst he went down the rear. The night was as black as a coal cellar otherwise I am quite sure that I would never have had that opportunity but I dread to think of what might have happened if we had been bounced.
Of course, Paddy, in the right hand seat was quite capable of flying the aircraft within certain limits should an emergency arise, that was part of the job. So could Hoppy and although I had done several hours in the Link trainer (Flight simulator) my own efforts were very limited. My best effort was when I had an outside horizon but I was not very good on instruments alone and with the hood down. Under those circumstances I invariably 'pranged' it by losing control so when on that occasion I sat there gingerly making adjustments to the controls; as I thought, Paddy said after a few minutes "easy isn't it?", and when I nodded he added, "especially on auto-pilot"!. Rotten
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swine, and I thought that I had been doing so well to keep it straight and level.
After that I just sat there until it was time to return to my radio compartment to take a routine broadcast. Then I knew why I had been afforded the privilege of a front seat.
There was Mac, comfortably seated on the Elsan toilet down the back end, smoking a cigar, seemingly without a care in the world. Skippers privilege; no-one else was allowed to smoke!.
After the last operation we learned that three Stirlings had failed to return and one of them was from our Squadron.
The briefing on the 16th was for the long haul down to Turin again but we had an engine pack up 1 1/2 hours out and we were forced to return. With obstacles like the Alps to contend with it was no time to invite trouble but it seemed a terrible thing to do to jettison about 1000 gallons of precious fuel over the bombing range at Thetford followed by the bombs. It all had to go to get the aircraft down to landing weight but not all of the bombs went down safe. They never did. If the arming links did not release from their clips the pins were pulled and they went down live.
I remember only too well the occasions when as an airman on the very range, looking after the flashing beacon that there were some hair raising incidents. I have always maintained that the safest place was the target area. Being 2000 yards from it was no guarantee that you would not get earth thrown in your face,.....even when the Lufwaffe [sic] had a go at knocking out the light. At least on those occasions it gave me a bit of fun then with the Bren gun!.
We were certainly more rested than those who had done the full round trip when we found out that there was another operation planned for the 17th.
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Excitement mounted when the Battle Order was posted calling for a maximum effort and every available aircraft and crew was on the board to start with although it was whittled down for various reasons as time went on. We were allocated a 2nd pilot as EF433 was still undergoing an engine change so we were down for EE945 but it seemed a struggle to get many serviceable.
There were gasps and whistles as the wall map was uncovered. The tapes went right out across Demark and jinked about all over the place before they ultimately took up a course for Berlin from a turning point on the German Baltic coast very close to the Polish border. That was the crafty bit. We had been going on that route with variations for some time but that time we were not going to Berlin but to some place by the name of PEENEMUNDE.
The briefing was lengthy and very detailed. We were going in at medium height in bright moonlight to attack an experimental radar establishment (so we were told) and there was an order of the day from the man himself, 'Bomber Harris' to the effect that we were expected to press home the attack with the utmost vigour, and that if we did not knock the place out the first time we would be going back again the next night to finish it off.
Apparently Peenemunde was very special and I did not like the sound of that any more than the rest of our brief.
The aiming point for our wave was the quarters of the technical staff with the intention of killing as many as possible and the other waves would deal with the research and manufacturing plant. There was a lot of quiet whistling through clenched teeth at that announcement. It had a particularly dirty feeling about it to set out to deliberately kill people although we were not so naive not to be aware that the type of bombing that we were engaged in invariably took it's toll of innocent civilians including women and children. Somehow this felt different.
The Pathfinder technique was something new too. We had a 'Master of Ceremony's', who would be flying around the target broadcasting target and marker information to keep the bombing concentrated in the right place. A very dodgy process at low level and under a lot of falling bombs so Mac had to keep his R/T set on whether he liked the idea or not.
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Despite the maximum effort called for all the Squadron could muster was four serviceable aircraft and in fact only a total of 54 Stirlings were committed so we were not the only unit having difficulty in keeping aircraft flying but we got off and were under way without any trouble.
It was a long trip taking a Northerly route across the North Sea with many feint turns to keep the enemy guessing until we eventually turned South to cross the Island of Rugen with the head of the stream pointing to Berlin but in that case using the island as a final navigational check point to line us up with Peenemunde.
In such a bright moonlight night dozens of aircraft could be seen lining up but the rear gunner spotted one that seemed to be lining Itself up on us and it was not one of ours!. He kept an eye on it until he was sure of it's intentions and then there was a sharp warning, "fighter low, corscrew [sic] starboard, go" and opened fire as he spoke.
There was a lot of firing from both gunners as banked and dived followed by a yell from the rear gunner "got him" as the would be attacker went diving earthwards with smoke and flame pouring from him.
We soon levelled out again with the target area now clearly lit up ahead by markers, exploding bombs and fires. The Flak was very light and the target stuck out like a 'sore thumb' although there was a little confusion about the precise aiming point. The MC had been a bit late in giving corrections to bomb upwind and to one side of the markers but Hoppy had already locked on to his target and it was too late to do anything about it once the button was pressed, He always maintained that he went for the correct target anyway as it was obvious that the markers were out of place but there was a lot happening around us and there was more excitement to come.
The bomb bay doors had just closed when Mac suddenly ordered "guns stand-by-fighter dead ahead" and I swung around in the astro-dome to see an Me.110 about 200 yds ahead going from left to right with the crew plainly silhouetted in the cockpit by the light of the moon.
In the time that it had taken me to turn around Mac had already
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rammed on full power, banking right and Hoppy was scrambling into his turret. Ralph was rapidly rotating forward but it was a forlorn hope that we might do something effective. There was no way a thirty tonner was going to produce the sort of urge [sic] that was necessary and we soon lost him as he went into the dark side. I don't suppose the German crew even saw us.
The intercom was a bit lively after that as we cleared the target area and finally headed for home. The fighters were showing signs of getting very busy and there was evidence of combats all around us so it was not surprising that Mac did his usual and to hell with orders to climb away from the target. I heard him explaining to our co-pilot that he did not think it was a good idea to reduce his airspeed to about 150mph in those conditions and our co-pilot was learning a few things too. It must have paid off for him anyway. He stayed with the Squadron to the end advancing from Sgt to Sqdn.Ldr. and with a DFC.!.
Mac did the very opposite to the briefed instructions by shoving the throttles right forward with the nose down and 'high-tailed' it out of there like a scalded cat and kept it going until we were down to about 2000ft which we maintained over Denmark before climbing again.
We got home without any more trouble. The rear gunner had his claim of a `kill' of a Do.217 confirmed by other sightings although it was never acknowledged in the record books and fortunately we didn't have to go there again. We had well and truly put the place out of business and the Yanks made sure that it was unlikely to recover.
It was long afterwards that we learned that the so called 'radar delelopements [sic] ' at Peenemunde were in fact the V1 and V2 rocket research and developement [sic] that had received top priority, but at a terrible cost.
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The raid had cost us 41 aircraft including one Mosquito over Berlin where a diversionary attack was-going in. Of the two Stirlings lost one was from our Squadron and we lost not only the 'A' Flight Commander and another 'freshman' pilot who was down as second pilot.
Altogether there were nearly 300 casualties of which 131 had a been consigned to watery graves; never to be found!.
Later on some more interesting facts emerged. Apparently the Luftwaffe had dispatched their night fighters to Berlin at first due to the Mosquito's stirring things up and in the excitement they had a fine old time shooting each other up; and down, before it became obvious that the main raid was-somewhere else. Then the fighters were diverted to the Peenemunde area and other units were alerted.
The net result was that when the whole flock descended to land, very short of fuel, on diversionary airfields it was every man for himself and quite a number were lost in mid-air collisions and taxying accidents.
One significant loss that could be attributed to that episode was that the senior General of the Peenemunde production staff was among the many casualties and production was put back sufficiently to gain time for the introduction of countermeasures when they did finally launch them.
[line of stars]
I was not sorry when we found ourselves free for a few days as we waited for the nights to get darker and for nearly 300 air-crew and 40 aircraft to be replaced; but it was only a few days.
On the 23rd August EF433 was back in business again and we were off once more. The target was Berlin; the 'Big City' as it was known to aircrew. It no longer gave us any cause for concern when the target was announced....we had been well and truly blooded, so off we went again although it was not without a spot of bother.
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It seemed that there were battles going on all around us with intense activity for a long time. There were 'flamers' going down in all directions and we were all keeping a very sharp look-out whilst Mac weaved about so that at times we could see below us but we were lucky again even when Mac had to take some very lively action to duck out of a searchlight cone that definitely had our number.
The pale blue high intensity radar controlled master light locked onto us first and then a number of others joined in and chased us around all around the sky.
We had seen that situation often enough to know that once you were trapped in that lot there would be a fighter not far away waiting to finish us off if the concentration of flak did not get us first; and the flak got [underlined] very [/underlined] concentrated.
That was no time to just 'corkscrew'. Throttles forward, fine pitch, nose down to increase speed and then Mac more or less played tag with them as they chased us but he used some very rapid changes of direction before they could reverse.
That night was perhaps the most desperate searchlight situation we had ever been in. On occasions the whole interior of the aircraft was illuminated as plain as day and it was like being a fly caught in a spiders web but eventually Mac's tactics paid off as we broke free. We were very glad to get home again after that.
It was becoming increasingly obvious that the relatively quiet earlier missions were a stroke of luck as we were now having to fight our way through almost every time. The odds in favour of us completing a tour were shortening considerably, and to make matters worse the flying time was getting longer. The last three ops. had all been over seven hours and Berlin was nearer eight, and 56 aircraft had been lost on that raid, 16 of them Stirlings!. The beds in our hut were getting new occupants before we even got to know the previous one's!.
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No-one seemed to be getting posted away or 'tour expired'. There was always someone from the 'committee of adjustment' gathering up the possessions of those who would have no further use for them unless they had been particularly lucky.
As far as we were concerned it was still not a subject of conversation although we were a little superstitious about the situation. Despite the fact that our beds were scattered about the hut none of us ever moved from the beds that we first flopped into so that we could be grouped together, although it would have got some of us away from draughty doors and windows.
We just stayed put as the occupants of the others changed regularly and I learned later that Mac and Pete had adopted exactly the same procedure!. Among the most recent casualties that brought things rather sharply into focus was the loss of another McDonald, (slightly different spelling), ex 214 Squadron, on the last operation. We had got to know him and his crew quite well as they were the most experienced, and we had wished them 'Good Luck' as they left the briefing room.
It was his 30th and final operation before being rested and it was a long time later that I learned that only his W/Op. had survived as a POW. Apparently, at the last moment, on leaving the briefing room, he had been offered the chance to stand down and finish his tour there and then but the crew voted to turn it down!. It did not help to reflect on the fact that when the Squadron had been formed there was a McDonald, a MacDonald and a Macdonald. One, Sgt MacDonald had already goes missing on the 25th July, so we were the only one left!.
As usual, despite the long trip the night before, we reported to the flight office in the early afternoon where we learned of the Squadron's loss, hoping as usual, that we would be 'stood down'. Some were but for Mac and I it was a different story.
For us there was a flight detail with some S/Ldr Staff Officer from Group HQ who for some reason wanted to demonstrate the 'corkscrew'.
I don't know why it was us. Perhaps Mac had volunteered again
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as we suspected he did an occasions, but as it only required a minimum crew of three for such details the others were sent off. There was no Battle Order on the board so they did not need a second telling. They were off like scalded cats!.
It was no real problem with two pilots up front so I was down as 'gunner' for the flight and there was a chance that we might learn something new although we had certainly done our share of 'corkscrewing'; and a bit more the previous night when Mac had got into an energetic but still smooth manoeuvre in such a way that it did not communicate the extent of the motion to the back-side. The evidence of that was that Pete, sitting in his darkened 'office' doing his sums, was only half aware of what was going on apart from the occasional interior illumination, came on the intercomm [sic] and nervously suggested to Mac that he "chuck it about a bit"!. That was a bit of a surprise to the rest of the crew. I knew that we were being 'chucked about,' quite a lot. How else was it that I was in my seat and often getting glimpses of the ground through the the [sic] Astro dome on [inserted] the [/inserted] [underlined] top [/inserted] of the aircraft.
When we got out to EF433 I was more concerned with the pre-flight checks of both mid-upper and rear gun turrets in case I had to make a dive for one of them in the event of an intruder chancing his luck, and then basically I was a passenger.
I was a little surprised to see Mac in the right hand seat as I took up my position on the flight deck between the two pilots as we started up and taxied out…..even then I was getting alarm signals in my sensitive parts as I was subjected to an G experience that was rare since flying with Mac.
The brakes squeeled [sic] and shrieked and the aircraft rocked and a lurched about until finally it was heaved off of the runway in about the clumsiest take-off I could ever remember and into a climbing turn that seemed to strain every rivet. And that was before we corkscrewed!.
After climbing to about 5000ft with the engines bellowing I was listening to this chap explaining to Mac how it should be done but it still caught me by suprise [sic] when he went into the most violent, wildest manoeuvre that I had ever thought possible. The wing tips must have flexed by about 6ft although I did not know for sure as I was brought to my knees by the 'G' forces
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one minute and was floating to the roof the next desperately trying to hang onto something to avoid being thrown around the cockpit and possibly finishing up in someone's laps. Even so I could not avoid noticing a purple tinge developing around Mac's neck that had nothing to do with 'G' forces. As it went on he was obviously getting very angry and not learning a lot!.
Eventually he got very emotional as he turned to the other pilot and the intercom [deleted] n [/deleted] fairly sizzled with an outburst that contained phrases like, "how dare you treat my aeroplane like this" and "what the bloody hell do you think we were doing over Berlin last night" and "what the bloody hell do you think the gunners are supposed to be doing whilst all this is going on" and a lot more besides which is unprintable. An argument ensued, the outcome of which was that Mac finished by telling the other pilot to relinquish control by his "I have control....now sit back and you might bloody well learn something". I crept away somewhat embarrassed and took up my position in the mid-upper turret reporting in when I was established and I soon knew how Ralph felt as Mac put us through the same manoeuvres as we had done the night before, (and he was driving from the right hand seat), with no further comment from the visitor.
At least, being in a gunner situation for a change I learned the value of keeping my eyeballs in their sockets which is more than I would have done if the other chap had been driving!.
Having got that off of his chest we headed straight back to base and landed with the Squadron Leader still fuming at the indignity of being lambasted by a Flying Officer, so he stamped away from the aircraft with a flea in his ear!.
Mac left him to his own arrangements to get back to the flight office whilst we spent a long time looking around the aircraft for signs of sprung rivets and other signs of over stressing like wrinkled skin.
Mac was muttering darkly all the time about "ham fisted buggers" and other uncomplementary [sic] remarks that are unprintable.
He was more vocal than I had ever heard him and definitely not impressed that 'Sir' had not done as many ops as we had!.
No doubt the demonstration was well intentioned even if it was a case of 'teaching grandma to suck eggs'.
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On the 27th we were in the briefing room again to find that targets in Nurnburg [sic] were to receive our attention so off we went in the company of another 673 aircraft.
My recollections are that the flak was the worst I had ever seen so far. There seemed to be a solid wall of shell bursts in front of us as we closed in on the city, and 'flamers' were going down right left and centre.
At briefing it had been mentioned that the night fighters were likely to be repeating some new tactics that had already had some success; as far as they were concerned anyway.
It confirmed our suspicions that something different was going on.
Previously the fighters had kept clear of the ack-ack and waited until they saw someone in trouble before going in for the kill but they had started getting in among us and having a go at anything they saw regardless of the possibility of being hit by their own stuff. Between those operating those tactics and others using AI (Airborne Interception Radar) they were beginning to knock us down like clay pigeons.
The searchlight/flak/fighter combination was lethal under those conditions and between them accounted for the loss of 33 aircraft, 11 of them Stirlings from a force of 104. [underlined] Three [/underlined] of them were from our Squadron detail of seven that had ultimately got under way. The loss of nearly 50% really knocked the stuffing out of us. None of them had been with us for more than a few weeks and one of the pilots had flown with us as co-pilot recently.
At this point I was hoping that a spot of leave would help to prolong things but it was not be.
After a brief rest the next place to receive our attention was Munchen-Gladbach [sic] on the 30th and this one started off on the wrong foot.
All was well until start-up when the starboard outer starter motor stripped when engaged.
It was not unnatural that most of the crew immediately started planning the evenings entertainment to occupy a bonus night off as we knew that there was no spare aircraft. I must confess that I had no knowledge of the starting handle!.
There was no reason why a wireless operator should I suppose
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although it was in our own interests of survival that we should know quite a lot about everyone else's [inserted] job [/inserted] . But that was some starting handle!.
Nearly 20 feet long, shoved through a hole in the engine casing to engage it, and with a large double. crank at the bottom designed for two people to turn it.
With Paddy in the cockpit juggling with throttles and mixture controls, and Mac jumping up and down shouting unprintable words of encouragement to the owners of [underlined] four [/underlined] pairs of arms, mine included, we cranked that engine until at last it spluttered into life and then we all piled aboard and got under way.
We soon made up for lost time by taking a few short cuts to catch up the force as there was no way that we were going to be a loner over enemy territory but I doubt it very much if many aircraft had been started that way to go on ops.
We had a bit of a skirmish later as we approached the target. The rear end Mac hollered and fired as we jinked away from an Me.109 which spun away pouring smoke and flame although we did not see what finally happened to him. We were far to busy searching for others as it was obvious that the fighters were very active all around us. McIlroy was only credited with a possible for that engagement.
There was no doubt that our two gunners were really on the ball as once again they had fired first but others were not so lucky and for one reason or another six Stirlings failed to return.
[line of stars]
We were briefed for Berlin on the 31st although there was some doubt about W becoming serviceable although they were half way through the starter motor change. In the event it was not rectified in time and at the last minute we were allocated EF117, but Mac was very peeved about it. It had not even been air tested!.
We did not get very far in it before we found that the rear guns would not fire and then the intercom went dead on us.
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Mac was fuming and we pressed on for a while desperately trying to rectify the faults without any success but he decided that we would not waste the trip or the bombs as we turned away from the enemy coast and diverted to overfly a place that most people tried to keep clear of; Texel, in the Frisian Islands. They started firing as we approached so it was taps open, speed up with a bit of a weave on and Hoppy planted the bombs as close as he could to the batteries and the searchlights. Their effort was certainly reduced as we turned away so perhaps we had done a bit of damage in the process. It was counted as an operation as we had been over enemy territory but there was one a hell of a row as the brief was to dump the bombs in the sea or jettison them on the Thetford range.
In addition there were even accusations of possible sabotage and collusion from higher up until the faults were proven to have been electrical malfunctions that could not have been fixed in the air. Mac was furious about the whole business but it did not help. One can only speculate on what the outcome might have been if we had not been forced to 'abort' the mission. There were 16 Stirlings lost that night out of the 57 dispatched. One of them from our Squadron!.
The gaps around the mess tables were getting noticeable again and if the absence of any entries in my log book is anything to go by we were sent on leave whilst the Stirling Force was being put together again.
I do vaguely remember one leave that started with a fair old session at the King Willie and I must have forgotten where I was as we pulled out of Bury. St. Edmunds station. Apparently I had to be restrained from dispensing leaflets out of the window!. Despite my indiscretion I still managed to retain some of them.
There were a few mining operations undertaken by new crews whilst we were away and on our return we were to find that one new crew had arrived and had already been lost in that short period. It was not long before we were back in the briefing room again to find that the target was the Dunlop factory at Montlucon, Italy, but it was another washout. We never even left home shores.
An engine seized shortly after getting airborne and we were
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obliged to jettison bombs and fuel on the range before landing. We were in 'W' and it had only done a few hours local flying whilst we had been away but sleeve valve Hercules engines really made a thorough job of it when they seized, so of course Mac was hopping mad.
We ail got blamed for the various things that had gone wrong and a lot of accusations were flung around in the heat of the moment. The frustration was understandable as we all knew that he was driving himself, and us, as hard as he could to get the tour over as quickly as possible but eventually he calmed down and we renewed our efforts.
[line of stars]
It was during our last leave that Mcllroy spent a few days with me and the family as we had a welcome break from the East Anglian scene.
We walked miles over the Downs at the back of Worthing where I had spent all my earlier days, and past the spot where in 1940 I had gazed in awe at a shot down Heinkel 111. although it was an area now that was not so regularly visited by the German Air Force.
It had been different then, when the invasion was imminent although they had been forced by their losses and other commitments to limit their efforts in our direction.
I can still recall vividly the occasion when I found myself right under a scrap over Worthing, between three Spitfires and a Heinkel 111. that had dared to venture in the direction of London.
The Air raid siren had sounded and I had seen him going over very high, leaving vapour trails but he had obviously been forced to turn tail and he was in a shallow glide going very fast as he came over the hospital and the gas works. Then those Spits gave him a real hammering.
With hot empty cartridge cases and links cascading down all around me I had watched mesmerised as the top gunner had winged two of them, one going off East towards Shoreham staggering a bit and the other in the direction of Ford and Tangmere trailing smoke. Then the third one went in for the kill if the
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way that the guns suddenly went askew was anything to go by. That was it. He continued out to sea and plunged in about a mile off of the pier. He had put up a good fight but it had not done him much good.
Now the skies were relatively clear but that did not mean that the area was safe. There were elements of the Canadian Army en-camped in the area and they often imposed a threat to life and limb.
I was glad of McIlroy's company in a bar one evening when some of his countrymen who were somewhat 'tanked' up started making derisive remarks about Brylcream boys and a scrap was imminent.
It all looked very ugly for a while and of course those chaps had been trained to the peak of fighting efficiency and no doubt still had a bee in their bonnet about the Dieppe affair.
Just in time Mac defused the situation. He pushed me out of the way, took of his raincoat to reveal his Canada shoulder flashes, gunners brevet and stripes, and drawing himself up to his full height of 6ft plus asked who was going to be first. There were no takers and we moved to another bar to continue drinking in peace.
No doubt that lot had more than their share of fighting later on, on 'D' Day and after.
[line of stars]
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That was all behind us as we finished our leave and got back to the task of taking the fight to the enemy.
On the 16th we found ourselves on the Battle Order for an operation that turned out to be a very dodgy one.
There were the usual mutterings, quiet whistling through clenched teeth plus a few caustic comments from the assembly when we found that we were off to do some damage to a railway station and tunnel at Modane, a mountain pass between France and Italy. What caused most of the comment was the unusual method of attack. Modane was at the Northen [sic] end of the Tunnel-de-frejus, deep in the Alps!.
As it was in a valley, the floor of which was 3,467ft above sea level, with the tops of the valley at about 11.000ft and only three miles across the tops it was impossible (so they said), to approach the tunnel mouth direct due to the sheer rock face above it.
The plan was to approach from a valley at 90° to the tunnel mouth, plant the bombs in the valley wall to bring down a large amount of debris before doing a smart left hand turn into the main valley.
The task was a risky one, bearing in mind that it was at night. Anyone who failed to get it in one was to initiate the left turn and take the station and yards at Modane as the secondary target.
One way or the other it would make it difficult for the German military traffic that was plying between France and Italy through the remote pass.
Fortunately the Met got it right that time. The weather was perfect. It was beautiful moonlit night and we entered the mountain region between the peaks bang on track and worked our way through until the target area loomed up ahead. We rushed towards the rock face at around 200mph and Hoppy did his lefts and rights and steadies and then he goofed it!. !
What happened next caused my heart to miss a beat. Calm as you like as if he was on the bombing range Hoppy said "missed it-round again"!.
I think that is what upset Mac more than anything else as we banked over into the valley expecting him to give Hoppy some verbal about the secondary target but what came next caused
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my heart to miss a few more beats.
We were all alarmed to hear Mac say, 'that is just what we will do too, and get it right this time or you go out next, we are going back to the tunnel"!.
By now we had got to know Mac well enough to know that when he had set his mind on something there was very little that we could do about it. I got the distinct impression that I was riding a runaway roller-coaster as I braced myself in the isle [sic] between the pilots positions.
The horizon went haywire as we banked over into the initial turn and started to descend. We had not quite got to the station yards when we went into a tight 180deg. turn to head back underneath the rest of the force that was still hurling bombs all the way down the railway line.
I don't know how serious Mac was about chucking Hoppy out but he gave it to him straight, "no more messing about" as we charged at the tunnel mouth and when the "bombs away" call came we did not hang around to see the results although I don't see how we could have avoided hitting something. Our greatest concern was getting out of the situation.
All I could see was a kalidascope [sic] of nasty looking rocks as there was only seconds to make the turn, no room to turn back, no chance to climb with aircraft still coming in over the top of us. All we could do was wriggle and twist along the valley floor hoping to God we would not go the wrong way and find ourselves in a cul-de-sac.
It was very uncomfortable for a while as Pete and Hoppy had consulted their maps and assured Mac that all was well. And so it was as suddenly we came out into a wider valley and were able to climb.
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Obviously we had not done the exact reciprocal of our inbound route and it did not matter a lot as we all breathed a little easier until Mac let out a whoop with an "all gunners stand by" and we were all on the alert again. Then he told us what it was all about as the gunners reported "ready".
He throttled back and in rich mixture we were soon whispering along without even a flicker of flame from the exhausts, and then we all saw clearly what he had seen as we went into a turn. We were able to pick out dim convoy lights on a road halfway up the mountainside, so it seemed likely that it was the Southern end of the tunnel that we had just bombed. Mac said "if that is not a military convoy I will eat my socks" and followed it up almost immediately with a gentle turn onto a Northerly heading to within a few hundred yards of the mountainside. All gunners blazed away in turn and there was all hell let loose before we turned away.
The results were spectacular and certainly not quite what we had expected.
There were explosions, scattering lights, and liquid fire pouring down the mountainside with more explosions in the waterfall of fire and after about 20secs. we turned about and repeated the performance.
It was an appalling sight as obviously vehicles including fuel and ammunition trucks had been hit but turning away with most of our ammunition gone and somewhat shocked, we made our way home, low down across the tip of Switzerland and across France just as fast as we could.
Mac's orders were specific. Not a word about it, and he swore each one of us to absolute secrecy as we had not been ordered to do it, or whether we had done the right thing even though we might have contributed considerably to the war effort.
It was never reported and has remained under wraps until Mac can no longer answer for whatever damage was done. With more operations still to do if we were lucky it was best to forget the episode although some explanations were called for as our target photo showed a very messy tunnel mouth and the expenditure of several thousand rounds of ammunition was explained as an attempt to supress some ground fire in the valley. [underlined] And a ticking off for attacking in the wrong direction [/underlined] !!.
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I did not do another operation until the 3rd October as I went on the sick list for a few days.
I received an injury not from enemy action but from one of my own crew, although the outcome showed the sort of crew spirit that there was even if I had to be the 'dogs-body' to prove the point in respect of my own particular crew.
Macdonald and I had been into Bury St Edmunds to the King Willie for a couple of quiet drinks and on return we went to the Sgt's Mess where there was a dance in progress.
As soon as we entered the Mess we found ourselves in the middle of a group of people, Station Commander included, who were being treated to a drunken comedy act by Paddy who seemed to be doing his damndest [sic] to climb a wall by making repeated runs at it.
He must have been in the bar as soon as it had opened and obviously had had far more than his share.
The affair had just reached the stage where the Group Captain had already ordered the RAF Police to be brought in so Mac stepped in to sort things out his way. Exercising his right as 'Skipper' he ordered me to get Paddy out of the Mess and out of trouble. I wish he hadn't!.
With the assistance of another Flight Engineer from the Squadron Paddy was talked out of the building but we had not got very far when the other chap slipped and went down and a very confused Paddy decided that I was responsible.
I was still trying to hold him up but he turned on me and belted me one!, and I tumbled into an open trench.
I could have coped with that but grabbing a large paint drum half filled with solidified paint he heaved it at me and I remember nothing after it bounced off of my head.
I woke up in the sick bay the next morning with the great grandaddy of all headaches and adorned by large pieces of sticky plaster.
In the meantime wheels had been in motion as it had been decided that disciplinary action would be taken against Paddy for the rumpus that he had caused in the Mess. As far as my condition was concerned it was a different case so it looked as if Mac was going to have to do without his favourite engineer for a while if that reached it's logical conclusion…..until Mac did a deal with someone. That is, in addition to me!.
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He came to see me in the sick bay with a proposal that he said would satisfy all concerned.
The deal was that I would be charged with being responsible for the whole affair and as I was hardly in a state to argue I went along with it. The net result was-that Paddy was in the clear, I was fined five shillings (25p) for being 'drunk and disorderly', a scar on my forehead, and an entry on my documents as well as a few days off; but I had an opportunity to even the score sometime later.
Whilst I was on the sick list and grounded the crew did another two operations with a relief W/Op, going to Hanover on the 22nd and Mannheim on the 24th without incident. and each of those two nights I spent in the control tower biting my nails until they were back. One of our Squadron failed to return from the Hannover raid…..and it was nearly a turning point for me.
There was a limit on how long you could remain out of a crew without being, permanently replaced and the relief W/Op was sufficiently impressed with the rest of the crew to ask if he could stay with them. Mac must have pulled a few more strings and the MO signed me off despite the sticky plaster so I was back in the crew instead of becoming spare man.
The other chap had previous been spare because his crew had gone missing whilst he was sick so he went back to being spare.
Unfortunately, when he did get crewed up again the following month he was killed in a flying accident. That's fate! and it was being tempted far too often for my liking.
Eventually Mac did get around to thanking me in an embarrassed sort of way for my involvement but I think that when I weighed up the final outcome I was the one that was most thankful, so despite a sore head and some red ink remarks in the records, we just pressed on as if nothing had ever happened.
[line of stars]
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The operation we were briefed for on the 3rd October was for aircraft factory targets at Kassel and as 'W' had been unserviceable on air test we were allocated EE971. After air-testing that one Mac and Paddy agreed that 'it would do'. Not quite like our 'W' but they could accept it.
A few things had changed by that time. The Luftwaffe hit and run raids were almost a thing of the past as they were well and truly on the defensive and East Anglia now bristled with AA sites which very rarely permitted a raider to get very far.
We had got bold enough to assemble all the aircraft for the night's operation on the runway in front of the main camp area and in sight of the main road, and on this occasion there must have been as many as 28, possibly 30 aircraft lined up, and very impressive it looked too.
I have always thought that one lone raider bold enough (and lucky enough) to have got through the defences to shoot up that line would have done an awful lot of damage, but fortunately no-one ever did. The resultant mess would have wiped out half the camp and the Marquis of Cornwallis pub at the same time.
Nevertheless it was a great morale booster for the locals who were crowding up to the other side of the fence to watch procedings [sic] , many with pints of ale held aloft in salute. It did restrict activities a bit when many crew members were saying goodnight to their favourite WRAF under the mainplane, but the less said about that the better.
Off went both Squadrons in grand style and we were just approaching the coast outbound when the port outer packed up with a great deal of spluttering and backfiring so it didn't look as if we were going to get very far.
Mac and Paddy juggled with the engine controls but the engine steadfastly refused to do much more than 1000revs without protesting so they shut it down and feathered the prop.
By that time Mac was keen to get another op. under the belt and apart from calling me a 'jinx' he decided to 'press on'. We were not keen but he didn't ask us so we went all the way on three engines, bombed the target and headed home with Paddy biting his nails with concern at the high fuel consumption and the strain of the extra power being extracted from the other
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three engines. I do not think he would have put 'W' under so much strain but this one was not ours and that was that.
As soon as we cleared the enemy coast wee started to economise on fuel with a change of engine settings, firing off ammunition into the sea. Flares, incendiary containers and all sorts of stuff being dumped to lighten the load with Paddy getting more and more agitated as he endeavoured to work out our fuel state which was not made any easier by Mac's persistent nagging.
My request to make an emergency call was refused as was a further request to call the emergency services for the state of Tangmere, although we did change course in that direction. I was further refused permission to switch the IFF to the emergency code, in fact he was downright bloody minded.
Nevertheless, I was all ready to go straight into all my emergency procedures with IFF, radio and verey [sic] signals if the need arose, without permission, as we approached home shores.
We were just about overflying Tangmere when Paddy and Pete come up with the results of their combined calculations.
When I heard that on the intercomm [sic] I thought immediately, 'Tangmere, here we come', with one hour to base and one hour five minutes fuel, so we were not amused when Mac said, "what the hell are you worrying about then. Navigator, a direct course to base please".
A direct course for Chedburgh was made in defiance of standing orders that forbade us to overfly London and hoped to God that we would not lose too much height and find ourselves tangled up in the London balloon barrage.
It was bad enough when the banshee wailing of the balloon barrage warning came in on the radio. That in itself was a bit unnerving but we were all in Mac's hands and I was hoping that he would be prudent enough to settle for any airfield whilst we still had a limited reserve of fuel. And it was limited. Paddy had made it quite clear that he had calculated to the last drop of [underlined] usable [/underlined] fuel on the evidence of gauges that he was doubtful of. He could not do more other than protest further to Mac as we cleared the London area, in fact everyone protested that what we were doing was unnecessary, although perhaps not in such mild terms.
His only answer was to request that I open all of the fuel tank
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cocks on the bulkhead behind me and he started to rack the aircraft from side to side to drain every last drop into the main tanks.
That was enough for me. On went my 'chute and it would not have taken much more for me to be heading for the rear hatch which I had left open after jettisoning equipment over the sea earlier. It was just at that time that Paddy decided that he had definitely had enough. As far as he was concerned Mac had gone 'bonkers' and he was getting out whilst he still had a chance. He struggled out of his seat, clipped on his 'chute and had just got by Pete, and I was seriously. contemplating joining him when I received an order from Mac to "restrain him".
That upset any plans, so he was 'restrained', if that is what you would call tripping him up and sitting on him, although it was not for long as Mac had decided that we were serious and he agreed to go for the nearest airfield if Paddy would go back to his seat.
No sooner had he done so the port outer spluttered and died so they started up the port inner for the first time in hours and although it would not run at any speed without backfiring it was kept going as we desperately searched around for an airfield.
Mac was very busy struggling with the controls when one was sighted and we immediately headed for it. I fired off the colours of the day as fast as I could load and fire and when they were gone I fired off all the reds and then everything else in the rack, greens, yellows, star shells and even smoke puffs in the hope that the control staff would be suitably alerted to an emergency. Mac was far too busy to even use his radio and it was all very tense in the cockpit. I was half hoping that Mac would still give the order to abandon, and I was still ready, but instead he instructed Paddy to select wheels and flaps only when he asked for them and that's when the starboard outer spluttered and died. It was in those desperate moments that Paddy 'goofed' and we lost about five thousand feet rapidly after he feathered the starboard inner by mistake, and although he promptly rectified the error we were by that time descending like the proverbial brick lavatory. Not surprising as we were for a time flying; if you could call it that, on between one
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and one and a half engines.
I was back in the astro dome by that time as we aimed at the threshold of the runway at an alarming angle to keep the speed up. My legs and fingers were crossed as I looked hypnotically at where I was quite sure that we were going to make a large sized hole and then the nose came up …….."full flap" was Mac's breathless request over the intercomm [sic] and we were flaring out above the runway with the speed falling off as all power was taken off with another almost whispered request ...."wheels down" and then we floated whilst Mac held her off, to kiss the runway within seconds of the undercarriage 'green lights' coming on with warning horns blasting our ears.
Another perfect landing!!!! even if the approach had been a bit abnormal.
Mac established contact with the control tower to find that we were at Wratting Common, another Stirling base and we managed to stagger to the end of the runway and turn off before everything stopped with a splutter as we ran completely out of fuel!. We subsequently had to be towed away but not before we had managed to compose ourselves.
It was really an amazing piece of flying that had made the best out of a very bad decision that so easily could have ended in disaster…..and we all knew it.
Why else would Paddy come rushing past me towards the rear door, ashen faced, then jump out and spend a lot of time throwing up and kissing mother earth!
As for me. I stayed in the semi-darkness of the doorway until my colour came back and my knees stopped knocking before I ventured out...and I needed the ladder!. I don't think the others were much better.
After a few hours sleep we were back out to the aircraft which had been repaired and refuelled. The problem had only been burned out ignition leads which was something that Hercules engines quite often suffered from and we were soon on our way back to base still feeling as if we had experienced a very dream [sic] but we were still better off than some. Another five Stirlings failed to return that night.
Not another word was said about the incident. No apologies....nothing! Perhaps it was best left that way if we
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expected to continue as a crew…..and we did, although Mac was somewhat subdued afterwards -and was suffering from strained back and shoulder muscles for several days.
[line of stars]
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We had a few days break before we were detailed for another operation on the 8th. It was my birthday on the 9th so I planned a celebration if all went well but that night, as the 8th turned into the 9th we got the sort of party I could have done without. The main target was Hannover although-we were part of the secondary force within the main force with everyone heading for Bremen and at a certain position the main force turned towards Hannover leaving us virtually as decoys.
The fighters had been scrambled to intercept the track to Bremen and I was half way through a large bale of leaflets that I was dispensing out of the rear escape hatch when the rear gunner suddenly yelled "fighter--port quarter--corkscrew port--go" and over we went straight into evasive action as the fighter opened up. The rear gunner opened up at the same time and the interior of the aircraft was lit up by flashes as we were hit and bits and pieces were flying around in all directions. There was not a lot that I could do although I instinctively started to throw out leaflets as fast as I could without bothering to cut the string on some as I came up to the standing position to kick some bundles out. As I was to find out later, a good move. Mac was throwing the aircraft around all over the sky and the firing seemed to go on for a long time with smoke, flashes and a great deal of noise as something stung me in the face, and then it stopped as quickly as it had started. Immediately the rear gunner was back on intercom to report that his rear turret was damaged and had jammed solid when he had resorted to turning it manually.
He also reported a hell of a lot of debris from us had smothered the attacker before he had broken away suggesting that we had lost a few bits of aeroplane.
It was later on when we were piecing together details of the attack that we figured that it must have been my leaflets in the slip-stream, and he also reported that the fighter appeared to have two glowing tails; which is what I had also seen in a brief moment through the hatch.
There was a hell of a lot to do. We were in no doubt that we had collected a considerable amount of damage yet everyone checked in OK and unharmed which was a relief.
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I made my way back to the radio compartment to find Paddy curled up behind the armour plating of my seat which he had dived for after seeing me hopping about in the illumination of tracer that was flying about.
I asked him to check me over as there was a lot of wet and warm stuff running down my face and producing his torch very soon re-assured me that "it's hydraulic oil you bloody twit" before he was off down the back end to make some repairs.
Everyone was checking around thoroughly at that time but there were no fires or fuel leaks and all engines were turning without fuss. All other indications were normal….and we were still flying, complete with bomb load so we pressed on somewhat gingerly at that point in time.
There was another very good reason why I had dashed up front so rapidly after the action. Despite the fact that I had been standing on the edge of quite a large hole to dispense the leaflets, my 'chute had still been in it's stowage a long way from me; and I never ever did that again that's for sure!.
Everyone eased their parachutes in the stowages. Paddy put his on as he had to negotiate the open hatch which we had decided to leave open under the circumstances and as we continued to Bremen we checked and re-checked all our vital functions.
Paddy used a fire axe to clear the rear bulkhead and turret doors before the turret became operational again with a healthy short burst. But Mcllroy was in a very draughty situation as most of his perspex had gone and there were holes all around him, after which he made some first aid repairs to the hydraulic piping in the area of the position where the ventral turret would have been; if it had been fitted. First aid was the operative word; he used the medical first aid kit!. More to stop slippery oil sloshing about than anything else.
The intercomm [sic] was lively and as we had a freshman second pilot with us he was learning very fast. For a change Mac was not telling anyone to quit the chatter as he usually did so bit by bit everything was satisfactorily cross checked and it was reassuring to find that all the essentials were working despite the fact that there was a lot of internal damage: There were holes in the main bulkhead up front near my position and
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even some of the instruments in the cockpit had lost their glass. With everything giving the right responses it was no time to pull out of the stream and becoming a sitting duck for another enterprising night fighter so we stayed with it, bombed and stuck to the route for the return journey still regularly checking and cross checking.
I really thought that that was the one time Mac was going to have to use his "angle of dangle" equipment as he called it; to help him fly the aeroplane. It was in fact a weighted Scots doll suspended by a cord in line with his nose that he always set up for use. He always said that he could fly on that if all else failed but fortunately it was not needed and stayed up on the scuttle.
Eventually Paddy and I replaced the rear hatch and things returned to near normal but I could not help reflecting that I could have been a lot more effective with a pair of .303's sticking out of the bottom instead of dispensing a pile of paper which no doubt the German population used for the same purpose as we would have done in those days of paper shortage.
As it was, we had nothing protecting the underside and the Luftwaffe knew it well enough. After all, they had a fair sized scrap business going in recovering crashed Allied aircraft and re-cycling them into fighters for the defence of the Fatherland, and it was costing us dearly.
Although the attack on us had been from the rear so many losses of the period were being caused by something that for some reason or other our intelligence people did not know about, or if they did it was not made common knowledge.
It could have been that the Luftwaffe system was so effective that few, if any, aircrews ever got back to tell the tail [sic] .
They had developed a weapon along the lines of a British invention of WW1, the COW (Coventry Ordinance Works) gun, originally intended for shooting down airships.
They had put together a pair of 20mm cannon with periscope sights on an upward firing mounting in several types of aircraft, including the Me.110. and codenamed it 'Schrage Music' as part of their 'Battle Opera' control system.
With or without radar they were getting into the bomber stream, picking a target and positioning themselves underneath in the
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blind spot out of sight of the gunners, even to the point of following through a 'corkscrew' so that the gunners never got contact, or the Wireless Operator through his infra-red 'Fishpond' equipment, (if he had got it on) for that matter.
All they had to do was to keep up the shadowing until they got their aiming point 'spot on' then hit the button.
The aiming point was usually the starboard wing root where there was a concentration of fuel lines, fuel tanks, control lines and crew. It was very adjacent to the bombs, one engine, flares, oxygen bottles and other things that go bang in the night.
One short burst in that vital area was usually enough and the aircraft invariably exploded within seconds of the strike giving the occupants very little chance to escape. No wonder that we had seen-so many aircraft just explode and dissapear [sic] in a fireball.
It is on record that one of their night fighters fitted with the system was credited with [underlined] Five [/underlined] Lancasters in a 30 minute sortie so it was hardly suprising [sic] that there was very little feed back of intelligence information.
As we got nearer home we were very careful how we prepared the aircraft for landing. Fortunately the bomb doors had operated satisfactorily and Hoppy had made sure that there were no hangups. That was the last thing we wanted as a primed hang-up was a very sensitive beast.
Finally there was more to do before joining the circuit. Air pressures, hydraulic pressures and electrics were all normal. Mac did a mock landing procedure at height to test the responses at landing speed. There was no way that he was going to have the aircraft fall out of his hands at same vital stage of our final approach, but flaps, undercarriage and control services all gave the right reaction so it was on to base for a landing. Even then he was not entirely satisfied. Our first touchdown as a bumper to see if the green lights stayed an indicating that the undercarriage has locked down and to check that the tyres were not perforated.
Only then did we make an approach for a normal landing which was, as ever, as smooth as silk.
We gave ourselves a bit more time that morning to look around the aircraft after we had parked in dispersal and what we saw
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in the morning half-light made us gasp.
It did not seem possible that nothing had been seriously damaged yet there was hardly a square foot without a hole in it.
There were holes in the undercarriage doors, the flaps, bomb doors, control surfaces, engine cowlings and nicks out of the propellor blades. The rear turret had suffered most of all with 80% of the perspex gone and there were dozens of holes around the foot well.
A count showed that there were 96 groups of damage altogether but what brought me out in a cold sweat was to find a nice group of five holes through the rear step of the bomb bay where I had been sitting when the attack started. It was just as well that I had jumped up when I did or I would never have subsequently raised a family!.
I would not have been surprised if McIlroy had not been in a similar sweat. Not only was his turret a mess but his flying suit was nicked all over and ruined. There were tufts of fur sticking out under his arms and around his waist and even his flying boots had been chipped.
His turret doors had been ripped open like a tin can and the bulkhead doors had been badly holed as well. His parachute in it's stowage between the doors was later found to have quite a lot of lead embedded in it. When they opened it up it was like a colander and it is doubtful if it would have been much use if he had been forced to use its but he had not got a scratch on him!. I will never understand it.
As far as EF433 was concerned, although she had served us well she was done for. She just sort of sat there drooping and creaking so it was just as well that Mac had treated her gently. She was taken apart and sent to Cambridge for repair.
We learned later that when they stripped her down further and further they were still uncovering signs of damage including a cracked main spar, so she was very close to falling apart.
I have often wandered whether all that internal damage was battle damage or the result of the terrible handling she got on the corkscrew demonstration. I am incline [inserted] d [/inserted] to think the latter and it would not surprise me if that particular pilot had not ultimately torn the wings off of something.
However, the repair depot did their remarkable jig-saw puzzle
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repair job with so big an aircraft and there must here been sufficient of EF433 left for it to retain it's identity as it later went back to the Squadron after it had moved to Fairford. Eventually it was transferred to 1665 CU as OG-N until the following February when a mishap with a 'swinger' wrote her off at the end of the month.
In the meantime EF189 had been produced and painted up as the new 'W' so within the period of quiet that seemed to have descended on us that also received the attention that we had previous lavished on EF433. Stirling operations were slowing down a bit and few operations were undertaken. Rumours regarding our future were rife and Mac was very busy checking out new pilots as they came in to bring us up to strength. Several operations were scheduled but cancelled although there was still a bit of mining to do from time to time.
We did not mind a bit. The Bremen affair was not easy to forget and although our last flight in EF433 may not have been all that significant we had get quite attached to her. Some poor chaps had never got any further than their first trip and we had always considered ourselves very lucky that the attack on us had been made with small calibre ammunition. If we had been hit by cannon fire it would have been an entirely different matter.
[underlined] Thirteen years later I found out why there had been no cannon. [/underlined]
As an Air Traffic Controller at Amman in Jordan I was swapping yarns with an ex Luftwaffe pilot, then senior captain of the resident airline, Air Jordan, and an honourary [sic] member of our Mess, when the incident was recalled.
We had got so far with reconstructing the episode that we both went for our log books as the whole thing had reached the proportions of a gigantic 'line-shoot', Nevertheless, there were the details of date, time. and place to match those in my log book.
Apparently he had been a test pilot on jets and had been called in to try out the aircraft in operational conditions.
I don't know who was the most surprised but he had claimed us so badly damaged that we most likely finished up in the sea, and even if we hadn't then we must have had casualties on board. The burning question was "why only small calibre ammunition?",
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It transpired that he had used up all of his cannon ammunition in knocking down two other Stirlings already, so he would have been responsible for two of the three Stirlings lost an that raid. His name is not important in this narrative but it is significant that our combat report of the episode (which has never come to light) had put special emphasis an the aircraft with the fiery tails and it may well have been one of the first reports that identified jet night fighters to the intelligence people. Nothing: was ever mentioned about it so it may well have been kept quiet for good reasons.
Nevertheless, the Messerschmitt aircraft factories continued to be pounded regularly.
[line of stars]
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It was the 3rd of November before we had the opportunity to take our new 'W' on ops. We were briefed for mining in the Kattegat between occupied Denmark and neutral Sweden.
It should have been a 'doddle'. It was a lovely moonlit night and we had to overfly Denmark at medium height before going low level to the dropping area.
All went smoothly until just after the drop when we were engaged by a flak ship with a stream of sparkling tracers squirting at us which started Mac wriggling around all over the place with the taps wide open and down to the wave tops until we put him behind us. We were just beginning to breath easy again when there was a yell from the rear gunner as he spotted an Me.109 on our tail. We must have come in for some very special treatment as a loner crossing Denmark and it was as well that Mac had kept us as low as possible until the drop. Once we got back down there again that's just where we stayed as the intercom between the gunners and pilot got very lively.
It was the fighter affiliation stuff all over again as we slithered and twisted and turned, only this chap was not using a camera.
He sent several bursts after us but they all went wide as the gunners assessed the point at which he was coming into the right position for a deflection shot and then we side slipped and banked out of his sights once more.
We never fired a single shot as Mac had said only to let him have it when the gunners were absolutely sure of a hit so we played tag for a long time.
In the later stages we came to a rugged shore line and still the 109 could not get at us.
In and out and round and round we went across country where the landscape showed up in great detail. We could see people in gardens and lights blinked from friendly windows and open doors. We went around chimney stacks, over power lines and we must have given that enemy pilot a real run for his money until eventually he broke off and disappeared. He either did not care for the low level stuff or he was getting low on fuel but we were glad to see him go after a very hectic 30 minutes. We continued to stay low just in case he had a partner somewhere
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and we were still skudding along weaving about for some time before it was considered safe to gain some height and sort out the navigation.
It was hardly surprising that Pete had lost track of where we were. The number of tight 360° turns had been sufficient to upset both the magnetic and gyro compass's. We were too low for 'Gee' to be effective and I was still refused permission to break radio silence for a D/F fix so we staggered around somewhat blindly for a while trying to sort ourselves out.
At one time we saw an illuminated coastline some miles ahead which puzzled us a bit until the penny dropped...whoops..Sweden!. That gave us a clue as to which way we were going...the wrong way, so it was a smart about turn and back to low level again trying to stabilise the compasses as we picked up the Danish coastline again and crossed the country as quickly as possible before finding some higher cloud to hide in and set a rough course for home.
Pete still could not make a lot of his plot. 'G' was not helping a lot. D/F bearings that I was able to obtain from UK beacons only seemed to confuse the issue and when I looked over his shoulder at his chart it was a mass of hastily pencilled in headings and speeds until it looked like one of those kids dot puzzles that produced a picture when the dots were joined up. Only his picture looked like a bundle of loose knitting wool!.
All we could do was press on in a rough direction, picking our way in and out of convenient clouds whilst Pete gathered as much information as he could. It did not help much that Mac would not fly a steady course but even when he had satisfied himself that we were just off the Dutch coast Mac still had his doubts until Hoppy reckoned he had got a good visual pin-point. He estimated that we were over the Zuider Zee and would be able to confirm it when the Western side came into sight. Sure enough it did, but it was not the sort of confirmation he had been looking for!.
Just as we crossed the coastline, in and out of cloud at about 7,000ft, a number of searchlights switched on as one, in a perfect cone, smack on us, and it seemed several dozen ack-ack guns let loose at the same time.
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The salvo must have gone off about 50ft below us with the sound of gravel being sprayed all over us and we bounced up with Mac piling on the power, banking and balling [sic] "that's Dover you bloody fools".
There was all hell let loose as we wound into a corkscrew followed by the lights and a lot more flak. Mac was hollering "Darkie-Darkie" on the R/T to identify ourselves. I slammed on the IFF (radar identification) switch and fired off the colours of the day as fast as I could fire and reload the pistol and then as if by magic it all fizzled out.
The guns stopped firing, the lights wavered and flickered out and the violent evasive action slowed as Mac asked if everyone was OK. By the grace of God we were and then we immediately started checking around the aircraft which seemed to have taken a bit of a battering.
Despite the presence of several shrapnel holes everything seemed to be working satisfactorily so we set course for base with a lot of discussion as to how we had found ourselves over Dover.
The general opinion was that we must have done a zig-zag course right down the Danish, Dutch, Belgium and French coasts without interception. Perhaps our course had been so erratic that the German fighter controllers had just held back waiting for us to make a navigational error that would have put us within their grasp, or some other problem we had on board manifested itself and did the job for them.
As it was the Dover defences had done us far more damage and we were very thankful for either a slight error in the guns predictor or perhaps a little aiming off just in case we were a friendly aircraft with a spot of bother.
We would not have been the first RAF aircraft that the Dover guns had put on their score board though. They had to be very wary of unidentified aircraft. The Luftwaffe's equivilent [sic] of Farnborough; Rechlin, was known to have quite a comprehensive selection of airworthy Allied aircraft that they played all sorts of tricks with. In such circumstances it was more often a case of shooting first and asking questions afterwards and a risk we had to take if there was any doubt about the position at which the IFF was switched on.
During the final part of the flight back to base we had to go
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over the aircraft with a fine tooth comb to test everything before attempting a landing in the same way as we had done for our previous operation and it was a relief to find that everything worked and ended with a perfect final landing.
I have often wondered how many of the others felt as I did as we prepared for that final landing. Legs, fingers and toes crossed as we took up our crash positions, until we were safely on terra firma again.
I was beginning to wonder how much longer we could keep up that sort of escapade without coming unstuck somewhere.
After we had taxied into dispersal and shut down, the ground crew seemed somewhat concerned as we clambered out. I distinctly remember one of them saying "oh no, not again. You chaps must have a guardian angel somewhere". I could appreciate the sentiment when we looked around the aircraft with them.
The underside was like a pepperpot with slivers of metal hanging loosely from everywhere yet nothing vital had been hit.
We did not fly it again as it was withdrawn for repair and subsequently relegated to the training role' as yet another 'W' was prepared for service.
We were very lucky that night. [underlined] Four other mine laying Stirlings failed to return. [/underlined] Mining was no milk run!.
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[underlined] Picture page. [/underlined]
Macdonalds crew
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We were reprieved after a decision was finally made to withdraw Stirlings from the main Bomber Force and start preparing them for another task.
620 was once of the first to go and crews that were close to the end of their tour were not being retained. That meant us...and it was a great relief when we were told. There was only one other crew made 'tour expired' with fewer operations than ourselves although they had originaly [sic] come from 214 Squadron when the Squadron had been formed.
Certainly it was a relief not to have to fly the two ops that I was short of for the full tour. I had already seen what happened to 'spare' people but it placed our crew in a unique position. We were the [underlined] only [/underlined] crew to have actually started and finished a 'tour' on the Squadron since it had come into being.
The credit really belongs to Mac of course but in that short time we had lost 17 aircraft on ops and 9 in accidents. [underlined] More than the whole Squadron establishment strength, plus six!. [/underlined]
Our gunners had accounted for two enemy fighters. We had carried seven 'freshmen' pilots to introduce them to ops and two of them had not survived Chedburgh.
We had lost 147 aircrew killed or missing of which 47 were known to have become POW's. It was a sad tally.
In the same period of time the Command had lost nearly 1000 bombers with their crews in an air war that showed little sign of abating.
The Squadron distinquished [sic] itself later by towing gliders and dropping parachute troops and supplies into the invasion of Europe, Arnham [sic] and the Rhine crossing, as well as numerous SAS and SOE operations into enemy occupied territory with some very severe casualties.
[line of stars]
We were more concerned with the present at that time. We celebrated with a wild night at the King Willie and a few more nights in the Mess as the strain began to fall away with the added bonus of some special leave.
On our return there were, a lot of new faces but we were more concerned with clearing the station and preparing for our next posting. There was trouble of a different sort on the horizon!.
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As soon as we had returned from leave, refreshed, we found ourselves; that is, the five NCO's lined up outside the flight office with Mac demanding an answer to a very delicate question. It was not very delicately put.
Apparently a certain WAAF who had been fairly liberal with her favours; to say the least, was beginning to show signs of motherhood, and since [underlined] some [/underlined] of us were known to have been in her company at times we were all suspect. Of course, it did not help her case a lot when she was only able to claim that it was one of the Macdonald crew!, and why that did not include Mac and Pete the two commissioned officers I do not know, but Mac's question was blunt and straight to the point. "Which one of you buggers was it", which rather stunned us and for a moment we just shuffled our feet as we studied each other.
I forget who stepped out first followed by another until all five of us had stepped forward. I know for certain that we had not all sampled those favours but a crew is a crew through thick and thin. 'All for one and one for all' and all that stuff. There was not much that could be done under those circumstances so whilst they were trying to pin it on someone else (and there were plenty of others), we were only too pleased to pack our bags and sneak off quietly to our new unit.
[line of stars]
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We had been posted to No.3. Lancaster Finishing School at Feltwell as a complete crew, for instructional duties as strange as it may seem. The unit was just setting up to convert the Stirling Squadrons that were not moving out of the Command and Mac and Paddy went off to a Lancaster OTU in Yorkshire for a couple of weeks whilst the rest of us just familiarised ourselves with the Lancaster. The ground school was just getting going so we soon learned our way around. Apart from the Pilot and Engineer's speciality it was not difficult as most of the equipment was the same or similar and a nice little challenge to convert to a different type.
As soon as Mac and Paddy returned we flew intensively as a crew and within a matter of weeks we were into the training programme and open for business.
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Actually the unit was a bit of a hybrid. Part Operational Training Unit, part Conversion Unit and part Holding Unit for despite the savage losses the Command was still building up it's strength as fewer demands were being made in other theatres of the war, and the station was soon packed to the gills.
Crews started to come in from all over. The Stirling Conversion Units were still in the business of converting people from Wellingtons and then they came to us for changing to the Lancaster until the Stirling CU's were run down. After that they came direct from the Wellington OTU's as well as those Stirling Squadrons that sent detachments for conversion as their aircraft were being replaced by Lancasters.
We became very busy with the flow of people through the unit. Some of them knew the Lancaster better than we did as they were refreshing for their second tour, and very rarely for their a third. They had come off all manner of aircraft and had been 'resting' as we were now doing. There was a great deal of experience to draw on which I was only too willing to put to practical use. There did not appear to be any 'instructors' courses as such. You just threw yourself into it and you just turned out to be good, bad or indifferent at it. In all modesty, I seemed to cope satisfactorily.
After a few months Paddy got fed up with it and eventually got himself crewed up with a pilot of 115 Squadron that was converting and went back on ops. with him. Pete found himself in a spot of bother as a reult [sic] of a little over exuberance at a party and was given an option that he could not refuse....so he went off to a Mosquito Squadron at Downham Market, but not until most of the old crew, with the exception of Hoppy and Mac, attended my wedding in the March.
The bells of St.Mary's Broadwater, Worthing, were rung for the first time since the threat of invasion had silenced them in 1940. That was a traffic stopper if ever there was one and in the ensueing [sic] celebrations the rest of Macdonald's crew left it's mark on the local area. [underlined] I think the marks are still there!!. [/underlined]
I don't mind admitting that for the first time in my life I was smitten with the uncontrollable shakes when standing before the alter [sic] . Call it what you like, fear……………..
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apprehension, whatever, it got hold of me and I shook. My eldest brother, in navy uniform, survivor of numerous sea actions and two lost ships and my best man, came in close and propped me up. All that happened was that I transmitted my shakes to him and we both stood there like jellies and did not settle down until the ceremony was nearly over. Not a pretty sight!. Nevertheless, I married my childhood sweetheart despite the circumstances; something I never thought I would ever have the opportunity to do, and the marriage has stood the test of time.
Eventually Feltwell became so busy that we opened a non-flying ground school at Methwold a few miles away and having already been promoted to Flight Sergeant I got the job of setting up that part of the school for Wireless Operators.
Rather than lose my comfortable room in the pre-war Mess at Feltwell I cycled to and fro' daily and I am sure that it did me a lot of good as far as keeping fit was concerned. I enjoyed cycling anyway having been a founder member of the 'Worthing Wheelers' cycling club and a regular cyclist...even in my job.
To have to peddle a loaded tricycle from one end of Worthing to the other twice a day was quite an accomplishment which I had done for nearly two years and prior to that I had had a job with a builder and cycled 16 miles each way daily; so what was 5 miles.
Getting my bike out from the shed in Worthing where it had been tied up in the roof was no easy task. I have vague recollections of peddling half the distance from Worthing to Feltwell, including across London to save a few pence when some station staffs insisted on there being a ticket for the bike when it was placed in the guards van..to finally arrive in the rain.
The time passed and I only flew occasionaly [sic] to keep my hand in as momentous events occurred on the battle fronts that we, or at least I, felt at times that we were missing out on. I didn't push things though....I wasn't that daft!. There was enough going on at Feltwell and Methwold to keep me busy.
Even the odd operation turned up and that is how we lost a crew and our Chief Flying Instructor. He had opted for a mining job, got together a crew and it did not present any problem in arming up and self briefing. I'm glad he didn't pick me as his Wireless Operator. He took off at the appointed time and was seen clearing
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the immediate area, climbing, and shortly after he disappeared from view there was an almighty explosion as his load blew up and the aircraft disintregrated [sic] , scattering the landscape with a thousand pieces of man and machine. What a hell of a useless way to go for another seven young people. It was a sobering thought that it could have been any one of us that might have drawn the short straw for the privilege of making up the crew.
Life was anything but dull. When the Tannoy started blaring out one evening calling all sorts of people to report here there and everywhere a few of us went up to the airfield to see what it was all about.
It was quite a circus when three B.24's, (Liberators) charged in one after the other.
Apparently these three had not only lost their formation but had also lost their way to such an extent that they had been as much as 100 miles off track and an hour late in getting back to their base arriving at the time it was getting dark.
Just as they were getting into the circuit in a bit of a panic as they were not very experienced at night flying Flying Control yelled 'bandits' as there were Luftwaffe intruders suspected to be in the area, and promptly snuffed out the airfield lights.
[underlined] Panic stations!! [/underlined]
They had been given a course and distance to fly to Feltwell but bandits or no bandits they set off with all their navigation and anti-collision and formation lights on. The bandit scare was obviously false as they arrived in the Feltwell circuit looking like Christmas trees and firing verey signals all over the place. No self respecting Luftwaffe intruder would have passed up that invitation to do a bit of damage. As it happened, they did it to themselves.
The Feltwell controller told them to spread themselves out a bit for landing but they were not having any of that as it was dark by that time. There was no way they were going to lose each other having get that far so in they came, landing lights on. No. 1 got down and was told to go to the end of the runway and follow the 'follow me' illuminated van but got disorientated so slammed on the brakes to come to a juddering halt on the runway. No.2 piled right up the back of him, his props chewing at the……………………
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fusulage [sic] , and No.3, seeing what had happened flung his aircraft into a turn and belly flopped when the undercarriage collapsed. What a mess!, but they were lucky. There was not a single casualty although it took a lot of cleaning up.
We entertained the NCO's in our Mess afterwards and it was a source of amazement at the attitude those blokes had to the whole business. They were not in the least concerned that they had written off three aircraft but it was the manner in which they entertained us to a show that was straight off a Hollywood film set.
They were mostly unshaven, cigar chewing, gum chewing, with side arms and knives slung all around them who seemed hell bent on emulating the six gun cowboys of the wild west films and on the whole it was a lot of fun listening, to their wildly exagerated [sic] stories of 'combat over Germany' totally ignoring the fact that many of us had already done complete tours of night operations over enemy territory. They were not interested but it was better than going to the cinema. Most of them had been in the UK long enough to have sampled 'Limey' beer and were not slow in telling us what rubbish it was so we plied them with it until it was running out of their ears. In the end they weren't so tough. Most of than had to be put to bed!.
As time went by and crews continued to pour through the unit it was obvious to me that my time for moving on could be getting close so I started making the appropriate noises to ensure that I would get something different next time and would not have been surprised at anything that turned up. Nevertheless, there was one big surprise; my appointment to a commission which I had been quite convinced would have been turned down somewhere along the line.
When the appointment was promulgated I did not tell Dorothy but took a few days off having arranged to meet her in Oxted in Surrey, and on the way stopped off at Moss.Bros. in Covent Garden to get fitted out. It felt good. I went in as a Flt.Sgt. and came out an hour later as sprog Pilot Officer, no doubt looking like a tailors dummy, all bright and shining, including my cap, hot foot for Oxted.
Dorothy was not at the station so I set off across the field to meet her half way.
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When we did meet there were expressions of surprise and elation and in the excitement I threw my new, expensive cap into the air. That's how it became 'operational'. It landed in a cow cake and took a hell of a lot of cleaning; in between the laughter.
Later on we continued our journey to Worthing and I was suitably 'shown off' by my proud parents but it was a very odd situation when I met one of my old school pals who was a ground wireless operator.
He was one of those who I had always kept in touch with and had been one of the group at the garden gate on the day war had been declared. He had been totally brainwashed!. The poor bloke kept calling me 'Sir' and the only way I could break him of the habit was to get out of uniform to have a drink together without embarrassment on both sides.
Shortly after leave I found myself detailed for a short course at Fighter Command HQ, Bentley Priory, Stanmore.
There was about a dozen of us and we were told that the course was to train Wireless Operators in the use of R/T broadcasts and relay work of the type that the Pathfinder Force was developing. There was also a suggestion that after the training which was part of the Fighter Controllers course we would be assessed for our suitability for broadcasting airborne fighter control as well.
The first day was spent being shown all the fighter control systems as well as seeing them in practice in the famous fighter control/plotting operations rooms and then we were in business.
The next three days were highly amusing as we worked 'aircraft' from a mock control room with the plotters moving radar plots around the table to set up interceptions as the information from the filter room created the picture. It was the 'aircraft' that caused most of the fun. They were in fact Wall's ice cream tricycles with radar reflectors stuck to a pole on the side with low power battery operated transmitter/receivers in the body of the thing. The 'pilots' of the ice cream carts provided the motive power of course and wore the usual headset plus the restrictive..................
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headgear that pilots wore when they were practicing instrument flying.
As a result we could only see a compass and our feet whilst we were in a world of our own either peddling like the 'clappers' and making turns, or in the control room.
It was a highly amusing sight to see a couple of dozen demented ice cream carts cavorting blindly about a strangely marked out rugby pitch, and the occasional crunch as hunter and hunted came together in a perfect interception. Such crude simulation did not have the advantage of vertical seperation!!!!!. It was enlightening, interesting; and amusing but nothing ever came of it.
[line of stars]
It was getting increasingly difficult to get down to the South coast at that time. It was only by virtue of wearing uniform that I got through the security screen whether it was to Worthing or Oxted. There were troops jam-packed in every nook and cranny and there was hardly a bed to spare in any house or hotel. The streets and wooded areas were gigantic vehicle parks with acres of camouflage netting in some open areas disguising the enormous build up. Both my parents and my in-laws were billeting Commando's and the nights were filled with the rumbling of tanks, guns and other vehicles.
Once or twice whilst I was down that way the Luftwaffe had a go at night reconnaissance of the area but got a hot reception every time. During the day there were standing patrols of fighters that discouraged their attentions and I remember one that tried it one night that found himself facing a daunting barrage of fire that I would not like to have faced. Everything and the kitchen sink was thrown at him as he came through East to West at about 2000ft. Every piece of ack-ack, light and heavy, and hundreds of machine guns let loose from the hills, street corners and vehicle parks with a tremendous racket. It was just too dangerous to stay out in with shrapnel and spent rounds falling like rain. If that intruder got his picture and got back home that night then I reckon he was a very lucky chap.
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As we got towards the end of May it was impossible to meet my wife or get in touch with her. She was in the depths of Montgomer's [sic] HQ scheduling convoys down from the North into the Southern assembly areas although I did not know precicely [sic] what she was doing at the time. It was not until after the HQ had been disbanded that I learned about the restrictions that had been imposed. It was little wonder that I had not been able to get in touch when 'Q' Movements staff were under guard for days and were ever escorted to the toilet!.
[line of stars]
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Back at Feltwell the training programme slowed down and everyone was crewed up into a reserve Squadron. Orders of the day were published imposing all sorts of restrictions.
Crew members were on a two hour stand-by and not allowed off of the station. I was crewed with the remainder of the old crew as Pete and Paddy had already moved on and two others joined us. We regularly ground tested and air tested aircraft to operational standard although our efforts were not always successful. There were always problems with the wicked little 'Gremlins' that attached themselves to aeroplanes. 'Gremlins' were the imaginary demons that were blamed for the many problems that aircraft suffered from.
One of them had a real go at us one night before Paddy had left us. We had landed from a night flying detail and had hardly settled on the flare-path when Mac started giving Paddy a verbal broadside for not having fixed the slow running on the starboard outer engine as it had just cut out when he throttled back. With some surprise Paddy looked at his instrument panel, borrowed my signal lamp to light up the wing and calmly announced that there was no need to worry, it would not need fixing as it had just fallen off!.
That caused a bit of a stir in Flying Control when they were told on the R/T and then something else went wrong and we could no longer communicate with them. There was a lot of choice language from the whole crew and muttering from Mac about "cheap bloody meccano sets" and "it couldn't happen to a Stirling" and other appropriate caustic things as we taxied in.
Before we got to dispersal we were met by one of the controllers on a motor bike who signalled us to stop and then he climbed aboard to tell us to switch the blasted R/T set off. Then we knew why we could not hear the tower. We were stuck on transmit...and in the meantime they had evacuated all the female staff from the control room!!!. Nevertheless, it was quite a programme to get the maximum number of aircraft fully serviceable and operationally ready.
When the big day dawned....'D' Day, 6th June, I found out at breakfast as the majority of us did. The two hour stand-by was
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changed to a one hour and we waited with our ears glued to the radio for the minute by minute news of the events of that day. There was no doubt in our minds that this was the 'big one' that we had been waiting for.
It was incredible that nothing had leaked out although the aircraft had all been tested the previous day, and had been painted with white bands around the wings and the fusulage [sic] . In addition they had all been fuelled and bombed up the night before plus there were two more bomb loads stock piled in each dispersal. All we had to do was to sit around and wait for the signal to report for briefing and we would be off, so we sat around and waited and waited, with nothing to do except go out to dispersal from time to time to move aircraft a few feet as it was not good for them to be in one position for too long with a full load on.
As it happened we were not required. The Luftwaffe were caught napping and by the time they got themselves organised they were very much on the defence. The Allies committed so many aircraft that thousands and thousands of sorties were flown. Even the Bomber Command effort had to be flown on a race-track pattern in and out of the target area for safety and there was no room for us; fortunately!. After three days we were stood down and we went back to the training programme. The rest is now history.
Bomber losses were still heavy at times as the Command reverted to strategic bombing to disrupt enemy communications, supply and fuel resources and there was always the dread thought of the possibility of a repetition of the losses that we had suffered in the attack on Nuremburg the previous March. That had been an absolute disaster when [underlined] 95 [/underlined] of our aircraft were lost. Many of them were crews that had passed through our hands a short while before. It had been a reminder that we were not out of the woods yet and from time to time the Luftwaffe were still a force to be reckoned with.
With the invasion well under way my wife was posted to Newmarket as a result of her Surrey HQ being run down. That was a very convenient arrangement when a sympathetic C.O. arranged for me to be detached to Newmarket airfield as detachment commander for a couple of weeks. Very cosy…..our messes virtually backed
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on to one another!.
It was about that time that Macdonald got himself Courts Marshalled for unauthorised low flying….it had to happen some time. He was returning from an investiture at another airfield, including I believe for his own DFC, but landed on three engines and one bent propellor as a result of low flying over Thetford Forest, and it had taken a bit of explaining.
I was not with him at the time but I remember enough of the case to know the prosecution was badly prepared and could not produce the prop. or bits of tree or photographic evidence and the case was dismissed. I also recall that although Mac was in the left hand seat it was in fact in the hands of Mcllroy in the right hand seat. A piece of evidence that got overlooked, but he was still sailing close to the wind. It was probably similar doubtfull [sic] factors that caused him to prang his car with some of the others on board somewhere out in the Fens when the road did something unexpected. Only Mac was damaged and wore a patch over one eye for a time making him look like a pirate. What hurt him most of all was that in those days before the National Health Service, even in war-time, his accident was treated as self inflicted and he had to pay hospital fees. Even in the RAF hospital at Ely.
By the end of the year the work of the unit was almost complete. Reserves were being built up and replacements could be made by other conversion units so No.3. LFS. started running down with Methwold being cleared first. That kept me busy for a while dismantling all the systems that I had put in and returning stuff to stores, and in the meantime I was pulling strings to get the sort of posting that I wanted.
By the end of January 1945 nearly everything was cleared up and to my delight my posting came in for No.9 (Special Duties) Squadron, sister Squadron of the famous 617 (Dam Busters) Squadron which was more than I had dared to hope for.
Unfortunately a change in circumstances caused the postings staff at No.3. Group HQ. to have a re-think within 24hours of issuing the posting notice.
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My posting to No.9.Squadron was cancelled before I finished packing!.
Instead, after more days of delay I was crewed with some of the remaining chaps at Feltwell and posted to XV Squadron, Mildenhall so it was back on ops. again to fill the gaps that were still decimating units.
'Gaps' was the operative word as in my period of 'rest' at Feltwell the Command had lost a mind boggling figure of around 2000 aircraft.
It would have been nice if the old crew had managed to get back together again but things did not normally work out that way. Pete was already half way through his tour on Mosquito's at Downham Market. Paddy was getting on with his second tour with 115 Squadron. The others had been crewed up and departed. Squadron Leader. F.C.Macdonald.DFC. had been appointed as Flight Commander of 622 Squadron; also at Mildenhall, and it was a whole new ball game.
I only had the opportunity of socialising with Mac once in the very short period that I was there. The hand of fate caught up with me at last.
Our first operation was the last that XV Squadron's new, all officer, all second tour, all ex instructor crew was to do and it was late June before I got back to Mildenhall again, mainly to thank the parachute section for packing my parachute correctly!.
By the most amazing coincidence when the WAAF in the parachute section went through the books to find the serial number of my 'chute it turned out that she had also been the packer!
The poor girl got a sloppy impulsive kiss and a donation to their social fund but when I went to look for Mac I could not find him. There was very little interest; no-one wanted to know as he was away somewhere and although I tried several different ways of communicating with him later I had no direct contact again until 1954.
My search eventually led me to a scruffy motor engineers workshop on the outskirts of Wisbech where he seemed to be both the proprietor and chief mechanic; there was no-one else!.
He was the same old Mac. Uncommicative [sic] and shabby, like the shabby old Triumph Dolomite that stood next to a shabby old
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caravan that appeared to be both his office and his home.
There was not much left of the old sparkle and fire in his eyes although at the time it might have had something to do with the fact that the mid afternoon refreshment served in a dirty cracked cup came from a whisky bottle rather than the tea pot, but he was just as dammed uncommunicative as ever. Never a word when a nod and a wink would do. About the only thing I can remember him saying was "I thought you had got the chop and I was going to write to your wife" but of course, he never had. He did confess to being a bit surprised that I was by that time a Flight Lieutenant and the Operations Wing Adjutant at Mareham but his comment was typical. "I never thought you had it in you". He never was complementary....just a dour Scot.
He really looked as if he could here done with some assistance but there was no way that I could do anything without offending him although I did find out that he had done another 15 ops. and had ditched a damaged Lanc. before his wings had been well and truly clipped.
Shortly after that meeting I was off to foreign parts and on my return to the area about three years later nothing had changed although shortly afterwards he did another disappearing act and it took many years to track him down again. The trail eventually led to Troon and then to Dunoon before it fizzled out once more and it was many more years before he surfaced again with the assistance of the RAF Association and the Mildenhall Register. He was in very poor circumstances in Glasgow where Paddy found him and there was every indication that he would rather not have been found. He was content to be a survivor and the past was over and done with; what he could remember of it at the ripe old age of 82!.
We had not been far out in our estimates in 1943. He must have been one of the oldest Squadron pilots in the Air Force at the time at the age of 38!.
He disappeared again for a short time but following the trail left by Paddy I made a visit to Glasgow and finally tracked him down in a home for the elderly but he was no longer the Macdonald we had known. I don't think he knew who I was. He died six years later!.
I have never regretted my 'choice' of the pilot in which I placed
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my trust and my life and those sentiments are shared by the surviving members of the crew. We look back on those days and wonder how we ever came out of it unscathed considering that in our subsequent flying after the war we nearly all had the experience of climbing out of 'bent' aeroplanes.
Pete flew in a civilian capacity with Freddie Laker as both Navigator and Flight Engineer. They were lucky to walk away from a wrecked aircraft on the Berlin Air Lift. Paddy walked away from a wrecked passenger Mk.V. Stirling in the Middle East and I climbed out of a Proctor upside down on Oakington's runway.
For the record, Mac, Pete, Paddy and Ralph were all awarded DFC's for their efforts, Mac and Pete with bars, but sadly we are no longer a complete crew.
For me, those years were the most traumatic of any life and I will never forget those occasions when we were so close to each other in that short period that seemed like a lifetime.
TO
"THE SKIPPER"
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THERE ARE OLD PILOTS AND BOLD PILOTS
BUT
VERY FEW
[underlined] OLD….BOLD PILOTS [/underlined]
Anon.
[page break]
IN MEMORY OF THE AIRCREW
OF
BOMBER COMMAND
WHO WERE KILLED OR MISSING
IN
OPERATIONS OVER EUROPE
1939—1945
[row of circles]
[page break]
[underlined] ACKNOWLEDGMENTS [/underlined]
To Michael.J.F.Boyer……. whose research and detail in his excellent books:- [underlined] Action Stations--Part-One [/underlined]
[underlined] and [/underlined]
[underlined] The [/underlined] [underlined] Stirling [/underlined] [underlined] Bomber [/underlined]
were valuable sources of information.
To Martin Middlebrook & Chris Everitt for research details made available in the [underlined] Bomber Command War Diaries [/underlined] .
To Jock Whitehouse & Spencer Adams whose energy and enthusiasm helped to correct the many inacuracies [sic] in my early drafts.
and
TO MY DEAR WIFE DOROTHY who was obliged to tolerate the many years of typing and interuption [sic] of more important matters.
not forgetting
THOSE CREW MEMBERS WHO ARE LONG GONE:
WITHOUT WHOSE SKILLS THIS STORY
[underlined] COULD NEVER HAVE BEEN TOLD!!. [/underlined]
[line of stars]
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[underlined] PREFACE [/underlined]
On the 3rd February 1945 seven aircrew were posted to XV Squadron, Mildenhall, to form the crew of a Lancaster.
The pilot was Australian, the rear gunner was an American in the RAF. The navigator and mid-upper gunner were Scots and the remainder of the crew were from the counties of Sussex, Nottingham and Warwickshire.
They had all completed a previous tour of operations and had been resting for varying periods as instructors at No.3. Lancaster Finishing School at Feltwell in Norfolk.
The school was closing down and as the staff were being dispersed one pilot had been given the option of forming his own crew prior to posting back to an operational Squadron. That is how we all came together.
Some of the new crew had flown together whilst at the school and the pilot and flight engineer had previously flown together on Manchesters and Lancasters in operational Squadrons.
The time had come for them to get back into the fray as the bombing campaign was being stepped up to an awesome number of aircraft being employed to deliver thousands of tons of bombs to the enemy as the war was rapidly drawing to a close.
The Third Reich was reeling from savage attacks from both East and West. Their Navy was just about bottled up and had lost most of their capital ships. Her Army was being lost in great chunks and the German Air Force was being severely restricted by fuel shortages and although they fought on desperately the final blows were not far off. Anyone with half an eye could see that; except Hitler. If he had not been so crazy he would have given in a long time before we had reached the critical stage, but since he would not, and the Allies would accept nothing but unconditional surrender, Germany and it's long suffering population had to bludgeoned into submission.
I was the Wireless operator/air gunner of the crew and we were part of that final effort although there was an awful lot of killing still going on in all theatres of the war.
At the time it seemed that we had a good chance of being in at the finish so on arrival at Mildenhall we got stuck into refresher training and emergency drills against the stop watch
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until it did not seem possible to trim any more time off of the procedures and the 'Skipper' was satisfied that we were now moulded into a crew and ready for anything.
For me it was quite an experience being back at Mildenhall again having been there as an 'erk' in 1941, and now I was back again as a commissioned officer and experienced crew member although I did not have a lot of time to dwell on the fact.
A lot of water had passed under the bridge and we were perhaps somewhat unique in that we were an all commissioned crew starting a second tour of operations.
That was a very rare combination and as I thought at the time we might make a name for ourselves.
HOW WRONG I WAS !!!!!!
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On the 7th of February we found ourselves on the Battle Order for an operation and subsequently the old familiar pattern of activity fell into place as we trooped into the briefing room.
The target was detailed as the oil refinery at Wanne Eikel, at the eastern end of the Ruhr industrial complex, which, suprisingly [sic] was still trying to produce something despite the hundreds of tons of bombs that had been dumped on and around it over the years.
Our job, within a force of 100 Lancasters of No.3.Bomber Group, was to try and put it out of business and further disrupt the already desperate fuel situation that was severely limiting the activities of the German War Machine.
As far as I was concerned it was going to be a change to be on a daylight raid. I figured that at last I would be able to see what was going on and that I might even get a chance to assist in doing something really useful from the astro dome. Even the prospect of flying higher and faster than I had done on my previous tour in Stirlings was something I was certainly looking forward to.
I had polished up my gunnery in the various turrets on the firing range including stoppage clearance although inwardly hoping that the occasion would never arise when I would have to put the practice into use as it would mean taking over from one of the other gunners who had become a casualty.
Even so, there was no way that I was going to be caught out in such an emergency----not when the end of my war was in sight!. After briefing and collection of all the usual paraphernalia we all trooped out to the airfield in the crew bus to get on with the pre-flight checks until the time came for us to start up and taxy out for take-off.
With the usual heart stopping lurch Lancaster ME434...coded LS(XV Squadron) D for 'Dog'; the 12th that had carried that identification, (not all Lancasters); took to the air as the end of the runway came into sight with everything straining to get up to a safe height with it's heavy load of bombs and fuel.
The load was around 2000 gallons of petrol with 1 x 4000lb blast bomb and 12 x 500 pounders. Not the maximum that a Lanc. could take but enough to require some delicacy-in handling.
4
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Everything was normal as we gained height and climbed on course following a route that took us over Newmarket where my wife was.
I was wondering what she was thinking as the thunder of up to 100 aircraft filled the air. I had only seen her the night before and had told her that I was going to be busy so she knew that something was going on.
We were soon changing course for a point on the South Coast near Beachy Head and as it came up on track my home town of Worthing was in sight, to the West as we crossed the coast with the sky clear and bright as we continued to climb to our operating height.
The rest of the force closed around us as we formed up into the usual 'gaggle' as we approached another turning point on time.
Unlike the USAAF, we did not fly in a tight defensive formation as the RAF preferred to present any attackers with a loose, weaving, inconsistent mass of aircraft with a less restrictive field of fire. The exception was underneath, which is why some of XV Squadron's aircraft that took up position at the bottom of the pack had been locally fitted with a pair of ventral guns to cover what would normally be a blind spot.
We were not one of those but a 'Gee-H' leader, carrying some special homing and bombing equipment with which to pin-point the target through cloud. The yellow bars on the tail fins identified us as such.
We crossed the French coast which was no longer as hostile as I had last encountered it and in fact it was an inspiring sight to look down from over 20,000ft in such brilliant conditions on an area that only a few months before had been wrested from German domination.
It all looked very peaceful down there but there was always that false impression of things outside the aircraft and one could easily be lulled into a false sense of security by it.
Despite the impression of a bright summers day out there and the warmth of the sun falling on my shoulders in the astro dome it was, nevertheless minus 12° out there.
It was uncomfortably hot for me so I discarded my 'Mae West' life jacket as we changed course once more to head across Belgium
5
[page break]
towards the Ruhr.
It soon became obvious that the bad weather that we had been warned about at briefing was not far ahead. In the distance a huge wall of angry black cloud appeared; from just about deck level right up to the heavens, stretching from North to South as far as-we could see.
It was a typical squall line associated with frontal conditions and the nearer we got to it the more obvious it was that the Met. people had underestimated it's severity.
The formatiom [sic] leaders still did not break radio silence with instructions and as it was obvious there was no way around it we were soon doing what everyone else was doing as the force started spreading out with maximum climbing power until we plunged into it, in an attempt to get out of the top.
At 23,000ft we were still in it and ploughing on yet there were still no instructions to change our plans but with the first of the Ruhr defences ahead of us, and the aircraft icing up to the extent that she was getting very sluggish, Geoff Hammond, the pilot, was getting concerned that we could not possibly go much higher without the risk of losing control plus the chance of carburettor icing as well.
With the sun obscured it had turned very cold inside the aircraft as the heating system was fighting a losing battle and I thought that perhaps it was time that I put my life jacket back on. I thought better of it for the very reason that I would have to take my parachute harness off to do it but with the aircraft waffling around like a drunken duck it perhaps not the best time to do it.
We were all somewhat relieved when Geoff announced that we were turning back and descending to try and find better conditions although it was some time before there was even the slightest improvement.
We could not get out of cloud completely and the ice was still not clearing although it was no longer building up so we set course for our secondary target; Duisburg, from where we could have made a dash for clearer areas. However, Dave Howell, the navigator, although he was able to place us over the target area on radar, was not satisfied that he could pin point a target so we just kept on going and descending as the cloud started
6
[page break]
to thin into layers. As the conditions improved ice started to strip off and clatter about with a great deal of noise although it was no problem and certainly better than being loaded with half a ton of ice in the wrong places.
Even-the Lancaster had very limited de-icing equipment. It was only installed on the leading edges of the wings inboard of the inner engines, and therefore not all that effective. It was policy to increase the-bomb carrying capacity by reducing such [underlined] unneccessary [/underlined] [sic] frills.!!!!!.
It seemed that it was going to be an abortive sortie and that we would be taking our bombs back home and dumping them on the range but after a short conference on the intercomm [sic] Geoff decided that our best bet would be to go back to Krefeld in a final attempt to plant the bombs on the enemy side of the 'bomb line' so we turned around again and headed East for Krefeld.
We were still in and out of cloud at about 8,500ft by the time our new target came up by which time Dave and Jim Murphy the bomb-aimer had decided on a target reference and between them the bombs were dropped in one salvo.
As soon as they had gone we started into a port turn to make for home when Jim reported that the bomb doors would not close, probably due to icing…..; [underlined] when it happened!!!! [/underlined]
The aircraft gave a violent lurch and being in the astro dome I was horrified to see the starboard wing just rear up as if it was going to wrap itself around us.
With my heart in my mouth I went scrambling towards my parachute stowage but before I got there I was brought to my knees alongside the radio compartment as the aircraft rolled right over and the next few moments were rather desperate.
We went into a spin; which way up I shall never know, but to the accompaniment of the sound track from some old aviation film we, were descending at an alarming rate as Geoff yelled "prepare to abandon" on the intercomm [sic] although no-one really needed telling. The trouble was that there was little that we could do about it.
Geoff and Des Cook the flight engineer were fighting the controls together with linked arms as the altimeter unwound rapidly but the spin had locked everyone into their respective positions.
Dave and I were both desperately trying to get to our side by
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side parachute stowages without much success and although our heads were probably only a couple of feet apart I swear that our eyeballs; out on stalks-must have nearly touched.
It has often been said that when one is faced with death one's whole life flashes before you but I do not recall any such images.
The only thing that flashed into my brain-box was "Dear God; this is it-I hope it doesn't hurt too much", and then suddenly the aircraft righted, or at least stopped spinning and we were released from the centrifugal forces that had kept us locked allowing us to get the 'chutes out of the racks as at the same time the order came from Geoff to "abandon...abandon...abandon”. Reaction to that order was automatic after the amount of time that we had spent practising the procedure in the previous three days.
Helmets with oxygen and intercomm [sic] connections were torn off. Dave and I grabbed our parachute packs on the run and slammed them onto our chest clips by the time Jim Murphy had jettisoned the front hatch and had virtually gone out with. Dave went next, feet first and I followed so closely behind, head first, that there could not have been a foot between us.
Archie Macintosh, the mid-upper gunner, was hot on my heels even though he had had to negotiate the main spar to get up front and then the way was clear for Des.
Des had already released Geoff's sutton harness and removed his helmet and connections as well as his own whilst Geoff was still struggling with the controls and he was ready to go the same way as the rest of us.
We had all thumped Geoff's arm as we passed so he got another thump from Des prior to his departure after which Geoff was able to make a dash for the exit before the aircraft went out of control again. As usual, the rear gunner had made his own arrangements by rotating on the beam and jettisoning the turret doors then throwing himself out backwards.
From the word 'go' there was a lot to be done and it says a great deal for a well practiced drill because we figured out afterwards that we were all out in 12 secs. flat, and not suprisingly [sic] , even faster than we had achieved in practice only the day before when Geoff had insisted that we do it again and
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again until he was satisfied.
It was with the same mechanical process that I counted to ten before I pulled the rip cord although I have to confess that I cheated a bit. It was more like 2,4,6,8,10 and after I had done it my heart was in my mouth as nothing seemed to happen.
I had felt some urgency to get the 'chute open as quickly as possible as we had been in cloud all the time and I had no idea of our height at the time of going out. I was just hoping that it would open before I dived into something solid; like the side of a house before it did.
I had made sure that I had put the 'chute pack on with the 'D' ring under my right hand which had been on it from the time I had clipped up. I had heard too many stories of people who had gone out in a panic only to be found later at the bottom of a hole with the right hand side of the pack half torn away by bleeding fingers; yet as sure as I was that I had done everything correctly it seemed like a lifetime before anything happened.
There was a violent jolt and I was swinging under a rustling canopy, still in cloud and preparing rapidly for a heavy landing. For a brief moment there was a tremendous sense of relief as I found myself looking down at the 'D' ring clutched in my right hand. Then the thought struck me that I had better hang onto it as there was a five shilling fine for opening a parachute; but only by mistake. What a bloody silly thought!...so I tossed it away smartly just before I broke cloud.
I estimated that I was about 1500ft and on looking around I found that I was much too close to a turbulent river for my liking, especially as I was a poor swimmer and I had no life jacket on, so I started hauling on the shroud lines to do something about it. With not a lot of time to spare I concentrated on the landing.
I was agreeably suprised [sic] that crossing hands on the lines and pulling them in opposite directions worked like the instructors said it would and with a little more heaving and hauling I soon got a fair idea of where I was going to land in an open field!.
I need not have worried about going into the river as a strong wind was carrying me away from it but if it was not bad enough that landing by parachute was the equivilent [sic] to the rate of
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descent of jumping off of a 12ft wall I seemed to be doing about 30mph on the level so I was not keen to get a busted leg at that stage.
When I was just a few feet above the ground I turned the release buckle to unlock the harness and a fraction of a second before touching terra firma I banged the release buckle and Presto!. I came out of the harness, into a forward roll over the shoulder and hip and immediately up on my feet to grab the lower lines of the canopy and collapse it. It was a classic landing-I was down safely and I could only hope at the time that the others had been as successful.
I had seen no sign of them during the descent but I was to find out all about that later. The most important thing was-where the blazes was I?. The time was 3.30pm and as we had crossed and re-crossed the 'bomb line' there was every chance that I might be on the Allied side.
The terrain gave no indication of where I was and there was not the activity that one would expect of a battlefield area but with those thoughts running around inside my head I gathered up my parachute and shoved it under the base of a tree among some roots as I decided to get away from the immediate area.
[line of stars]
10
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Continuation of “Water under the Bridge – Part II. by A.T.GAMBLE.
I could faintly hear shouts and whistles coming from one area so I scrambled off on my hands and knees in the opposite direction into an area of 4ft nursury [sic] pines towards a road that I had seen on the way down. By the time I got there the shouts and whistles had become considerably louder.
Within a few seconds of reaching the edge of plantation the road was in sight but I stayed under cover until I spotted a Jeep coming along displaying the American white circle with a star in so with great relief I broke cover, stood up and waived [sic] . I immediately regretted it.
The chap standing up front next to the driver let loose with a sub-machine gun so I promptly went to ground again.
I just had time to notice that his uniform, although a sort of blue, was not quite the familiar RAF colour and pattern, Then I knew which side of the line I was on; the wrong side. !!
I was only half aware of the sounds of ZZZtz’s as lead cut into the area around me as I did a reasonable imitation of a rabbit on my hands and knees heading for the middle of the trees wondering how the blazes I was going to get out of this situation, until l was finally forced to stop, exhusted.
I buried my identity card which I should not have been carrying anyway, plus two £1 notes, and drew my pistol which had been tucked in my tunic, cocked it and laid down trying to be very, very small.
A siren was wailing in the distance and the shouts and whistles got even louder with sounds of more local movement that was just audible above the hammering of my heart.
I did not know what to expect but what happened was very sudden. A heavy boot came down on my gun hand. The pistol went off and I was hauled to my feet facing the business end of a nasty looking machine pistol and about half a dozen grinning chaps of my own age; in Luftwaffe blue!.
There were some others behind me and one of them relieved me of my Smith & Wesson .38 and with my hands now free it seemed the most logical thing to do was to put them well above my head. With as cheerful a grin as I could muster I said "good afternoon", to which the bloke behind the pistol said, "gooten abend, fur sie das krieg ist fertig". (good afternoon, for you the war is finished) and although my German was not good enough
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to interpret, the inference in the manner in which it was said was sufficient. I was without any doubt a Prisoner of War!.
In the middle of the group, with a prod and a push I was ushered to a large house, past a battery of heavy looking anti-aircraft guns and the thought struck me that they might have been responsible for my present predicament as there was no doubt in my mind that it was ack-ack that had got us, but I didn't ask. I was not going to give them the satisfaction of an affirmative reply as they already seemed pretty smug about the whole business.
I was led into the house, and up the stairs from the baronial hall of heavy oak panelling and flying staircase and into a room being used as an office.
An officer behind a huge antique desk greeted me with a broad grin, so with very little to lose I gave him a parade ground salute which he smartly returned. So far so good….but what was running around inside my head at the time was the irony that it was just my luck to have come down in the middle of the Luftwaffe flak unit that had shot us down!.
The proceedings that followed were all conducted in German and a lot of sign language apart from one question directed to the single ribbon on my tunic. It was only the 1939/43 star as it was then, but the officer pointed to it and enquired "DFC”?. Well, a DFC was about the equivalent of their Iron Cross, whatever class, and I thought it might influence the treatment so "ja” it was. As it happened it might as well have been a VC for all the difference it made.
Everything was turned out of my pockets. Collar studs were taken from out of my shirt. (They obviously knew that we often had special one's with compasses in them). Then the cufflinks, (they often had the same use). Then all of the buttons from my jacket and trousers. (Again some buttons could be used as a matching pair with one balanced on the other to produce a crude compass). Then the stitching that secured the tops of my flying boots was cut to deprive me of the tops as they were obviously aware that often money and maps were built into the layers of fleece and silk.
A polished metal mirror that I always kept in my left breast pocket was also removed before I was handed a piece of paper
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and pencil, and it was not difficult to understand the next request. Number, Rank, Name, although it was difficult to comply right away until I had secured my trousers with my tie.
Among my possessions now laying on the table was a nearly new pack of 20 cigarettes, so I indicated a request for one but the crafty blighters handed them round first leaving just one in the pack for me. Even then they did not light theirs. They probably pulled them to pieces later to see if there was anything other than tobacco in them. I knew there was not. I had only got them from the Mess bar the night before.
Now those in the escape and evasion pack that had gone down with my life jacket were an entirely different matter but it was no good bemoaning the loss of that stuff.
It seemed that the initial procedures were finished when the officer made a few calls on a field telephone after which I was ushered outside to take my place between two armed escorts on bicycles and with a boot up the backside and "Schnell" off we went with me at the trot.
I found out later that I had come down between Veirson and Alderkirk, about 10mls West of Krefeld but we were soon away from there as was persistently prodded and booted to keep me on the run which was no easy task in sloppy shoes which used to be flying boots, and trousers without adequate support but they seemed in a great hurry and obviously 'I was of no consequence.
There were regular encouraging shouts of "rouse" and "schnell" accompanied by more kicks in the rear so there was no alternative to keeping on the move.
What surprised me was the fact chat the area we went through was devoid of all civilian population. Villages, shops, farms and houses were deserted. There was no sign of life at all. Derelict filling stations had rusty 'Shell' signs hanging lop-sided. Shops with tatty Coca-Cola signs were all boarded up. It was more like a no-man's land that I jogged through with little evidence of all the troops that I expected to see considering how close to the front line that I was. It was even more surprising since in the early hours of the next morning one of the biggest offensive's of the war was launched by the Allies
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on the Northen [sic] battle front in an attempt to break through and reach the Rhine. They must have been known that something big was about to break.
The very fact that we did not achieve immediate success is a matter of history but with great armies lined up and about to be locked in battle less than 30mls to the West I can only assume that if there was any strength of German troops in the rear they were very well hidden. The only traffic that I saw was the occasional military vehicle travelling very slowly hugging the edge of the tracks through wooded areas.
I was just about done in when we finally arrived at the Luftwaffe airfield at Krefeld around dusk.
I was duly handed over and signed for at the guard room with my two escorts still showing signs of being in a hurry to get back to their relatively isolated unit before the RAF or the USAAF started chucking stuff at what was a prime target.
Perhaps they figured they would have more chance against our ground forces but whatever; they were off as fast as they could go with their hand generating flashlights whirring away.
My first impression of the place was the similarity between their buildings and our pre-war bases at home. It all looked so familiar that they might have been built to the same plans….perhaps they were!. Even the cell block behind the guard room was identical as was the exercise yard behind it, but I was not impressed when I was shown to my room.
In the cell was the same sort of wooden dais that served as a bed, (no comfort for the wrong doers), and of course no pillow or mattress. Just a single thin blanket.
It was not long after I had been locked in and I had taken stock of the situation that I realised that it was some time since I had eaten or had a drink, about eight hours actually, so I started making a fuss to attract the attention of a guard and demanding to be fed.
The sign language conveyed the message alright but the only reaction was a great deal of laughter and sign language from them which simply meant "you have had it mate"!.
I have no doubt it was due to a typical military process which ensured
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that there would be no issue of food to a prisoner until he came on ration strength in the morning!.
Everything that I had been provided with for such emergencies (had I been allowed to keep it) had gone down in my life jacket.
I finally went into an uncomfortable and restless sleep with visions of that egg and bacon that would have been waiting for me back at Mildenhall, and grumblings in the tummy. I was also very concerned at the sort of reaction that there would-be when the inevitable telegrams arrived. There was no way, that anyone back home would know what had happened to us. We would just be 'missing' until something was sorted out.
In the morning the routine was simple. An early visit to the ablutions under guard with no means or opportunity of washing, other than splashing a little water on the face and return to the cell to find that 'breakfast' had been served.
It had been placed on the floor outside the cell door. I could have eaten a horse, harness and all but all that 'breakfast' consisted of was one slice of sticky black bread with a smear of bright yellow grease on it and a mug of some brown stuff that they called coffee.
I did not dare laugh at their reference to "cafe' and brot und butter" as there was no was of knowing when I would get anything else particularly as my insides were already protesting at not being fed for nearly 24 hours. Nevertheless, I nibbled and sipped any way through it having never ever tasted anything quite like it before.
Had I gulped it down I have no doubt that I would not have kept it down for long. It was absolutely ghastly.
There was no activity at all until mid-day and after a visit to the ablutions a meal was provided on a small folding table in the passageway and I had company.
My companion was a young Luftwaffe airman of about 17 who spoke quite good English and although he could have been a plant I very much doubt it.
Over the meal which was about a handful of turnip stew. a tablespoon of sourcraut [sic] and a thin slice of black bread without any scrape, plus a mug of the brown stuff we managed to communicate sufficiently for him to tell me his story.
Apparently he had wanted to be a pilot but his eyes were not
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up to the standard required so he had become ground crew of some sort which he had been a bit peeved about. He was in the cooler for striking an officer and what's more he did not seem too worried.
I found it embarrassing when after he had made enquiries about the various insigna [sic] on my uniform and found that I was an officer. It was he who suggested that the scar on my forehead was a duelling scar so I want along with it. After that disclosure he jumped to his feet, clicking his heels and bobbing up and down in typical German fashion until I suggested that we had better get on with our food, what there was of it, before it got cold. Especially as we were using the same utensils...his!. Then we were locked up again and for my part still hungry.
I have often wondered how that lad got on. After all, striking an officer was, and still is a serious offence, especially on active service. He was probably sent to the Russian front in a penal battalion to fight for his beloved Furher [sic] . They might as well have shot him outright. Whilst I was having visions of egg and bacon I was disappointed when supper turned up. It was a mug of a different shade of brown stuff of indefinable flavour and so to bed. It was the same routine the next day and my insides were still trying to come to terms with the 'snacks' that arrived three times a day and even the Luftwaffe airman had disappeared but things livened up the next day.
There was a terrific rattle of light ack-ack when the airfield was straffed [sic] by USAF P.51's, (Mustangs). They did a hell of a good job from what I could see through a small peep-hole in the top corner of the window, only just accessible .by climbing on the bed stood on it's end.
There were quite a few fires and explosions and a hell of a racket from the defences but I was forced to abandon my grandstand view very quickly when lead started splattering all over the outside of the building. It was too close for comfort and the window finished up with a larger hole in it that it had had before causing a bit of a draught.
Archie Macintosh had been brought in the night before but apart from one brief meeting we had been unable to communicate as
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he had been put in a cell at the other end of the block and we were fed at different times.
I was beginning to get a bit fed up with my own company when on the afternoon of the 10th I had plenty of company.
The entire crew of a B.17. (Flying Fortress) were brought in and distributed among the cells so two of them joined me.
They were a bit suspicious at first but were soon convinced that I was genuine as I was sharing their discomfort. Despite the increase in numbers we were not provided with any more blankets and only a small increase in total food, although we were being fed in the cells at that stage. Fortunately my new cell mates had only recently been well fed back at their UK base and were quite willing to forego the "Kraut junk food" so I had my fill. I am sure they changed their minds about it later on.
At least there was someone to talk to relieve the utter boredom of my four walls and I must confess that I was astonished when I heard their story.
Apparently they had lost an engine and could not keep up with their formation so before the fighters could get at them they had just force landed, fired the aircraft and that was that.
I found it difficult to reconcile such an action with what we might have done in similar circumstances but their orders were not to risk lives at that stage for the sake of an aeroplane. There were plenty of them!. Even so I thought that it would not have been difficult to have done some hedgehopping to our own lines rather than finish up in the situation they now found themselves in.
The next day we were all mustered outside the Guardroom after our morning drink and with one guard per prisoner we set off to Dusseldorf by the process of alternatively walking or hitchhiking on military transport. Archie and I were at last able to compare notes.
He had gone out just behind me but had not been able to execute as neat a landing.
He had landed in some fairly tall pine trees and after he had finished crashing through branches he finished up swinging about 20 feet from the ground somewhat winded.
He had a lot to think about once he had recovered and certainly
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did not fancy getting a busted leg by releasing himself from that height, although that is what the Luftwaffe wanted him to do as soon as they arrived on the scene.
There was a lot of shouting and a few shots to give him encouragement so he eventually got a good swing going until he was able to grab the branch of another tree, release himself and clamber down. The rest was routine so that was two of us that were OK anyway.
As we plodded along we took in all that was revealed by the countryside and the signs of the desperate shortages in Germany were even more obvious.
All the things that made up the daily life back home that we took for granted; the butcher, the baker, people, transport and tradesmen were just not there. The area was desolate apart from the odd military vehicle that picked us up and saved our legs for a few miles.
It took a long time to cover the 16 miles by those means and there was no refreshment at all-not for us prisoners anyway!, but we duly arrived at the Luftwaffe airfield at Dusseldorf to be handed over and signed for as usual at the guard room.
Then our escorts came up with an extraordinary gesture that took us completely by surprise They came down the line and shook us all very politely by the hand, with of course the inevitable heel clicking, and then we were led away to our cells. There was four in mine, including Archie.
We were not fed or watered. Only water was available when it was possible to visit the toilets although the guards were very reluctant to let us use the wash basins--but we managed.
By that time I was used to being hungry and our American friends were getting aclimatized [sic] --but getting very vocal about it. It was a total waste of time, even when we were ushered outside at 4.30 the next morning.
Naturally we were hoping that we were going to be fed but all we got was a pack of three dry sandwiches, containing some garlic smelling sausage and being told that they had to last several days. Some only lasted a few minutes as about 20 of us were packed into a bus which took us to what was left of Dusseldorf station and whilst we were waiting around for something to happen we found that Jim was among us. That made three of us accounted
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for.
Jim's descent had been perfectly normal. There had been a reception committee waiting for him and he had gone straight to Dusseldorf where he had waited several days for something to happen. At last it had.
We spent all day on that train, and the next as it clanked and groaned it's way across country. It was a painfully slow journey, and sometimes we were shunted into sidings for long periods, and on others we were just held up by the signals.
The guards were touchy and there was one outside each of the compartments all the time. The only time we were allowed out into the corridor was for the occasional visit to the toilet, still under escort, and the facilities were a bit primitive to say the least.
Drinking water was limited and was only made available twice a day from a bucket with a ladle which we all had to use, so it was not surprising that we were getting thirsty, dirty and hungry. Three sandwiches do not go far---mine went on the first day and nothing else had turned up.
Sleeping was another big problem although we dozed quite a lot as there was-nothing else to do, but ten in a compartment brought it's own problems, especially at night. We took turns for a few hours at a time up on the luggage racks but without any heating on the train it did not take long for the body to get chilled right through so it was necessary to get back into the sweaty and rather smelly huddle of bodies to warm up again.
We had to disembark several times as the train went forward slowly on it's own over either weak or hurriedly laid sections of track or where unexploded or delayed action bombs were suspected and it was all very tedious.
The next night we stopped at one station to change the train crew, I think it was Siegen, and it was another of those rare occasions to get out of the compartment.
The German equivalent of the WVS were on the platform and the ladies of the tea urn were approached by our guards with a proposal to dispense some in our direction and with a great show of reluctance they eventually obliged.
Of course, we had to take it in turn to use the tin cups provided as we had nothing and the news was relayed that the hot drink
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was 'chocolate'. I saw some strange expressions from the others that were ahead of me in the queue when they got theirs and I don't suppose mine was any different when I got my measure.
As chocolate it was more like dirty washing up water and that the average German had long forgotten what chocolate really tasted like.
It was more like the sort of brew that you would get if you dissolved a Horlicks tablet in five gallons of hot water!.
It was welcome just the same and we dare not make any disparaging remarks about for fear of being deprived of it.
I was just wondering if I should finish my ration by washing in it when the air raid sirens started wailing and there was immediate panic everywhere as we set off for the shelters.
We were herded down some steps into caves which had been hewn out of the natural rock alongside the station and some of us helped the guards with their packs. Someone else 'accidentally' knocked over the abandoned drinks trolley in the general rush and we eventually finished up in a dimly lit shelter where we were pushed well to the back as bombs started crashing down outside causing the lights to flicker and dust to start filtering from the roof onto everyone. [The raid was short but the bombs were heavy one's and are thought to have been Mosquito's on a 'siren tour'].
The rest of the occupants of the shelter, mostly civilians including children were terrified and apart from one old bloke, stayed huddled up in the corners. He shuffled across to our group and peered at us through the shield of guards for a while until it dawned on him who we were and then he went frantic.
He lunged and spat, yelling "terror fleiger" doing his damnedest to get through to us but the guards closed ranks into a solid wall in front of us and he shoved off when the all clear sounded. The guard commander was taking no chances that any further demonstration might get out of hand and we left last!.
I doubt if they would have been so protective If they had known what we had been up to. It was some time later after we had re-embarked and were clanking along once more when they found out. First one went to his pack and then another, to find the cupboard bare. Even the: wine bottles were empty!.
They got very upset about it and there were all sorts of threats
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of punishment for stealing but we just laughed it off and it came to nothing.
Their rations were not all that good anyway but by that time we were past caring. I do not remember anyone saying that they did not like garlic sausage or black bread but in that situation you soon forget about any fads and fancies you might have had.
We finally arrived at Frankfurt on the morning of the 15th and I was surprised to see so such of the station still standing. It was not until I took a second look that I realised that the broken framework of the roof had no glass and the only solid thing seemed to be the platforms, and there was a lot of those missing.
It was even worse outside!.
The roads were just avenues between piles of rubble that had once been houses, shops and businesses. What a mess. I had seen some of Coventry after they had done some clearing up in the areas that had been devastated, and a great deal of London's East End but this lot was not in any way isolated. It spread as far as the eye could see. We had seen signs of it from the train as we were pulling in but when we were actually in it was obvious that anything still standing was little more than a blackened shell.
It was not surprising that the population were showing signs of hostility as we were herded out of the station and we were surrounded by the guards almost shoulder to shoulder. It was with some relief that we were all shoved into the relative safety of an old electric tram which eventually rattled and whined it's way up the hill in the direction of the infamous interrogation camp; Dulag Luft, at Ober-Orsal, the place that most of us knew about from the talks that we had from either repatriates or escapees. We had a pretty good idea of what to expect, and were prepared for it.
The tram ran out of line after about two miles and then we were on foot again until we reached the camp at about 2pm.
This time the guards did not shake hands when we were handed over. They were probably still sore about their stolen rations and were as anxious as we were to get a meal. Nevertheless, I was glad that it was policy for the Luftwaffe to look after Air Force prisoners. They seemed reasonable enough under the
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circumstances.
Perhaps they were being particularly nice now that the stuffing was being knocked out of them and although they would not have admitted it many of them must have known that the end was near.
We queued for a long time as forms were filled in and cross checked with other papers and then finally it was time to have our photographs taken.
Most of the staff seemed to be Luftwaffe aircrew who were either grounded by the shortage of fuel or were convalescing but either way they were not very good with a camera. They had been clicking away merrily for some time with the lens cap still on and a buzz passed down the line not to tell them until they got near the end. I was only a couple from the end and it gave me great satisfaction to point it out to them. Much to their embarrassment Everyone fell about hooting with laughter and there were a few derisory remarks made in German about the efficiency of the Luftwaffe. It did mean of course that we had to do it all over again which involved getting colder and hungrier but it was all part of the scheme of things that almost everyone was engaged in. Crudely put, it was 'goon baiting', and something that they failed to see the point of.
After hours of standing around and being herded to and fro' I was eventually ushered into a room that might easily have been one of our own flight offices. It was a cleverly laid out stage set that was a perfect replica using RAF furniture, carpets and fittings that had been captured and put to use. In addition there was even one of our own Marconi TR1154/55 radio equipments sitting on top of one of our filing cabinets with an RAF flying helmet, goggles and oxygen mask draped casually over an open drawer, plus a gunners Irvin fur flying jacket on the door hook to create the right effect. In addition there was a wall map with pins and tapes showing routes and other areas exactly the same as the one in our briefing room.
I could not help wondering how many of these stage sets they had got for the various aircrew categories both RAF and USAF but it was so obvious I was immediately on my guard.
When the officer, or the chap that was dressed as one spoke from behind the desk it was in perfect English, without any accent, that it might easily have been an interview by a flight
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commander on posting; except that he was in the wrong sort of uniform!.
He asked all sorts of questions relative to target and route, the call signs, equipment, and frequencies as well as the codes, all of which I refused to answer. I stuck to number, rank, and name.
After a while he pushed over a packet of Players cigarettes and then launched into some searching questions about the Bomber Codes that we used and even showed me some copies that they had obviously recovered from pranged aircraft. Naturally he wanted to know about the sequence of use and although I told him that it was a random sequence and just issued for an operation he really did not believe it, but it was true and so simple that it was unbelievable. As a result he was not convinced and suggested that as an officer I must know more than that (which I did of course), but it seemed that the best way was to act ignorant, and I doubt if they were ever able to decode anything from any one transmission. It was that simple yet very discreet.
He started off again about the target and why we had been around Krefeld but eventually got fed up asking the same questions over and over again, and getting a blank stare for an answer.
All the time he had been questioning me he had been referring to a folder on the desk in front of him and eventually with a sigh he held it up and showed me the front cover. As plain as the nose on your face the wording was '15 Squadron, Mildenhall'.
It had obviously been put together over the years from snippets of information plus a good deal of intelligence gathering through spies and the like and they may have managed to find sufficient evidence from the wreckage of 'D' Dog to tell them where we had come from. After all, 4ft lettering on each side of the fusulage [sic] would be enough. Nevertheless, he displayed a certain amount of smugness at the disclosure and when I said "well, if you know all that why do you persist in asking damn silly questions" he went one better. He said he knew Mildenhall quite well, and that included 'The Bird in Hand', which was a local favoured pub. Then he trotted out some more local knowledge and rounded it all off with the fact that I would be pleased
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to know that all the crew had been captured uninjured which was a great relief, although it was a sprat to catch a mackerel. He started off right away again about Bomber Codes. No way. Two could play that-game so it was back to number, rank, name again.
All the time the interrogation was going on, in addition to the guard by the door there were two electricians in white overalls working on a side wall putting in electrical conduit and I was doing my damndest to show more interest in what they were doing than my interrogator and especially the materials that they were working with.
The conduit seemed to be rolled up paper' tubing with a foil coating and a crimping tool rather like a large pair of pliers was being used to shape the curves and the corners.
The electricians looked at me with puzzled interest and I grinned back at them much to the consternation of the interrogator. It all seemed a bit daft to me. With Allied ground forces approaching the Rhine for the final big blow and their country being blasted to bits and their armies in the East and the West retreating from overwhelming forces. With death and destruction everywhere wasn't it typically German to be putting in electrical modifications?. I suppose they could have been wiring demolition charges just in case but surely they would not have bothered with conduit---or would they?.
I was dragged back from my meditations when asked to complete a small white card with personal details and when he saw my home address he asked how I managed to get across London with the mess that it was in with the VI's and V2's still a pouring down the question took me by surprise The damage from those weapons had been very isolated however devastating it might have been in the precise spot of impact. At the worst we had learned to live with the things even when one had taken the end off of the London hotel in which my wife and I had been staying and another had blown up a cow in a field just across the road from where we had been staying in Surrey but life went on just the same so I told him. "No trouble".
That was not good enough and he still persisted that London was in a terrible mess so I let his have it straight. I told his that I could still cross London any way I wanted. By taxi,
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bus, underground or on foot as I had done only three weeks previously...or stay in the city if it suited, and certainly a lot easier than he could get across Frankfurt from what I had seen of the place. That was it. End of interview! Could it have been that he had heard all that before and he was soon going to have to believe it?.
I was promptly dismissed and escorted to my 'private' room. It was three paces by one and a half most of which was taken up by a bed, and of course, the radiator!.
The window was shuttered and this type of room was commonly known as the sweat-box and considered by many to be the means of extracting information from people.
Although we had been told about this I am still more inclined to think that since the Germans were generally more advanced in their use of central heating systems than we were they were also inclined to overdo it a bit; even in those days.
I had been locked up for about an hour when the rattling of keys alerted me to the possibility of food arriving but no such luck.
When the door opened it was to admit a tubby, faded civilian, in a faded shapeless suit. He looked like something out of 'Scrooge'` in his cock-eyed steel rimmed glasses, and announced himself as a representative of the German Red Cross as he produced a foolscap sized questionnaire. We had been warned about this one too!.
Red Cross he might have been but the requirements of the questionnaire seemed to be bending the rules a bit and he seemed somewhat upset when I only entered the same basic details that had gone on the white card.
We had been warned that anyone who had been careless in their disclosures would be dealt with later and I was taking no chances.
It would not be the first time that 'Lord Haw-Haw' (William Joyce) had made use of such information and mentioned the names of people that had recently become guests of the Third Reich in his propaganda broadcasts.
Another significant factor was that William Joyce knew Worthing well enough to have made the most of it having been in lodgings just around the corner from home before the war. I was very
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careful.
The little grey man got quite angry and made dire threats about not getting any food if I did not co-operate. Big deal...that was nothing new. No food had past my lips for at least 36hours!. Not long after his departure clatterings at the door suggested food again but instead an elderly guard brought in a dirty metal bowl with some lukewarm water in it and a razor with a blade that had definitely seen better days. One thing was for sure, there was no way a desperate POW was likely to cut his throat with it!.
The rest of the equipment was a dirty damp towel and a piece of 'soap' more like pumice stone which had no intention of producing a lather. It made very little impression on my seven days growth of beard or the 'tide marks' on various parts of my anatomy that had not been exposed for the same amount of time.
I felt better for it anyway even though I still had no opportunity to clean my teeth and it was probably just as well that I had not got my steel mirror to assist in those ablutions. I would probably had a fit.
Some time after that the clatter at the door was followed by the same guard with my meal. Not very much and not very nice but even a dollop of turnip stew in a tin bowl was welcome at that time which was probably nearer 48hrs since my last bite of anything.
It did not take long to figure out the routine. There was a lever by the door which when turned allowed a piece of red painted angle iron to drop on the outside indicating that a visit to the toilet was required.
On my first visit I was going down the corridor and was horrified to see an ashen faced Flight Lieutenant, his arm in blood soaked bandages, just painfully stumbling along, using the wall for support, and I instinctively went to give assistance although he feebly protested that I would get into trouble. I did!.
I got a rifle butt smack between the shoulder blades and down I went. When I struggled to my feet the guard was screeching his head off about "sprachen verbotten" and "schnell" as I was prodded along to the ablutions where another chap was able to tell me about the set-up.
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Apparently the Flt.Lt. was the pilot of a Tempest which was a type fairly near to the battle scene and as they wanted information from him they were withholding medical treatment until they did. His arm was already gangrenous and he smelt awful but there was nothing I could do for him when came back out of the toilets. He had just managed to make a little more painful progress down the corridor and that episode most certainly put all of my problems to the background. I was definitely not amused at the procedings [sic] .
I spent the rest of the night doing what everyone else seemed to be doing. Making sure there was a signal bar going down every few minutes of the night just to annoy the guard. It did!.
On one occasion when he got around to me he was very angry and protested to some considerable length in his pigeon English that "alles ist pissen unt shitzen" so it seemed worth while going without sleep. It was too hot for sleeping anyway with the radiators pinging away.
At 5 o'clock they next morning, after a drink, an untidy collection of prisoners were assembled outside with the usual shouting and shoving and then we were marched the five miles down to Frankfurt station to await a train. The weather was cold and miserable, we were cold and hungry as we staggered along in no particular order and then I was thumped on the back by Des which cheered things up a bit. He had already found some of the others are although I did not feel much like walking it certainly helped to swap experiences and pass the time.
Des had a very good story try tell.
Despite the fact that in his haste he had only secured his 'chute by one side clip and had made a very dodgy descent with every chance of the canopy 'candleing' [sic] and dropping him like a stone he still made a reasonable landing without injury. What was more important, his landing was undetected so he made some very positive arrangements to evade capture.
For two days and nights he worked his way Westward and had made considerable progress towards the front line to the point of having to dodge German patrols and guards.
In the early hours of the second morning there was gunfire all around him and he even heard American voices in the distance when he got a bit too bold.
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He had already fooled a guard earlier by grunting "gooten morgan" after the guard had shown his presence by lighting a cigarette, then strolled by him whistling Lillie Marlene but shortly afterwards made a lot of noise by falling in a ditch and was challenged. There was no way that he could bluff his way out of that and he was promptly bundled off to the rear to spend the night in a village hall before being handed over to the Luftwaffe, so here he was after all that.
It was after mid-day before a train was finally shunted in by which time most of us were just about asleep on our feet but were eventually embarked with more pushing, shoving and shouting accompanied by the liberal use of rifle butts.
The guards must have thought we were all daft by the way we kept bursting into song from time to time. We did our best with that fine old marching song 'Colonel Bogey' which cheered us up considerably. The Air Force had it's own words to that particular piece so we managed to tell them just what we thought of them without them knowing it!.
We finally arrived at Wetzlar later in the day having recovered from our earlier exertions but we were very, very hungry.
When we disembarked we were once more jostled about until the whole party, about a hundred, were ready to move off.
Then Dave turned up, although why we had not bumped into him before was a bit puzzling. Des had already met him and lost him again but it appeared that he had been at the other end of the column and this was our first chance to mingle since we had left Frankfurt.
There was a great deal of chat and it seemed that Dave had been picked up even quicker than me. He had come down in the open and the German Air Force was there to welcome him with open arms. He had been a bit concerned that the reception committee gathering below him were going to use him for target practice and was relieved when he finally touched down and rapidly divested himself of his 'chute and harness before doing basically what I had done. There was no other choice!.
We were chatting away as we trugged up the hill away from the station and eventually the boundary wire of a camp came into view looking somewhat ominous on the skyline but before the front of the column got to the main gate there was a flurry
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of activity.
Suddenly there were a couple of shots and the sounds of whistles as half a dozen guards with dogs came rushing out of the gate and we all came to a halt as they broke though our ranks and raced around the perimeter wire.
They raced out of sight and there was a lot of shouting and dogs barking for a few minutes before another shot was heard and shortly afterwards the party came back dragging a body unceremoniously by the legs along the whole length of the column. The body was that of a young American Air Force Sergeant who had a leg and a body wound in addition to a neat hole in his forehead!.
We soon found out what it had all been about when we got into camp but not until we were fed; this time with a difference.
For a start it was a well run POW transit camp run by the Americans and it seemed to have everything. It was a long time since any of us had been in a dining hall like that one. As traumatic as our arrival had been food was still uppermost in the minds of most people.
Surrounded as we had been by drab ugliness for so long to find ourselves in a clean cheery place with larger than life Disney cartoons and other such characters painted everywhere I half expected to see a Coca-Cola dispenser in the corner but what was on the tables was mind boggling.
There was Spam, beans, sausages, potato, bacon, bread, biscuits, butter, cheese, tinned fruit, dried fruit, chocolate, you name it, it was all there. All the things that came in Red Cross parcels. There was real coffee with reconstituted milk with real sugar on tap, or tea, and we hardly needed a second telling to "get stuck in". It was magnificent.
I can't remember how long we sat there just stuffing ourselves like kids at a Christmas party but eventually when we had had enough we were off to the showers, to be told that an issue of clothing would be made when we had cleaned up and for a start there was a new towel and real soap.
We all needed a good scrubbing before we were all pink and glowing once more and all the gear we had been wearing had been well and truly soaped and trampled on before we went on to the clothing store where most of us needed a complete change to
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bring us up to a acceptable standard.
Like most aircrew I had gone into the bag with just the flying gear that was being worn at the time but like any clothing it was bound to suffer from being worn day and night in all conditions for ten days. Gunners were probably better off than most if they had managed to hang on to their furs, but being military equipment most of them had had it taken from them.
There were other things that came out of the Alladins [sic] cave.
In addition to new underclothes, socks, boots, shirt, a greatcoat and a blanket there were cigaretts [sic] , pipe and tobacco, razor, shaving brush and soap. Toothbrush and paste. A comb and what military folk called a ‘hussif’, (housewife or sewing kit) which was very useful for keeping things in repair and of course for putting buttons back on things.
It was nearly all American Red Cross clothing and the like, mostly olive drab kharki [sic] but that did not make it any less welcome.
The camp seemed to have lavish supplies of everything and the fact that there were no guards patrolling the perimeter suggested that the administration had been bribed with goods to keep it that way with only the towers manned. It was certainly not beyond the realms of possibility knowing the capacity of our American friends to organise such things.
We were soon off to the barrack blocks with arms full of 'goodies' and to finish drying off those items of clothing that we wanted to keep and it was there that I finally heard the full story of the lad that had just got himself killed.
Apparently the poor chap had become very depressed since his capture mainly because as a waist gunner in a B.17. (Flying Fortress) when his aircraft had been damaged, he had panicked and failed to help the ball turret gunner out of his position. (Gunners in this very cramped turret needed assistance to both get in and out) but he himself had baled out and his buddy had gone to his death in the crippled aircraft.
It was hardly surprising that it had affected him very badly and he had been threatening to do something drastic which he had eventually done by going over the wire.
He had had the usual shouted warning when he went over the trip wire but kept going and started to climb the fence. On the way
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over he was hit by the first shot but still struggled on until the next shot brought him down outside but still crawling. There was very little doubt about the third shot that we had heard. That had been a pistol.
Whether he had begged the guards or whether they had needed no encouragement no one seemed to know although he must have been in view from the opposite side of the compound. Either way he was very dead and it was very sad to think that another young life had been needlessly thrown away.
We were not all that happy about our introduction to the POW cage but however much we had been shaken by the episode creature comforts were still uppermost in our minds and I spent the rest of the day sorting myself out and puffing away on my new pipe.
It was just as well that we had got away from Wetzlar station when we had.
I had no sooner made up my bed and was contemplating the luxury of spending the night in it when a racket started in the town as it got a pasting from USAF Thunderbolts and we had a grandstand seat as bits of the town and the station went flying in all directions accompanied by shouts and cheers from the 'grandstand'.
Nevertheless, I did get that night's exhausted, dreamless sleep in a real bed and not troubled by hunger pains. It was sheer ecstacy [sic] and I must confess that I was no longer so worried about how my wife and my family must have been feeling about my disappearance. The way things were going I was confident of getting home in the not too distant future so it was just a case of surviving until that day.
After a leisurely and handsome meal the following morning, the 18th, the whole camp apart from the permanent staff assembled with all their personal possessions and with a Red Crass parcel between two prisoners we were herded; (we refused to march), down the hill.
The station was in a bit of a mess but we were packed into a train on a side line and then left there waiting for something to happen.
What we did not want to happen was for a return of the Thunderbolts to finish off the job that they had started the day before. We had noticed that the carriages had got large
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lettering--P O W in white along the top but there was a lot of muttering about the potential dangers from roving Allied train and tank busters.
An impromptu committee was soon formed from some of the more senior prisoners and it was decided to 'encourage' someone to move the train to a relatively safer place. A collection of cigarettes was quickly organised and for the sum of several hundred cigarettes the guards, station staff and train crew were bribed accordingly. We only moved a few hundred yards into another siding, but It was certainly safer than being in the station notwithstanding the fact that we had an anti aircraft flak car at the front and the rear of the train!
Once again we were packed into compartments, twelve at a time and once more we were obliged to adopt the same procedure as before. Up on the luggage racks for a period. Limited visits to the toilet. Limited drinking water and no distribution of food at all. Fortunately we had all fed well and with the contents of our Red Cross parcels we could last several days.
W were still clanking along on the 19th and perhaps it was just as well that the POW had been plastered along the top after all.
We were buzzed several times by Allied aircraft including one cheeky chap in a Thunderbolt who braved the fire from the flak cars to fly parallel to us waggling his wings and waving from his open cockpit. It was very encouraging even if a little foolhardy but it provided for some more light entertainment.
Although we could not open the windows or the doors we crowded as many as we could into the them [sic] all waving as hard as we could go which caused immediate reaction from the guard in the corridor.
In he came and pulled down the blinds and then the game started.
As soon as he left to pull down those in the next compartment up went ours with a clatter and back he came again. It did not last long---he gave up first!.
At one time we passed through some absolutely devastated areas including some marshalling yards that looked as if a giant had trampled through them.
On one occasion we were on one of the few complete through lines, and everywhere else was a mass of bomb craters, smashed rolling
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stock and rails that were twisted into the most fantastic shapes like so much spagetti [sic] .
Repairs of sorts were being carried out by what looked like Russian or Polish women in headscarves, quilted jackets, sacking and string boots and who were wielding long handled shovels. They looked such a sorry dejected bunch that we put up a cheer but the only response were vacant stares.
One of the most incredible sights among all the mess was that of a huge circle of locomotive sheds surrounding a turntable locomotive roundhouse like the spokes of a wheel which had copped a real packet.
There were several 100 ton loco's reared up on their ends and wrapped around each other like so many discarded Hornby model trains. I don't know where it was. It could have been Frankfurt as it was not far away and we could have come back in that direction, or Wurzburg, but the effectiveness of that yard had been reduced to zero, making it even more difficult to move things about, including us. It did not seem logical to take all that trouble with POW's who were a definite liability.
We found out later what it was all about!.
Apparently Hitler had ordered that all POW's were to be brought down into the area surrounding Birchtegarten [sic] to be used as hostages and I would not have given much for our chances with Hitler in residence backed up by his SS fanatics.
Fortunately Hitler did not get out of Berlin anyway and a lot of his Generals were only going through the motions of obeying orders.
It was a dodgy situation all round and several of his Generals had already come to a sticky end in the hands of the SS.
Meanwhile we were being transported with great difficulty and at one time we passed through a hilly wooded area, still deep in snow which made it all look like a Christmas card scene. It was probably in the Steigerwald area; but at the top of one climb, with the locomotive chuffing and clanking we noticed that there were numerous little sidings among the trees with tanker wagons by the dozen stowed in them. We were to remember those later!.
It was about that time when the young guard positioned in the corridor by our compartment got himself into serious trouble
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with his Oberfeldwebel.
He was armed with an old French rifle of 1914/1918 vintage and we had been working on him for some time about his chances of defending himself when our troops caught up with him considering the numerous automatic weapons that our front line troops were armed with.
He eventually took the bait after some disparaging remarks about his antique rifle and proceeded to show us what a good weapon g it was; by taking it to pieces!.
We had got to the point where one of us had the magazine, another had the rounds and the bolt, another the bayonet until his rifle parts had been well distributed among us and with the train going slow enough to make jumping possible, he was within seconds of being clouted when the NCO on his rounds could not see him in the corridor and burst in on us.
He was blue in the face, waiving his pistol about and of course, shouting.
The guard got a great grand-daddy of a dressing down as he stood stiff as a ramrod and then, sheepishly re-assembled his rifle as the bits were handed back.
After some shouting, with the assembled rifle at the high port the NCO, having said his piece stomped away to a fair bit of tittering from us which turned to laughter as the guard had the last word.
As soon as the NCO was out of earshot, he said, out of the corner of his mouth, "oxen scheissen", which needed no interpretation so we finished up having a damn good laugh with him. For him it probably ended alright but little did he know how close he had been to getting his head bashed in.
In the early hours of the 20th we arrived at a suburban station on the outskirts of Nuremberg. ‘Lagerwasser’ was a dreary little wooden platformed affair and immediately the old routine started. Shouting, shoving and pushing to keep us all grouped together in the darkness we eventually walked about three miles to the camp. Then we walked back again as they were not ready for us!. That episode caused a bit of an argument as we did not know how long we were going to have to wait and it was damn cold. In fact it was actually freezing and eventually we were allowed back into the relative warmth of the train but those negotiations
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cost us almost all the remainder of our precious cigarettes.
Eventually detrained again when it was light enough and we moved down the road in small parties, strung out, until we were well away from the station and with a lot more slow, slow, quick, quick, slow stuff we were all inside the camp at full light.
In the dark and confusion I had lost Archie but had picked up Jim again but the most important thing was that we were more or less in the same group, and that was the only satisfaction that we got out of entering a grim looking place that did not get any better as we took stock of our surroundings.
The board over the main gate said Stalag X111d, and what a dump it was after our experience at Wetzlar.
Apparently it had been recently cleared and was filling up again although at that time we had no idea where the previous inmates had gone. Wherever it was they appeared to have stripped the
place before leaving.
We were counted off, 150 to a barrack room which was actually a very largo hut. Barrack Nr.69 was no different from the others. The bunks were triple stacked and by the state of them most of the wooden slats; (no spring beds or mattresses in those places), had been used for fuel which was the only type of fuel available for the two empty stoves.
We found ourselves places to sleep; and that included the floor as very few of the top bunks could be used after the available slats had been re-distributed to make up as many of the lower bunks as possible. There was not much point in having more gaps than slats up top and doing a balancing act all night with good chance of crashing down on the chap below so everyone co-operated without any fuss.
It goes without saying that the floor was favourite at that time although later on the rats made a bit of a nuisance of themselves. We were obliged to secure our rations very carefully in something they had difficulty getting into.
Shortly after 'settling in' we were called to a room at the end of the hut for a check to be made on our identities by some of the permanent POW camp staff and I was amazed at being interrogated by our own people but these boys knew what it was all about.
They had been in the 'bag' a lot longer than us and knew all
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about 'ferrets' and 'moles'.
Some had come from Stalag Luft.3. in Upper Selesia [sic] and had had the most awful experiences marching through the countryside in the depths of the Winter leaving many of their comrades frozen solid on the road-sides where they had dropped through sickness, starvation and fatigue, many of them having been shot as stragglers.
As 'sproggs' we were very fortunate to have the benefit of their experience but I was suprised [sic] to see a map of Europe spread out on the table and to be asked if there was anything we had seen en route' that might be of any use to our advancing armies.
I got Archie called in and we gave them enough information on the fuel tanker wagons that we had seen up in the mountains for a plot to be put on the map. I still do not recall exactly where it was though.
It was heartening to think that somehow we were actually able to pass on that information and the tankers might go up in smoke. It was not beyond the realms of possibility.
There was a radio somewhere among us. There had to be as we got regular BBC news bulletins after we got settled in. But to imagine that there was a transmitter as well was mind boggling. It must have been a remarkable piece of equipment with it's numerous components concealed in all manner of things with wiring connections and aerial secreted in belts, braces and tin cans. It is worth bearing in mind that a lot of earlier Air Force prisoners were highly trained technicians who could build such equipment out of basics.
I was never privileged to see anything of it. That was the province of the veteran POW brigade and the fewer people that knew about it the better.
It was still freezing and we did not dare use any more bed slats to get fires going as there was always the chance that some might be needed to line a tunnel.
That was only a thought at the time but I found out later that there really was a tunnel linking us with the next compound.
Of course, the toilets were frozen although still in use, and other parts of the ablutions were also locked in deep freeze.
The only running water available was in the compound kitchen where it was used sparingly for producing hot drinks and later
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on some sort of food.
It is understandable that creature comforts were still our primary consideration in such primitive conditions so the first cup of 'hot stuff' that was dished up was very welcome even if many of us had to go to the end of the line and wait until the owner of a drinking utensil was prepared to lend it.
We had been in the camp several hours, when an air raid hit the city, starting with the wailing of sirens in the distance and then the camp sirens.
Then the roar of hundreds of B.24's, (Liberators) reverberated and shook everything as they came in from the South with mass formations glittering in the weak sunshine but they were surrounded by enemy fighters like a swarm of bees around a jam pot.
The fighters must just about have met them head on and they wheeled in and out of the formation. Flak peppered the sky and they still droned on as one fell out of the sky with flames pouring from it. Then the smoke markers and streams of bombs from the lead aircraft was followed by clouds of bombs from the rest of the formation with the most spine chilling whistling rushing sound as they descended followed by the steady roar of explosions they plastered the city in great swathes.
Some went wide, perhaps jettisoned as aircraft got into trouble, and the station that we had only recently vacated collected one or two!.
What was most vividly imprinted on my mind were the numbers of crippled aircraft falling out of the sky at one time. There must have been at least a dozen. Some breaking up, others on fire or exploding with bits and pieces raining down and all the time the continuous roar of the battle with the crackle of machine guns, the thud-thud of cannon mingling with the heavy crack of anti-aircraft guns. It was a savage battle.
There was an awful lot of killing going on up there as well as down below and there were a lot of parachutes too.
The luckier one's fell clear of the city, and I would not have given much for their chances if they had come down in it.
We added to our numbers by one that day and he did not go on the ration strength. He came right down in camp and was promptly hidden before the guards came out of their 'funk' holes where
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they invariably dived with their tin hats over their back-sides.
We learned later that the B.24's had come from Italy and were going though to UK bases, hence they had run into the defences instead of having to fight an extended battle right across the country.
The fires in the city burned all of the rest of the day with the occasional explosion of delayed action bombs which made it very difficult for the fire fighters as well as the inhabitants.
When that bit of excitement was over the rest of my day was spent sorting myself out. I was lucky enough to salvage an old tin can from a rubbish dump and as soon as it was cleaned and polished with sandy soil I was able to join the drinks queue a bit nearer the front.
I had also found a piece of barrel hoop that looked as if it might be turned into something useful so I started working on it. It took two days of hammering and grinding with stones and lumps of concrete before it eventually finished up as a combined cutting tool and shallow spoon to make me more independent.
Ever the optimist, there was never any need for a knife for a long time as most of the food we were getting was easily dealt with a spoon; or the fingers!.
The first night was cold and rough, but we managed to get through it, as usual, fully dressed, rolled up in a blanket and anything else that was available. Even wrapping paper and cardboard was useful; either as cover or to provide some sort of insulation underneath. It was a noisy night too as a few Mossie's turned up and stoked up the city with cookie's.
It did not take long to finish off the Red Cross parcels that we had left Wetzlar with and the food provided during the next few days was very basic.
The day usually started with the ersatz 'coffee', without milk or sugar of course. There was a slice of black bread at midday and the thickness varied according to the number of people sharing a loaf. Sometimes there was a pat of ersatz margarine about the size of a ten pence piece, or a bowl of vegetable stew was a luxurious alternative; if you had a bowl to put it in, otherwise it was handful. In the evening there was a mug of ersatz 'chocolate'. No milk or sugar of course, and that
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was the basic ration when there was no supplement from the Red Cross parcel.
The mid-day 'meal' was quite a performance as there was no mess hall. When the rations came in there was a whole crowd of 'observers' who followed it's progress to the cookhouse and the division and supply to the huts to ensure that there was no pilfering along the way. Considering that we were a mixed bunch of RAF and USAAF, Officers and NCO's it was all done quite amicably. The final division of the bread was usually done by the chap with the sharpest knife under the eagle eye of more 'observers'. He had to be very careful when it had to divided between nine or nineteen people!.
The next day brought another devastating attack on the city. Again they were B.24’s but this time coming from UK bases on their way back to Italy but the concentration was not the same.
They would have spent a lot longer running the gauntlet as attack after attack had been met and probably many losses had been incurred. This time we went for cover as a lot more bombs went very wide of the target and in our direction. They were not quite in the camp but when one or two holes erupted within a few hundred yards of the wire in open ground only the foolhardy would have stayed to watch.
The next day was just another cold and miserable day. The city banged and burned but there was no heat for us. Not that we expected it after what had happened just a few miles away.
It was well below freezing at night and Jim and I found it warmer to do what others were doing by just wrapping ourselves up together to utilise a bit of animal warmth. It was either that or freeze.
I shall never understand what rats found to scavenge for in that place but they were always busy at night and could often be heard in the vicinity. Perhaps they were cold and hungry too and were looking for a warm place but we very soon learned that it was not a good idea to take one's footwear off at night unless you wanted something gnawing at the toenails!.
On the 25th the city was still burning and another batch of prisoners came in. Some more huts were opened up and as we stood there looking for familiar faces among the new arrivals we found one. Lynn Clark, the rear gunner. We soon had him billeted in
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our hut and it was not long before his story came out. After the order to abandon came he had already managed to put his 'chute on and rotated his turret on the beam so all he had to do was jettison the doors and chuck himself out backwards. The snag was that his bulky flying boots got stuck between his seat and the guns as he had not depressed them sufficiently so he found himself hanging out of the back watching us go one by one underneath him and disappear into the cloud.
It was no time to mess about so he pulled the 'rip'; the 'chute deployed and yanked him straight out of his boots. It's a wonder that he didn't break his legs considering that it was all happening at speeds somewhere between 150 and 250 mph but he was lucky and made a good landing, albeit without any footwear!. Unfortunately he too was soon picked up after he had spent some time improvising some foot covering out of his parachute that had served him so well. Later on he was provided with some well worn second-hand boots but certainly better than lashings of parachute silk/nylon. Nevertheless, he had not seen Geoff either and we were beginning to wonder if he had been able to get away somehow and that what we had been told at Ober-Orsal was all 'bull'.
The city still continued to burn all the next day with the occasional crump of a delayed action bomb going off but the highlight of the day was the mid-day meal when real potatoes were dished up.
We knew they were real as there was still a great deal of earth attached to them that had not come off in the boiling. At least it showed that none of the goodness had been lost in the cooking!.
There was even a smear of evil smelling semi-liquid French cheese in lieu of the coal based margarine that in better days would have been condemned for human consumption....and possibly animal consumption!. But we eat it just the same!.
The RAF stoked up the city again that night with a few more 'cookies': Those 4000 pounders certainly did go off with a crump that shook the dust off of everything and that was from three to four miles away!.
Another day dawned and with it good news. A large consignment of Red Cross parcels had come in with more people and lots more
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rumours. Even the rumours were a heartening charge from the daily dose of 'bull' that we were getting from the OKW (German High Command) news bulletin which was always good for a laugh when it was read out by an English speaking guard. I wonder if he ever listened to the BBC London news broadcast.
Every evening now we were getting a summary of that compiled by our own sources, inclusive of information from new arrivals that were not being processed by Dulag Luft. There was a great deal of difference between the two bulletins.
We even got another blanket issued on the 28th so that at last we could manage to keep warm without going into a huddle at night but the most important issue was the distribution of four Red Cross parcels between [underlined] five [/underlined] people. There was a lot of good stuff in those....including cigarettes!. I don't think I was the only one going around puffing happily and blowing smoke all over the guards as if to say "that's real tobacco".
I got real satisfaction out of that as a couple of days before I had traded some soap for a couple of their's and an enamel spoon; but only once.
Theirs tasted like a mixture of dried oak leaves. old tea leaves and pulverised straw-perhaps they were, but like a lot of other things in Germany at the time it was ersatz, (substitute), and tasted like it.
The pattern of each day did not vary much. A bit of a thaw during the day allowed a little more water to come through although it all froze up solid again at night.
The food issue was still the same old rubbish but it was safest to eat it first and then top up with something from the parcel. It would have been so easy to have gone for one big blow out and be done with it and it exercised one's self control to the utmost. It did not always work!. Scrounging and bartering with the contents of the parcel was an occupation undertaken by some with the mental agility of the street trader but it was not for me. Some went around trading in such a way that they doubled their stock but I confess that I was one of those who helped them do it as my stock diminished. It takes all sorts and I soon packed it in when I found that I was being outsmarted. If we all had that sort of ability for success we would probably all be in the stock exchange.
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We did get a little light entertainment on the Ist March that also gave an insight into the plight of the Luftwaffe.
We had often noticed activity at an airfield a few miles away to the North East and on this particular day we observed a couple of FW.190's tail chasing which was the standard procedure for a fledgling to learn new tricks but it was obvious that it was a very inexperienced pilot that was doing the chasing by the way he teetered around every turn at about 3000ft not far from the camp.
We watched them for a while as they went through some very basic manoeuvres. The trainee wobbled around every turn very gingerly and after a short break they had another go. They went on to some more advanced stuff and at one point when the turns got tighter and tighter I think we must have all been willing the outcome when he wobbled and side slipped, wobbled some more and then lost it.
He stalled, flipped, and dived earthwards out of control and wallop, in he went with a plume of smoke to mark his grave.
A great cheer went up from the camp but the guards were most upset about it and we were confined to barracks for two hours. As far as we were concerned that was one FW.190 that would not have to be shot down so we indulged in a little community singing, bawling at the top of our voices everything from 'Abide with me'. 'Colonel Bogey' and 'Lillie Marlene' liberally sprinkled with RAF words, much to the bewilderment of the guards who had been stationed in the doorways of the huts.
On the 2nd March the day dawned much the same as any other until some more prisoners came in and as our compound had filled up the next one became active. We were soon at the wire making shouted enquiries about this that and the other when Geoff appeared; looking a bit pale but otherwise fit and well.
It transpired that he had made a reasonable descent but he also had landed slap into the arms of a reception committee although that did not explain his late arrival at Nuremberg, but that was soon explained.
He really was at Dulag Luft at the same time as us but he had been out of circulation for seven days after his interrogation.
It seemed that towards the end of the interrogation, when presented with the little white card and pencil he told the
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interrogator precisely what he could do with it...in Aussie terms,....sideways; so he got seven days solitary confinement for insulting a German Officer!.
According to Geoff, "Ve haff vays of delink vis you" is not so funny when you are the one being dealt with. But now we were all accounted for. Years later, as a solicitor, practising in Australia, I am sure that he was more careful in his selection of words in difficult circumstances.
As a matter of interest it was the small white card that triggered off the Red Cross reporting procedure that notified all and sundry that so and so was a POW so he could have saved himself a lot of trouble.
Between the 3rd and 7th there was not a lot going on. It did start to get a little warmer during daylight hours on occasions and it soon became neccessary [sic] to find ways and means of filling in the time.
There were a few scruffy packs of playing cards about but unless one was good at poker there was no point in taking a hand unless you were prepared to lose your shirt. The stakes were usually items in short supply and our American friends seemed to have the manopoly [sic] of the schools.
I was of the opinion that I had lived rough enough already to risk my meager [sic] stocks which had already suffered from my attempts at wheeling and dealing especially as I saw a few who got the bug and were going down the drain fast for promissory dollars or pounds in the form of I0U's to be redeamed [sic] later.
Draughts,(or checkers) was favourite with most people, using home made boards and pieces made from cardboard and soot from the still empty stoves to distinguish black from white and it did not take long for regular afternoon and evening classes to get going on all manner of subjects in one hour sessions. It certainly filled in the time with subjects as diverse as music, fishing, maths and agriculture.
I found considerable interest in the German classes which were given by a Flt.Lt. who I suspect was one of the Luft.3. boys and he was as interesting as he was fluent. It is highly probable that he had been partly educated in Germany before the war and apart from the introduction to the language he told us a great deal about their history, the people and their culture.
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There were rumours that he was a 'mole' or a 'stooge' but if he had been I am sure that we would have known about it and not tolerated him for long, but then we thrived on rumour at that time.
Later events were to prove his credibility but there was always a little suspicion about who was who so we generally stuck to people that we did know and bit by bit accepted others on recommendation and found oneself accepted. I even found a Flt.Lt. who came from my home town and who's home was no further to the West of my local pub than mine was to the East. He had been in Wg/Cdr. 'Willie' Tait's crew on 617 Squadron at one time and had helped to make a mess of the battleship Tirpitz before he too had run out of luck.
The days just went by with very little to mark one from another and although I had started keeping a diary using cigarette packs there is a long gap without note after the eighth as things became rather desperate.
The Red Cross supplies were running out. The bread allowance became less and less. At one time twenty two people shared a loaf and sometimes we only got one ancient hard tack biscuit instead.
The days and nights just blurred into each other and there was a general feeling of helplesness [sic] as we became weaker and weaker. People had got into the state where they were falling all over the place especially when going from the horizontal to the vertical. One had to be very careful to let the world stop spinning before attempting too much.
On the night of the 11th RAF Mosquito's made another noisy attack on the city but most of us were too far gone to get very excited. More than half the hut had gone down with the flu' and the limited supply of Asprin did very little in the way of relief. They were only dispensed to the most seriously ill who had complications and the only way was to try and keep warm relying on friends to bring a little nourishment as it became available.
Certain things happened during the period that I cannot put a date to but I know they happened.
Some Red Cross officials toured the camp and the Camp Commandant lost his dog.
The Commandant, in elderly silver grey haired Hauptman, always
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smartly dressed, used to walk around with his staff and his Dacshund [sic] until one day it disappeared around the corner of a hut on his own personal inspection for something to cock his leg up against; [underlined] and did not come back!. [/underlined]
He was very upset over the loss of his little 'Fritz' but he had underestimated the skill and determination of our cooks so our stew that day had a little more 'body' in it. I’m glad I did not know at the time!.
In the same period the civilian contractor who used to bring the rations in by horse and cart was distracted long enough for his horse to disappear in the same way as little Fritz and he made a terrible fuss. Not so much about the horse but the harness and the blanket!.
He eventually stopped hollering when the items were returned plus an additional blanket but there was a lot more fuss when the cart was towed back to the gate by hand and then a search party was sent in to find the horse. All they found were a few nasty bits and pieces down the toilet pit. Everything edible had gone into the pot and was stewed and diluted for several days before it ran out.
As a result of this latest escapade all starts of reprisals were threatened with Courts Martial for theft and with shooting; the lot....but it all fizzled out. It might have come to that if things had been normal but they were anything but normal.
Towards the end of the period I was getting over the worst of my ills and I eased myself from my bed in stages into the vertical position for my daily constitutional and tottered out of the hut.
I had not gone far when I started a nose bleed so I was staggering along, head back, my one and only handkerchief in use to stem the flow when there was a blinding flash, a searing pain in the back of the neck and the next thing that I remember was that I was face down In the dirt.
When I climbed to my feet blinking in pain with a few angry words welling up inside me I was facing a full blown inspecting party comprising of an SS General and his staff which included two giant sized troopers, one of whom had bopped me with his rifle butt.
I think it was astonishment that stopped what might have been
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some ungentlemanly language but was halted in my tracks when the Generals Adjutant or his ADC stepped forward and barked "you must salute a superior German officer".
I was in no condition to argue so he got his salute. It wasn't the parade ground sort though. It was a very sloppy afair [sic] in which two fingers were more prominent than the others and I was shoved out of the way whilst they continued their inspection. After that I staggered back to my bed feeling worse than when I had got up.
The days and nights continued to blurr [sic] into one another and then ran the 13th came the devastating news that President Roosevelt had died the day before and an impromptu memorial service was laid on.
It was difficult to take it in and the guards crowed a bit as if they had somehow been responsible and suggested that it could mean the end of the war without appreciating that that was not the way a democracy worked. It seemed such a tragedy that the great man had not survived long enough to see the end of the war than was obviously not far away.
The following day we were still feeling a bit numb but there were some rumours of parcels coming in that cheered us up a bit but it was very difficult to show a bold front when we were all so cold and hungry....but we tried.
It was not until the 15th that things showed real signs of improvement. The toilets at last came out of deep freeze and then some fuel came in so the boilers were stoked up for the first time in a long while. We had hot showers and made full use of the water that was available and washed some clothes.
Drying them was the problem so there were a lot of people just wearing a blanket for a while, not that anyone cared about that when Red Cross parcels were distributed. One between two!.
Apparently they had come in by truck the night before and during the day some more arrived. Thank God for the Red Cross. What sort of a shape we would have been in without them I dread to think and at the time few people, including myself had any idea of the vast operation that the International Red Cross had going.
The RAF had another go at the city on the night of the 16th yet despite it all some more fuel came in and there was more hot water for a while to continue the cleaning up process. The
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place was turned into a laundry, and like most laundries things got 'lost' but no-one cared much. The most important thing was that we could clean up and that there had been no sign of lice. On the 17th there was another surprise. I suppose it had something to do with the recent inspections that some of our deficiencies were being made up. We were issued with new enamelled spoons and bowls and by way of payment the city got another pounding during the night.
It was followed by some excitement the following day when long columns of prisoners arrived at the main gate. They had all come from Wetzlar...new POW's and the old permanent staff as they evacuated the place and brought all of their accumulated stores that they could manage.
It seemed as if Nuremberg was becoming an assembly point for POW's but it was getting very difficult to absorb the numbers. It did not seem possible that any more could be crammed into the place, but somehow they were.
There were over 200 in our hut by that time and all of the top bunks had to be brought into use by re-distributing the bed boards plus the clever use of all sorts of materials such as string, strips of fabric, and cardboard plaited and replaited and finally criss-crossed to serve as webbing. It was suprisingly [sic] strong especially as some of it had a centre core of fine wire that had been stripped after some of the lighting had been re-routed!.
The new arrivals had brought a large quantity of food parcels so there was a generous issue which led to a bit of a party later in the evening which was rounded off with some community singing. It was all going quite noisely [sic] until the sirens started to wail and the lights went out as another raid fell on the city.
The days started flying by as things improved; especially the weather. There was no longer that bite in the air that seemed to cut right through you, made worse by the fact that you were not getting adequate food.
The showers were no longer permanently frozen so when there was water it was at least possible to have a drink or to have a wash.
Rumours were rife but usually the jungle telegraph managed to
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pick up something from the outside and one rumour of even more food parcels coming in raised our spirits some more. So did the sound of heavy gunfire in the distance on the 25th. That really was a good sign.
There were some French parcels distributed on the 25th but most of us thought that the contents were very inferior although welcome. It was hardly likely that they could have been anything else considering the conditions that the French had been living in for years. They were the bulk version similar to the British ones we got sometimes and were divided between 13 men or went straight to the cookhouse.
The American pack was the most favoured as it was based on the 'K' rations that were liberally distributed to their troops, and were made up of several packs about the size of a 200 cigarette pack. They came in three variations. Breakfast, dinner and supper, and were complete with cigaretts [sic] , matches, can opener and that most civilised item; toilet paper!. Nevertheless, the Americans were not all that keen on them. Too much Spam and coffee powder!. They should be so lucky!.
I got to wondering if the German POW's in our hands got Red Cross parcels and what they would to like. Not that they would need them as desperately as we did, but at that stage of the war with transportation in Germany at breaking point food supplies were probably worse than they had been for years and everyone suffered accordingly.
We were more keen to get out of the wretched place but with the end so near there was no point in trying all the normal escape methods. We had in fact been told by our own administration not to do anything risky. It was only a matter of time.
There was a lot more speculation when definite news reached us that 30,000 food parcels had somehow arrived by train which was possibly just as well as not even basic rations had come in for days. Supplies had been very spasmodic since the dog and the horse had disappeared.
Even more important was the news that Allied forces were less than 100 miles from Nuremberg but what put a slight damper on that was that we received instructions to prepare for a long march so with an issue of parcels was advice on how we should
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turn the contents into 'marching rations'. There being a limit on how much we could carry.
The veterans soon passed the ward around and everyone was soon busy, and trying to avoid the temptation to have what POW's referred to as a 'bash'. A real feast. It was not practicable. The idea was to process as much as we could into convenient and lightweight food. Everything other than the tinned goods had to be considered. Tinned food was to be consumed first but the biscuit, fruit, (raisins and prunes), peanut butter. powdered milk, flaked chocolate, coffee and sugar was all to be pounded together with as little moisture as possible so that when it dried out it could be cut into bars about the size of Mars bars and then wrapped in anything suitable. It made good sense and on the basis of one bar per meal, three times a day there was more nourishment in that than we had been coping with for same time.
Then there was the problem of carrying it all along with blankets and other personal bits and pieces. Trying to carry a parcel as some people seemed prepared to do would have been back breaking so I set myself the task of making a rucksack from the lining of my US. army greatcoat with the aid of my 'hussif'. I put a lot of time in on that and as far as I was concerned it was a masterpiece and copies were being made by others.
It had padded shoulder straps, waist straps, draw string, blanket roll straps on top and other ties on the bottom. I washed and darned my socks ready for the off but I was not in all that much of a hurry. My mind was concentrated on other things.
Every night I dreamed of a shoot out down the road so that we could all get out and go home. But it was not to be.
The 28th came and even more prisoners arrived and were squeezed in. Tents were put up on the spare ground between the huts and the latest news was that armoured forces were only 70 miles from us. So near, and yet so far!.
The longer we hang about the nearer our forces got to us and in the meantime it was just a case of hanging on to our marching rations and eating up any surpluses from regular issues of parcels which everyone was getting. No other food was coming in.
On the 29th more prisoners were squeezed it somehow The place
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was bulging at the seams.
Some of them had come from an Army camp at Hammelburg, 170km. North West of Nuremberg and same very interesting stories came out of that lot.
Apparently an American armoured column had blasted through the German lines with the express intention of releasing the prisoners of Hammelburg but it had all gone disastrously wrong. Although some had been released the Germans reacted very quickly to block their escape route to a safe area and there was all hell let loose. A lot of casualties had occurred and some of the escapees found safety back in their barracks but the Germans took more prisoners and only remnants of the raiding force got back to our lines. So the story went although it seemed too far fetched to be credible.
Each time the story was told it became more and more lurid until we treated it as what the Americans would call "scuttlebuck' or we would call 'bull' despite the protestations of "on my Mother's life' etc.
Eventually it turned out that basically the story was true although officially not a lot was said about it but it did tie up with an OKW news bulletin that a couple of days previous had reported an American armoured column approaching Wursburg was counter attacked and had suffered very badly. Certainly some of the new prisoners had been taken on that raid so it was not all 'bull'.
April 1st brought more parcels and as by that time most of us had our marching rations set aside so we really did have a 'bash'.
With parcels had come another suprise [sic] in the form of even more prisoners. Thirty two members of the Serbian General Staff, also from Hammelburg!, although the normal compounds were by that time so chock-a-block that a temporary compound was set up with tents alongside ours. Then things changed dramatically.
The guards no longer patrolled the compound from the inside but only the outside of the perimeter fence which had been extended, so down came the trip wire and the inner fence which normally we were forbidden to approach at the risk of being shot. Even a stand-pipe was set up to provide then with running water so it was a free for all as ours was still limited. Of
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course there were protests from the guards as it seemed that just about everything was 'verboten'. They just could not understand why we would not obey the rules and it made them very angry.
The very fact that the internal fence on one side had come down saved us from the daily ‘apel' (role call) which had become an obsolute [sic] farce. The guards never got it right anyway.
If a head count did not produce the right answer they tried all sorts of methods but we had all sorts of ways of adding and subtracting people. What gave them most trouble we found was having more people than they should have done so then they would try an identity check which was a bit daft anyway. It always worked out simply because our own administration drew up the nominal rolls anyway. As long as it tallied they had been happy. Now they had given up the whole charade, and left it to us.
A strange phenomena occurred whilst I was attending an open air Easter Sunday religious service. Just at the end of the closing hymn and with many people kneeling in private prayer, there appeared, it seemed, just to the North and very high, an enormous V shaped cloud in an otherwise clear blue sky. I have no idea what caused it but many theories were put forward.
The most popular one was that it was a very high flying aircraft doing a photo recce' of the battlefield but we could see no sign of the aircraft itself. The cloud hung there a long time before dissipating like a cigarette smoke ring. To me. and others no doubt, it was another sign of hope, and so unusual that I just hoped that a little miracle would happen and that somehow we could just walk out of the main gate and go home, but no such luck. Such thoughts were becoming an obsession it seemed.
The next day we were warned to be ready to move out at 7am the following day so there was feverish activity to get everything prepared.
One of the veterans who had already had experience of one of these marches tipped me off that cigarettes, soap, and chocolate were the most useful currency for bartering with the guards and the German population and I had already observed that soap was being thrown away wholesale down the toilet pit.
There was so much of it, still packaged, under the twenty seater
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'thunderbox' that It was not difficult to recover several dozen unspoiled packages of soap. As much as I wanted to carry anyway. The following morning we were up bright and early and the dream came true as we started to evacuate on time.
It was just after eight o'clock when our compound started to file out of the gate and it was a wonderful feeling. Even the air smelt different.
In all there was about 9000 of us with several hundred guards, many with bicycles, and in a long snake column about four abreast we were on our way. Naturally there was a lot of speculation as to the prospects of getting away if and when the opportunity presented itself; it would not have been difficult but our own administration had thought of it first and issued orders that we were not to attempt any chancy breakaways as the escape committees had everything under control.
That order absolved the officers at any rate from their duty to resist and/or escape so there was nothing more to do but to go along with it however frustrating it was.
I knew what it was all about as we had filed through the gate when I saw the Flight Lieutenant who used to give the German lessons, in civilian clothes, and carrying a small suitcase tucked up very tightly in the middle of a group so I tried to keep my eye on him as it was very suspicious.
In the melee I never saw him go and I never saw him again but I'll bet he was home long before I was, with a great deal of information which would help the advancing Allies.
y
TO BE CONTINUED..........................
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One or more pages is missing.
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party went for cover.
There was no cover so everyone scattered as the parties started laying out the markings after the first burst of firing and by the time the Thunderbolts came back for a second pass we had been identified. It was too late for some though. Our casualties were one killed and two injured and for a long time after that everyone spent a lot of time looking over their shoulder. The casualties were sorted out by a small party that was left behind with a guard and the rest of us just ploughed on, and on, and on, and although most people had made some attempt to get fitter by walking around the compound for an hour or so a day we had not reckoned on doing mile after mile without a break.
It was not surprising that by mid afternoon there were lots of complaints about blisters and aching bodies but we were just prodded on by the equally disgruntled guards.
By late evening we were still going; albeit slower than when we had started and finally after it had got dark it started to rain. Nevertheless it was about 10pm before a break was finally called.
I was absolutely shattered as were most people and I took shelter under a railway wagon on the temporary railroad that had been laid at the side of the road and then gorged myself on a large can of stewed steak from my ‘heavy’ rations.
We were not allowed to rest for long. Before there was time for a nap and with the rain still coming down in buckets we were the move again but not before I had investigated the wagons with a view to hiding in one for a few days but found that they were all full of coal and had no covers so that was
that. Nevertheless, a liberal handful of fine ballast from the track into the axle grease boxes made sure that they would not move it very far without finding the odd problem.
Finally, soon after midnight the word came down the line to stop for the night and most of us just flopped where we were. We had done some 22mls, it was still pouring down and as there was very little cover not many had the energy to go any further to look for any.
All I did was to dispose of another can of something, curled up in my already wet blankets at the foot off a tree and went
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out like a light.
It was dawn then I woke, to a clear steamy morning and like most people I was soaked through. I had been sleeping in a puddle several inches deep which had accumulated from the steady downpour, and the prospects were not good until we saw signs of a cheery blaze a bit further up the line.
The whole column had virtually collapsed where they were when the halt had come and some more fortunate characters had been near a saw mill where there was a mountain of off-cuts which they used for shelter. That was until someone set fire to them!
It had of going nicely and it did not take long for us to take full advantage of the situation. The sight of hundreds of naked bodies dancing around getting warm and drying out their clothes whooping away like a tribe of Red Indians was more than the guards could cope with.
They tried very hard to put out the fire and get us to assist but it seemed that we were pulling in opposite directions, and they were losing the battle. We were stoking it up!.
They had not a hope in hell, not even after threatening to start shooting someone after loosing off a few into the air. Right from the start every one was marked by half-a-dozen prisoners and they would have been flat on their backs immediately they had pointed a rifle at anyone:
We kept the fire going as long as we could and most people got dried out and comfortable again as the enormous pile of glowing embers was reduced to little more than charcoal; then we were ready to leave!.
We understood that the mill owner was still going on about compensation as we left and how the poor old Hauptman dealt with it we would never know but he was looking very grim about it having wined and dined at the mill owners home for the night. Once we got ourselves sorted out and got going again we plodded on through the day for another 16mls before a halt was called for the night.
That time, to avoid a repetition of the previous night we were all to be billeted in large enclosed buildings such as churches, church halls, village halls, barns, etc. I was in a party of about 300 who were packed into a small village church around
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which they placed a guard. No doubt they had noticed a thinning of our ranks since the previous night but they would not let anyone out for any reason whatsoever.
It was not surprising that the place was defiled. I was not proud of the fact that someone had used the pulpit as toilet but it was the one place that no-one could sleep and they were lucky that the altar was respected.
The guards made a terrible fuss naturally and I was glad that I was not among the cleaning up party that was left behind, but that was the last time they bothered to confine us at night.
The main party had started to move out at about 9.30 and the pace was steady although slow before we got to Birching about mid-day to find a great deal of activity.
There were dumps of Red Cross parcels along the main street in front of the Town Hall and they were being distributed as we passed through...one each!. Even the guards were getting them but I suppose there was a good deal of sense in that, if only to keep them off our backs.
There were Red Cross trucks, (American and British Army types) and a couple of ambulances going up and down the column, and beyond, picking up stragglers and bringing them back to the fold. Some of them should have been to hospital and were really in poor shape but they had cleared all the hospitals of the walking wounded as well and everyone that could stand on two feet was having to hike it. The Red Cross took some of the worse cases further along the line of march so that they could rest up before we caught up with them.
Nothing else was provided and water had to be scavenged from where it was available in order to have a drink of something. I even got used to instant coffee being made up cold...it was wet!.
We moved off later in the afternoon and stopped for the night at Belingries where Jim and I found a warm corner in a stable where we spent all the next day and night before we were on the move again. I suppose we could not really complain about our conditions as there were two guards in the next stall sharing the same facilities and making the most of the contents of their food parcel.
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It must have been like a Christmas present for them the way they were going on and like us the only thing they had on their minds was survival, food and shelter. They were only Grade 3 troops and were looking for an end to all the discomfort and misery just as much as we were That's what made it all so damn silly!.
Things got better and better as we plodded into Bavaria. The countryside looked lush and green with well tended fields and the early signs of crops was heartening The weather was fine and most of the civilian population treated our progress kindly. We treated it like a Sunday School outing, waiving, smiling and cheering the population. No doubt they thought we were daft but we were not downhearted.
On rare occasions Allied aircraft flew along our line of march waggling their wings so it seemed that they were monitoring our progress.
Some of us eased out of the column from time to time to do a little trading and on one occasion I was able to add some fresh bread and garlic sausage to the stores of our little group comprising most of the crew and I occupied myself happily after being elected cook.
We picked another barn for the night and found a good supply of mauve dyed potatoes of the sort we had at home for animal feed. The farmer was a bit concerned when he found us with them. He made it quite clear that they were for 'swine' only and that it was a criminal offence to use them for human consumption. It was a continual source of amazement to me that whilst their country was being torn apart with the utmost disregard for human life and property there was still so much regard for common law but I suppose that they had been conditioned by years of shortages and regulations.
I had first noticed the tendency at Nuremberg when we did have fuel for the stove and we were toasting the black pumpernikal [sic] by sticking slices on the side of the store and in came a guard who became very angry when he saw what we were doing.
Toasting bread was ‘verboten’ by law as it destroyed the nutritional value of the bread and we were breaking the law!
As prisoners we were well aware that they could impose civil
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as well as military law if necessary. They had made the same threats for the same reason when we had our bonfire but as there was no time for that sort of nonsense there was precious little that they could do about it. In any case, a few gifts of cigaretts [sic], soon overcame the problem.
We finally got on the more again the next day about mid-day but by now we were doing little more than just strolling along enjoying the freedom and the weather. I had the opportunity of selling a spare blanket to a Polish farm worker for 6 eggs but he could not understand that we were mixed British, American and Commonwealth POW's. Nevertheless, there were a few more exchanges after a lot of sign language and I was better off by 30 Reichmarks which caused a spot of bother as the transactions had been witnessed by a straggling guard who wanted to confiscate the goods. Again it was 'verboten' to sell German military equipment. It was easily resolved. He got 10 marks and was told to "getten ze stuffed" so he wandered off somewhat bewildered.
There was a distribution of Belgian Red Cross parcels, and a large wedge from a round Bavarian loaf at one point and eventually we caught up with the main column again to find a comfy spot in another barn and a good night's sleep with a handsome meal tucked under the belt.
I suppose that now we had put a fair distance between us and the battle front there was no longer the urgency to force us along so we continued to stroll through open farm lands and cross a lot of main roads and the Danube; which was not blue. In fact it was quite mucky.
At one point shortly after crossing the river we crossed a bridge over a closed off section of either dual carriageway or autobahn and there was some interesting activity in the road through a deep cutting which had been closed off to traffic near Seiganburg.
To our amazement the road had been turned into a temporary airstrip with Focke-Wolf 190's lined up and being serviced under a great deal of cables and camouflage netting. I wondered how long it would be before our chaps identified it as camouflage and gave it a good pasting even though we did not see so much of them quite so often as we had previously.
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There was plenty of evidence that they were still busy not too far away though.
We continued to plod on past decorative Bavarian farm houses which, with their high pitched roofs and fancy gables looked very attractive. We were close enough to some of them to see into their fine big kitchens in pine and stainless steel where women in crisp pinafores seemed to be up to their arms in tubs and flour. We did not get more than a passing glance though. The guards were catered for with steaming hot canteens of soup and hunks of home made bread cut from big flat round loaves, supplemented by thick slices of farmhouse cheese. It is understandable that all we got were dirty looks!.
We found accomodation [sic] that night in a barn at Swienbach and once again contemplated the possibility of doing a runner but when we made enquiries we also found out why the column was thinning out!.
It appeared that our administration had been organising parties of 25, each with two guards, to do an about turn during the hours of darkness to find a route to our own lines.
How the selection was made I do not know but it was understandable that those who had been in the bag the longest had first choice and if anyone deserved priority it was them. It was also interesting to learn that the guards were being provided with safe conduct passes which would ensure that they would get preferential treatment when they were finally picked up.
We were still told not to go it alone as there would still be many pockets of fanatical resistance and it was just not worth the risk. Geoff had already tried it once and he had a close shave. He had only got a little way beyond the fringe on a daylight attempt when he was apprehended by a couple of trigger happy SS field police. He had been sent back with a warning, but there was a very good chance that those blokes did not send any of their own back to the line if there was any chance of them being deserters. A little on the spot summary punishment was likely to be meted out without having to justify the action. With our guards it was different. Things were so slack that on one occasion one of them sat on the roof and placed his rifle between us. I just could not
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resist the temptation when a hare appeared in the field and I grabbed his rifle that I had been eyeing anyway, quickly worked the bolt to 'put one up the spout', aimed and fired, but missed, so I hurriedly handed the gun back to it 's owner as the Oberfeldwebel came running up to see what the shooting was about. That turned out to be another big laugh. What else was he to think when he found the guard with a smoking rifle in his hands?. The guard must have figured that he would be in less trouble if he admitted to the use of his rifle for sporting purposes than to admit to allowing a POW to get the better of him so he got a good dressing down for wasting ammunition and I got a dirty look. It all helped to pass the time and keep up morale.
The next day we received the news that we were heading for a camp at Mooseburg but although we started off fairly early we soon got the message that Mooseburg was not ready for us. That immediately started the 'go-slow' process again.
At one time we were lounging around at the side of a track that led across the fields when we heard the skirl of pipes and from over a rise to one side of the main column came a small formation of Scots troops in full marching order with a piper in the lead. What a glorious sight they were with kilts swinging, brasses glittering. It looked damned silly to see half a dozen guards marching with them!.
The sight was enough to inspire some of us to drag ourselves to our feet as they converged on us. Some of us even saluted but they just ploughed on ignoring the Air Force rabble. Good luck to them. They were still going strong as they disappeared from view over another rise. Good luck to them. It looked good and it no doubt made them feel good but there was no doubt that they would be back behind barbed wire long before we were.
We just flopped a bit farther along the track and found ourselves a comfortable billet for another night of relative freedom.
The next day I got organised with another group for scavenging and the like.
Things had been going so well that like others I had already got through my marching rations and generally had lightened my load. No-one was hungry any more but I was approached with an offer that I could not refuse.
The offer was made by a Captain of the US. Infantry who wanted
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fourth to complete his team. The others were two American Air Force Sergeants so I left the crew to join his outfit. It was hard luck on the crew though-they lost their cook!.
The Captain was very interesting and enterprising character. It was his third time as POW, having escaped on two previous occasions, but this time he was no longer going to stick his neck out as there was a state-side ticket waiting for him as soon as he was out of his present situation. He was a very shrewd and tough bloke and it did not take us long to decide just how we were going to operate.
At the first opportunity we scavenged some bits and pieces from some farmyard pumping machinery and rebuilt a broken down 'dog-cart' on which we dumped all our kit and went into action immediately.
Two did the pulling whilst the other two went off scavenging. Within the first half day we had done so well at the butchers, bakers and farms a few km. each side of the column that to were soon re-trading among the others at a 'profit'. My carefully hoarded stock of soap was proving to be most useful currency although coffee and cigaretts [sic] were sill the most valuable.
It was too good to be true. We had not gone far with our cart getting piled higher and higher when the owner of the bit’s and pieces that the cart had been built from discovered they were missing. He rapidly caught up with us on a broken down horse and demanded the return of it.
There were more dire threats of punishment for stealing which of course never came to anything but it left us with having to carry, eat or trade the fruits of our transactions, and the two with the column just had to carry that much more. It was worth it though.
Part of the plan was that it was this pair that staked out a comfy site for four when we made camp and generally the scheme worked well.
The Red Cross trucks were still going to and fro’ but with a difference. They were coming from the South East, loaded, and discharging their loads at various places, loading up the sick and lame and actually [underlined] backtracking our route to the Allied lines [/underlined] to deliver them to safety before loading up again and refuelling for the return journey to us, mainly with ‘K’
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rations.
It still was a source of amazement that the Red Cross trucks were nearly all British or American types that had been re-painted accordingly, loaded, and transported from Italy through Switzerland with neutral drivers under the International Red Cross Organisation.
We were told that some 2000 of them had set out and split up near Munich, one column going in our direction and the other North Westerly to meet other POW's converging on us from the North.
If that produced a farcical situation then it was no more farcical than the latest method of communication that had been adopted between our administration and the rest of the Germans to keep us informed of what was going on.
A sort of HQ. unit had been set up by the more senior officers and their selected staffs who were up front and they never missed a chance to harass the guards....and that included their CO!.
Right from the outset the guards bicycles had come in for a lot of attention.
With monotonous regularity they had lost tyre valves, and chains. Tyres had been slashed until constant canabalisation [sic] of what was left had reduced the original number to only a couple of serviceable bikes, and we had reached the ideal solution where they no longer had a pump between them. We had!.
It was not suprising [sic] therefore, that the last bikes were allocated to the Commandant and his Adjutant....but on conditions imposed by us!.
It was agreed that if we had equal share of them there was a good chance that they would no longer be vandalized but the daftest thing of all was when our own Adjutant went up and down the line on one to pass information it still had a machine pistol on the handlebar clips!.
On the 6th we only moved a few km. and there were more food parcels distributed The awful French one's again but anything was welcome in the food line, if only for bartering.
One of the team and I slipped away one one occasion and crossed a railway line to a group of cottages where we made enquiries for eggs.
At one cottage we called at we were received by an obvious
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1914/18 veteran who was minus one leg but who was quite philosophical as we discussed the terms of the deal in a mixture of broken English and German and he seemed friendly enough. When the terms were agreed he shrugged his shoulders and indicated in the direction of the chicken house and then left us alone with two teen-age girls, possibly his grand-daughters, to collect the eggs.
He was either very trusting, or taking no chances and possibly very relieved to find the eggs were all we had helped ourselves to even offered to give them a four minute boil before we departed. Again, after the difficulties of conversation it was the shrugg [sic] of the shoulders and the well worn phrase, “you soldat-me soldat”.
These eggs went down very well with Spam, beans and fresh bread that someone else had aquired [sic] .
Every day brought the sound of gunfire and battle closer well as Allied aircraft sweeping over us on occasions as they plotted the movement of the long snake of people. There was no doubt that that is what they were doing as our identification process had not been needed for a long time.
That evening we were quite close to Mooseberg and we made camp in a sheltered part of a farm with beds of hay and camp fire was set up with bricks and ironmongery that we had accumulated.
As usual as soon we were all together I planned the menu around the spoils of the day, particularly as our team leader, Capt. Dunkleburg, (a good old American name), had just knocked over a plump farmyard hen.
I don't know if he had been a horseshoe throwing champion back home but he was adept at throwing a short length of wood up to twenty feet with deadly accuracy and he had brought the chicken down by catching it across the neck and it was ready for the pot in a few minutes.
After that it was my responsibility as I had been the team cook on joining, and had been able to make all sorts of dishes from anything that became available including nettles and turnip greens, wild berries and even watercress from the streams where most of our water was drawn from.
Everyone seemed to be happy with this arrangement and our chicken supper was simplicity itself. I must admit that I felt a little
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guilty when others drifted around our site sniffing the aroma like Bisto kids but it was a matter of survival, although I did feel a little sorry for those who could not cope with looking after themselves.
Lashings of coffee was consumed and dispensed to others who wanted to make use of our fire and we were off to sleep like babies.
The morning of the 17th started with a leisurly [sic] breakfast which was still in progress long after the time we had been told to be ready. Then the farmer and a guard arrived making a lot of fuss and accusing us of stealing again. I suspect that more than one chicken was missing but nevertheless we pleaded innocence. They threatened us with all sorts of consequences for our actions as we started to clear up bones, feathers and damp down our fire so they eventually called in the Hauptman.
When he arrived on the scene he let rip with a very good immitation [sic] of Hitler and as we took very little notice he worked himself up into a fine old state until he was just about purple with rage. We didn't understand much of it, but Dunkleburg did, and he knew what he was getting at before he got a little calmer and reverted to English. Then he gave us an ultimatum. He was going to count ten and then he was going to shoot someone if we did not get moving.
By that time the situation had got decidedly dodgy but we took our cue from Capt.D, and started to spread ourselves out as the count started.
Ien...drie...swie...by which time he was spluttering again and by the time he had got to ten he was clawing at his pistol holster which was a beautifully polished leather affair with a fancy-lanyard disapearing [sic] into it.
Capt.D. had gathered himself into a crouch like some old gun fighter from a Western, poised as if to try and beat him to the draw..although of course totally unarmed. The guards looked alarmed and backed off as the pistol was withdrawn seemingly in slow motion as Capt.D. prepared to charge.
On the other end of the lanyard appeared a fancy pearl handled ladies handbag model of a .22 which was pointed skywards and fired.
Putt, putt, putt, and everyone relaxed immediately and rolled
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about laughing as we carried on clearing up. The old boy's face was contorted in anger and embarrassment as he stomped away. I think that was the last I ever saw of him.
I imagine that as he was just about to hand us over he was getting the wind up and was going to have to do a lot of explaining about how he lost 2000 prisoners and half of his guards on the way from Nuremberg!. That is always presuming that anyone else was still worried about such things.
We finally reached the camp, Stalag V11a, Mooseburg, by mid-day and then began the process of sorting ourselves out. Eventually we had a hot shower and a meal of sorts and then sat around most of the afternoon whilst the administration figured out what to do with the 1700 strong RAF contingent now that we all been segregated. It was goodbye to all the friends we had made outside RAF circles so I was back with the crew again.
The time spent lounging around was not boring anyway. There were Yanks all over the sky around us, knocking hell out of anything anything [sic] that moved now that we were within the safety of the camp.
We had news that Prauge [sic] had fallen. The Yanks were reported to be only 20 mls from Berlin and the Russians virtually had the city surrounded, so what was there to worry about.
All we had to do was sit tight and survive and eventually we were given an area of huts for the night although they provided little more than just a roof over our heads.
The 19th started with a roll call, with promises of hot water and food which did not materialise. All that happened was that we got moved to another compound with huts in the same condition as those we had just vacated, lacking everything except the bed frames.
I got very fed up with the whole deal. My shaving gear was just about used up. Like others I had over two months growth of hair falling all over the place. My boots were falling off of my feet....they had not worn at all well. There was a long queue at a single tap and no ablutions. There was no heating and precious little fuel for cooking fires. The remaining bed boards were carefully guarded by those who had managed to get a few together. Issued rations were a couple of potatoes, a hunk of
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bread and some mouldy cheese. I went into a nasty fit of depression so I turned in to sleep it off.
The floor was the best place with the shortage of bed boards so it was a matter of just curling up in a corner wrapped up in anything to keep warm.
Over twelve hours sleep cleared the air a bit and the next day I felt a lot better. All the crew except Jim had got together again for parcels and food share out as for some reason Jim had gone in with another group but the waiting game was not improved by a change in the weather so any cooking or brewing up had to be done in the hut. At times it was like 'smokey Joe's'.
The change in the weather did not stop the air activity all around us but fortunately it was mostly ours. The Luftwaffe was rarely seen.
The next day was the same but supplies were improving a little and carefully hoarded stores were opened up. I got a replacement pair of boots; not new but at least the soles were not flapping and I was able to replenish the shaving gear.
The following day looked like being a repetition until an order came through to prepare to march again. The burning question was "where the hell can we go from here?.
The Russians were already through Poland into Czechoslovakia to the East and the North of us, and were coming up through Austria to the South and not all that far away. Even Italy was suggested although the only obvious way was back and perhaps that was not a bad idea as I was not partial to the idea of the Russians over-running us.
There had been lots of stories already concerning the Russian way of life and from what I had seen and heard of the Ruskie POW's on the far side of the camp there was no doubt that they were a strange lot.
Of course they had had it very rough and had no protection under the Geneva Convention as non-signatories which had a lot to do with it. They were very badly treated and their food rations were even worse than ours….and they had to work for it, officers and all.
As a result they had become a desperate band of brigands with little more than survival in their minds and they were up to
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all kinds of mischief.
Only the day before they had been bearing a coffin out of the camp for burial and the German gate guards made sure it was a corpse that went out. They plunged a bayonet through the flimsy coffin and the corpse screamed!. They had buried the original in the compound and although it might have been interesting to have got mixed up with them I don't think it would have been exactly pleasant.
We got back to using the bunks again after a load of rough boards had been dumped in the compound for the purpose of making them up although a number got sidetracked for fuel, mainly for brewing up.
Brewing up was something of a ritual and when fuel was short it was foolish to be extravagant with resources. The most economic were the tin can arrangements that had come down from Luft.3, although some copies had been made.
Usually mounted on a small board they consisted of hand wheel driving a metal fan in a perforated lower chamber with a fuel chamber on top. All driven with a string or bootlace drive. It sounds very crude but the gearing was such that it worked like the bellows of a forge furness [sic] . They were very economical and would burn anything from a handfull [sic] of twiggs [sic] to lumps of tar off of the road. There was always a great deal of whirring going on at brewing time. i
The owners of these masterpieces would usually brew up a can of water for others if a handfull [sic] of fuel was produced and it was amazing how bits of fire was transferred from one to the other rather than use a seperate [sic]match for each start up.
The 25th April dawned a beautiful day and there was considerable relief when we were told that we would not be marching after all as it could only be a few days before we would be free.
The sky was getting thick with aircraft at times, mostly ours, but the odd German Air Force fighter was seen invariably high tailing it for safety to their temporary landing strips, often trailing smoke, with a swarm of stars and stripes after them.
These were exciting times and the guns seemed even nearer as the excitement increased when we had a news flash that Augsburg, about 45mls to the West of us had fallen into our hands.
It seemed to us, and it proved to be the case, that it was a
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race between the Americans and the Russians as to where the gap would be closed, whatever may have been previously agreed. The thrust between us and Munich, and onward to where they finally did join forces did solve one very important point.
It prevented what might have been the fulfilment of Hitler's original plans to surround Birtchesgarten [sic] with his SS fanatics and at least 40,000 POW hostages for a fight to the finish.
Everything was going so well that we were no longer bothered about keeping a reserve of food or conserving fuel supplies. Part of Geoff's bed went into preparing lunch and some of mine went at supper time.
The 26th was another beautiful day. We had a bit of a surprise when a large party of guards marched through the camp to the boundary wire at the edge of the compound, then downed arms, cut the wire and rapidly filed through leaving their rifles behind. It is quite possible that they just went off to somewhere quiet and then sat down waiting to be picked up.
They got out of sight rapidly after I dashed out and picked up one of their rifles to send a couple of shots after them but I only fired over their heads.
That's all there was time for as our administration collected all of the rifles and took them back to camp HQ.
It was not long after that news came through that we were taking over the running of the camp and we were one more step nearer home.
A bread ration came up. The interior fences were torn down. Where the guards had cut the wire we strolled out into the open as if it was a Sunday afternoon along the prom. Along the river bank, chatting to a couple of pig-tailed giggling teenage fraulines and even picked up some firewood which had been our main purpose for going outside.
It was not long after our return that the PA system instructed us not to stray too far if we were outside and although there was a tremendous sense of freedom in doing so it really was not neccessary [sic] for obtaining fuel.
Warning notices, air raid shelters, fence posts and the like were all available to us by that time. It was a change not to hear the PA blasting out 'Achtung' and OKW rubbish but we were being kept informed almost hourly by
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relaying BBC and AFN programms [sic] .
There was an announcement that our documents and personal possesions [sic] were available for collection from the admin office if we wanted them.
After all that had gone on since 7th February I actually got back my mirror and cuff-links that had been confiscated but it would seem that someone had aquired [sic] a very nice white silk scarf that I had been wearing at the time. Perhaps it had been considered service property, which was fair game. I was just surprised that anything was returned under the circumstances.
News came later that Regensburg had fallen and our forces were encircling Munich, and although the weather turned very nasty in the night and the hut leaked like a seive [sic] no-one was concerned about such minor discomforts.
Even the, following day when there was no let up in the downpour we did not worry about it. Even the natural water supply was a luxury!, and a visit to the clothing store gave us the opportunity to change some more of our tatty clothes.
On the 29th P47 Thunderbolts buzzed the camp and then did a bit of straffing [sic] in the local area. Perhaps it was just as well that the cut wire had been repaired and we had been confined to camp until further notice!.
By 11 o'clock there were all the signs of a battle starting to the North so there was another good reason for staying under cover.
Geoff and I had taken cover under our hut and in fact I was brewing up whilst the battle was going on and one or two people who were foolish enough to still be wandering around were hit by stray bullets but fortunately not seriously.
By 11 o'clock the sounds of battle had gone right round the camp to the South of us, giving us a chance to venture outside.
There was still a lot going on almost on our doorstep. Some big guns were firing over the camp from the hills and shells could be heard rushing overhead followed by a 'crump' as they landed between us and the town.
Then one found it's mark when the church steeple and a sniper with it disappeared in a cloud of dust and debris.
News in those conditions travelled as fast as a bush fire and
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we next heard that the senior Allied POW officer and the local German Commander had been out the previous evening under a white flag to confer with the American Commander, but the German was adamant in his response to the ultimatum. He refused to surrender the area without some sort of fight so that was why it had all started up again but it did not last long.
There seemed to be a bit of a lull and then on the top of the hill, along the ridge, dozens of tanks appeared and just took up position menacingly. About mid-day another party went up the hill under a white flag to parley once more and I can only assume that enough people had died to satisfy honour and to find terms on which to end the slaughter especially when faced with that threat.
By 1 o'clock all firing in and around the area ceased. The Stars and Stripes flew in the town and in the various compounds national flags of all kinds were flying.
Those flags had been hidden for a long time at great risk and at last they could be proudly displayed. As far as we were concerned it was all over, and we could look forward to going home.
We were nearly all bursting with excitement wondering what to expect when later on in the afternoon a convoy that was a sight to behold came in through the main gate.
The lead Jeep had a General saluting all over the place. Some said it was Patton as it was the US. 7th Army that had relieved us but there was so much going on with the bustle and the noise it was difficult to take everything in.
Behind the Jeep came a Sherman tank and a whole convoy of armed troops who toured the camp as we shouted and cheered, and cheered some more, and cried a bit too until we were just about drained of emotion.
The PA system belted out cheerful music and then the circus was in town.
Another convoy came in and news reel camera crews set themselves up as Red Cross trucks, ambulances, mobile hospital, mobile bakery, mobile laundry and trucks with mountains of goodies followed.
There was everything from chewing gum to fruit juices and even fresh fruit that some of us had not seen for months and in some,
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cases, years.
Everything was eventually set up in the central compound and we marvelled at quantity of the goods and the generosity with which it was all being dispensed. There was even a Padre' tossing packets of chewing gum into the crowd.
It was announced over the PA system that we could go outside again but only through the main gate, and then only after we had been processed by the general office and provided with a repatriated POW document. It was worth it, although at that particular time I found plenty to occupy myself in camp and did not venture out.
Although we thought that the fighting was over it started up again not far from our compound as dusk fell. No doubt some brave German still trying to defend his Fatherland but it did not last long.
We had already been warned not to try and make for home on our own as some had attempted. There were still some fanatical pockets of resistance in areas that had been encircled and had yet to be secured.
The most noise that night came from the Russian compound. Although they had had their share of all that was coming into camp they had been conditioned [deleted] but [/deleted] [inserted] to [/inserted] such hardships that they were still out for anything they could get and went on the rampage. They raided the camp bakery and having carted off all the bread and the flour that they could carry they finished up by smashing all of the equipment. It took some time to round them up and try to convince them that there was no need for it. It didn't work.
It all flared up again the following morning. They had their freedom, as we all did and got into town but it was not long before they were smashing the place up, pillaging and looting and generally being a damned nuisance until something happened that I though I would never see.
The limited number of Military Police in the area had to be backed up by deputies drawn from the POW ranks and included Officers and NCO's They were armed with the rifles that had been left behind by the departing guards and were needed to guard German shops, homes and the population against rape and downright vandalism.
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As one Welshman who was involved said to me at the time, "There's daft for you. Yesterday the Germans were our enemies and today we are protecting them from certain elements of our Allies". There's no answer to that but I think the Ruskies eventually got the message.
Some of the excitement had died down by the next day until the circus got going again.
The camp had another visit from some top brass and there were more news reel camera crews shooting just about everything in sight.
American Forces Air Mail blanks were distributed and collected again but that is one area where the Yanks did not get top marks. Mine never got home. Probably they were shipped to the States first and then they were dumped on the assumption that we would have got home first.
The mobile bakery was going full blast now that the camp bakery had been ruined but some of the veteran POW's were having problems with the fluffy white American bread. One chap was stuffing great lumps of the stuff into his mouth and complaining that the 'cake' did not fill him up like pumpernikal [sic] . There was plenty of everything else anyway and no doubt by the end of the day he would have tried everything that was on offer and like me, the pains in his tummy would be from eating too much!.
The camp PA system continued to broadcast AFN and BBC relays. The BBC gave news of 32,000 liberated POW's in the drive for Munich and that had to include us. That would be good news for the folks back home who would be getting the same news and were no doubt feeling very relieved that they would soon be hearing from their loved one's.
It was not all good news though. What the army found in places like Dachau, between us and Munich was a very different story, and the world was soon reeling in shock and horror at the scenes of the almost indescribable conditions that were found there.
By comparison our situation was a picnic.
Those that did venture into town could not be stopped entirely from a little 'souvenir' hunting.
They came back with bicycles, radios, weapons, motor bikes, and all manner of household goods but although it was a free
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for all I do not remember that it got too far out of control as it did at the time of the Ruskie's excursion.
One group near us came back from a hunting expedition with a deer that was soon given the treatment. It was barbicued [sic] on a spit over a pit that used to be an air raid shelter and there was everything that one could wish for.
It was open house and became a communal feast. People just contributed anything that they had. There were chickens, eggs, rabbits, ducks, fish, you name it. It was the biggest, most hilarious barbicue [sic] that I have ever been to or ever likely to go to, and of course some alcoholic beverage found it's way into the camp as well.
During the proceedings one American came back from visiting a nearby tank unit and he was absolutely plastered.
He was teetering all-over the place, hanging on to half a case of Champagne on his shoulder and every time he looked like capsizing and people went to help he he [sic] , fought them off. He was very protective of that 'champers'. Even when he fell into an old air raid shelter it could not be prized from him so we left him with a happy smile on his face. There was plenty more.
Although we were getting a little restless at the delay in moving us it was understandable....there was still a war going on!. But on May 3rd. parties started moving out and leaving their surplus goods behind and we spent a lot of time walking around the area inspecting the staggering amount of transport, troops and armour that we came across. We only had to show our identity slips and everywhere we went we got first class treatment with the utmost generosity, but there was the inevitable sad story to remind us that for some people the war was not yet over.
One of the tank crews was suffering from a traumatic experience, the memory of which was still fresh in their minds.
Apparently, when they had been confronted, not far from the camp, by armed school kids in cadet uniform they had tried to discourage them by firing over their heads but it had not been successful. The youngsters still showed defiance and continued firing. The tank crew had no choice but to fire on them for the benefit of their own infantry who were just behind them, and of course some of them had been injured before they gave up.
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In it's way it was very sad but it just showed that it was no picnic out there.
When the next piece of news came it was difficult to take it it [sic] in.
Berlin had fallen to the Russians and Hitler had killed himself in his Berlin bunker. The German High Command had collapsed and a cease fire was imminent.
The excitement reached a new high when that news had sunk in.
The call forward of people for evacuation was speeded up and those called were taking messages for us as well so I was looking forward to being home for my wife's birthday on the 8th, but the days were slipping by rapidly.
We were bathed and de-loused, (the first of many de-lousings) on the 6th for moving out on the 7th only to be frustrated by another deferment.
We were interviewed by an American female War Correspondent and were photographed charging around on bicyles [sic] and yet another frustrating day went by. Some people had got totally fed up by that time and were having a go on their own despite the regular warning being given. I played it safe and was rewarded on the 8th when our party was called forward.
All of the parties were of 28 people and Geoff was in charge of ours when we finally moved out at 5.30am. when we boarded a convoy of trucks, that set off for an ex Luftwaffe base at Straubing to the North of us.
It was a rough and dusty journey, but eventually we rolled into the place and again I was struck by the resemblance to our own pre-war airfields. I could have found my way around there as easily as Marham, Mildenhall or Stradishall but we did not have chance to go far. It was not worth it anyway as we were likely to be called forward at any time.
We were off-loaded on the road leading through the camp with the hangars dead ahead and told to stay put.
There was very little sign of damage so either the Luftwaffe had evacuated smartly or surrendered, but there we were, at the side of a tree lined avenue waiting….and …waiting!
Des and Lynn had been left behind at Mooseburg but they turned up in a later convoy and were not far from us as evening came. Still stuck on the road!.
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Fortunately the weather remained fine and although there was a NAAFI type building on the opposite side of the road none of us wanted to be confined. We had had enough of that.
We relieved the NAAFI place of a small stage about 8ft by 8ft and about a foot high which we set up between some trees. Several parachutes from the stores were used for bedding and a canopy and we had a neat little camp site that was the envy of many.
A metal grid was set up on some bricks to serve as a fireplace and we were able to dispense hot water and coffee to all and sundry as well as being a meeting point. I
We were just about to settle down for the night when the bomb shell came. Germany had capitulated…the war was over at last! As if there had not been enough excitement for one day.
There was still a little light left when there was a flurry of activity up at the airfield and troops were charging in that direction from all over. Curiosity got the better of us and no sooner had we got to edge of the airfield than a half dozen Ju.52's approached from the North East firing red verey signals
as they went into line astern for landing.
As soon as they had landed they were surrounded by armed troops and then the doors opened.
The occupants were mainly women and children, obviously families of Luftwaffe personnel being evacuated from Chechoslovakia [sic] out of the path of the advancing Russian forces. They looked very frightened as they were hustled away but I am sure that they would have been taken care of by the local population even if the military got different treatment.
We were not allowed to get too close but the airfield attracted us like a magnet and we soon found it to be a very busy place. No wonder they did not want us in the way.
There were mountains of stores dumped all around the perimeter.
There were dozens of Mustangs and Thunderbolts in another area and the remnants of dozens of German aircraft of all types piled up in another area.
Then came the next surprise when about twenty Me.109's and Fw.190's appeared in the circuit...all flying white streamers from their wingtips in the act of surrender. The sight of those brought just about everyone up to the airfield as they circled and landed, finally taxying into a neat line in front of the
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hangars.
The pilots hardly had time to switch off before the 'reception commitee' was up on the wing and the elegantly turned out pilots in their No.1. uniforms were unceremoniously whipped out of their cockpits, frisked and relieved of any Iron Crosses around their necks, and watches, binoculars, pistols and holsters were removed before they were lined up and marched away.
I suppose they did try to surrender with some dignity but they were not allowed to do so and neither was the next group that came in.
We had had the families, then the Staffel, and the next arrival was a Ju.52. carrying the unit commander and his staff. It included his female secretary, filing cabinets and all....plus...the pig!.
The latter was no doubt the product of the unit pig farm and an insurance against going hungry at a later date. So here was an almost complete unit apart from the poor old ground staff who were probably having to hike their way back from somewhere just inside the Chech [sic] border about 60 miles away.
The volume of gold braid on the senior officer did not save him from going the same way as the others, so he was bundled off one way, no doubt protesting about his rough handling....and the pig went the other. To the cookhouse!.
One of the last to land in the fading light was a Feisler Storch light communications and spotting plane and the pilot demonstrated it's capability by virtually stalling it into a very short landing run and …..plonk, stopped.
The pilot got out, like an entertainer in the circus, grinning, as if to say "who's a clever boy then", until a huge coloured American airman grabbed him by the collar and he was put through the mincer like the others.
We loved every minute of it and wandered back to our camp site very happily not expecting anything to climax that but the finale came shortly after daylight went completely.
The day was finished off with a giant pyrotechnic display that must have used up everything that could be mustered from all of the combined stores plus stuff from wrecked or surrendered aircraft.
The way some of the stuff had been put together to blast off
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some 200ft into the air must have made the excercise [sic] near lethal but I am sure that there was no shortage of the necessary explosive and technical skills to put on such a show at such short notice.
The night sky was filled with star shells and flares of all colours and enormous explosions for well over an hour before we retired to our communal bed with stars in our eyes, and hope for what the next day would bring.
When May 9th dawned we were up early, washed, shaved, breakfasted and the site tidied up in case anyone else wanted to make use of it after we had gone, all ready standing by long before 7.30 as we had been told to be.
About 8.30 a flock of DC3's (Dakota's to the RAF) started pouring in, landing and taxying into the park directly ahead of the road we were on.
We had seen these depart on the previous day and it was a well drilled procedure by which they took up position in five ranks of ten nose to tail so all we had to do was to was [sic] for the call forward. It did not come!. Instead, truckloads of GI's came rumbling into camp straight past us and out to the aircraft which taxied out as soon as loading was complete and away they went…..all 50 of them!
We did not know whether they were front line troops who were in need of a rest or even walking wounded but it got us a bit steamed up to think that someone seemed to be jumping the queue but we knew that they would be in again in the afternoon so we continued to wait impatiently.
By mid afternoon the flock were back again and after landing formed up with the same precision and then another convoy of Americans arrived, again going straight out to the airfield. Fortunately it was a smaller party and some of our groups ahead of us were called forward but leaving us still sweating it out.
There was nothing more to but to open up our site again and brouse [sic] around the rest of the camp to occupy the time.
There was another firework display but we could not work up much enthusiasm for it. All of our thoughts were concentrated on what might happen the next day.
Again we were on call to be with some of the first away so once more we prepared ourselves and then watched in dismay as another
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convoy came sweeping in and went straight out to the airfield. When the aircraft came in they were promptly loaded and were away again leaving us still stuck on the side of the road. There were some angry mutterings.
Eventually the group leaders had a conference to elect a spokesman who went forward to speak to the load masters and whether it was that that did the trick or whether it was the luck of the draw I would not know but all of the RAF roadside gipsies were moved up to the airfield for the afternoon shuttle.
In came the aircraft as before and as soon as they were parked each party was allocated a specific aeroplane from which they unloaded jerrycans of petrol and other stores which included 'K' rations from which we got an issue and then we boarded....at last.
Like a well oiled machine the 50 aircraft started up, rolled out in sections of ten, took off and in loose formation headed West at about 4000ft.
The precision of that operation made a lasting impression on me as it was shifting about 300 tons of fuel and suplies [sic] in and about 2800 people out each day. With over 40,000 repatriates to get out of the area it was understandable that it was going to take time however frustrated we might have felt at times.
We landed at an airfield near Rheims, France, and were trucked to a huge tented encampment in the grounds of some Chateaux. We got de-loused again, had a label tied on and were then provided with vouchers to exchange for cash, shown the accomodation [sic] and told to be ready by daylight next day..
To someone like myself who, had only been in the 'bag' a short time it was a short step back to reality but for those who had been behind the wire for years it was the start of a long period of adjustment.
The bright lights, the incessant broadcasting of AFN (American Forces Network) and the delights of the tented city with it's cafateria [sic] tents, beer tents, cinema, magazine stalls and one-arm bandits was a different world. Obviously American servicemen (and women) did not expect to be cut off from their home comforts just because they were fighting a war in foriegn [sic] parts, whether they were in our [sic] out of the line. i
Whilst I was having difficulty in deciding what to spend my
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money on…and a beer was one of the first things, others were very reluctant to spend at all. I found that those who had hoarded for years in order to survive could not easily break the habit but we all mucked in together until eventually we had had our share of everything that was going and then it was early to bed, a real one, in preparation for an early start on the next lap.
We were up at 5 o'clock the next morning, piled onto trucks and commenced another bumpy, noisy and tiring drive, seemingly in the wrong direction, to an airfield at Juvencourt, which I found out later was between Troyes and Chaumont. I did not hear any complaints. If everyone was like me they were too pre-occupied with their own thoughts at the prospect of getting home soon to be concerned about a such a journey. Even if it was about 100 miles!.
We expected to be going into another camp but there was great excitement when, on arrival, we found a flock of waiting Lancasters on the airfield and we loaded 25 to each aircraft ready for the off.
The Lancaster was not built for passengers so we were distributed all along the fusulage [sic] and my diary records that I was in one of 514 Squadron's aircraft, from Waterbeach, Pilot, Flying Officer Tasker. His W/Op turned out to be one of my old mates from training days, Tommy Gookie.
There was no opportunity for chat though. Anyone who who [sic] has ever flown in a Lanc. without a helmet will know just how noisy they were but it was a terrible racket when those four beautiful Merlins started up and we taxied out and took off, setting course in a bit of a gaggle, heading West. I did have the opportunity of a few minutes in the top turret but there was quite a queue for it.
I lapped it up but it was a bit nerve racking for some of those who's flying had been cut short when they had been flying 1939 vintage fighters and bombers. Those chaps were going to need quite a lot of rehabilitation that was for sure.
After about an hour's flying all the changes in engine note and attitude suggested that we were preparing for landing and after touching down and taxying in we scrambled out of the door to find ourselves on the tarmac at, of all places, Tangmere.
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Just 18 miles from my home town!. Then the inevitable occurred. First we had to go through a very rudimentary customs check and then we were deloused again. There was no way that anything illegal or catching was going to be allowed into the country but I was beginning to get a bit fed up with having a hose stuffed up trouser legs, sleeves, down the trouser front and back and in the hair dispensing clouds of strange smelling itchy powder. Then it was tea and sandwiches in the hanger served by WAAF's who for some reason seemed to treat us as if we were something from outer space. I did not realise it at the time but that is probably what we looked like.
For the next part of the programme we were bussed to Barnham railway station to board a train that was sitting in a siding, but not before I had attended to one most important matter.
I was sorely tempted to slip away but thought better of it. Instead, I dived into a phone box, called the operator, but before I could tell her that I wanted a reverse charge call she asked if I was a returning POW, so obviously I was not the first she had had on the line.
Having been assured that I was she said that there was no charge and got a number for me in Worthing. In a flash I was talking to a local Chemist who I had been in the Home Guard with. He took a message to my parents, just up the road and on the way met my father-in-law so the whole jungle telegraph got going to spread the news.
Quite a few used that phone but eventually the locomotive whistle brought them back on board and we were off.
The trip was a long one and at times very slow as we wound our way all round London making occasional stops at stations for the ladies of the WVS and the 'Sally Ann' to dispense tea and sandwiches, whatever the hour, until eventually, somewhere around midnight we arrived at the reception centre at RAF Cosford, near Wolverhampton.
The train ran right into the camp which had it's own internal railway system being a storage area and maintenance unit and we dissembarked [sic] almost directly into a well lit hangar.
There were lines and lines of tables creating avenues which were alphabetically indexed; and from then on it was every man for himself for a while.
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The first part of the process was an identification check. There were boxes of Records Office duplicate I.D. cards with photograph after which there were a few questions and once past that check we were back in the Air Force. Some who had not worn too well in the 'bag' took a bit longer but all were eventually filtered through perhaps after calling an officer to verify or a Doctor to advise on suitability for immediate clearance or a spot of R & R. (Rest .and Recuperation) first. Cosford also had a very large hospital so it was ideally suited.
After that we were provided with a temporary I.D. card and authorisation chits for this, that and the other. Leave warrant, ration card, advance of pay, clothes coupons, petrol coupons, cigarette and confectionary coupons…..all taking time as we worked our way down the line of tables until we were further directed towards another hangar which was a monster clothing store for an issue that would at least allow us to change out of the odds and ends that we had been wearing for so long. Half of mine by that time was American drab olive so it was back to blue.
The clothing issue was very basic. Airmans battle-dress and cap. Underclothes, socks and boots. Shirt, collar and tie.......separate of course, and nothing to hold them together, and finally a. piece of braid or a set of stripes appropriate to rank and..........the sewing kit!, plus a new kit bag to put surplus stuff into. Goodness knows what time it was before the process was complete and then we were off to a barrack block, a steaming hot bath and to bed.
We had been told that the Mess dining room was providing a 24 hour service and very few people overslept. We were up and about gathering everything together and I forget how many peices [sic] of braid and collars I sewed on for others before the need for breakfast was calling.
I felt a bit like a fish in a bowl wandering around the Officers Mess again among others dressed much the same as myself. The permanent staff were very helpful and the stewards could not do enough but there had to be a limit to how much one could eat in one go. There was only one thing on the minds of most people, and that was to get home as soon as possible. One of us had already gone. Jim only lived at Coventry and I was told
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that he had ordered a taxi and was off…..and to hell with the expense!.
Buses had been scheduled to run to Wolverhamptan [sic] for main line connections for those who were cleared to go and other nationalities, including Commonwealth personnel were being assembled to go to clearing depots that had been set up in various parts of the country to prepare them for repatriation. For me it was a quick call to Newmarket and I was on my way.
I must have got quite used to the scruffy character reflected in the shaving mirror without realising that there was a lot more of me that I had just taken for granted. When I first looked in a full length mirror it took some time to realise that the wild man from outer space was in fact me. If clothes maketh the man then I really looked like a rag-bag…..but a clean one!.
Clean I might have been but I had over three months head of unruly hair which was almost white from the liberal use of de-lousing powder that would not wash out. My ill fitting serge battle-dress had come straight from the stores and looked like it and although I could have delayed my departure to make myself more presentable I didn't. And I do not know anyone who did!, but as soon as I was back in the public eye it not surprising that I was getting some funny looks.
There were a few more to come before I finished my journey but one incident imprinted itself on my mind.
I have no idea where it was exactly but after changing trains and we got under way, I was lost in thought and the other person in the compartment; a member of the bowler hat and brolly brigade, went to some length to point out that it was a First Class compartment and that I appeared to have made a mistake.
Normally I would have treated it lightly but as his expression suggested that he had a nasty smell under his nose I'm afraid I was in no mood for that sort of nonsense. I cannot recall exactly what I said, but it certainly was not complimentary, I do remember that it was he that moved out and not me....after all, I did have a First Class ticket!
I finally arrived at Newmarket where it seemed that half my wife's HQ had turned out to greet me but why they were on the down-line platform when I arrived on the up-line platform I
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don't know and there was an awful lot of running about before we fell into each others arms. Then it was back to her office for a whirlwind of activity and excitement as a leave pass was arranged.
There was of course a very lively party in the evening before we finally retired to our room with some people that we had often stayed with on previous occasions. It was ironic that the lady of the house was the German wife of an old jockey of some repute.
Old "Willie" Warne had been the Kaisers jockey prior to the 1914/18 war and had been too late to get out of the country when that war started. The result was that he had been interned in Germany throughout the conflict. We had a lot to talk about!.
The following morning we were off to Worthing for a reunion with my parents and the rest of the family with the exception of two of my brothers who were still away in the forces.
My uniform and other clothes were waiting for me, all cleaned and pressed; although a little on the loose side and eventually, after lots more soaking in the bath most of the signs of the de-lousing powder disappeared. Nevertheless, a haircut was necessary, before I could get my cap on. The old barber that I had used for years nearly had a fit when he saw the state of my hair until I told him how it had got that way. That was the only free hair-cut I ever had out of him!. After that it more or less resumed it's natural colour and I was reconciled to a more civilised routine even though a touch of jaundice limited activities for a while. Something was bound to happen when the diet was undergoing that sort of change.
It was another twenty six years before I left the Air Force. I will never know why I was one of the lucky one's and it never ceases to amaze me. Sometimes I have thought that I have lived on borrowed time since those days.
If I had been a cat I would have run out of my nine lives a long time ago and I have always considered myself very fortunate to have enjoyed a longer period of relative peace than the older generation had experienced between two dreadful wars.
My youthful ambition to fly had been fullfilled [sic] ; even if it had been the hard and dangerous way. The war had finished and our country and our society seemed safe and secure at last.
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It had been achieved at the most dreadful cost in human lives and suffering. There were a lot of my old school friends and others that I would never see again.
Historians have since put forward many academic arguments on the conduct of the war as they have done throughout the years over long and bloody conflicts to try and prove points and discredit theories as well as personalities which is easy enough to do in hindsight.
The fact remains. Hitlers evil Third Reich was destroyed, and only just in time before the introduction of a new generation of weapons might have prolonged the war or even given Germany the chance of recovery. Then the pages of history would have been written somewhat differently and I doubt if todays armchair strategists would be in a position to express themselves quite so freely.
The overall number of casualties was appalling and the Royal Air Force had it's share as it wielded one of the most powerful and flexible weapons ever forged.
Bomber Command alone lost 47,293 aircrew killed or missing on operations over Europe, and another 8000 were killed in training and non-operational flights between 1939 and 1945.
A staggering 9000 bombers of all types were lost in the same period and at the peak of the air war 40% of Britains [sic] war production was concentrated in the manufacture of aircraft and supporting services.
Between them the Allied Air Forces devestated [sic] 70 cities and manufacturing centres severely curtailing production.
The Hamburg raids of 1943 disrupted U-boat building and caused the terrible fire-storm that resulted in more than 40,000 deaths. Altogether 3,600,000 homes were destroyed. 7,500,000,people were made homeless and there were 1,000,000 casualties caused by the bombing on the European front alone.
The costly raid on Peenemunde in the Baltic gave us breathing time to develope [sic] a defence against what could have been devestating [sic] damage from the V1's and V2's.
Sea and Air co-operation effectively swung the balance of the U.Boat war and a steady flow of war materials and food was assured from the vast resources of the USA.
The German Navy got bottled up and was no longer an effective
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force. The Luftwaffe was being depleted as their bomber force declined in favour of fighter production. Although in 1943 their production of fighters actually increased they were faced with the fact that experienced pilots cannot be produced, at the same rate as machines and the bombing was starving them of fuel.
Once Germany was forced onto the defensive as was Japan the writing was on the wall.
Towards the end of the war Germany had committed enormous quantities of some 20,000 anti-aircraft guns and vast quantities of ammunition to the defence of the Third Reich, tying up 1,000,000 troops and another 1,500,000 people in fire fighting, clearing up bomb damage and re-housing.
The destruction caused by Allied air raids affected German war production to such an extent that it was estimated by German sources that in 1943 alone, it cost, in terms of production, the [underlined] equivalent [/underlined] of 10,000 heavy guns and approximately 6000 heavy tanks. If the resources that those figures represent had reached the battle fronts the outcome of many a campaign might well have different.
Those figures are just some of the grim statistics on the balance sheet of a war that need not have happened if Hitler could have been prevented from embarking on his plans of world domination.
The overwhelming Allied air power was a major contribution which helped to reduce the casualty figures of the ground forces who eventually squeezed the discredited leaders of the German nation into surrender, giving Europe a chance to sort itself out and lay plans for a more peaceful future.
History will show that the transition into an uneasy 'peace' and the rebuilding of shattered countries and communities was not easily achieved but I am proud to have been part of it.
Alan.T.Gamble.
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"NIL DESPERANDUM”
[underlined] PREFACE [/underlined]
My war came to an end with Victory in Europe, when, after returning from German POW camp I was sent on leave to await further instructions.
For some time I expected to be called for duty in one of the areas of either Europe, the Middle East, India or the Far East where there was still a great deal of conflict going on, but it seemed that there were still plenty of people around to cope and it was many weeks before something was found for me to do.
I was content as long as my pay and allowances were being credited to my account, so I sat back waiting for something to happen and enjoyed being with the family again. My wife Dorothy was still in the Army and soon used up her leave entitlement to be home with me at Worthing although I managed several periods up at Newmarket where she was still stationed which was not too far away so I had a comfortable time rehabilitating myself until a telegram from the Air Ministry requested my presence at Whitehall to determine my future.
Meanwhile I had had plenty of time to contemplate both the past, present and the future. At least I still had a future of sorts which was a lot more than some of my old school friends whose short lives were about to be recorded on the memorial tablets.
My youthful past had been humdrum until joining the Royal Air Force and I could not see it getting any better by doing what so many were doing by getting `demobbed' and back into `civvy street' as soon as possible to pick up the threads of their previous occupation. Apart from anything else I was not even sure that I wanted to resume my previous occupation.
I had made the grade from the ranks to commissioned officer more by luck than anything else and despite some bad moments I had been introduced to a different sort of life; and it attracted me.
I had asked myself time and time again; should I throw it all away or capitalize on it? The answer always came out the same, whichever way I looked at the situation. I really had nothing to lose as I had very little to start with, so I approached the postings department at Air Ministry with an open mind and tongue in cheek.
I was kept waiting for a long time after I had presented myself, and bit by bit I progressed from the main reception to the clerks office then to an outer office until finally being called into the inner sanctum to be asked by a chap who simply asked what I would like to do.
It was such a surprise that I was barely able to splutter out "anything you like" and no doubt if I had not already given some thought to my future I could easily have blurted out "civvy street" and that would have been the road that I would have gone down. Nevertheless, my remark produced a contemplative "hm" and a lot of paper shuffling. I just looked at the ceiling and shuffled my feet!
The next question was "what about administrative work?" and I recall that my reply was something to the effect that "if that is what you would like me to do I will have a go" although my insides were churning. Me! administrative work! What the hell did I know about that, but the die was cast and I was sent off for a few more days leave to await further instructions, which took the form of a telegram instructing me to report to No. 47 Group. HQ, Hendon, for disposal.
I duly reported to the HQ which was in a group of huts, which is still there behind barbed wire in front of the Restaurant of the RAF Museum and by adopting the philosophy of leaving my destiny in someone else's hands the cards were shuffled once more. I was earmarked for administrative duties and sent home, once more to await further instructions.
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It was not long before, they arrived and then I was en route to Lyneham, in Wiltshire, all shiny, new and refreshed for the beginning of a new era.
[line of stars]
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[underlined] CHAPTER ONE [/underlined]
Lynham [sic] was a flying station of No. 47 Group, Transport Command so it made a change for me to be outside Bomber Command but I did not have a lot of time to contemplate the Yorks and Stirlings that were being flogged to and from many parts of the world. The arrival preliminaries were soon over and I found myself being employed as assistant to the Adjutant of 511 Squadron and was soon up to my ears in routine paper work, a lot of which was processing claims for campaign medals but it seemed an easy way to earn a crust for the ten days that I did the job and I learned a lot more about the running of, a unit like a flying Squadron which had not changed a lot since I had been a 'sprog' airman at Mildenhall in 1941 where I had started my first stint of admin in the orderly room. There was something else that had not changed. Stirlings being Stirlings, whatever the mark, could still get into an uncontrollable swing on take off and landing as I found out from the signals that were coming in reporting aircraft all the way down the route to India having swung and busted the undercarriage in some God forsaken place and I had not been flying a desk very long before one did the same thing at Lyneham which finished up careering into the operations block causing a number of casualties among ground staff.
It had previously entered my mind that if I could keep away from flying for a while it would not do me any harm but after that episode it did not seem to make any difference. I think that I would have been most upset at being pranged by a runaway Stirling whilst sitting at a desk; especially after successfully completing a tour in Bomber Command on them without damage to myself.
However, I was whisked out of that job overnight and flung straight into a properly established job in Station HQ. That of Station Assistant Adjutant although the job title of the appointment was a mis-nomer as far as I was concerned. It really was personnel administration and I inherited a staff of twenty headed by a Flight Sergeant Chief Clerk. All of a sudden I was an Admin Officer!
The reason for the sudden move requires a little explanation as I did not physically take over from the previous encumbant [sic] , a WAAF officer who apparently had got herself and the job into one hell of a mess and had been moved out smartly before things could get any worse. My brief from the Senior Admin Officer was to get stuck in and sort things out as quickly and as quietly as possible so I took over everything completely blind. Office, staff, ledgers, account books, cash and inventories. It was difficult to know just where to start so I familiarised myself first with the orderly room procedures and the staff who handled the details of some 2000 airmen and airwomen and then came the process of sorting my own office. It did not take long to find out that things were far worse than they appeared on the surface.
I started checking the inventories as I had signed for them subject to check and although some small one's were fairly easy but when it came to the bedding store, oh dear, oh dear. My heart missed a beat. It showed up a flaw in the system that been exploited for a long time by people quite prepared to make a few bob out of surplus blankets, only they were not surplus! Even in the stock room half blankets suitably folded had been counted as complete blankets to deceive the checkers for a long time. I had to have a long think about that one. There seemed no point in enquiries and chucking charges about. I had a feeling that it would bounce right back into my court. Quickly and quietly the boss had said, so I did it my way and worked at it steadily over a period of several weeks whilst dealing with other day to day matters.
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I had the station scoured for blankets that were being misused as curtains, table covers etc. and a few billet inspections with the aid of the Station Warrant Officer produced a considerable number that were in excess of entitlement and more than a few exchanges were made at the main stores until I was satisfied that the deficiencies had been reduced to a modest number that I could subsequently declare for write-off. War time methods of writing off losses were no longer in force so I was aiming for the minimum possible before asking for an independent check to be made with me in attendance. Such matters absorb a great deal of time and at the same time I introduced a completely new system of accounting for the issue, receipt„ storage and stock control of bedding without adding extra staff although there was a change of staff. The Corporal in charge of the bedding store! who I am sure was very pleased to go without a fuss. I found a place for him in the sanitary squad! In the long run quicker and quieter than the more formal way of doing things. I followed it up with a multi page paper on the subject, with recommendations for the changes that I had already made and submitted it through channels to Air Ministry, as I was sure that there were considerable savings to be made if my scheme was implemented officially. I can only assume that someone, somewhere along the line put his own name to it and nearly two years later an Air Ministry Order appeared almost word for word so it must have had some merit. It was still in force 40 years later!
I did get something out of though!. Nearly six months later after I had moved on and after an enquiry into the deficiencies that had been disclosed, a Board of Enquiry found me responsible for the losses and invited me to pay £5 toward the value of the losses. One learns the hard way and so it seemed that everyone was covering their backs, and they had to have their pound of flesh. £5 was a lot of money in 1945. About 25% of a weeks pay for a Flying Officer!
Had that backhander arrived whilst I had still been at Lyneham I might well have decided that Air Force Admin. was not for me but by then I was engaged in numerous other problems and learning to cope with them without compromising myself. It did not always work but I was getting better at it. In the meanwhile Dorothy had left the Army and was back with her parents in Worthing awaiting the arrival of an addition to the family.
Among other things that were under my jurisdiction were the issue of clothing coupons, tobacco and confectionery and petrol coupons and it did not take long to find out that the system of accounting for those items were far from satisfactory. Of course, they were all issued, or were supposed to have been issued according to entitlement as laid down in the relevant orders but I found it impossible to reconcile the stocks and book balances. I burned the midnight oil balancing, (or to be truthful, cooking them) until I had resolved the petrol and clothing coupons sufficiently to satisfy a snap audit which was always a possibility although obviously no such audit had been done for a long time.
In hindsight it would probably have been to my advantage to have asked for an independent audit when taking over, if it had occurred to me, but I was new to the business and without formal training it could still have gone against me in the same way as the blankets episode. I doubt that it would have gone against the departed WAAF officer who no doubt had left the service very smartly which was the normal practice for someone in her condition. There did not seem any point in making waves so in my ignorance I just pressed on.
The tobacco and confectionery coupons were a bit of a headache although I had not placed any priority on them but the first time I attended a Station Commanders conference the subject came up as the local and area NAAFI managers had apparently been tearing their hair out for some time as their monthly stocks were all being taken up in the first few days of the month and supplementary stocks were having to be put up to supply the demand for the rest of the month. I came directly into the firing line although my predecessor had previously been
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instructed to do something about it and of course the inevitable occurred. The finger was pointed at me with an instruction to "fix it ....and quickly". It did not take long to find an answer.
The blank coupons were initially issued by the NAAFI to units for distribution and generally coupons issued by one unit were valid at another and therein lay the problem. At Lyneham everyone other than the Officers and Sgt's messes seemed have about four times as many coupons as they should have but the work involved was not easy and I burned a lot of midnight oil personally setting up a system to get it right first time. I made all old coupons invalid as new coupons became valid from a certain date. They were all serial numbered and distributed to internal units and departments against nominal rolls There was no leeway or overlap. Any cases that would have previously been arbitrated by the Naafi staff were referred to me and only coupons bearing the Lyneham stamp were valid. All new arrivals got a new issue on surrender of their old one's with a limitation of only two weeks back issue. I did get it right first time!. The rot was stopped dead in it's tracks within the first few days of it's introduction. The Naafi managers were happy and despite the success of the operation that was the only area from which any compliment came and I was presented with an enormous box of chocolates for my wife with their compliments. At least I had the satisfaction of knowing that I had some aptitude for the work that I had been thrown into and had so far I seemed to have done it a bit better than someone with formal training.
There were other matters that needed a nudge in the right direction from time to time to bring them into line but eventually all the serious problems had been attended to and I was able to relax slightly as the job ticked over as it should have done in the first place. I even managed a few more week-ends at home instead of working right through but at that time people were still revelling in the euphoria of the cessation of the war and there was a lot of partying going on, and that of course meant too much drinking as an outlet for pent up emotions. There was one rip-roaring party to which I invited my Petty Officer Naval brother, (with temporary promotion to Lieutenant. RN. For the occasion) and it was the great granddaddy of all binges. We were in a very sorry state the next morning when we went down to the flight office as I had arranged a trip in a York for him. He had never flown before, and it had been no trouble to lay it on although it was in a freighter on air test that we found ourselves in. No seats. Just a load of loose covers on the floor with a few straps to hang onto.
I suppose it's something you are trained for and you grow up with so it was second nature to me. My poor brother felt differently about it with the thunder of the engines, the unfamiliar smells and a skyline that would not stay in place, and neither would his stomach as he was obliged to make use of the paper bag supplied!
His final thoughts on the matter were that he would sooner take his chance in the bowels of a ship than fly or have to chuck himself out of an aeroplane if it got into trouble although I am sure that when he was later obliged to fly back to the UK on compassionate leave on the death of his daughter he had more things on his mind than his own personal discomfort.
Bit by bit I attacked all of the accumulated problems and new one's as they arose and life began to jogg [sic] along quite nicely. I was able to spend time studying the activities and the rules and regulations of the personnel department for which I was responsible, although it was run very efficiently by a Flight Sergeant Waaf. Even so, I began to take more notice of what I was invariably signing for. At that point in time I seemed to have been launched in a career in Admin so it seemed logical that I should learn all that I could about it.
It was too much to expect that I would be left to settle for long. In early Spring of 1946 I received the reward for my efforts when I was notified that I was posted to Holmsley South in the New Forest, Hampshire, for Admin duties, so a quick hand over followed a handshake from the C.O. and to my surprise a "well done" and I was ready to go. One of my
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first thoughts was that I would be a lot nearer Worthing and things seemed to be working in my favour especially as Holmsley was another Transport command station with a Stirling squadron. The prospects were good and I had no reason to make any preliminary enquiries so off I went and waved goodbye to Lyneham.
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[underlined] Chapter Two [/underlined]
I completed the arrival formalities by eventually arriving at the C.O's office and that's when I received a nasty shock to be told that he was very pleased to see me as a very special job had been reserved for me. I was to take charge of 50 German POW's who would be arriving by train [underlined] the following day [/underlined] and the Senior Admin Officer would tell me all about it!
He did. A dispersed Nissen hutted site had been allocated. Beds and bedding had been set aside at the stores and an inventory opened ready for my signature. Cooking facilities had also been arranged on site "so off you go and the best of luck and keep them out of my hair" was the brief.
[underlined] Dispersed [/underlined] was the operative word. Typical of war time airfields it was well spread out and I was to find that the site that I had been allocated was nearly two miles from the main camp area but I was thinking very hard about the prospects and wondering if my reputation had preceeded [sic] me as they must have decided at the last moment to appoint an officer in charge. I must confess too that I rather liked the idea of being a POW Camp Commandant which was the title that I gave myself. After my recent experiences as a POW in Germany it would be interesting to have the role's reversed.
Most of my first day was spent checking out the site and supplies. The electricity was on, the plumbing was working and coal had already been dumped on site but it was the `cooking facilities' that intrigued me. It was no more than an old soya boiler and a Spitfire packing case but I was not going to worry too much about that. One thing was for sure. At the very worst the conditions could never be described as rough by comparison with the way we had been treated as prisoners so after reading up the limited amount of information that been handed over to me and making a few arrangements for the reception of the POW's I settled in the Mess and turned in that night with a clear conscience. The next day could take care of itself!
I duly met the motley crowd at Brockenhurst railway station the following day without too much ceremony having mustered a couple of hefty, armed Service policemen to make an impression and there I was handed a package of `bumph' by one of the two RAF (aircrew) Warrant Officers who were going to be my total staff for the indefinite period that they were going to be with us. As soon as we got back to the main camp I was able to dispense with the policemen and the POW's did a lot of waiting about whilst I poured over the documents with the Senior Admin Officer (who really didn't want to know), but I was determined to keep him in the picture before being told once more "get on with it". By that time I had got the impression that as far as I was concerned I was on my own!.
The POW's were all ex Africa Corp and had been incarcerated in working camps in Canada. They had been well fed and documented and were in the pipeline for repatriation, and they knew it and the best part was that they were to be reminded regularly with the added threat that if any one of them absconded, or even attempted to, then the whole lot would be put back to the end of a very long list.
That solved a lot of my fears and it was with a much lighter heart that I paraded the lot, read the riot act through their senior NCO `interpreter' although most of them knew enough English to understand and then we were off to the site where I paraded them again and explained that it was to be their home until further notice. I also explained that any comforts that they might enjoy would be achieved mainly by their own efforts which soon put a stop to any complaints that they might have thought of voicing. There was the inevitable roll call and familiarisation of faces having formally introduced myself and then we got down to work setting things up.
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The next few days were hectic as I scrounged, scavenged and borrowed all the necessary equipment to make life tolerable and there was a lot of earth moving, hammering, sawing and considerable industry as the days went by. The kitchen and mess room layout was built from the Spitfire packing case and sited in a partitioned end of a hut adjacent to the ablutions block to make use of the plumbing, and the remainder of the hut was turned into sleeping quarters for the duty officer and the site office.
There were few restrictions. By the very nature of our staffing arrangements it was an open camp apart from morning and night roll calls with one of the Warrant Officers or myself on camp throughout each 24 hour period. The daily routine was soon established. I was allowed a small cash ration allowance to supplement the daily ration issue and the prisoners were allowed a small basic pay in script as they were not allowed real money. They spent their script in the small canteen that we set up and it's value was converted into real money under my control (more book-keeping), for purchases from the Naafi main distribution centre in Southampton.
I was also allowed to employ them on the station in a variety of trades that they were suitable for and give small pay increments accordingly, so it was not long before some of them were being employed as drivers, fitters, cooks and butchers, cleaners and baggage handlers with a pool of refuse collectors. My message to them was very simple. "Screw up a good job and you go straight to the garbage detail". (There was no extra pay for that job!)
A bout of very wet weather made life very difficult as the entrance to the site was uphill and impossible for motor transport so that supplies had to be man-handled in but in my travels I had spotted a considerable supply of used and new PSP, (Perforated Steel Planking) of the type that many war time hard standings and even temporary runways were built with which had been more or less abandoned by the Americans, who had used Holmsley for the invasion of Normandy so several tons were transported to the site in the next spell of good weather and we got cracking. There was a lot more earth moving as the surface was prepared and we worked it out as we went along. I got my shirt off too which raised a few eyebrows among the troops.
Like any other body of men there will always be those who will hang about on the fringe of activity trying to look as if they are busy. Germans are no different! But I felt that if I could demonstrate that I could work as well as any of them then I would be justified in putting my boot behind anyone who seemed reluctant to flex his muscles so we toiled like an army of ants the whole of one week-end when I was the duty officer. At the end of the day we straightened our backs with the satisfaction of having done a good job in record time with a firm driveway leading up to a level turning area at the top.
I had a few crates of beer brought in later on and had the additional satisfaction of being told by one of them that it was most unlikely that a German officer would have applied himself in the same way. By that time I had bathed and was back in uniform and once more and `The Commandant' was feeling rather pleased with himself, so the reply that came from me, almost without thinking was....."possibly, and you lost"! Touche!.
After that things began to tick along quite nicely which was just as well as I was beginning to be drawn more and more into the routine work of the station. Nevertheless, the POW's took up most of my time and I had to argue my way out of doing station duties like Orderly Officer on the grounds that I was spending every third night and every, third week-end in the POW compound. I was excused station duties...but not for long!
I had to take fairly swifty [sic] action on one occasion when I had a report from the civilian accountant officer who came to work on his scooter that he just passed one of our two tonner's being driven by one of my POW's on the Southampton road, and he did not appear to have a load! I was off like a shot on my recently aquired [sic] motor cycle and chased after him.
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I was flat out for several miles before I caught him up and flagged him down. The driver was the one that I thought he might be. He was reputed to have been a pre-war racing driver mechanic and it appeared that he had been doing some unauthorised tuning of the truck's V8 engine as well. His argument that he was road testing the vehicle cut no ice as he had no authorisation to do either that or his journey so it was about turn and back to camp with me tailing him. I think he knew what to expect when I had him on the mat. Like everyone else he knew that Southampton was not many miles down the road and my own view was that he was making a dash for freedom although there was no way I could prove it. For him it was the loss of his trade pay and on the back of the refuse lorry instead of driving it! They had been warned!.
My motor cycle was a great help to me and allowed me to get between camp and Worthing in less than two hours giving me much more time with my family especially as I would normally have caught an early Sunday evening train to get back. With the bike I was usually driving into the compound on the dot of eight o'clock on the Monday morning to be received by one of the Warrant Officers and the Feldweibel. The bike was then taken to be cleaned up as I changed and had breakfast before going through the reports and morning inspection. The bike was then taken to be cleaned as I changed and had breakfast, before going through the reports and my morning inspection. [sic]
I had learned enough about Germans to know that they understood and respected that sort of routine so there was some satisfaction in having the bike cleaned and polished, very often by the chap who I had suspended from driving after his misdemeanour but I was too trusting. I should have remembered that once you give a "creegie", (an abbreviation of the German word for POW); an inch, he would take a mile. We used to!
On one fine day I decided to take run to Bournemouth and on the spur of the moment took the head man with me on the pillion but we had barely done a couple of miles when the bike went into a violent, almost uncontrollable wriggle on a bend which resulted in us being thrown onto the verge, on the wrong side of the road, somewhat shaken, when the back wheel locked up!
When had got our breath back it did not take long to find the cause of the trouble. A loose back wheel which had caused the wheel to go out of alignment and the chain to jump the sprocket! That had also upset the brake control but it was soon put right and the outing was abandoned. There was some more sorting out to do. I was quite adament [sic] that wheel nuts do not loosen themselves and I had already decided that the bike would no longer be cleaned by a particular prisoner and the same person found that he never did get back driving, or for that matter on any other job that might have restored his trade pay. There were no direct accusations but I think everyone was aware just how close `Sir' had been to a very nasty prang. It was just one of the many problems to be sorted out where my charges were concerned and it was not unusual for the local village policeman to be hauling one of my `boys' back into the compound in the early hours of the morning having found him sneaking around the village. It was an open camp after all and my staff was not large enough for anything else. Neither would the administration consider giving me a guard patrol at night so all sorts of things were known to be going on after roll call and lights out and I was obliged to turn a blind eye to such goings on provided that nothing desperate occurred. It was impossible to stop the forces of nature and if some of the local lasses preferred the company of German prisoners then that was their affair.
Another problem concerning the motor-bike nearly deprived me of it when I received a letter from an H.P. company advising me that the machine was the subject of an H.P. agreement between them and a third party and as Dorothy had opened the letter at home it really caused a storm in a tea cup!. The bike was costing me about four months pay on an
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H.P. agreement with another company! In the end it was not difficult to sort out. I threatened to sue the dealer that I had got the bike from and told the first H.P. company that the bike theoretically belonged to another HP company and then let them sort it out so in the end the bike remained in my possession.
It very nearly got bent on another occasion when a group of about five of us who had motor-bikes, (including the medical officer), went out for an evening's tour of the local area which included a few stops for [underlined] light [/underlined] refreshment. Perhaps that was what caused a little excess speed as we swept into a bend, line astern, with the Doc. in the lead, but he couldn't quite make it round the bend. Off the road he went whilst the rest of us made our own arrangements to keep control and come to a stop as the Doc. disappeared up someone's garden path. When we had turned around and investigated there was the Doc. bike and all, extracting himself from a flower bed. There was no real damage done except for the loss of an area of skin from his knee and a hole in his best trousers.
The lady of the house had just come out to see what all the commotion was about and seeing a pranged person discharging a quantity of blood on her path asked if she should get a doctor and with great solemnity the Doc. said, “thank you madam, I am a Doctor but I would very much like a cup of tea", so we all got tea and patched him up althoughfor [sic] some reason we did not indulge in that sort of escapade again.
Our little camp matured and blossomed and I thought that it was enterprising of the inmates to have achieved some colour in the place when flower borders appeared. I put it down to the generosity of the locals until I had a telephone call from a retired Colonel living in a pleasant old Victorian house next to the compound. It didn't take long to find out from a visit and a couple of sherry's that as our our flower beds blossomed his had thinned out. Actually he was very reasonable about it for a man with a name like his. It was BASTARD, so I naturally pronounced it Bas-tard, to be put well and truly in my place when he insisted that it was BASTARD by name and BASTARD by nature; but his bark was worse than his bite.
It was all simply resolved by the return and replanting of most of his plants and by the allocation of a regular POW gardener to him for two half days a week. Couldn't be fairer than that! We benefited from the deal as there was no further need to raid his garden. We apparently just appropriated surplus plants from his greenhouse!
I had a few days leave after our first daughter was born only to find on return that there had been a near mutiny among the prisoners when someone had upset their comfortable routine.
I had made arrangements that whilst I was away the Duty Officer would include certain daily checks that would normally have been done only at week-ends when I was not there. It had all been resolved by the time I got back but it had resulted from the actions of one officer, himself an ex POW, deciding that they should have a taste of what he had been subjected to resulting in numerous restrictions, parades and roll calls. Nothing too drastic but quite unnecessary in the circumstances when they were safe in the knowledge that all they had to do was behave themselves and repatriation was certain. The net result was that they had refused to go to work until the status quo had been restored. Just to show them that they were not going to get it all their own way I imposed a fine of one week's pay for everyone although it really need not have happened. It subsequently turned out that the officer concerned had been in Stalag X111b and V11a with me and we continually bumped into each other at various units over the following years but that's another story.
One highlight was our camp concert. News had been filtering through of the closing down of the whole station so I thought we should do something special without thinking too much about what the implications were for me, like what, when, where? so after a tentative enquiry the repatriation authorities suggested that if it did happen then my lot might well be
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moved up the repatriation schedule rather than re-locate them. I thought it wise to leek [sic] this information to them to act as an incentive to good behaviour and it did not take long to get things going. I did very little except to beg, borrow and scrounge stuff for them, including instruments and did not even vet scripts or attend rehearsals. I left that to my two Warrant Officers. It would have been a useless exercise anyway.
When the show was finally presented, the CO. and other Senior officers who had been invited seemed to enjoy themselves anyway although I suspect that many of the jokes were at our expense. Nevertheless, they all laughed in the right places; as I did, even if we did not fully understand what was being said. It was an interesting experience and there were no repercussions although their [sic] was an air of excitement creeping into our daily lives as this particular element of the vanquished Africa Corp. considered the pending return to their homes, or what was left of them, and as for me. What next?
About that period I was in the Mess one lunch-time when a noisy visiting aircrew were attracting a great deal of attention in the foyer and my eyes lighted on one of them. None other than Macdonalds Flight Engineer of my Stirling days, 'Paddy' Martin, now in the rank of Fg.Off, but we only managed a few minutes chat before they were all boarding a crew coach with I suspect, a little more than just their lunch on board, going out to their aircraft which was a Mk.V. Stirling no less.
When we met up again umpteen years later he swore that we had never met on such an occasion; but then he also swore that he had never attended my wedding in 1944 until I produced a photograph to prove that he did. The last information that he could recall of me was that `Tommy' Gamble had got the "chop" early in 1945. Close--very close, but not quite.
One very interesting event took place just about that time. A Courts Martial came up. That of a case of alleged rape of a WAAF by an aircrew Warrant Officer, and I found myself sitting with the court as one of the officers under instruction. All part of the training scheme.
The WO had engaged the services of a K.C. barrister whilst the prosecution had produced a relatively inexperienced officer, not of the legal profession, who had just been detailed for the job and the case lasted two days during which time I studied the form very carefully as it customary for anyone to be detailed for such jobs; either for defence or prosecution and my only experience of court procedure was in my youth when I had appeared before the magistrates for some minor cycling offence and this was very different.
We were in fact treated to some of the finest court arguments that it has ever been my privilege to witness as the barrister ripped the evidence of the prosecution to shreds in the most expert fashion and the case was not proven. It made me feel very uncomfortable to think that one day I might be detailed for such a job and find myself in the same invidious position as that unfortunate prosecuting officer so at that point I made two resolutions. One, to keep my head down when they were looking for someone to make a fool of himself in a court room, and Two, to dissuade anyone from accepting my services should I be so detailed. Needless to say, after it was all wrapped up I think we were all rather pleased to put our medals back into storage.
I then became heavily involved in the arrangements for the Squadron's move to Lyneham and followed the normal procedure of working with the RTO (Military Rail Transport Office) to move the remainder of the personnel that were not flying or going by road but when I submitted my part of the planned move of the movement order to the Station Commander he was not impressed and instructed me to cancel them and arrange for a fleet of coaches so that the move could be accomplished, taking a third of the time and with the bonus that the Squadrons would be non-operational for only a very short period. It made sense and having cancelled the RTO arrangements they were no longer concerned so I duly hired the coaches through a Christchurch firm and all went well. Shortly after the aircraft departed the
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transport baggage train convoy followed and a silence descended as the airfield was closed to active flying.
In due course the bill arrived for several hundred pounds and I passed it through accounts for payment thinking no more about it until an irate Group Accountant Officer came on the phone demanding to know why we had not used the RTO for transport and who had arranged it all. My insides went into a turmoil of panic as I thought of the consequences and the effect that it would have on my already overstrained finances particularly after he said that it was all very irregular and that he would send the bill personally to me for payment. That's when I dug my heels in and pointed out in no uncertain terms that it was the Group Captain's (who was no longer in command); decision and I had only carried out his instructions then the line cooled a little when he said he ought to send it to him instead.
In hindsight I suspect that he felt that he had to make a fuss under the circumstances but I think I chewed my fingernails down to nothing whilst I waited for the outcome. Thankfully I never did hear any more.
Meanwhile there was the problem of the shrinking station. I had been absorbed into the station HQ for all manner of duties and then in a twinkling of an eye I was unit Adjutant with a Squadron Leader CO. With all that on my shoulders it was time to place the full responsibility for the POW's onto the WO's. The senior was placed in charge and as the camp medical centre had already been closed I re-opened it and transferred the prisoners to it from the dispersed site which was closed. As far as their conditions were concerned they were now positively luxurious with all that a complete medical centre had to offer including constant hot water and a superb kitchen. That got them off of my back whilst I tackled the deluge of responsibilities that came my way.
We soon compressed the unit administration into one HQ building as bit by bit activities closed down and brought their own problems and although certain posts were disestablished there were some that had to remain and most of them fell into my lap. Almost every day another crop of posting notices arrived and more people were on there way leaving behind various duties for which they had been responsible and the one quick way was to concentrate that responsibility into the hands of some-one who would discharge the final act to terminate the job. With only a few officers left and with myself being one of the nominated seven to stay I would go so far as to suggest that I got more than my share being the junior officer.
All non-public accounts were concentrated under one control; mine, and although the monies were at the bank by the time I had collected seven accounts to the value of several thousand pounds I was beginning to feel somewhat uneasy particularly as I was delving into the mysteries of double entry book-keeping. There was more burning the midnight oil to study to try and work it all out and I tried desperately to take it in my stride without admitting that I knew very little about it in the first place. Now what would a Secondary schoolboy trained as a carpenter and subsequently a Wireless Operator/Gunner know about such things? Fortunately there was only one active account and although they all had to be audited by the accountant officer monthly who certified the balances I must have done it correctly as there were never any problems.
It was inevitable that among the various hats I was wearing I became the M.T. officer but only as the nominal head of the section which was as usual ably run by an experienced senior NCO. But the Air Force had this thing that only a commissioned officer could take the can back for anything that went wrong and I barely had time to sign for everything that I had become responsible for as it was so most of it was done tounge [sic] in cheek and fingers crossed. I had already crossed that bridge when I was at Lyneham so it was nothing new.
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One of the jobs for early elimination was that of Entertainments Officer as it was not an on-going thing but then it occurred to me that one of the accounts that I was managing was the PSI fund which was particularly healthy. The PSI fund is the equivalent of a Regimental Fund which when all was finally wound up would have any balance transferred to Group accounts. But it could be used for financing other projects-provided that it was not drained and I could not think of anything better than the concentration of the best of our remaining local talents into a final farewell party. It didn't take long to find someone to mastermind the production side and I developed it into a two hour music hall programme with some very accomplished and enthusiastic people. The hall was laid out along the lines of a German beer cellar with barrels of free beer being dispensed by real German waiters (my POW's) in white aprons in the time honoured fashion with free food laid on as well.
Maybe I pushed my luck a little but as I was also in charge of the few remaining service policemen I issued instructions to keep it cool with further orders to the POW's to the effect that none of them were to fall down until they had completed their jobs as barmen, cleaners and general handymen. As far as I know none of them did but no doubt because I was so heavily involved I could not have seen to everything and towards the end I was not far from falling down myself. I do know that when I did my rounds in the morning everything was back in place and cleaned up. If there had been any bad behaviour or punch-ups there was no evidence of it and the cells were empty. All I had to do after that was pay the bills but that was one hell of a party'
As the unit continued to thin out even more business came my way including the dreaded inventories and by that time I had already received the outcome of the Lyneham enquiry so although I was a bit peeved about it I felt safe in the knowledge that having started up my POW inventory from scratch it was a model of correctness from the time I opened it up. Nevertheless I was more than peeved when I found that I was required to take over dozens of depleted inventories from departing people and transfer the stocks to one holding inventory.
A job like that can only be done with a mountain of vouchers and although I tried to get the hard pressed storemen to do it internally I found myself stuck with it but it involved a lot of work including stock taking before taking some of them over. I had learned my lesson!
Numerous problems arose of course. Like the occasion when a bicycle found in the village pond was brought in by the local policeman. Identified by it's [sic] serial number the books showed that it had already been written off so no more paperwork was required. It was consigned to the scrap dump which was yet another of my responsibilities.
Naturally there was a lot of useful scrap in the yard as well as the rubbish and it was my job to see that a contract was let to a local merchant whose outgoing loads had to be inspected and approved by me at the Guard room and the price agreed on a signed invoice which went to the accountant officer who subsequently collected the money. It was all done according to the regulations so it was with some surprise that on one of my tours of the airfield I investigated the contents of a large packing case in the area of the old bomb dump. I found that it contained a brand new, still sealed, Wright Cyclone aero engine with American markings that had obviously been left behind by the USAAF prior to `D' Day.
Perhaps it was too innocent but at that time it seemed that my biggest problem was how to get rid of it as it was definitely not on charge. It was a completely surplus item until enquiries through the supply people resolved it. You simply took such an item on charge by filling in the appropriate vouchers and once it's on the books that's it. You can then transfer it so Engine, Aero, Wright Cyclone, Mk. ?, serial no. ? Port, One, was dealt with and I thought that was the end of it. Within an hour of having it picked up and conveyed to stores the scrap contractor was knocking at my door. He claimed that he had `discovered' same, but had not said anything to me whilst he was looking for a home for it, which he had only just done.
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I have often wondered if [sic] would really have known-anything about it's departure as according to him he had found someone running a one man airline with a Dakota who could have done with a spare engine and £500 was the price he was going to put to me but it was too late. (and hard luck Freddie Laker!). I certainly could have made use of that sort of money at that time and I might have been tempted but as the RAF was still using Dakota's it no doubt found it's way into one of them at a later date. There was never such another lucrative opportunity but there was no time to cry over spilt milk either. I was up to my ears in stores vouchers and posting notices as I had become the Personnel Officer again as the unit got smaller by the day and we got nearer our dead-line date. Then the time came when the POW's were warned to be ready.
When the day finally came there was no ceremony. All the hand shaking had been done before they were paraded. There was just a quick salute and "goodbye and good luck". That was that. Some of them had been receiving mail via the Red Cross and they had had access to UK newspapers so they knew what to expect. Those who had lost touch with family for various reasons did not have a lot to celebrate knowing that they were going back to a land that had been ravaged by a war that had destroyed so much. I knew what it was like; I had seen it, so there was no cheering and I was glad to see the back of them. As they marched off there was one thought that struck me that the WO's had not mentioned; the radio that I had been permitted to purchase on their behalf had not been handed back and I had to account for it. It was "Halt, about turn" and it didn't take long to find it when I told them that it had to be returned, even if they missed their train. One of them had it under his greatcoat!!!
It didn't take long to clear up the paper work after they had left then it was nose to the grindstone again as the next major job had to be attended to. That was the disposal of all non-public assets, mainly PSI funded, that had already been collected and an inventory drawn up which I then had to dispose of by public auction for which I engaged a firm of auctioneers. In all the book value was just over a thousand pounds and shortly before the sale which had been advertised I had a visit from a retired Air Commodore representing the Bournmouth [sic] Branch of the Royal Air Force Association who was prepared to make a cash offer for the whole lot at half the book value. I managed to negotiate the addition of the auctioneers fee if it was acceptable. It seemed a good deal to me but when I put the idea to the Group Accountant he was horrified. Oh dear no! It was most irregular and the regulations stated quite plainly that it had to go to auction so despite considerable pleading and argument he had the final word. Whilst my sympathies were with the Air Commodore and the RAFA there was nothing I could do about except apologise to him and let the sale go ahead.
I did not attend the auction and was quite happy to leave it in the capable hands of the experts but subsequently when I got the proceeds, less commission and handling fees it did not amount to much more than £100 for the lot! I was hot foot down to their offices for explanation but it was all above board although the receipts showed that most items had been knocked down at quite ridiculously low prices but I did find out that a certain Air Commodore had been in attendance and he and his cronies had done most of the bidding. As far as I was concerned the RAFA had got the stuff much cheaper than they would have done by private sale although I had a sneaking feeling that a certain Group Accountant was not going to be very happy so I obtained a complete breakdown of the sale prices and the purchasers before I left their office. Just as well. When the Group Accountant did spot it it really did 'hit the fan'. The line was red hot as we discussed the pro's and cons and it was perhaps my suggestion that in hindsight we should have accepted the cash offer in the first place. That brought forth accusations of collusion and conspiracy. That did it. I was on a short fuse anyway flogging my guts out and with more than my fair share of responsibility and there he was, up in his ivory tower counting paper money so I let him have facts and figures, not forgetting to point out that I was after all a lowly GD(General Duties) Flying Officer doing my best in a job that
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I had received absolutely no training for. Then he simmered down, huffing and puffing, "it's still all very irregular". I began to get somewhat fed up with Admin duties that was for sure but had no option but to "press on".
Fortunately the unit accountant had been the Accountant Officer at Chedburgh when I was there in 1943 and only dealt with the day to day financial matters at Holmsley but knew enough of our experiences there at the time was very sympathetic and supportive and assured me that the Group A.O. was only making waves in case anything went seriously wrong and he got the blame for it so I learned a few more lessons about human nature. He was very helpful in many ways.
On one occasion he arrived at the office from Lyndhurst on his scooter and related the story of how he had just seen a pig clouted by a car down the road and how it had finished up head first in a ditch looking very dead. The driver had not stopped and obviously would not be reporting it as the bye-laws of the New Forest gave right of way to animals. But `headfirst' sounded good to me. I don't know if it was the 'creegie' still in me or just the thought of all that good meat going to waste but in no time at all I had a two ton truck and two kitchen hands with carving knives on board scorching down the road where we spotted the animal, still headfirst and no longer bleeding. Many people must have passed it and there no doubt in my mind that if it was left a great deal of fresh meat would go to waste even if the owner of the animal were to be found within the next few hours so we cruised pat [sic] the corpse and cruised back again keeping a good look-out in both directions. As we came up to it there was nothing in sight arid within a matter of seconds it was on board and we were off. It certainly supplemented our rations for a few days and I had no qualms about my action which were quite illegal and would have caused a few embarrassing headlines if the law had been tested.
Fortunately for me it never was.
The unit finally dwindled to three officers and a handful of airmen and we all finished up in a large house that had been the CO's official residence. I claimed an enormous room, en-suite, as I was the only one living in so I had a little luxury that compensated to a degree for the enormous amount of paperwork that was involved. Even moving has it's problems like decommissioning this that and the other, re-arranging the staff, and getting phones transferred as we no longer needed a switchboard. I was still doing about 16 hours a day to keep on top of the work so that I could have my week-ends free to get through to Worthing when a bombshell arrived in the form of a posting notice detaching me to Hereford, on an [underlined] Admin course!!!! [/underlined]
At the time I thought that perhaps my career was being advanced by that development so I didn't make a fuss although the duration of the course was three weeks. I [sic] would mean nearly a month without visiting home as it was too far on the bike and too expensive by train. My fellow officers thought it would do me good to take the course so I was off.
Perhaps I would have benefited from it if it had not been a course specifically designed for young aircrew officers to teach them the inner workings of the Air Force although at first I decided to go along with it. Within a few days I came to the conclusion that it was not for the likes of me who was actually doing such work. It seemed more of a disciplinary course to occupy idle hands and mine had been far from idle for a long time. I became more and more resentful as the days went by as I was shown how to use a rifle and a pistol and a Sten gun and engage in all manner of field craft including escape and evasion techniques which involved crawling around in long wet grass which at one point I strongly objected to only to be told that I might find the experience useful one day! What does one say to that? Matey, I've done it, and a fat lot of good it was when in the end I was surrounded and had a Schmeisser stuck up my nose. It didn't cut any ice. Then there was all the drill and parade procedures which were not entirely new to me either although I can understand the needs of some who for some reason didn't know one end of a rifle from the other and were
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somewhat unwilling to pull triggers and throw grenades. I wondered what they had been doing in their very limited careers!
The classroom work was mainly forms, forms and more forms and their use therof [sic] as well as stores procedures and of other things like how to write letters, command structure and a lot of other stuff that was old hat. By the end of the first week I was fuming I was not learning anything new and there was a lot of work piling up at Holmsley just waiting for me to deal with. Only the most essential would be dealt with by the others and I could visualise many hours of binding graft before I was likely to have broken the back of it.
I must confess that my attitude toward the course as we started the second week was not going unnoticed by the course commander who quite naturally took me aside to point out the error of my ways. That is when the real reason for the course was confirmed. Not only was it intended for surplus aircrew officers to find something for them to do but it definitely was a disciplinary course as well so I was being assessed accordingly--------and I was not doing very well! It seemed that we had gone back in time to "Yours is not to reason why etc" and I had had enough of that as an airman. For a start I wondered why I had been sent on such a course anyway so I promptly made a request to phone my parent Group HQ `P' Staff which brought forth howls of indignant protest. Despite the fact that I was normally in touch with the chap on an almost daily basis I was told in no uncertain terms that such lowly types as myself were not allowed to communicate direct with the higher echelons. It was only the prerogative of senior officers to the `top brass' and that is what I was on the course to learn about. As far as I was concerned it was utter nonsense and I had serious doubts regarding the background experience of this Flight Lieutenant of the A & SD (Admin & Special Duties) Branch who seemed unaware that the `top brass' were only people like ourselves holding staff appointments. Not only that, a lot of them were like myself of the GD (General Duties-Flying) Branch. Expected to do anything that was thrown at them------including flying!
Suitably chastised I was dismissed with threats of extra orderly officer duties and the inclusion of some appropriate remarks on my course and confidential report so I simmered down a bit as I waited for an opportunity to use his phone whilst he was out of his office a few days later. There all hell let loose when he suddenly burst in, very angry and rightfully indignant at the audacity etc, etc, at performing, in his eyes, an almost criminal act. Not that I was unduly worried as by that time I had already done what I set out to do and the threats went over my head.
Within four hours a signal arrived from Transport Command HQ. recalling me to my unit urgently and naturally I was called to his office immediately to have the signal waived under my nose. "Explain this!!!! So I did, in detail that he had not been prepared to listen to previously and I think he understood my action even if he could not approve of the manner in which I had dealt with it. As far as I was concerned I was off the damn silly course and I was on my way.
As soon as I returned to base I plunged into a mountain of paper work and after two days and nights of frenzied activity I came out on top ready for a long week-end at home.
During that burst of activity there was an unannounced staff visit from Group HQ and all the visitors could find was one junior officer slaving away, whilst the others were out hunting, shooting and fishing around the area and that put the cat among the pigeons. That and my absence for nearly two weeks seemed to solve the problem of the numerous delays that occurred in the closing down procedure. Hence a snap visit! And although I could only explain the absence of the others by saying they were on tours of inspection, when they did turn up there was a lot of muttering behind closed doors and I was only too happy to bury myself in paper again.
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A few more weeks went by until at last we were run right down to a C & M (Care & Maintenance) party. At last I had got my head above water and I could relax a little-----but not for long.
A telephone call from Group, followed by a posting notice gave me advance warning of my posting to Oakington in Cambridgeshire for --------Admin duties, to report in a few days time, but as far as I was concerned, not before I had another long week-end at home. After just thirty months I was a bit of a stranger at home, especially to the baby but I felt that something had to be sacrificed if there was any chance that I could make a career out of the Air Force. At least, I thought, Oakington is a well established station so I should slip into the same sort of job that I had done at Lyneham without any hassle. I had had enough challenges for a while-------but I had overlooked the fact that so had Lyneham been well established and what a mess that had been in. There was more to come.
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[underlined] CHAPTER THREE [/underlined]
The journey up to Oakington was nearly a disaster. After a few days at home I set off on the motor bike on a cold and frosty morning, Loaded to the hilt, wearing full flying kit over my uniform and greatcoat which included a bright yellow immersion suit and flying boots, helmet, goggles and gloves, looking like something from outer space but warm and well protected I had just cleared the London area when the front of a blizzard caught up with me and my speed was drastically reduced to a few miles an hour with my feet stuck out like out-riggers to prevent me sliding all over the place and in those conditions I pressed on until I got to Baldock.
By that time there was between three and four inches of virgin snow covering everything and every sensible traveller had got off of the road. There was very little other traffic so I ventured down the hill very slowly with my aching legs still propping up the bike and found myself gaining on the only other vehicle in sight which was a fairly high standing two ton truck, and I was desperately trying to slow down when suddenly the truck driver braked and slithered along fishtailing to a stop. I knew that my brakes were not going to stop me as I slid gently towards the back-end of the truck and when it quite obvious that the tailboard hinges were going to spread my face I took the only option open to me. I flipped the bike on it's side and went underneath. It was just as well the truck had a good ground clearance as I went right underneath the back axle and came out between the front and rear wheels with my tail in the gutter. The driver had obviously been completely unaware of the incident as within seconds of my coming to rest he started to move off, with my front wheel right underneath his rear wheel so I reached out and pushed on the truck wheel and the bike and I slid out just enough to avoid serious damage to the bike. The truck wheel just squashed over the front number plate and mudguard and then he was gone before I could get my breath back. There was not another vehicle in sight and the only other person around was an elderly lady, who might well have been the cause of the drivers urgent braking; who, observing the situation, was concerned enough to ask if I had had an accident!! What she thought I was doing there, laying in the gutter with a motor-bike I don't know but I think that I said something suitably facetious as she tottered off and I started to sort myself out.
I was very glad that I was wearing so much gear rather than having tried to pack it. I was not even bruised and apart from a slightly bent number plate and tip of the mudguard there was no other damage to the bike but it took a while before I recovered sufficiently to get going again getting more than a little concerned as it had started to snow quite heavily. However, with traffic clear roads I was able to make progress and eventually outran the weather front, coming out completely in the clear and completing the last ten miles completely free of snow. Oh, blessed relief…..until I ran out of petrol just in sight of the camp!! I had overlooked the fact that I had been using it up at a much higher rate than normal doing so many miles in low gears. Fortunately an Air Ministry Works Dept truck came along and with the aid of a length of rope I was gently towed the rest of the way. After an eight hour journey I had at made it to Oakington and I was only too glad to book into the Mess and leave the arrival formalities until the following day. A bath, a change of clothes and a meal and early to bed made all the difference.
I soon found that the job was to be the same as Lyneham and I was looking forward to free-wheeling for a while until I met the C.O. I could hardly believe my ears after the introduction. "Ah" he said, "you are the very man I have been waiting far. My Central Registry and internal communications are in a bit of a mess and I'm told that you the man to fix things. The last chap couldn't sort things out and I've got rid of him so off you go and get stuck in". Oh no........not again!
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The only consolation was that my previous efforts seem to have been recognised and that maybe, just maybe, I might be able to find a career in the Secretarial Branch ultimately as I always seemed to be sorting out jobs that Secretarial types had made a cock-up of; so off I went and "got stuck in". There was no-one to take over from so once again I started from scratch: At least there was not the panic to get things squared up and the routine work went smoothly enough whilst I conducted a searching enquiry into the main problem that I had been instructed to sort out.
At that time my own personal problems needed sorting out as well. Now that I was a family man the household at Worthing was getting a bit crowded particularly since Dorothy's brother-in-law had at last been de-mobbed after being abroad with the 8th Army for four years and there was family expected in that direction. I was frantically looking around for suitable accommodation and although official quarters for married personnel was beginning to come back on the scene the points system that determined one's entitlement suggested that it was going to be a long time before I qualified for one. I was just one of millions of people who were desperately trying to re-settle and in need of accommodation. The story was invariably the same when one enquired. "Sorry, no children" and it all added to the frustration.
Eventually I did find a place just to the North of Cambridge on the Huntingdon road and plans were made although I must confess that I did not tell Dorothy the exact arrangement of the accommodation. The kitchen was in the basement. The living room was on the ground floor. The bathroom was on the second floor and the bedroom on the third floor! I didn't dare, but I hired a car and drove down to Worthing in a clear gap in the weather pattern that the Met. Man assured me would last a couple of days.
Apart from the occasional sortie in the Flight pick-up van when I had been at Newmarket two years previously I had never taken a car on the public highway before but I don't think that I gave it a second thought. The family needed something picked up from near Leighton Buzzard `on the way' which created a fair sized `dog-leg' but did give me a few more miles to come to terms with my lack of experience, and it avoided London so somehow I made it to Worthing.
Travelling by car those days was generally a fairly slow business as there were few major roads that allowed high speed cruising and one just plodded on but there was no time to mess about as we loaded up the car the following morning and off we went, having arranged that the pram, fully loaded, was to follow by rail. There were tears on our departure and I think that perhaps the most ironic thing was the remark from my sister-in-law that there was no need to worry as "Alan was a good driver" and that we would be OK. I don't know what gave her that impression. Little did they know, but I had managed 200 miles without any problem......so what was another 140! The journey was not uneventful! That would have been too much to ask for.
The hire car had been a reluctant starter at the very outset but we had got as far as Kingston when in the dip under the railway by the station the engine packed up and so did the battery. Not the best place to fizzle out but eventually we were pulled clear and towed to a garage a little further up where I purchased a new battery and we were an our way again. The fact that the cost of the battery had to come off the hire fee did not please the hire firm when the car was returned but a compromise was eventually reached. The main thing was that we had taken up residence in a place of our own for the very first time and much to my surprise Dorothy accepted the arrangement of the flat although we soon made alternative plans to avoid going right to the top of the house to a cold bedroom as I had already installed a convertible settee in the living room. That was soon put to use.
The met. Man's forecast was absolutely spot on. The day after we arrived the weather that had been expected hit us with a vengeance when about a foot of snow fell. The basement back door was unusable with a drift of snow filling the door well right to the top and massive
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drifts along the road due to cross winds were up to six feet-high. Cars were already stuck. It was impossible to get the bike out from the bottom of the garden and a colleague who lived in the same building joined me in walking to camp across country. It was a long way and our situation was not improved when we came to the edge of the airfield and in making a direct approach to a gate he disappeared through the snow cover up to his neck in a ditch but we made it in the end. I'm glad it was him in the lead as he was nearly a foot taller than me. I would have completely disappeared!
We struggled back home in the late afternoon as life on the station virtually came to a standstill. There was no flying and with more snow forecast the whole airfield was blanketed although an energetic but useless snow clearing operation was initiated which at least kept us warm. There was a slight spell of thawing when some areas of the road went a bit slushy but then a `deep freeze' hit the whole area and everything was locked up solid. People got to and from work the best way they could. The main Cambridge to Huntingdon road was impassable due to buried frozen in vehicles. The C.O. issued an order of the day allowing any type of clothing to be worn to cope with the extreme weather and we just battled on from day to day. At home of course there was no central heating but fires just had to be kept going on the fuel supplies I had stocked up although it was difficult to get at and it was supplemented with anything else that was to hand but it thawed and froze alternatively for weeks before a general thaw finally set in and vehicles could be released from their icy cocoons, many totally ruined. The A604 (now the A14) was still difficult to negotiate through ridges and ruts of ice well into March.
Meanwhile I had had all the time I needed to complete my survey and draw up my plans accordingly. I placed a brief outline of my proposals before the C.O. and although he gave me cart-blanche to get on with an added word of warning such as "cock it up and you will follow the last chap" so I worked my way right through the plan once more to look for problems before drafting the final order. Meanwhile, I had collected two more responsibilities. The Post Office as Postmaster and that of Mess Secretary which meant that more of my precious time would be used up but the day came when the plan that I had circulated to all users was put into effect and on that day there was absolutely no problem with it's introduction. I had expected some hick-ups but it all worked like a charm.
I decentralised the Registry to cut down the appalling wasteful duplication of just about everything that was going in and out. That in itself was causing delays and was a self generated work load. New index cards and registers were brought into use and the system updated to ensure that files were booked back in as well as out! As daft as it may seem that had not been the case so files could wander around between people and departments and the Registry had no knowledge of the whereabouts of a file if it was not in it's cabinet. I have often wondered what 'mastermind' had set all that up in the first place as it certainly did not conform to the Manual of Office Administration. However, new index cards and registers were brought into use and when it got under way the staff had no difficulty in handling the new system so within days a few sub-registry's became redundant and number of active filing cabinets was reduced from twenty to four, all cross referenced to the old registry. The bumbling circulation of paper was at last reduced to manageable proportions. The C.O. spent less time than he had done previously handling his daily correspondence and when I found that too many people were now sitting around doing little more than making tea a quick establishment review reduced the number of Registry clerks from ten to four. It made my life a little easier too as long as I didn't collect too many other jobs on the strength of my success.
I was certain by this time that it could only do me good as far as my confidential report was concerned. I had already applied for and been granted two extentions [sic] of service that had taken me beyond my normal discharge date and that's, as far as I was concerned, was what it was all about if I was going to be noticed. Any ambitions that I had at that time were
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mainly concerned with holding on to a relatively well paid job as a lot of my school chums were not finding 'civvy street' all that easy. I had no other qualifications other that of cabinet maker/polisher, [underlined] lapsed, [/underlined] and wireless operator, almost lapsed, so I just hung on to what I had got.
Like a good many of my age group and background, politics were not my strong point but it was not long before there was an awareness. Some very odd things were happening. The first post-war elections had shaken a lot of people when our remarkable war-time leader's party had been rejected for a different administration with an overwhelming majority. It did not make sense to me but the daily routine had to go just the same although some very subtle changes were taking place. Naturally I was shielded from a lot of it by being in the Armed Forces but it was difficult not to notice what was going an as the main effort was being channelled into `Nationalisation'! That meant roads, rail, steel coal, electricity, road transport, health care and a lot more that was in the pipeline. It was one of the great bloodless revolutions of the age. It was of course jobs for the `boys', the party members, who were often elevated to manage their previous employers businesses for the benefit of the state. History will show whether it worked or not but a lot of new ideas were filtering into the Forces.
One of those was the formation of a Station Committee made up representatives of all ranks from all departments, elected by ballot and not by appointment, which was to sit weekly to air grievances, discuss working arrangements and conditions and in fact anything other than pay, appointments and promotion. The unit Commander chaired the committee but thank God he had the power of veto and most commanders voiced their indignation at having their time wasted with such nonsense. Like mine did when he was on his way to such a meeting at which I was to take the minutes. "Come on Gamble; lets get along to this bloody silly union meeting". What a funny way to run a military establishment. It was a complete turnaround from the normal well established command structure and had all the ingredients to undermine discipline. It did little more than waste time but I had the distinct feeling that the tail was beginning to wag the dog!
I ran into a union problem sooner than I expected when we had two steward posts in the Mess disestablished. The disestablishment notice came straight out of the blue and the Mess Manager and I agreed that we would could [sic] do without the two least useful members of the staff who were duly served notice. Immediately there was a great deal of protest about being contrary to trades union practice etc, and that their representatives would be taking up the policy of disestablishing jobs without union consultation as well as giving notice to people to terminate their employment without the same consultation.
I turned a blind eye to it all but within a few hours I had a trade union rep. From Cambridge breathing heavily in my ear and telling me that I couldn't do it. That was red rag to a bull so I dismissed him with a flea in his ear but it was not over. A few hours later a chap from an Air Ministry department for civil relations or something was on the phone telling me that I couldn't do it, and quoted chapter and verse from the newly drawn up trade union rule book so I had no choice but to bow to that although I insisted that I had it in writing. Meanwhile the two men were re-instated as we were forced to apply the last in first out rule. As far as I was concerned it still was not over. Two could play that game.
I got hold of a copy of the union rule book and studied it at great length with the Mess Manager before we took our next step. Within a few days two people got their cards by reason of incompetence. (They had had plenty of verbal warnings over a period of time, and a written one as soon as they had been re-employed)......and immediately afterwards the two men that we wanted to keep were re-instated. Of course, there were immediate screams of protest from the union officials so I invited them to a face to face confrontation with both the Mess Manager and myself where they used every argument they could accusing us of `collusion',
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`unfair treatment' and `victimisation', but what they couldn't say was that it was illegal. It was right out of their own rule book but I was never entirely comfortable about the incident but I was damned if I was going to be told who and who not I could employ in certain circumstances. I quickly briefed the C.O. in case of repercussions but nothing further came of it.
It was about that time another incredibly wasteful practice came to light more or less by accident.
We were continually being exhorted to use less stationary and in particular duplicating paper and I had already done quite a lot to reduce the consumption by the registry arrangements. I had followed it up by reducing the supply to sub units and at the same time allocating more to the central registry for printing on behalf of the sub units although every job had to be vetted by my chief clerk. That had helped but we were still going through our allocation rather quickly and as H.M. Stationary Office were not always prepared to meet supplementary demands WE had to do something about it. WE equals ME in those circumstances as it fell into my lap once more as unit commanders complained to the Senior Admin Officer that they were being starved of certain stationary items. It was just about that time that Bourne, on the Cambridge to St.Neots road, for-which we were the parent unit, was in the late stages of closing down so I went over to see if they had anything in the stationary line that would be of any use to us. What I found was an Alladins cave as the stationary store was opened for me!.
There was an assortment of exotic stuff like the pale blue embossed pre-war paper for the exclusive use of unit commanders. Beautifully bound ledgers, some indexed. Note books, log books and all kinds of stuff that must have accumulated over a long period. It was stuff that if you were to order any of it in the present conditions you would be very lucky to have got any of it without putting up a special case. I was bugg eyed and it did not take long to transfer that lot to a three tonner and convey it to Oakington. Our stationary cupboard had to be re-arranged with the assistance of most of my staff and re-stocked until it was virtually bulging at the seams... ...and I held the key and a newly drawn up stock book!!
I think that I know how it was all accumulated. The same half yearly demand must have gone in as regular as clockwork irrespective of stocks but times were changing and so were the figures that showed that the Air Force was using even more paper per flying hour than ever before but no-one could say Oakington was not doing it's bit although there were still some items that we were short of so I phoned H.M. Stationary Office and did a deal. I don't think such a thing had ever happened before. There was a lot of huffing and puffing and expressions of "highly irregular" but they went along with it. We sent them a large packing case of what I considered was surplus to our requirements in exchange for a supplementary issue of items we were in urgent need of and everyone was happy but I just wondered how often that sort of wastefulness had been repeated by the hundreds of other units up and down the country during the war when every commodity was so precious to us and had often cost lives to import the raw materials. It was mind boggling.
Bit by bit life became a little more regulated although it was never without it's share of excitement and on occasions I even managed to tour around various other parts of the station including the airfield and the aircraft; Dakota's no less! It was not long after the snow and ice cleared and things started to warm up that the unsettled conditions usually associated with the end of April brought some savage weather including the most violent thunderstorms that I have only ever seen on one other occasion since.
In the late morning the sky darkened by degrees until it became as black as night and the wind increased by the minute to the point where it started to howl with the most savage gusts.....and then the rain came! It slashed and swirled and in no time all the roads were like rivers as the drains overloaded and I stood in my office window at the front of the HQ
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building thinking how lucky I was that I was not out in it. Anyone with any sense had taken cover and as I contemplated the violence of the storm I was astonished to see the striped pole barrier in front of the Guard Room suddenly whip into the vertical, snap off like a matchstick and disappear over the building. It occurred to me that that would be a job I would have to see to when the storm abated when the little Austin Seven which was parked outside and had been rocking about as each gust hit it; suddenly flipped on it's side. Oh well, I thought that can wait too.......then the phone rang.
Above a great deal of noise on the line an almost hysterical WAAF in the Post Office blurted out "please come at once sir, the roof has blown off”. My first reaction was "S..." but I had no choice so out I went, splashing my way through about four inches of water and was soaked in a matter of seconds. The Post Office looked a sorry sight minus it's roof which lay, completely wrecked, not far away but the poor girls were more concerned with the fact that as they had just set up the counter for business the contents of their trays had been sucked up, following the roof, and had been deposited far and wide. I don't remember having any lunch that day.
The clerks gathered up all the rest of their Post Office stocks and set up a temporary post room in the WAAF quarters and then I locked the place up! That was a laugh. I felt that I had to do that as only a week before I had had new mortice locks fitted and the safe securely embedded in brickwork. All that and now the place was roofless!
Although the clerks had set up the post room just inside the WAAF quarters they initially used the laundry room for sorting out their stock. A few telephone calls got some search parties organised as well as a broadcast on the PA system and before long some very soggy money and postal orders started coming in. It was rinsed, dried and ironed much to the amusement of all concerned but the amazing thing was that when I called off the search there was only one ten shilling (50p) postal order missing. When the inspectors arrived from Cambridge GPO (General Post Office) towards the end of the day they were agreeably surprised that that was all they had to write off after seeing the state of the Post Office. We were all somewhat relieved at that. I made may report to the C.O. later and followed up with a load of repair work including the barrier pole in front of the Guard Room.
I thought that was enough for one day until I got home. Dorothy had had her share as well. The downpour had filled up a balcony outside a full length window of one of the other flats and she had spent a lot of time baling out the balcony to stop the flow into the room whilst the storm was raging. We were both very relieved when that day was over.
Eventually things settled down as the year wore on and we experienced a most beautiful summer. Life in Cambridge with it's wonderful buildings and activities made life very interesting. Even the baby indulged us by winning first prize in a baby competition but as far as the job was concerned with most of the problems ironed out it was almost boring, but a great opportunity to develope [sic] family life to the full. Again it was too good to last!
I was asked to report to Transport Command HQ at Teddington, Middlesex for a job I [sic] interview and I was sure that the business was opening up for me. Out of the four candidates for the job I was offered it and I accepted. It was in the "P" Staff (Personnel) dept of the HQ so before long I was wrapping up and making the necessary arrangements to move the family. Although Teddington was not too far away Dorothy felt that she did not want to be on her own and preferred to go back to Worthing with her parents; [underlined] particularly as we had just found out that there was another addition to the family on the way! [/underlined] In hindsight it was a pity that we gave up the flat. I'm sure that we could have coped but Teddington was also convenient for Worthing but we settled for that.
The C.O. gave me the opportunity of nominating a suitable relief so a friend who was the Operation Wing Adjutant was acceptable and so it was goodbye Oakington. Here we go again!
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One or more pages is missing, apparently pages 24 – 86
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EXTRACT FROM
[underlined] NIL DESPERANUM…… [/underlined] OR
IF YOU CAN’T TAKE A JOKE ………
[underlined] BY [/underlined]
[underlined] A. GAMBLE [/underlined]
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knock. Pay awards had for some time been based on a flat rate rather than a percentage increase and the differential between ranks had closed up considerably. I now found that a Warrant Officer aircrew was in fact was in fact better off than a Flight Lieutenant!, which did not make a lot of sense. My situation was not improved by the Wolsley's rather extravagant use of oil and petrol and it eventually ran a big-end on the A5 just North of Birmingham on the way home one week-end so I didn't make it. Fortunately I had relatives at West Bromwich so I was able to stay with them until I could pick the car up in sufficient time to get back Sunday evening. That made another nasty hole in the accounts!.
That little episode put paid to a few week-ends at home. There was no-one at that time living anywhere around or on route that I could share with so I was obliged to stay in the mess with others in a similar state, although we often filled up a car and toured into Wales for a day to fill in the time.
A friend kindly offered me the use of his motor bike to go home one week-end and although it was only a clapped out 250cc side valve BSA I thought it was worth a try. That was a laugh and a half.
I dressed up in a selection of flying gear that I had with me and I was off into the wide blue yonder. I mounted the thing and kicked it into life and the first thing that was obviously wrong was the throttle which had a mind of it's own. I was not the sort of chap who could tolerate sloppy machinery so a quick investigation soon found that the top of the carburettor needed screwing back on and with a few other adjustments I set off. Before I had got to the main gate I was obliged to totter down to the MT yard to have the tyres inflated by as much as 20lbs both front and rear and then I was under way. Even then I was not feeling too happy about the machine. There were unpleasant noises from the engine and the first few bends caused the most peculiar sensations so another pit stop to tighten the head and forks dampers was taken. They had been very very loose and being forks with dampers gives some indication of it's great age. I was still feeling my way with it when I had to put the brakes on rather briskly when the lights went against me in Wellington and the back wheel locked up throwing me into
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gutter. Another pit stop to adjust primary and main chains and brake linkage was necessary before I could head East again. I very nearly threw my hand in then but surprisingly I found myself jogging along quite comfortably at between 45 and 50 but with still an ear tuned to the knocking from the engine until a convenient garage came in sight and it seemed an appropriate time to stop as there were signs of overheating. This is a bit of an understatement as she was almost red hot 'pinging' with excess heat. Whilst it was cooling down I dipped the oil tank and couldn't find a level so it took nearly two pints to top it up, then it was cool enough to change the spark plug and reset the points before the final test. I had so far done about 60 miles in three hours and it was decision time as I gingerly started up and carefully took off once more.
After a few more miles all was well so I decided to go for broke and head for home at speeds between 50 and 60 and finally arrived at Marham some 7 hours after departure much to the surprise of the rest of the family.
The return journey on Sunday took less than 4 hours so at breakfast on Monday morning I was able to tell the owner of the bike that all was well and I hope he didn’t mind that I had found it necessary to make a few adjustments which he was quite happy about.
He did not seem quite so happy later on that evening when he came into the bar with plasters on his face and a bandage on his hand. Before I could [inserted] say [/inserted] anything he hurled at me "you and your bloody adjustments", but laughed as he said it before telling that me what it was all about. Apparently, being so used to the machine that he had allowed to get so sloppy and gutless he had attempted to drive off in his usual way but it reared up, tore across a rose bed and threw him in another one!. Nevertheless, he was very impressed with the way it performed when he had got used to it so when the word got around I finished up with a few more machines to tinker with to keep me occupied.
The fastest I ever did that journey one way was 30 minutes. In a Canberra!. I was being 'dined out' at Marham and the aircraft was laid on for me one Friday afternoon. The pilot was the co-pilot of my last 90 Squadron crew and he showed Shawbury a few thing…and me. It was the: first time I had
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ever done a 'rotation' take-off although I had seen one or two demonstrated....I think I left my stomach on the runway when shortly after the kick up the backside by the tremendous acceleration he pulled it up almost vertical like a rocket and kept going until we got to around 10,000ft before levelling out and setting course for Marham. I was very impressed with that for an old bomber man who was more used to 500ft a minute climb hanging on the props with everything shaking and thundering. The return journey was done on the Monday morning a little more gently in an Oxford.
By that time a second course was running and another friend who had been an instructor on the Marham training Squadron had joined the course on transfer. He lived at Feltwell and was prepared to divert through Marham for a share of the running costs so until the end of the course that eased the burden a bit but as the course was nearing it's end like everyone else I was concerned to know about my posting. There was nothing notified so I was still hoping for a return to Marham but when the course results were made known after the final exams I was not pleased. Never mind about Marham...what what about Egypt?.
There was no point in making a fuss, one just had to accept those things so most of my embarkation leave was taken up settling the family back in Worthing as there was no way that I would be getting quarters out there in the 61 days after my effective posting to the Middle East and they would be obliged to move after that anyway.
I sailed on the RAF troopship Empire Ken out of Southampton in the Summer of 1954 and there were times that I wished I had taken up one of the jobs that I had been offered in Shell distribution.
I was the only one that had got an overseas posting and apparently it was almost unheard of. Overseas units usually wanted controllers with a bit of experience behind them but there I was, posted to the main terminal for the Canal Zone; Fayed. The only consolation was that it would be more or less in the centre of things and not stuck half way up a Wadi.
I soon found my sea legs and how to cope with bar prices which in today's money was less than 5p a double but it was the heat that took a lot of handling. The ship had canvas ducting to
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direct air down to the lower troop decks but it was ghastly even then and the troops, including Waafs used to have to come up on deck in shifts for a breather but it was one of those situations that could only be enjoyed for that period of time. With temperatures well over 100deg. the minute you went down below you started oozing again and just had to wait for the next turn on deck. The ship had never been built for that sort of climate anyway otherwise it might have had a more sophisticated ventilation system. The Empire Ken was a German ship built in the Blomm and Voss yards at Hamburg which we had taken as part of the war reparations and was more suited to the Baltic or the North Sea. I had had enough of it by the time the journey was finished anyway. We stopped at Algiers and subsequently arrived at Port Said to exchange sweaty discomfort for smelly and sweaty discomfort. It took a bit of getting used to. After disembarkation and sorting out of paperwork I was on my way by bus down the canal road wondering if I would ever get used to it with persperation [sic] pouring off me from top to bottom and to experience the further delights of the dust, flies, heat and smells of the Land of the Pharoes [sic] . Two minutes of that and I was quite willing to let them have it back!. At last I understood why my father used to get so incenced [sic] about flies. He had done it all both in India and Egypt many years before. My main concern was that I was entering a new phase of my career with a difference; as a Branch Officer, ie, Air Traffic Control, and no longer General Duties(Aircrew) and a dogsbody for a multitude of other jobs. It had been my experience that it had always been very difficult to detail such Branch Officers for extra duties, especially when they were so often shift workers and there were many units that maintained a 24 hour Air Traffic Control service. Fayed was one of them!.
Some of the most serious of local troubles in the Canal Zone had simmered down a bit and it was a lot safer than it had been a year earlier with the political unrest, mainly caused by the fact that there were elements in Egypt that wanted us out and Egypt for the Egyptions [sic] . They were talking, we were talking with an eye on the security of our oil supplies and trade routes through the Suez Canal. It was obvious that we were not going to give that up without favourable agreements after what it
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had cost us during the war in terms of blood sweat and tears.
So there I was. Arrival one day and to work the next although it was three weeks before I went on a solo watch after 'on the job training'; testing and certification. It was relatively simple and so was the set up. It was all very crude and temporary and had not changed a lot since the war but surprisingly enough it all worked efficiently albeit with the need for considerable local knowledge which was to be expected.
Fayed was the terminal for the Canal Zone with fighter airfields and other units to the North and the South and operated 24 hours a day with four short range Transport Squadrons that went out on scheduled flights in all directions, calling at Khartoum, Aden, Habbanyia (Iraq), Cyprus, Malta etc, with staging posts in between. It was a busy place. Fayed even supplied the neccesary [sic] control for the Great Bitter Lake for any flying boat that happened to be coming through although those services were nominal. In addition it was a staging post for the long haul types on the routes to and from the Far East. Our facilities were limited to VHF (Very High Frequency) and HF (High Frequency) direction finders and radio beacons and the airfield lighting was all lashed up stuff that had been modified to signal an alarm if any part became disconnected which had become necessary to discourage the natives from stealing the wire for it's copper content. Another discouragement was an anti-aircraft searchlight and a Bren gun on the roof of the control tower!.
The domestic and technical sites were separated from the airfield by being totally ringed in barbed wire and the access tracks leading from the airfield had wheeled barbed wire fences drawn across from sunset to sunrise as aircraft went in and out. It needed a small army to man the wire as well as an armed, mobile lighting repair squad standing by.
Air Traffic Control staff manned our searchlight and the gun and the searchlight generator was run at all times during the hours of darkness and I recall the night we used them with a vengeance.
The look-out reported movement on the airfield but I could not see much more than moving shadows through the glasses so it was "searchlight on" and on it came with a sizzling crackle as the switch was thrown. I could still see only vague shapes
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about 300 yards out from the tower in the reflection of the intense reflecting blaze of light, the man on the gun had already cocked it so I gave the order to fire. He loosed off a complete clip [inserted] s [/inserted] after which things seemed to have changed a bit so everything was put back to stand-by as the mobile patrol was ready to go out through the wire.
They very soon reported that we now had a dead camel on the airfield although it was clear of the runway and the question was; what to do next?. The Air Traffic Control course had not covered situations like that!. A quick call to the duty Engineering Officer produced a bulldozer and a working party to bury the thing but the problem did not go away for a long time. Every night for the next week the wild dogs uncovered it, and every day we covered it up again until eventually nature took it's normal course and there was no longer a meal to be had for the scavengers.
Although Married Quarters were available I went on to a very long list so I just settled down to sweating it out. In more ways than one. The Control Tower did not have the luxury of air conditioning and at the height of the day it was stifling with a shade temperature well over 100deg. One of the great delights of the night shift was to be able to sit outside on the roof of the Met. Office at about 3 o'clock in the morning when the temperature was down to about 70deg!, but that only lasted for about an hour before the sun zoomed up over the horizon.
Just as I thought that I could concentrate on being an Air Traffic Controller I was appointed Station Fire Officer and no sooner than I had mastered that I got loaded with another job but it all helped to pass the time anyway. Somehow I found time to qualify as a Desert Rescue Land Rover driver and then I figured that was enough as I devoted any other spare time to photography and accumulated my own processing equipment and soon found that my services were in great demand as the local processing was ghastly.
The photo processing did not start until I moved out of tented accommodation which was three months of absolute misery. Trying to sleep in a tent during the heat of the day after a night shift was virtually impossible.
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The permanent accommodation was limited so it was into a tent first and then wait your turn but sand seemed to get into everything despite the cat-walks laid on the sand. The bed feet stood in the usual pools of paraffin in boot polish tins to stop the creepy crawlies from invading the bed and mosquito nets, were hung from the ridge. I don't think I ever slept more than three hours at a time in those conditions before waking up absolutely soaked in persperation [sic] . The only thing to do then was to get up and shower; not that that did much good.
The water tanks were on the roof of the ablution block so they heated up well during the course of the day and never really cooled down but the best time to get a cold shower was normally between 4 & 5 in the morning!.
At least it was a happy unit. The rest of the controllers and staff made the best of it. Some of the controllers I already knew as well as some of the aircrew who I had met previously either at Marham or other units. One delightful character was a Czech who had been war-time RAF and had returned to his homeland to reach the rank of Air Commodore in the Czech Air Force until the political climate of the country had forced him to leave it. As a result he had rejoined the RAF as an Air Traffic Controller and was back to Flying Officer!. Nevertheless we all got on well and I found that copying his routine provided some limited relief from the heat.
Having completed the first few hours of sleep it was off to the Officers Club on the edge of Lake Timsa by bus equipped among other things with a sheet. At least it was possible to emerse [sic] one's-self in water even if it was in the eighties, wrap up in a wet sheet in the shade of a rush 'basha' and achieve a few more hours sleep until the evaporation process was complete and the 'cooking' process started again. Then it was back to camp to get ready for the night shift again. That was just part of the routine. It was all that happened within the routine that made life interesting.
I had been there a few months when I had two aircraft inbound from the UK. One a Hastings, the other a Canberra and just before their arrival a violent dust storm blew up. These could happen at any time given certain conditions and rising sand can make flying very dodgy. I just managed to get the Canberra in before
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visibility dropped to near zero and then the VHF direction finder went on the blink so I had to pull out a few stops after suggesting an indefinite holding or a diversion to Cyprus. The pilot was not keen on either and finally opted for a non-standard let-down using the H/F direction finder co-operating with his Wireless Op. and pilot together. It worked and he got down just about the time that the pilot of the Canberra had worked his way though Ops. and came up to the control room to find out what had happened to his baggage aircraft!
There were very few people that could have fixed up that sort of thing and it was of course the one and only 'Black Mac-The China Bull', on his way to take over command of Habbanyia, (Iraq). When we came face to face in the control room he was his usual bad mannered self. His comment of "I might have bloody well known it" was no more than one would have expected from him. As if it was my fault that a sand storm had blown up!. Had it occurred to me from the details on the flight plan that it was him I would definitely diverted him to Cyprus!. As it happened he only refuelled and fed and was off again after I had gone off duty. I thought that would be the last I would see of him but I was wrong.
Then we had a very interesting fire. Some damn fool army signals bloke exploded a primus stove by using the wrong fuel when brewing up so off went the fire party supplimented [sic] by the Army fire service and between them threw enough water at the signals hut to put out the fire but a lot of it drained away down the conduits in which the whole of the zone's land lines were trunked and out went the lot.
I could not get to the scene as I was duty controller and as all our mains facilities had failed all the stops had to be pulled out again to keep things moving. Going on to standby battery operated equipment I handled Approach control as best I could with no D/F facilities and the Senior Controller handled local traffic from the cockpit of a Valetta aircraft sitting on the tarmac not far from the control tower. Fortunately the weather was fine and all worked well with co-operation of the pilots who were able to carry out visual procedures.
The outcome of the enquiry was typical. The Fire Service, and that meant me; got half of the blame for the failure of all
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the radio, teleprinter, telephone and land lines!.
I got all the blame as the result of another enquiry that had taken place at Marham after I had left and I was kindly sent a copy of the findings. Shortly after leaving they could not find a Secret file although I know of no reason why it had not been in the cabinet if it had not been booked out. After my experience with registries I had been punctilious with the Secret Registry that had been under my direct control as well as the handling of the Top Secret files that always went in and out of the Wingco's office under sealed cover, and as far I recall everything had been handed over according to the laid down procedures. Nevertheless they could not find the handing over certificate, (I wish I had kept a copy), and I had to take responsibilty [sic] for the loss. I was a bit peeved at that. I had not been asked to give evidence even though the certificate would have been in the files now under the control of the bloke I had handed over to it seemed that the only avenue left was to appeal. After some thought I decided just to acknowledge receipt of the findings but with a very strong protest. After all, they couldn't shoot me for it!.
By this time the political infiltration into service life had almost died out and most things had returned to near normal as far as there is any normality in the forces. One just pressed on but at times one's shoulders had to be very broad to carry the load and it helped to have a thick skin as well!. At least there was the satisfaction that it would not last for ever. A lot of control was being passed back to the Egyptians and customs officials were getting very busy at Port Said placing import and export duty on almost all personal goods plus insistance [sic] on area Air Traffic Control by their services with a suggestion of imposing the same controls at Fayed. So far they had not been given access to Fayed but when they were we were very likely to have been deprived of one of our most advantages 'perks'.
We had a weekly 'training flight' to Malta locally known as the Whisky run which picked up supplies from a bonded warehouse and Fayed then acted as distribution agent for other units. The net result of that was that, as an example, a bottle of Whisky was 8s. 6d. in old money in the Mess. 42 pencel and
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cheaper than the Naafi who were obliged to make some declaration and payment to the Egyptian Government.
As a result of my involvement with the fire service I requested a Fire Officers course in the UK which I thought would kill two birds with one stone. It did not work so I took my accumulated [underlined] local [/underlined] leave with an itinerary of a round robin tour of the Middle East and hopped on the Whisky run to Malta and thence BEA to the UK. returning by the same process. At least I had 10 days at home with the family and then the misery started all over again.
There was still little hope of Married quarters but I kept a very close eye on the comings and goings.
Among the names that appeared on the list was that of the chap who had been the Station Adjutant at Marham, just one position below me, stationed somewhere in the zone at a Maintenance Unit. We met up on one occasion at Ismalia as I did with a number of people who had been at Marham with me. At one time there seven of us at Fayed. I had even met up with a long lost cousin who was in the Army at another unit so in one way and another occupied myself as time went by. What it must have been for my army cousin before the war I dread to think. He was in the ranks then when a tour of overseas duty was five years without family or home leave. I don't think I could have even contemplated it, but then perhaps neither did he when he signed on. After pre-war service in the Middle East and also a survivor of the Dunkirk withdrawal he was certainly earning his pension the hard way.
Being a shift worker gave me the opportunity to get away from the place on numerous 'flying' visits. Trips to Khartoum and Cyprus were fairly easy to arrange and I planned to go further East sometime when the opportunity arose.
Another advantage of Fayed was that it was the centre of all entertainment schedules. All visiting shows started off in our open air theatre/cinema and they could be sure of a critical audience too. It was usually packed to capacity and I enjoyed some of the very best shows on the circuit and had the priviledge [sic] of meeting many of the stars of those days when they were entertained in the Mess. Many are still around today. There was Harry Secombe, Lena Horne, Arthur English, Tommy Trinder
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(who got himself lost out on Lake Timsa in a small sailing boat), Ted Ray, Terry Thomas, to name but a few and it was there that Tesse O'Shea got one of her biggest laughs ever. The stage really did collapse and Two Ton Tesse had to be dragged out from underneath, still laughing. On the other hand there were turns that were not received so well. If Fayed didn't like them they knew it but it would be unkind to mention names. They tried and some of them are no longer with us.
In due course the Egyptian Air Force took over some of the zone fighter bases having been trained by British instructors at other airfields near Cairo and I began to wonder what sort of fun and games those instructors must have had in the process if the sort of flying that they were doing was anything to go by.
They seemed to put a great deal of effort into their flying but there never seemed to be such practical value in it if the commotion that went on at their nearest airfield was anything to go by.
I was on duty on one occasion when it became obvious that they were expecting an aircraft when all the ground radio checks started and in due course we heard the pilot calling Almaza (near Cairo), for back bearings every two or three minutes until he was obviously about half way when he started calling his destination.
The result was dead silence as the pilot called again and again with mounting urgency in his voice. He seemed so desperate that I chipped in and offered assistance as my D/F operator had been passing me his bearings anyway. The offer was accepted although it took some time before he was able to identify who was calling him and the rest was simple. He was homed to overhead us, descended to a lower height with instructions to steer a given heading for a number of minutes and he would find his destination which he did and despite his frantic calls to his destination we never did hear their control. Not even when he asked for landing clearance or when he reported landed!.
What all the fuss was about I do not know. It was only a 70 mile flight and a few minutes in what we identified as a Meteor when he came overhead. The sky was 100% blue with the Suez canal right under his nose a few miles from his destination so I can
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only think that he was a bit worried at missing it and getting lost in the Sinai desert. Later on we had a liaison visit from some of their controllers who had in fact been trained by International Air Radio and they were not backward in boasting about all the sophisticated equipment that they had. It was met with a diplomatic h'm, no comment. It was a pity that they did not know how to use it!. A lot of their questions were directed to where our radar unit was, suggesting that we had hidden it prior to their visit. That was time for some discreet tapping on the side of the nose. Radar!, we should be so lucky. I found out later that before I had arrived there had been a small final approach radar for evaluation but it had moved on somewhere. Despite the fact that there was liaison it was only one way and we could not get a visit to their unit. They were very mysterious and conspirital [sic] . They said that their bases were secret and it was very difficult to keep a straight face at that. We had even built them!.
Eventually they worked up their fighter units to the North and South of us and one day they decided to do a mass formation flight of about 30 aircaft [sic] up and down the canal. I wish I had recorded that R/T pantomime somehow although I suppose they were ding [sic] their best with limited training and experience.
The two formations never did get together as one. There was total confusion about heights, and everyone tried to talk at the same time when at one time they found that the two sub formations were on a collision course at the same height and then it was "break, break, break", and every man for himself. It was absolute pandemonium. All that in bright blue skies without a cloud in sight and the line of the canal and the lakes to navigate by. It was something to think about!.
No doubt they improved later on with practice and experience but I have often wondered how the Russians got on with them when they decided to re-arm with Russian equipment and of course, Russian instructors as well. They could not have found it easy by any standards.
Another serious Air Traffic matter came to light purely by chance shortly after had [sic] been appointed as Deputy Senior Controller. A lot of our inbound flights from the UK were chartered company aircraft, although at Malta the company livery was painted out
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and the crew changed uniforms and aircraft call-signs to become RAF. All very clever!. So we had a selection of those, RAF Yorks, Beverly's, Viscounts etc, both inbound and outbound. They were normally cleared by Cairo Delta control from Alexandria, descending and transferred to us but I was a bit concerned when more than one pilot reckoned they should report a confliction after they had been transferred, and even more so when I asked what traffic information they had been given. The answer was always nil so for about a week I asked all pilots to complete a questionaire [sic] relative to the hand over procedure and when it was complete the results of my investigation went through the Senior Controller and Operations. It resulted in some discreet enquiries with the Egyptian Ministry of aviation and a liaison visit by the Senior Controller and some rapid changes in prcedure [sic] . Many a pilot complained subsequently about the extra Easterly drag from Alex. to Port Said under airways control before being cleared to descend on the final leg to us. Little did they know that previously they had been descending blindly across three air routes out of Cairo. Phew.!.
There was an interesting situation early one evening when dust storms blew up unexpectedly around Cairo. I was only aware of it by listening to the one-sided R/T conversation but it was obvious that Cairo's controllers were getting in a bit of a 'tizzy' and some BOAC pilots were getting angry. They did not seem to be able to get an accurate weather report or saisfactory [sic] holding instructions and there was mention of diverting to Nicosia until one ex RAF BOAC pilot remembered us and gave us a call. Having checked our weather he then requested diversion facilities which Operations approved he was on his way, followed by another and another until we had accepted six until Ops. said "enough" before we were swamped.
It was a lovely collection. Constellations. Super Connie's, DC4's and Argonauts of BOAC, Air India, Air Italia, and SAA came swooping in and discharged about 300 passengers into the passenger lounge. They were not too happy about being limited to the reception area with an obvious presence of Service Police but the pilots were pleased enough when they came up to the control later to file their flight plans when Cairo had cleared.
It was just as well that I had had time to look up the
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regulations for charging landing fees, a subject that had not received much attention on the ATC course. Nevertheless, we got it sorted out and charged the grand total of £300. I could not repeat what some of the pilots said about Cairo control but it seemed to be about the same standard as Niarobi [sic] was at that time from what I was told.
In similar circumstances about that time a BOAC pilot had stood off at Nairobi and had taken control from the air to let down five others and himself when the controllers had actually lost control of the situation. I thought our training had been a bit rough and ready but I suppose that the fact that most of our controllers were ex aircrew was in our favour. We had grown up with it whilst other emerging nations were just finding their feet.
I had been in Egypt about nine months before I was allocated Married Quarters. It was a hiring on the canal road close to the officers club, and then the process of calling forward the family started.
The day after it was allocated it was reallocated to the chap who was just below me on the list on the strength of two extra points he had claimed by virtue of detachments overseas from Marham. (Returning B.29's to America he claimed). No way; I knew those regulations inside out and it didn't count so the 'phone lines were red hot before that got sorted out. There was no way that I was going to lose the [underlined] last [/underlined] allocation in the zone by default, not to that chap. (He was the one that knocked me off the greasy pole at Marham). He was not amused.
Everything was eventually worked out for the transportation of my family except for the date and then there was a dock strike at home which put thing back for several more agonising weeks. Meanwhile the quarter was being officially sub-let to another officer who in fact spent the best part of three months in it before my family eventually arrived at Port Said on an Army troopship, the S.S. Lancashire from Liverpool. There was only one snag. When they were half way across the Med. I got posted!. I think someone was using his influence-and putting the boot in.
I was stunned as I was required go to Amman in Jordan as soon as possible. When I protested pointing out that my family were
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half way across the Med. the answer was that they could easily wait in transit in the zone until I was-settled or they could take the next troopship back to the UK!. I really was getting the treatment!. I did eventually get a few days deferment by virtue of going sick, to hold me over until they arrived.
That put paid to any idea I had of taking them all on a visit to Cairo and the Pyramids. I had waited a year for the opportunity and it had slipped through my fingers.
There was great excitement when I met my wife and two daughters at Port Said and after the arrival formalities were completed we boarded the bus for Fayid via Ismalia down the canal road to be dropped off at the bungalow which was complete with a native servant who understood practically no English but understood the requirement and had been recommended. He was a glossy black Sudanese resplendent in galabere and tarboosh and displayed a permanent broad smile. He was a treasure. The girls did not quite know what to make of him at first but he was efficient as was unobtrusive. He made it plain the kitchen was his domain and Madam was not allowed in it. That suited us alright as there was not a lot time to get used to paraffin cooker, lamps and even paraffin fridge.
Of course my wife did not know just how much time she had until we had all settled in and I asked her if she knew where Amman was. Of course she did; in Jordan, but it wiped the smile off of everyone's face, including Abdul when they were told that we were off there in less than a week. Abdul cheered up a bit when I gave him a full month's pay and a reference and he looked after us well whilst I was busy about arranging passage to Amman. Of couse [sic] , it was too much to ask that it would be straightforward.. First of all my wife said she didn't want to fly but since the only alternative was camel she did not have much choice. Then all the deep sea baggage had to be chased up with some urgency from Port Said and then Air Movements insisted that it all be repacked as the size of the boxes were in excess of Air Freight dimensions. It was a good thing that I knew a few people in the right places and a compromise was reached where it could stay as it was. We finally went on a mixed freighter passenger flight in a Valetta. The Gamble special only had one other airman passenger on board and had to go via
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Aquaba and in fact overflew Amman to another of our bases at Mafraq.
Prior to our departure signals had been going to and fro' asking when I would arrive and in answer to one inquiry one confirmed that suitable accommodation was available and eventually when all of our baggage and boxes were unloaded we were bussed to Amman, about 35 mls away to make another new home. On arrival and after refreshments I reported to the Adjutant.
I was optimistic about what had been provided for us but knowing my luck I was not really surprised either when contrary to my expectations I found there was absolutely nothing. True they knew I was coming, but not with a family. There were no quarters available or accomodation [sic] other than by private arrangement plus the fact that as it was Friday and it was a Bank Holiday week-end nothing could be done until Tuesday. I nearly went spare. What had all the rush been about, etc, so I went to see the Accountant Officer, changed some money, drew some more and decided that I would have the Bank Holiday off as well since I could claim three days in transit at the expense of the Air Force so off we went to a hotel in the city and we had a good weekend familiarising ourselves with the area and a new currency. All I had done on the day of arrival was sign in so on the first working day I reported in and started the arrival procedure. All went well until I reported to the Senior Controller who actually accused me of being absent without leave when he found out that I had arrived on Friday. He was under the impression that I should have reported to him in the first place as he could have put me to work. It is not the best way to start a new job with a flaming great row with the boss but a flaming great row there was.
Obviously they had coped despite the alledged [sic] shortage of staff because he had not even known when I was due to arrive and I could not have just slipped into the routine without some preliminary training and certification. No allowance was made for my domestic circumstances and then whilst I started to absorb the local set-up another bombshell arrived. Air Headquarters Middle East at Habbanyia having received confirmation of my arrival signalled to the effect that I should have reported to that HQ for posting as required as they wanted me down in
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the Persian Gulf, and I was instructed to proceed accordingly. Then I really did blow my top!.
I had already found alternative accomodation [sic] ; more or less in the native quarter on Jebel Hashiem as the hotel was straining the finances somewhat, but at least it-was convenient for the base and the girls were about to start school. In [sic] was still scouting around for something better. I was not in a very good mood by the time I had worked my way through the Adjutant, Senior Admin. Officer and Wing Cdr. Admin. to the Station Commander for a showdown. At least he was sympathetic enough to listen to my greivance [sic] which I followed up with threats of resigning my commission there and then. Pretty strong stuff but a lengthy signal to AHQ produced the desired answer and I was at last allowed to get down to work with a bit more security than I had had for a long time. I don't think I was ever forgiven though for stirring things up for a change instead of accepting what was thrown in my direction. I was beginning to wish that I had transferred to the Secretarial Branch after all if that was a fore-taste of what could be expected in the future. Little did I know.
I found Amman very interesting. It was a joint Military and Civil International Airport with control exercised by the RAF. That included a locally based RAF fighter Squadron with Venoms, communication aircraft and Search and Rescue helicopter. The Royal Jordanian Air Force with Vampires. RAF transit traffic, two resident civil airlines and scheduled BOAC Argonaughts from London to Barhrein [sic] via Beruit [sic] on Monday's returning later in the week. Somehow that seemed more civilised as the crew always brought UK Sunday newspapers in for us when they brought their flight plans in. We had three parking aprons. One civil, one Jordanian Air Force and one RAF. Our facilities were the basics that I had been used to at Fayed plus; the Radar!. The very one that had been at Fayed, had gone to Cyprus and thence to Amman. It was a non standard equipment for the RAF which had received little more than a mention on the ATC course and on which in due course all Amman controllers were to be locally trained. And before you could say 'Bingo' I was appointed the Station Fire Officer as well!.
Within a matter of weeks I had found a more desirable residence
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on Jebel Taj nearer the city and things started to settle down. We soon got used to the amplified sounds from the mezzine calling the faithful to prayer....at 6 am!. it was better than an alarm clock. One could not possibly have slept through it. Not even on a day off and as I was still shift working it was inconvenient at times. However, we were comfortable and happy in our new accomodation [sic] and there were English families living around us so we did not feel as cut off as we had been before.
The new landlord was a Palestinian originally from Haifa and he and his family were very kind. They all spoke very good English and helped us with learning enough Arabic to get by on the buses and in the shops. In fact it was too easy to get lazy in learning Arabic as most people could speak English. It was the second language in all the schools.
The camp swimming pool was one of our main attractions and it was situated near the control tower. In fact when on duty I could look down on it which made it a little frustrating on those steaming days when the temperature in the 'glasshouse' was well over 100deg. and the family had come in by bus to make the most of those cooling waters.
A lot of people had written home to the tourist departments of their town halls to get posters of their favourite sea-side resort so it was not long before Worthing was also advertised on the fence. A little bit of home and of course that usually designated one's favourite spot in the area around the pool.
It was quite a small pool so sessions had to be allocated to prevent overcrowding and it was not unusual for members of the Jordanian Royal family to be mixed up with the officers families. When King Hussein flew as he did often being a pilot in his own right he insisted on going through the motions like any other pilot. He climbed the steps and presented his own flight plan for approval. and he was of course very pro-British. His army was to a great extent British financed and controlled through General Glub. His air force was similarly controlled and they were very good too having had their basic training in the UK and then finished off locally on Harvards before jet training. His senior Air Force Officer was a seconded Wing Commander and in fact there were quite a lot of secondments
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both Army and Air Force. His stable of racing cars was looked after by an ex Flight Sergeant and several- of his ponies were stabled in our pony club and looked after by us. It all seemed an innocent and comfortable arrangement. It was not always quite so comfortable on occasions when certain factions in his own country and those of neighbouring states would rather that the strongly pro-British monarch was deposed. After all, Jordan was in a peculiar geographical position. The Hashimite [sic] Kingdom of Jordan had been carved out of what used to be Palestine and some of the old Palestine was now Isreal [sic] which had produced something like a million refugees who were virtually stateless persons. The mandate that the British had had for many years had been repealed by the United Nations due to pressure to create the new state of Isreal [sic] after the war. The Arab/Jew conflict had not neccesarily [sic] been made any less of a problem and it was all tied up with the American owned IPC (Iraqi Petroleum Company) oil pipeline between Haifa and the Persian Cuff that dominated military and political thinking. Not that the pipe-line had delivered oil for a long time, but we still had an interest in it.
The King had a very close shave on one occasion when he was returning from Damascus whilst I was on duty. The Wing Cdr. was with him in the Royal De Haviland Dove and they found that they had a couple of Syrian jets on their tail. They produced some very spectacular low flying by all accounts until they were able to make contact with us for back up from anything we had flying in Jordanian air space before they were safe. It was the sort of chance he had to take in those days, even when he only used to fly half-way down the pipe-line towards Bagdad to meet his cousin King Feisal of Iraq at an air-strip on the border. Neither used to file flight plans for that. Both of them used to keep in touch through their own private shortwave radio link.
It was obvious that the senior captain of one of the resident airlines was ex-Luftwaffe by the cut of his coat and the set of his cap. Only the insignia had changed and he was an honourary [sic] member of our Mess!. We swapped a few yarns which ultimately led to the production of our respective log books which confirmed that he was the bloke that had shot up our Stirling very badly
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in October 1943 when we were on our way into Bremen. Our conversation after that provided answers to questions that we both had. Yes, he was flying a jet. An early prototype Me262, and had been scrambled for evaluation, but why had we only received small calibre shots?. The answer to that was sobering. He had used up all his cannon shooting down two other Stirlings...and the records show that three Stirlings of the force had indeed been lost that night, two of them to his guns. I can only thank my lucky stars that he had not been using cannon on us that night!. It did explain the tails of fire we had seen from his back end too. He was somewhat surprised that we had not incurred casualties and that we had in fact returned to base after all the stuff that had flowed back from us after the engagement which had obviously been the leaflets I had thrown out in a great hurry, especially as he had claimed us so badly damaged that we must have finished up in the North Sea as there had been no other crash report.
I was still negotiating for other accommodation as official quarters were still a long way off but before either came up Dorothy had to be hospitalised. She could have gone to Habbanyia or Cyprus to either of the military hospitals but she opted for an operation to be done locally at the RAF's expense in the Italian Hospital in Amman so in she went.
It was all very different from one's normal concept of hospitalisation. It was a private hospital and she did have a private ward. The head surgeon was Italian and the staff were mainly Italian nuns with some Arab cleaning staff. Catering was not normally provided but on this occasion two meals a day were provided under the terms of the contract, mainly rice and eggs. There was only one nun who spoke very limited English and with her very limited Arabic it was a bit of a pantomime. Altogether it was hardly conducive to rapid recovery.
The occupant of another adjacent private ward, a Sheik, spent most of the daylight hours out on the flat roof outside her window with all the accompaniment of a scene from the Arabian Nights. I don't know what was wrong with him but he seemed to end a lot of time trying to cough his lungs up, not that it stopped him smoking his hooka [sic] pipe.
he was well looked after by several retainers who brought him
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various kinds of food, including great bunches of grapes with which he was fed and when this circus was added to by his personal musician with his one string fiddle it was enough to drive anyone mad. That and visiting times in the afternoon for those in the dormitory wards where the sounds and smells of on the spot cooking on primus stoves wafted up were enough to have her out of there as soon as the M.O. would allow, to continue her convalescence at home.
When she was fit enough we moved house again and the process of the final negotiations for the tenancy was yet another pantomime; never to be forgotten.
Some of the locals, particularly the Sheiks, had made a packet out of the British a few years earlier when room was needed for the expansion of the airfield and other areas that were needed for the building of the Married Quarters. I suppose it was just another way of putting money into the country really but it seemed. that the criteria for receiving payment of £1000 for any sort of building on the land purchased was that it should have a door. As a result there had been a brisk trade with carpenters fitting a door to just about anything, and those that could not afford it naturally borrowed the money from the Sheiks at a premium or were forced to sell their property to the Sheiks. One way or another they were the blokes that finished up getting most of the 'ackers' which they had reinvested in properties that they let to the military. It was the process of bargaining and negotiating with these chaps that created another scene out of Arabian Nights. One must understand that bargaining is a way of life out in those parts and that to do business it was common courtesy to respect the fact that when in Rome you do as the Romans do.
One did not do business through agents as such. The only agents were the multitude of small boys who were always wandering about looking for opportunities of exercising their light fingered efforts to pick up something for nothing. A word in the ear of one of those suggesting that you were interested and an appointment would be very quickly fixed up and he would get his reward of a few fils for his trouble from both parties.
It was not the first time that I had gone through the procedure but that particular occasion sticks in my mind. At the appointed
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time we presented ourselves at the flats and were escorted to a plain unfurnished room with just cushions and a low table and then the 'person' arrived resplendent in robes of gold on black over white, with jewelled belt and sash and jewelled knife scabbard plus the butt of a pistol showing from an equally elaborate holster, and greetings were exchanged. With that over he clapped his hands and the glasses of tea appeared and the performance was on. I had been asked to bring my wife with me by one of the boys who turned out to be one of the Sheiks sons who was also acting as interpreter but it was obvious that the request had come from the Sheik. I had already been warned about him. Now the scene was set and his number one wife squatted in the dirt on the other side of the road from the flat. Women did [inserted] not [/inserted] pay [sic] a particularly important part in the routine except to keep an eye on things. No.1 wife's responsibility was managing the household and the other junior wives. So she had taken up her position.
I don't know that Dorothy was particularly happy with the situation as she sat opposite that imposing figure with the classical hooked nose and piercing eyes of the Bedouin. Pleasantries were exchanged with the first glass of tea; revolting stuff to our standards, then the second glass came up and by this time Dorothy was squirming a bit as the Sheik was not slow in examining what he seemed to be part of the deal. He played a bit of footy footy and proceeded to pinch the fleshy parts of her arm that were exposed under her shawl which she was obliged to wear in such circumstances. Their own women were covered in black from head to toe as well as wearing a yashmak. Nevertheless he examined her as if she was a chicken in the market and she winced a bit but stuck it out until the third glass of tea arrived. That was the one you did not finish and it was time to talk business. It was the way things were done and we were obliged to go along with it for about half an hour until we gave him our promise of a decision before the sun had set. We had made the decision before we made our escape from him with the eagle eye. Dorothy did not care to become part of a Hareem as part of the deal or having him inspecting his property too often with an eye to another 'wife' so the message was passed. "No thank you" and we looked elsewhere.
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We eventually rented a flat not far from the camp main gate and I suppose it could be said that it good views. It looked down on the Hadj railway station on the famous line from Damascus through Amman to a point where it fizzled out way down South towards Aquaba. A line that Lawrence of Arabia had played havoc with many years before when the Turks had control of the area. It also looked down on the main Damascus/Amman road and the prison but at least it was convenient. The landlord was the local butcher an [sic] he eventually brought along a young married chap who we were only to willing to take on as 'bearer'. He had never worked anywhere by virtue of being caught up in the net of the homeless refugees in the North but he was willing and learned fast and took no liberties. He found local accomodation [sic] and moved his family for the first ever now that he had a job which allowed him to face the world with a little more dignity instead of being dependent upon United Nations hand-outs.
He was an Abdul and replaced another Abdul who was reputed to have worked for the British Army but we were glad to see the back of him and his dirty habits plus the fact that I had found him drying out his tobacco in the gas oven on one occasion with only one side burner lit to save gas!. His English was also punctuated by a great deal of barrack room language and his final efforts in the kitchen seemed to be designed to feed his family on our left overs made sure that there was plenty for all!. Now the catering was firmly back in Dorothy's hands and Abdul looked after the rest. He needed a bit of training but it was well worth it.
My cousin that had been in Egypt was now down in Aquaba and an arrangement with the Jordanian Air Force brought him up to to [sic] spend a Christmas with us and some time later we flew down to Aquaba in the Kings personal aircraft for a couple of weeks holiday and that was a very interesting period.
Our accommodation was a holiday bungalow on the sea shore that had belonged to General Peake who had given it to the RAF for recreational purposes. It gave me an opportunity of spending more time with my cousin who I had not seen all that often in the past and to visit our limited Air Traffic Control staff and the firemen who manned the landing strip on rotational basis
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from Amman resources. The landing area was just a rolled strip in the wadi that led down almost to the waters edge and even the control cabin was only the cockpit of a Dakota that had crashed there many years before. It was no more than just another link in the chain of landing grounds that served the Army garrison tasked with keeping the peace in the area which they had been trying to do for years.
The geography was historical and had become even-more important since the creation of the State of Isreal[sic] . The Gulf of Aquaba was only three miles wide at the head and the town of Eilat in Isreal [sic] sat on one corner and the border with Egypt only a little further down. Three miles down the other side was the border with Saudi Arabia so it was quite a crossroads.
I suppose it was just my misfortune that a couple of my firemen went on a sight seeing tour whilst I was there and were absent two days as a result of straying into Isreal [sic] . No big diplomatic incident really but the Army did have to exert a little diplomacy to get them back and they were both charged for contravening standing orders. Still, one could laugh off seven days C.C. (confined to camp) in that place; there were few places to go. Anyway, the army dealt with it and I got on with my holiday. I wanted no part of. The weather was supurb [sic] , the bunglalow [sic] was on the waters edge and there was no tide to speak of. Unfortunately the glass bottomed boat that usually provided interesting views of the coral reefs had been damaged and was awaiting repair so we were not able to enjoy that experience.
Some people relate to being on holiday with being able to sleep in late but it was very rare that we were able to do that with the fishermen out in the early morning. Their fishing was accompanied by a succession of bangs resounding across the water. Lazy fishing that; with sticks of dynamite!. Then they netted the stunned fish afterwards. The girls were warned to keep well out of the way when they were close to the shore as obviously they were not all that clever. The dynamite thrower in one boat only had one arm and the girls had learned earlier on in Amman that when told to do things like that it was for a very good reason and they had to react without question. On that previous occasion in Amman we had gone into town on a little shopping expedition and had just reached the main shopping area where
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there seemed to be a lot of people and suddenly the whole crowd erupted as shots rang out, followed by a lot of panic stricken people running in our direction. When I grabbed them and said "run" they did. Hot foot down the road, into the Hotel Continental where we stayed until things had gone quiet before taking a taxi back home. I understood later that day that an order had been issued on camp putting the city out of bounds but then I had not been into camp and knew nothing about the possibility of trouble.
We managed to enjoy ourselves though, just lazing about, swimming, playing board games, reading, listening to London on the short wave overseas service but generally resting up wondering what was going to happen next. Something always did!. One morning we were having coffee out in front of the bungalow when we noticed that a Royal Navy destroyer had dropped anchor about half a mile out and it was not long before a boat with four ratings and a Petty Officer was rowed ashore. They tied up just few yards from us and were loaded with some metal trunking that they started to chip paint from so I figured that they were defaulters given a dirty job to do. Hard luck on the Petty Officer!.
I would have left them to it but there was a geat [sic] deal of lower deck language that was enough to blister the paint off without the use of elbow grease so two little girls had to be hauled out of earshot whilst I ambled across and asked them if they would like some refreshment. They nearly fell over with shock but the P.O. jumped at the opportunity. Beer for him please, anything but beer for the others and what the blue blazes were we doing in such a God forsaken hole and where the hell was he anyway?. He was quite happy to sit in the shade and chat for some time whilst the others chipped away until a winking light from the ship signalled that it was time to return. It had made his day and in the time we had spent chatting I had found out that he knew my brother from his days at HMS Vernon, the torpedo establishment at Portsmouth. It's a small world.
Later on as darkness fell the ship was dressed overall with lights and was an imposing sight out in the Gulf as small craft pIied to and fro' with the garrison Commander and his party to a social function on board. I think they may have stayed
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most of the night if what happened to us is anything to go by.
We had been invited by some Arab neighbours to coffee, cakes and social chat and there had been no mention of conditions outside when darkness fell. We found out as soon as we got outside. Everything was blacked out by rising sand. Not the sort of sand storm with horizontal wind but the sort in which sand is just lifted straight up and deposited somewhere else. We could hardly see our hand in front of our face. If it had not been for our hosts being more familiar with the area I doubt if we could have negotiated the fifty yards between the houses.
We put the shutters up as soon as we got back but it was too late and it took ages to clear the heavy layer of sand that had been deposited over and inside everything which included the beds and the pantry. Just something else to put down to experience. We were well rested by the time we flew back to Amman in an RAF Valetta and as I knew the pilot from Fayed days he kindly circled the ancient and amazing city of Petra virtually hidden in the desert which we would otherwise never have seen, and then it was back to the old routine. Not a dull one by any means. Among my activities I had a taste of some limited radar control on which I was locally trained. I found the process fairly easy to pick up as this was a 'one man band' and the initial pick up was assisted by a built in direction finder system. To an ex aircrew wireless op. it was no problem. It did not take long to become proficient and as the only other qualified controller was leaving I finished up being in charge of the thing and training others, not without some dissapointments [sic] . The Senior Controller, an ex navigator, couldn't cope with it and neither could another, an ex pilot, but enough did become proficient to ensure that there were sufficient people to rotate. It was not all that comfortable stuck out in a metal box at the end of the runway.
That particular radar unit was the one that had done the rounds. At one time it had been at Nicosia before it had been transferred to Fayed and then Amman and the original operator had travelled with it but it could only provide a very limited service and as far as the RAF was concerned it was a 'one-off'. It gave me some useful experience anyway that I made use of later on.
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By that time we had given up the idea of getting back to Egypt for a holiday. Fayed was just about handed over to the Egyptians so we could not get a passage that way and since holidays had to be planned well ahead it didn't seem worth the effort to go the long way around via Cyprus so that was ruled out. Haifa or some similar place was considered before we found that it was again impossible to go direct particularly as we would need a second passport to visit Arab countries and Israel. The tension was very real out there at the time. Even the Naafi could not import any goods that may have been a product of Israel and postings to a place like Amman ruled out anyone of Jewish name or origin.
It was the only place that I had come across where a parade commander was to say "Roman Catholics may fall out" before prayers. That order was usually "Roman Catholics and Jews....". In the end we figured that we would do better just to make the most of our immediate surroundings but we never got to Beruit [sic] or Damascus. Every time we made plans for a long break between shifts or a week-end those places were declared out of bounds.
It did seem as if we were hemmed in although we were in regular contact with neighbouring countries. Even our daily radio checks gave us two way communication with Nicosia and strangely enough Lod in Israel. We thought nothing of it, or of giving bearings to any Israeli aircraft that called us but the Jordanian Air Ministry were very sensitive and suspicious about it so we had to discontinue any contact with Israel.
We had a very interesting experience one afternoon when we were having tea in the flat when there was a shivering shaking sensation. The tea in my cup rippled an [sic] I immediately recalled something that my father had mentioned about his time in India. If in doubt look at the ceiling light, and there it was swinging gently to and fro' and then I knew that what I had felt was an earthquake tremor Dorothy looked at me and asked "why did you kick my chair?" and then nearly fell out of hers when I told her to look at the swinging lamp and the significance of it. It was a very light tremour [sic] really and we understood later that the centre had been around Damascus but there had been no damage.
One real highlight of Amman was my flight in a Venom jet trainer.
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Since my first jet experience in a Canberra I had been itching to have another go. It was not difficult to arrange and away we went into the wide blue yonder. It was the most exhilarating experience. The sky was bright blue well laced with towering cumulus cloud and at 25,000ft I was in my element when control was handed to me in the side by side trainer as I went cloud hopping. I was in my element and I always knew that I had an aptitude for it. I performed all the standard manoeuvres successfully which rather surprised the pilot. Wireless Ops. don't do things like that!, but he changed his mind when I attempted a roll. Then my old problem of disorientation reared it's head again and he had to take control to prevent us hurtling earthwards out of control. He reckoned that with formal training I would have had no real difficulty in becoming a pilot but it was too late for me to change direction at that time.
Our flat overlooked the prison just beyond the main road and an incident there created a lasting impression on Dorothy. I could understand that if conditions in the prison were as crude as those in the hospital then a lot of people went hungry most of the time if family and friends did not bring in food regularly or the inmates had not got the money to pay for it but that's the way it worked. Prison out there was real punishment and the ultimate was to be publicly hung in the city's amptheatre [sic] which were other occasions when the city was out of bounds.
The incident really upset her when some noisy activity started as protests were voiced and then the whole thing escalated rapidly.
There were hundreds of prisoners milling around the courtyard and the guards manning the walls were reinforced by the army. What sparked it off I could not say but there was a sudden crackle of rifle fire and prisoners went down like nine-pins for several minutes. When it stopped the army entered the courtyard and hearded [sic] the frantic mob to one side as dozens of bodies were dragged away and she could no longer watch the scene of such callus [sic] slaughter. She had some very bad dreams for a long while after that.
At last a married quarter became available after some ten months of waiting and moving around and we moved into a very large
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converted hut which many years before had been the Education Section. The original lettering on the doors was still visable [sic] under fresh paintwork. A friend of mind remembers the building from when he was out there in 1937!. However, it was spacious, convenient and comfortable. Just a stone's throw from the Mess and almost overlooking the flat that we had just left. In addition to our own servant who successfully passed his medical we were allocated an official one, shared with another family, so life took on a whole new style.
Typical of course was the fact that very British fire places had been installed but the cooker was still the parafin [sic] job so took our rented gas one with us. The water heater was the most diabolical hazard that I had ever come across. It was oil fired; with a difference!. We had got used to parafin [sic] fridges and cookers so one took such things in one's stride. To fire up the boiler you turned on the fuel to drip onto a metal plate, then set light to it. By turning the fuel tap on and off the plate eventually got hot enough to explode the drips as they fell on the plate and then it could be adjusted to give a series of continuous explosions and presto!, hot water!. A damn dangerous device though and as fire officer I made sure that everyone was reminded regularly of it's dangers. At least it was more civilised than what we had been recently used to. In our first place on Jebel Hasheem we had a bath that had to be filled with buckets of water that had to be heated by other means and the drain hole was positioned above nothing more than a hole in the floor. It was alright until the bath slipped off of the supporting bricks and flooded the floor. Perhaps it was better that way as it slowed down the activities of the toads, whacking great spiders and scorpians [sic] that tended to investigate the invasion of what they considered to be their territory. In the last flat, although new, we had always had trouble with the drains. The worst part being that when there was a blockage in the system. When we flushed everything came up in the next door neighbours bath!. Small problem….well, to us anyway. When the sanitory [sic] people were called in they pin-pointed the problem of blockages right away. Apparently toilet paper should not be flushed into 2" drains!. The alternative was most unhygenic [sic] to European standards.
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Now it seemed that we were home and dry. There was a bit of a garden which was overgrown so after I set my photo dark-room up I got to work terracing the garden so that we were able to grow tomatoes and sweet corn within a matter of months. The trouble was that it disturbed the habitat of several dangerous species of snakes and other creepy crawlies of which there were plenty. One had to be forever on the alert for them, checking footwear and clothing, and particularly bedding.
One of the strangest creatures was the sand beetle. This chap was about 1/2 ins. long and lived in the sand with the entrance to it's complex protected by a trap door. It had the most incredible technique of building a hinged trap door which was a perfect watertight fit. To see this thing nip down it's hole and pull the trap door down after him was quite amazing.
Another insect that surprised us one evening when we were having drinks on the veranda were the fireflies. For a moment I thought that I had made the drinks a little too strong when little bright lights started jumping around the table but then a little more light was produced they turned out to be little flying insects with little light bulbs in their tails.
Lizards of between four and five inches were common and quite harmless. We had one or two resident one's that had been given names and at one time we had a Chameleon that I had found in the garden but it died on us. Probably due to the rapid changes of colour that was expected of it when we put it on a multi coloured carpet. The poor thing probably got into a state of utter confusion and died of a heart attack.
Tortoises were common and I have never seen so many in a natural habitat as there were around the old Roman city of Jarash, and Jarash it'self [sic] was another incredible place that was right out of biblical times. It had been uncovered in the preceeding [sic] 20 years and I swear that if you just stood there and listened you could hear the ghosts of the past all around and the sounds of chariot wheels on the old Roman roads that still bore the marks of those wheels.
We paid a visit to the Dead Sea and it was well worth the frightening drive. The native taxy driver seemed quite oblivious to his surroundings as we swept along high mountain unmade roads that twisted and turned with sometimes as much as a sheer 1500ft
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drop on one side into a moonscape like valley. Mix that up with the dust, the heat and five fractous [sic] kids as we were sharing the journey with another family, the driver with only one hand on the wheel and the radio blasting native music at 99 decibals [sic] and you have all the ingredients for a very exciting time. It was. Our route took us through Jericoh [sic] and close to the old courthouse, where according to the scriptures Christ was tried and sentenced, until we eventually got to the banks of the Dead Sea, over 500ft [underlined] below [/underlined] sea level and where I subsequently was flown down to in a Jordanian Air Force aircraft. A most interesting experience.
After the journey the sight of so much water was a great temptation and in we all went but within minutes we were in trouble. The adults knew that it was impossible to sink in that sea due to it's high salt content but no-one had told us that it was just like acid if you got it in the eyes. The kids thrashed around screaming in pain and it was just as well that we had a plentiful supply of water in bottles that we were able to pour over their faces until all was well again. After the initial discomfort we were all very careful as we experimented in the very dense water. It was quite incredible. Even just walking into it, before one was waist deep it was impossible to keep your feet on the bottom. You couldn't swim in it either. There was just not enough of the body in water to be able to go through the normal motions. Arms and legs just thrashed around in the air and it really was possible just to float in the sitting position with head and shoulders out of the water.
That was alright until we came out and there was no-where we could rinse off as most of our precious bottles of water had been used up. Within minutes we dried off and were covered in a layer of salt crystals and that was the way we set off back via a different route.
On the way we came across a place by the name of Salt. Just a nameplace where the road crossed a small tumbling stream so we made a stop there to wash off the salt and freshen up. There was an old rusted cannon and a lot of other ironmongery in the stream left from battles of long ago but we did not have a lot time to investigate further. A Jordanian soldier appeared and warned us off by the process of pointing his rifle at us
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so one does not argue in a situation like that. We did a bit more splashing about after I had put my camera way [sic] whilst the driver and the soldier communicated. Some folding money changed hands and we were on our way. The driver told us that the small wooden bridge was guarded because of it's strategic importance and I suspect that it had been guarded ever since General Allenby had passed that way during the first World War. Rather like the Allenby bridge across the River Jordan that we also visited on another occasion. That was still guarded so we did not think it worth while trying to obtain a bottle of water that we had planned to do. I suppose that if we had approached the soldiers with a fistful of notes we could have done it as that is what seemed to smooth the way generally if you wanted to get things done as a friend of mine found out when he imported a car from the UK!.
God knows how long the preliminaries had taken to even order it but in due course it arrived at Beruit [sic] after months of waiting.
Then came the business of getting it into Jordan. First of all he could not do it himself and pay the fees. That was much too easy. It had to be imported by a recognised import/export firm and then negotiations were started with the appropriate Government department although he was entitled to it's import without tax, under current diplomatic arrangements. So it laid at Beruit [sic] for many months as palms were greased until it duly arrived in Amman. Having accumulated more fees by that time there were even more to pay. Several more months of negotiations had followed as the documentation kept getting held up until fistfull [sic] of Dinars smothed [sic] the way and it was finally HIS car. Not that he was able to tax and insure it and drive it away. Despite the fact that it was new it had to go through all the mechanical checks that all vehicles were required to go through before being given a registration. It was a sort of MOT test but set annually, and annually got a different registration number which also meant a new set of plates. More Dinars changed hands at each of the four stages of testing, shuffling and mis-laying of papers, passing the papers to the department that made the plates, (right next door to the registration office), more mis-laid papers, and at last, when
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the plates were ready, the production of the insurance documents before those plates could be fixed and sealed by the department. Plus of course the final bakshees before he could actually take the car on the road. In all it took just over a year. He never took it for a second test. Things happened that forced him to subsequently drive it across the desert nearly 500 miles to Habbanyia where it was eventually taken to Basra under service arrangements and it came back to the UK on the Ark Royal minus wing mirrors, screen wipers, wheel trims, slightly dented and rusted. Fortunately there was enough documentation with it to ensure that it was not subject to import duty....provided that he kept it for a year!. At that point in time he would rather have got rid of it when he eventually got back to the UK himself but despite all the hassle he made full use of it. That was a car with a history.
I eventually got my opportunity to go further East. Just far enough. I was detailed to go to Habbanyia in Iraq for Courts Martial duties as a member of the Court. Anything except defence or prosecution, but it was not quite the 'perk' that I thought it was going to be.
After flying in I reported to the Adjutant who I knew and had a been the Signals Leader of 138 Squadron at Wyton and subsequently 90 Squadron at Marham, (at the same time as the chap who had fun with the car had been there); only to find that the President of the Court was none other than 'Black Mac' himself.
Being the junior member I was the 'scribe' and Mac was his same old self. His Adjutant was having as rough a time with him as I had had at Coningsby. Anyway, the case was over in a day and sentance [sic] was pronounced so I immediately set about putting some distance between Black Mac and myself.
It took three days with the flight priority that I had and more than one argument with the Senior Air Traffic Controller at Habbanyia who wanted to put me to work there. No way!. I wasn't there for that and it was a good thing that I knew a few people, not the least the Adjutant, who kept me on a four hour stand-by for a seat on an aircraft back to Amman. Apart from anything else I wanted to see Habbanyia, the RAF's jewel in the desert.
There was plenty of it with the old plateau airfield and the new one that had been laid out on the plain; the former being
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used for the training of the Iraqi Air Force. The relatively new base on the plain was surrounded by masses of buildings, three swimming pools, a profusion of lawns and gardens that turned the place into a glittering oasis. I walked miles and miles around that place and marvelled at the engineering that had made full use of the waters of the Euphrates and numerous artisan wells. There was even a large lodgement compound for the hundreds of native workers and their families who seemed to enjoy quite reasonable amenities, and eventually a seat became available and I was on my way back to Amman. I was to go back there again in due course.
Meanwhile it was back to work. I was duty controller and the airfield had been shut for a couple of hours one evening as no traffic had been notified when one of the ATC assistants phoned from the duty but to tell me that there was an aircraft overhead flashing it's lights. There was a rapid call out for duty crews and I was off to the control tower. The aircraft was still circling when I went on the air and asked the pilot to identify himself. It turned out to be an Eagle Airlines York freighter on his way to India which had been routed to us but the signals office still had nothing so he had to circle until we lit the place up, inspected the runway and alerted all the other services before we let him in. Then there were a few more surprises as the pilot and the navigator turned out to be ex 207 Squadron, Marham, who I had known there.
It did not take long to find out why they had arrived before the notification. They had actually been routed via Cyprus and Beruit [sic] but had done a short cut across the Med. and smack across Isreal [sic] . It might have seemed logical at the time but with no diplomatic clearance such an unauthorised route could have had unpleasant results from a trigger happy Ack-Ack gunner.
There was never a dull moment although some of the things that happened were quite serious.
Our helicopter with the Station Commander and Station Warrant Officer on board went down the line of the old Hadj railway of Lawrence of Arabia fame; to a point where it petered out about half way to Aquaba. For some reason or other the SWO, contrary to standing orders relative to the safe areas around a helicopter made the mistake of backing into the tail rotor,
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and a military funeral was the order of the day and a few months afterwards the helicopter pilot's wife who had shared our taxi to Gerash died of natural causes and there was more sadness in our tightly knit community.
There was a snippet of information from Habbanyia that did me the world of good when I heard of it and had a little 'chortle' at Black Mac's expense. He had given orders for an enormous banquet to be laid on. Typical, it had to be big!, but to lay that on for around a thousand people was no mean task. I definitely would not have cared to be in his Adjutants shoes about that time. As usual he had a hand in everything, including the menu and I can imagine the raised eyebrows when he decided that among the many courses served to two Kings, Ambassadors and dignatories [sic] from all over the Middle East was; maise!,(corn on the cob). That's what they feed the chickens on out there! but that was not the end of his indiscretions.
There was King Feisal of Iraq and his cousin King Husein [sic] of Jordan so it didn't help matters when he proposed a toast to King Feisal of Jordan!. I could just imagine the diplomatic huffing and puffing that went on. I had been on the mat in front of him often enough. I would like to have been a fly on the wall when he was on the mat in front of the C in C later.
In the political turmoil of the area we still managed to carry on with a small degree of normallity [sic] .
We managed a sports day with inter service competition between the RAF, the Army and the Jordanian services finishing up with a flying display from both Air Forces and on more than one occasion we closed the airfield to suit the Kings convenience by turning it into a motor racing circuit. That was a bit of fun on one occasion when he wanted to try out his latest Mercedes sports car. I can't remember the model but I do remember that it had gull wing doors. I even had the privilege of belting it around in company with the rest of his fleet.
It was a dreadful shock when we heard later that there had been a political uprising in Iraq, something that seemed to be spreading right through the Middle East, and as a result of that particular incident King Feisal of Iraq and most of the Royal family has been massacred, and a republic had been declared.
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There was definitely a rot setting in and there was no doubt that there was a lot of outside influence behind it all. You didn't have to be a genious [sic] to work out the fact that oil and a power politics was still the key to the whole business in Egypt, the Suez Canal, Jordan, Iraq and as it was to turn out later, Aden, the Persian Gulf and Iran and all points East. It seemed that that area of the British Empire's influence was crumbling around us.
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Nevertheless, Air Traffic Control was the job and there were few occasions when a shift did not produce something out of the ordinary.
It was all quiet one sultry afternoon when I heard a very faint 'May-Day' call on the common frequency and immediately responded but found it difficult to achieve satisfactory contact. The direction finder bearing showed the aircraft to be to the North of us and although it was possible to pick out a call-sign the rest of the message seemed to be in German. After giving courses to steer to reach us the aircraft's transmissions were getting louder and the pilot was calming down although it was obvious that his English was very limited, as was our German and then one of the assistants came to the rescue. I was not aware that he was a Channel Islander but he asked me to find out if the pilot 'parlies vous francious [sic] '?. That brought forth a stream of French so I put the assistant on the radio and it did not take long to find out what it was all about. At least he was steering the headings he had been given and was getting louder which was the most important thing but he turned out be a Swiss. in a light aircraft en. route from Cyprus to Bagdad but had encountered head winds, was lost and getting low on fuel. Certainly he had done the right thing by declaring an emergency over that inhospitable terrain that looked like the surface of the moon and getting into a bit of a panic that caused him to lapse into non-standard procedure. The rest was easy. He followed our instructions until he found us after which he was directed to the civilian reception area for the rest of the
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formalities. By the time he came over later to file a flight plan he had calmed down and able to communicate in good English and certainly happy enough that he had finished up with the RAF in Jordan instead of being lost in the mountains. Another satisfied customer even if we did extract a small landing fee from him.
I had to respond very rapidly to another emergency situation one evening shortly before our normal shut-down time. One of the Venoms was still airborne and the C.O. was on his way back from Aquaba in a Pembroke. The helicoptor [sic] pilot had just put his chopper away in the hangar almost opposite the control tower and had given me a wave as he started to walk off when the Venom pilot came on the air reporting his position and the fact that he had just flamed out and would be ejecting in five seconds ...4..3...2...1 and he was gone. There was a quick shout to the chopper pilot and hand signals to wind it up, another quick call on the radio to the C.O. who was on a different frequency almost overhead, to tell him that we had 'one down about 25 mls to the North East of us, please investigate...chopper on the way' and everything swung into action from there. Suffice to say that the downed pilot was back on the airfield within 30 minutes of his first call. Not bad going. The same 'downed' pilot was the one that subsequently took the first Harrier on a non-stop transatlantic flight to New York.
There was another occurance [sic] one late afternoon when a Valetta had a burst tyre and ran off of the runway to get well and truly bogged down but things like that were only slight hic-ups in a day's routine and I must admit that I was getting a lot more out of life than if I had continued to push paper around in the Secretarial Branch. Not that there wasn't any paperwork but it was different.
I had not been in Quarters on camp for very long and I had an off-duty morning closeted in my dark room when I heard the fire alarm faintly in the distance but with all the stuff I had in the trays I decided to ignore it. There was a highly qualified
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Flight/Sergeant RAF Regiment fireman on duty and quite capable of handling any situation without me. I found out what it had all been about when I went on duty for the afternoon shift and in hind-sight figured that it might have been better if I had turned out.
The fire had been in a ventilation canopy over the airmens mess kitchen right next to the school, so the firemen and police had cleared the school and were tackling the fire quite successfully until the Wg/Cdr. Admin turned up and instructed then to lay foam on the roof. They did as they were told and the resultant mess took days to clear up as the foam slid off into the school. My daughters were delighted at the fun and a few days off but the kitchens and the mess and the school were in a hell of a state. Ox blood based foam is very sticky stuff but I found a bit of a problem in writing up the fire report. First of all I was in trouble for not being there and then because foam had been used. I think it took three drafts of the report before the Wg/Cdr found it acceptable to pass on without laying the blame for the mess at anyone's door.
Following the report were his own recommendation that I, as fire officer should be on the phone so a phone was installed,(not that it would be any good if I was in the control tower or off camp as anyone else was entitled to be when off duty, but that caused another storm in a tea cup.
Some time later I got the bill for the telephone installation and was hot foot down to see the Wg/Cdr. As far as he was concerned I had the facility and I should pay for it but there was one quick way out of that. I insisted that as it was a strictly a service requirement on his own recommendation it should be restricted for incoming calls only and the Air Force could pay for it...and that was that. As far as I was concerned it was a matter of principle but I was beginning to wonder if other people had the same sort of hassle over almost everything. I certainly seemed to be getting more than my share anyway.
We had another unfortunate incident one night when an aircraft of the local air line inbound from Jedda lost an engine on final approach and piled in about three miles out. There were no other aircraft scheduled so with all the alarms going we were straight
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into the crash procedure and I jumped aboard one of the back up water tenders to get to the scene. It was a very rough ride but all we had to do was to head straight for the fire and by the time we got there the aircraft was well alight. The first rescue crews on the scene had put water spray on the exits where the passengers had been scrambling out virtually being pushed along by the crew and the last of them had just got out a few minutes before I got there and the fire finally beat the water and the foam and was rapidly consuming the aircraft.
Nevertheless, the crew were uninjured and there were no serious injuries among the passengers no doubt due to the fact that the the [sic] pilot had whipped the undercarriage up smartly and had done a successful belly flop in the lights of his landing lights. I found the rather shaken Captain who told me that at least everyone was out until there was some hysterical screaming from one of the native passengers who had been assembled in a group to one side and ultimately some-one conveyed the message that she had left her baby an the luggage rack…..too late!. The aircraft was melting down and there was nothing that could be done until things cooled off. Meanwhile we started loading the passengers into an RAF bus and ambulance as well as some of the back-up fire vehicles that were no longer needed and they set off back to the medical centre. My problem was that due to the terrain our radio to the tower was virtually useless and produced little more than buzzes and crackles so no-one on the airfield knew what was going on. I did something that was a bit hit and miss but it worked. I got the Rescue Landrover up to the highest point I could looking down on the airfield and broadcast the information and in addition I used the headlights to morse a message to the tower. They got both and the medical centre was ready to receive them and attend to the injured. Typical of the way they did things out there was one of the final acts. The pilot was promptly placed under arrest by the civil authority even though he was still in a state of shock. Out there you were often guilty until you could prove your innocence. It was the way things were done and one got used to things that would have been outrageous at home. It was very similar to the manner in which I saw the public treat a taxi driver in Amman city after he had knocked over
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a small boy in the main street. The taxi had come to a screeching stop after the lad had nipped in front of him and got clipped. A howling mob descended upon the taxi driver and hauled him out of the vehicle and pulled, punched and kicked him in the direction of the nearest police post whilst in the meantime the small boy, who had only been bumped and had rolled into the gutter, got up, dusted himself off and scurried down a side ally. No doubt the taxi driver got thumped for his part in the incident and it seemed that no-ne [sic] was particularly interested in a slightly grazed little boy!.
The unit library was a place that most people used and contributed to quite regularly but most books had become dog-eared and certain types, mainly 'whodunits' very often had their story line ruined by the attentions of a certain elderly lady.
The lady was an ex school mistress who had taught in the local missionary schools since the days of Queen Victoria if her appearance was anything to go by. She wore Victorian type clothing that elderly ladies of that era would have worn. Voluminous skirt and blouse with tweed jacket, the whole ensemble, half moon steel rimmed glasses and all, topped off by a white brolly. She lived locally although retired, and had stayed on, greatly respected by the local population and permitted the privilege of an honourary [sic]membership of our mess. That was how she came to use the library but the margins of nearly every book contained some comment, like an Agatha Christie Miss Marples, in her unmistakable shaky scrawl such as, 'now I know who it is', or 'so and so did it', or 'it cannot be……' or 'I knew it was' etc, etc. but she was a great character and after a spot of bother on one occasion with some of the locals when she needed rescuing from an excitable crowd she was heard giving them some suitable comment in arabic about their behaviour whilst still retaining her dignity.
At one point in the late summer we got the first rains of the season and a most wonderful sight met our eyes when we looked p down the hill from the bungalow. The whole hillside was covered in a solid carpet of crocus in all shades of mauve. They had
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just popped up, and by the end of the day they had all gone again. Surprising what a bit of moisture will do in that part of the world where it did not usually rain between March and September.
As the weather became cooler we decided to have a fire lit in the lounge one evening. Coal was available in the outside storage bin supplied on payment through the stores and very expensive. As it was a most unlikely commodity in that part of the world I asked the storeman how the devil we got it to find that apparently it was supplied under a local contract and came from South Africa by boat to Aquaba and then was brought up by camel train. Very precious stuff that!. However, Abdul was instructed to light a fire. I suppose I should have shown him how to do it the first time but it never occurred to me that he would never have seen coal before so when he queried the method he was told, paper and wood with the coal on top and the black rock will burn. So he did as he was told but he had experimented somewhat. He mixed the lot up with about a pint of parafin [sic] , set light to it outside and then brought it all in in a bucket. There was certainly some pandemonium when he came staggering in with a bucket of fire on the end of a pole!. The Station Fire Officer had visions of his quarters going up in smoke but we did eventually manage to transfer it to the fireplace where he sat watching it for a long time before being convinced that the black rock really did burn.
Their usual method of producing heat was by some parafin [sic] appliance or charcoal or even scrub wood which further diminished what timber there was on the sparse hillsides.
There was always plenty of social activity with dances, parties, horse riding, tennis, swimming gala's, motor racing etc, etc but I will always remember one particular function that we attended. A reception at the British Embassy was about the dullest affair that I have ever been to. The drinks were so watered that even if you asked for a straight Whisky you still couldn't taste it, or the Gin or the Brandy for that matter. One thing was for sure, no-one was likely to have more than was good for him and let the side down. What other foreign
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nationals from other Embassies thought about I wouldn't know but I imagine that giving a Russian a Vodka similarly diluted would have raised an eyebrow, and precious little else!. However, as is so often said, it was all part of life's rich tapestry.
As a part time untrained fire officer I was certainly getting my share of 'on the job training' from the experiences of attending some quite spectacular fires.
Shortly after having the phone put in I had a call-out and had no option but to turn out since the call came direct from the C.O. The first one was in the Souk (market), in the city, and I mustered the maximum that was available, leaving the bare minimum for the airfield so we set off with four vehicles and when we arrived the area was an inferno. The source of the fire was right in the centre where there was a great deal of timber used by a small factory producing boxes for fruit and vegetable packing and although the native population were very agitated not a lot seemed to be happening. The municipal fire services were no-where to be seen and as my F/Sgt was on leave the two corporals soon assessed the situation and started to deploy the vehicles whilst I went in search of a person of some authority and to find a source of water replenishment. I was unfortunate in both respects and when I returned to the scene it was obvious that we were in trouble. A hord [sic] of uncontrollable natives were helping out in their own way by manhandling one hose and had pulled the pump off of the jacks and the suction hose out of the water bowser to such an extent that there was water everywhere except where we wanted it. It was a fine old mess until I managed to find a policeman with stripes on his arm and asked him to muster sufficient troops to protect the operation whilst my firemen were instructed to recover everything, stop pumping and to stand-by until we had control. Not easy as some people were absolutely frantic as it appeared that at least four people had been caught in the blaze. As I saw it they would have been well and truly roasted by that time and my main concern was to stop the fire from spreading and we started to pump water again as far as our tankerage would allow although we had found a supply source of our own at an ice factory back along the road and started
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a shuttle and that kept things going.
In due course the municipal fire brigade arrived and positioned themselves on the downwind side of the fire…..and the best of luck, then the Jordanian Air Force arrived with their pump but no water tender but very soon packed up as their hoses were perished and leaking but it didn't matter much as they then ran out of petrol!. At least we were putting on water..until the King arrived!.
The police lost control of the crowd again, everyone was bowing and scraping. We lost control of the pump for a while and stopped pumping which upset the King a little when he came to watch progress but was satisfied that we had a water problem and as the fire was almost under control we might as well allow the centre to burn out unless the city fire services still required us. That being established we wrapped it up and set off home in convoy with a salute to the King and clapping from the locals....but we were minus one brass hose nozzle; which had been stolen!.
The next fire I attended some time later was to a cinema up on Jebel Ammman overlooking the city. That time we took the big fire tender with back-up pump and tanker. I went with the big Mk.V. and half a dozen firemen and air traffic control assistants but we did not have the best of drivers for a job like that. There were some very steep hills to negotiate and that particular model as fas [sic] I was concerned had some built in design faults. Not the least of which was it's hill climbing capability with a full load of water and foam compound plus a few people. In the excitement the driver did not react properly to the possibility of an extended hill climb when he should have selected auxiliary low gear at the bottom of the hill, but instead he stuffed it at the hill until he ran out of steam and then muffed a gear change. That was a recipe for disaster.
We started to roll back. Neither footbrake or handbrake would hold it and with the prospect of a nasty situation arising I hollered to all the men on the back to bale out, crashed the gear lever into a forward gear and wrenched the wheel out of the drivers grasp so that our downhill run was stopped by our back end ramming a low wall. I got some stick for it of course but I am convinced that it saved the day. It saved the troops
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but it bent the tender and the wall but at least we did take off again and got to the scene of the fire. Unfortunately the pump outlets had been damaged and we could only use it as a back-up water tender to our trailer pump that got to work immediately on arrival. The cinema was nearly gutted anyway and the shell of the building itself had prevented any spread of fire to surrounding buildings so there was little that we could do. The city fire services were spraying water on the side wall, aiming for one small window quite high up, with very little success until one local fireman climbed an extending ladder with his 1 1/2 inch hose to put water directly into the window. I didn't think it was good idea as it was all very close to overhead power lines and the like so I went inside through the foyer with the city fire chief to asses the possibility of taking our hoses in through that way and promptly retreated. The fire had got a good hold so I immediately withdrew all of our appliances out of the roadway from below the wall of the building to the space under the inside balcony. The main wall was as hot as the side of a brick kiln and all that cooling water in my estimation was likely to cause a blow-out and collapse the wall. Despite putting this suggestion to the fire chief that his man up the ladder was in considerable danger he left him up there whilst we concentrated on the fire at the base of the inside wall.
Of course, in retrospect there is always another way of dealing with a situation although my report emphasised the need to keep my firemen out of the danger of a collapsing wall so as usual I got 'stick' for it. That is what officers in charge were for!!.
That's what the recently appointed C.O. thought anyway as for some reason he did not have a lot of time for Air Traffic Controllers, even though we were all ex aircrew. To him we were 'rock-apes', a term of endearment usually reserved for the RAF Regiment. There was very little that any of us could do right according to him, so there was the usual enquiry and a lot more caustic comment thrown around. I was used to it by that time so it was all water off of a ducks back.
I was paying a number of liaison visits to the civil airport
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by that time as parts of the civil terminal building were being up-dated with an Air Traffic Control facility although it was very basic. Almost every time I went there the man in charge was comfortably dressed in pyjamas and rather like the Egyptians had very limited knowledge and even less experience but most of their questions were answered. We never saw them in our Air Traffic Control tower though. They always declined the invitation as apparently they monitored all of our radio channels anyway!.
I have very good reason to remember the occasion that the terminal was officially opened by King Hussien [sic] . I had an official invitation to attend with a place on the viewing balcony so of course I had my camera at the ready when the King advanced along the red carpet towards the entrance just below and a perfect shot was presented....then my lens hood fell off and landed at the feet of P.M. with a gentle tinkle. There was instant reaction. H.M. stepped back smartly, surrounded by his escort whilst about ten weapons were aimed straight at me. Phew!. Fortunately I was immediately recognised by the King as the chap he saw quite regularly in the control tower when he presented his flight plan and with a wave the procession carried on. One thing I did not expect was a soldier clattering up the steps to hand me back my lens hood with the compliments of the King. Alright to laugh at later but a bit tense at the time.
The political situation in Jordan seemed to changing in a way that was very similar to that which had caused Britain to give up their protective role in Egypt under the mandate given to us by the United Nations. We had been obliged to get out of Egypt and our troops had been withdrawn from the Canal Zone. Now the power struggle had centred on Jordan and King Hussien [sic] being pro. British was having a spot of bother keeping control of the situation and on one occasion when I paid a liaison visit to the civil 'Air Traffic Control Centre' I had an extraordinary proposal put to me. Although one had to be very careful not to discuss sensitive political matters a mention was made of Colonel Nasser who was the current 'fly in the ointment' in Egypt. It was suggested that if I could arrange for the British Government to put up £1,000,000 in gold Nasser could easily
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be put out of business!.
Having done my best to confirm that it was not a joke I lost no time in passing the message along a discreet channel which dealt with such things and naturally heard no more about it.
It was not long after that incident that I was on duty in the control tower and soon after we had opened up in the morning a great deal of activity was observed over at the civil terminal building as well as in the Jordanian Air Force dispersals. Through the binoculars I was able to determine the figure of General Glub, C in C of the Jordanian Forces, (and controller of the purse strings for the British money that kept that force going), in amongst a large crowd of military people.
It all looked very excitable and not the usual situation that one expected to see the General in so I immediately opened the line to our intelligence officer to give him a running commentary on the activities as far as I could see. One of the Jordanian Air Force's De Haviland Dove's was run up and then started taxying as the pilot called for take-off clearance whilst on the move. He would not give his destination although he advised that his flight was diplomatically cleared and he duly took off heading North. So was the General and his Lady as we found out later!. There had been a coup. Out went the General and the Jordanians controlled their own purse military purse strings. The results of that were soon very obvious as the supply of British money was cut off.
The British seconded personnel were OK for their pay as they were seconded from their respective forces but pay for Jordanian Forces soon became unreliable. So did the supply and re-supply of military stores. Their uniforms became tatty. Their boots were wearing out and we were to find out later that the troops were selling their equipment to make both ends meet although the shortage of one commodity did not come to light for some time.
It was after attending another fire that we were able to put two and two together. The fire was in one of the typical concrete blockhouse native dwellings out in the scrub and there was a hell of a bang one night when it erupted in smoke and flame. When we got there it was obvious that there was little need
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for our services. For myself I had long given up trying to put out fires. The priority was to save lives, stop the spread of fire and last of all saving of property. What we were faced with was a blackened ruptured mess that had been a home but with very little combustable [sic] material left but the worst part of, it was that there were half a dozen pink, bloated, naked bodies spread around it, plus one on what was left of the roof. We dowsed the place well and truly with water and the locals recovered the body but it was even more terrible to find that most of the casualties were women. They all had to be very carefully handled so we left the clearing up job to the Jordanians.
The subsequent Investigations showed that the explosion was caused by the careless handling of some high grade cordite, from some .303ins. cartridge cases complete with percussion caps, all in the same area. A recipe for disaster.
Apparently cartridges were being emptied and the bullets replaced making a nice little earner for someone. But it did mean that most soldiers probably had only one in five usable rounds for his rifle!. It was just part of the corruption that was beginning to undermine the once proud and efficient Jordan Arab Army. It was going into decline rapidly after it's finance had been cut off.
From that point on we found ourselves facing more and more restrictions in our daily life. NAAFI supplies became limited as certain items which were produced by firms having any connection with Isreal [sic] were banned imports. That included of course Jaffa orange juice that had gone all the way to the UK and back again to their next door neighbours but we coped. The NAAFI bottling plant stepped up production of orange and lemon drinks from essence that came from Cyprus. Well, so the management said!.
Nothing that happened surprised me any more. We had some very unusual flight plans signalled in one day which immediately aroused suspicion so Intelligence was advised. I decided to go out to the radar truck situated at the edge of the runway to get the closest possible view of these four 'Egyptian Air
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Lines DC.3's when they came in. They came charging into the circuit totally ignoring all Air Traffic instructions, did a low level circuit in a 'gaggle' and then crunched onto the runway. I was watching carefully from a small ventilator in the van as they slowed down at my end of the runway and they were quite a sight. In the first place they were not DC.3's. They were Russian Ilushan [sic] 14's and not in very good condition either. They were very tatty with lop-sided undercarriage suspensions and their general appearance was not improved by the rough flaking paintwork only partially covered Egyptian Air Force markings by crudely painted civilian registration letters.
I kept in touch with the control tower and all of our observations were passed to Intelligence and of course as they were ostensibly civil aircraft they went to the civilian terminal.
There was a great deal of activity on their arrival and there was a fleet of lorries awaiting them but the unloading process was difficult to follow even from the control tower, although I have no doubt there were many pairs of eyes on these from various vantage points as there must have been from the moment they touched down.
As soon as the unloading was complete they were requesting taxy clearance, destination not notified and no flight plans filed. All very suspicious.
All the information that we had been passing back had filtered through to the right people, possibly through the Embassy to the King but someone was very quick off the mark. Jordanian military police forces intercepted the convoy of trucks on the main road out of the airfield and the cargoes were found to be arms and ammunition looted from the huge depots in Egypt that we had left in the care of the Egyptians. It was obvious that something really dodgy was going on and subsequently some very rough justice was meted out. There were more public hangings in the city which was becoming quite a regular event.
The daily routine still went on but there was an air of apprehension creeping in. It was not unfounded. The next thing that happened was that families were warned to get ready for
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repatriation to the UK, and not very much time was given. There were lots of tears and frenzied packing until eventually the airlift by Hastings aircraft out of Cyprus began. Every day there were more goodbye's. Some people had to go by 'casevac' aircraft as the medical centre was emptied. Mothers and one day old babies were included until eventually it was the turn of the Gamble family. Abdul cried and beat his chest in anguish and when they had gone and the married quarter had to be prepared for handing back as I took up residence in single quarters. What an end that was to what had been initially descibed [sic] as an accompanied posting!. [inserted] I [/inserted] was not amused, but work had to go on just the same.
Living out privileges were withdrawn and everyone moved into camp as our activities became more and more restricted by local events. We were confined to camp for days at a time and mess life became a very hectic round with little else to do. Even the cinema only opened two or three nights a week with the difficulty of getting new films in. I managed to get Abdul taken on by the mess as a steward and he was only too glad to have a reasonably well paid job having moved his family into the area to work for me he had considerable overheads.
On one of the numerous occasions that the city had erupted once again in political termoil [sic] the C.O. sent for me to do a nice little job for him. I was to be a courier to take a message to the British Embassy, which was virtually under siege, and our communications were no longer as discreet as they might have been. I was to go in civilian clothes by taxi. My answer to that was "thanks a lot, do I have any options" to which the answer was "no". Thanks again, although I did wring one concession from him, I was allowed to draw a pistol, with a full chamber, which I kept in my hand, in my brief case, all the way there and back. There was no way I was going to be at the mercy of a howling frenzied mob without being able to do a bit of damage first. Right or wrong, that's the way I felt about the situation at the time. After all the tight spots I had been in in my life I reckoned I was owed a chance but it went off without any fuss and I breathed easy again.
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One evening about six weeks after the families had gone there was a strange atmosphere permeating the normal activities. The cinema was closed. The Sgt's mess bar, and ours, as well as the Naafi canteen were ordered to close early and everyone was warned to be ready for an early start the following day.
Few of us thought that it would be as early as it was though At 5am the sirens started wailing. The PA system was busy giving orders for everyone to report to their normal places of work by 6am, phones were ringing madly and the whole station got into gear very quickly. At 6am roll-calls were made and instructions were passed for everyone to get back to quarters, pack personal belongings and back to the messes for breakfast. Breakfast was tea coffee, toast and boiled eggs...taken on the run as it would finish at 7pm precicely [sic] after which we were to report back to our sections. At 7pm the PA system was announcing the almost unbelievable news that we were evacuating the station. Today!...just like that!. We were going to Mafraq which was a few miles to the North and we had 12 hours to do it in, and the PA system was going almost non-stop. There was no written distributed plan to work to. It was all done on the PA from Ops. and on the telephone. Motor transport was allocated to all sections who provided their own drivers. Those sections that had no drivers had them allocated with the vehicles and every qualified driver was pressed into service. Workshops were emptied. Vehicles were put together, and those that could not be put on the road were loaded on the backs of others or prepared for towing.
The direction finder vehicle that had been up on the hill without wheels for years was fitted with wheels and brought down. Fuel tankers were filled from the storage tanks and vehicles were filled to the brim. Aircraft tanks were topped up to maximum. A Meteor that had been under repair in the hangar was hastily prepared and in fact took off later with almost flat tyres and was wheels down all the way with the locks in just to be safe.
The messes, offices, stores, the Naafi, the library and armoury were emptied. The armoury in particular was cleared by the simple expedient of issueing [sic] arms to everyone to save transport space so we all finished up with a selection of rifles, pistols, Sten guns, Bren guns, you name it, and as much ammunition as we could
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carry. Work pressed on at an incredible rate. The only refreshment was what one managed to cobble up in the departments and sections…..lunch was not even mentioned, although we were told that meals would be available at Mafraq where a skeleton crew had always provided minimum facilities there as a relief landing ground; even before a new runway had been built on a new site.
Everything that was not bolted down was packed…and some things were unbolted, and as each section was ready to move it was off to the Guard Room where convoys of a minimum of ten vehicles were put together and dispatched by the Service Police. The Squadron Venoms were being flown out followed by the chopper as soon as the Squadron was gone. The fighter control unit that had always operated from a remote site was wrapped up and that was on it's way independantly [sic] as were the British Military personnel on secondment to the Jordanian Government. The RAF Regiment airfield defence units just packed up and went, Bofors guns and all, everyone armed to the teeth and in many cases parties left a certain amount of damage and disruption behind them. Handsfull [sic] of salt and sand did guns and engines considerable damage. The Jordanian Air Force Vampires had all their guns de-harmonised so that they were likely to spray lead all over the place instead of in a concentrated pattern and the Kings personal Tiger Moth was tipped up on it's nose busting it's prop.
The Station thinned out fast. Air Traffic Control, the fire services and the signals cabin were the last to wrap up but the dead-line was met although aircraft were still going in and out with very limited services which pilots were advised of and as we approached the dead-line we lost control of the airfield.
The last civilian aircraft was the BOAC Argonaught from U.K. to Bahrain and although the captain accepted the limitation he had to be sent around again as half a dozen vehicles of the Jordan Arab Army appeared on the airfield weaving about all over the runway and he was obliged to circle whilst we tried to keep them off. The pilot landed eventually under his own responsibility, disembarked and embarked his passengers in double quick time and was off again without a flight plan.
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Our last action was to signal the airfield's closure and change of operating authority before the signals cabin was dismantled and the Pembroke flew out with as many as could be piled in leaving the remaining Air Traffic staff (including me) and the fire services to go by road as soon as the keys were deposited in the Guard Room, so off we set with RAF Police Landrover in the rear. Amman was no longer an RAF base!!!.
Our new home was the new Mafraq airfield being built as part of the NATO plan. It was on the North side of the old oil pipeline on the main route from Damascus to Bagdad opposite the old Mafraq (Dawsons Field), but it was in no way complete.
At least it had a long new runway, some new buildings which had in fact been built as married quarters although there were no barracks as such. Needless to say, they were allocated as barracks even though they lacked lighting, running water or toilet facilities. In fact, water was a very scarce commodity as there was no bore hole, and no water tower so water had to be brought in by a dubious civilian source which could not even be used for cooking until a filtration system was devised. But all these problems were only part of the getting sorted out plan. Later on we found that as we were not far from the foothills of the mountains of southern Syria a water diviner was expected from the UK to pin-point a source. That was put on hold although it should not have been difficult considering that 20 miles to the East there was a large area of marshland and vegetation which was fed by the flood waters from the mountains and some of that found it's way through the middle of the airfield. They had built a large conduit under the runway to take it away in the rainy season!.
However, limited water there was and that was a start. At least once a day we could draw a ration for washing and shaving. Drainage was a different matter. There were no drains so we resorted to the desert encampment method of doing things and the shovels had been at work allready [sic] . Everyone got 'stuck in' and were working like beavers.
The Officers Mess had been set up in an area of bungalows. The Sgts Mess was similarly set up in a clutch of houses and the airmen spread around the incomplete estate. A large wooden building with a kitchen, which had originally been provided
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for the contractors workers was turned into the main mess hall.
As with our departure from Amman there were very few questions asked. Then we had been told to pack up and go. At Mafraq we were just allocated space and it was up to us to set it up. It says a lot for the character of the British serviceman in the way it was done. There was no lack of initiative.
Air Traffic Control had already been set up in a suitable place about half way down the runway in a desert mobile office and our old runway control van. Emergency short range radios took very little time to fit and aerials were promtly [sic] rigged by the signals section as was the direction finder and radar truck although it was only as a radio back-up and even the homing beacon was tied to the side of it on with a lash-up of a mast. As the ATC services were outside the main camp area and main power supply we had our own mobile generator.
The Royal Signals Corp who were [deleted] a [/deleted] our telephone people out there were frantically running lines between departments in the main compound, linking everything through a small PBX in the hub of the whole system, the Ops. room but had saved a lot of cable by actually using the runway lighting cables as phone lines to the ATC centre. There were no lighting units installed anyway just the cables. It would be back to the old parafin [sic] goose-neck flares for a flare-path.
The RAF Regiment were whacking in stakes and spreading coils of barbed wire by the ton to surround the main area of activity which did not include ATC. It was an isolated outpost, but armed to the teeth as was everyone else. Representations had already been made to the CO to turn us in a defensive compound surrounded by wire as we were going to have to maintain a 24 hour watch but we had been given a low priority on that.
Within the stores area was another fleet of vehicles including workshops which had [deleted] previously [/deleted] been part of the Egyptian stores depot that I had previously known nothing about and that played it's part later. Then there was a complete [inserted] mobile [/inserted] fighter control unit but it was not sited or deployed so there were a lot of people without jobs that ops deployed as manpower to wherever it was needed.
Work had been going on at a furious pace and a lot had been done before we arrived in the late evening. To uproot about
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1400 people with all their goods and chatels [sic] , equipment of all kinds, transport, arms andammunition [sic] , fuel, food and cooking facilities plus communications equipment, and set it all up again was quite an achievement and must have given the CO and his senior officers more than a few headaches in planning it in secret the night before.
Work that first day did not stop at five o'clock. It just continued until most things were in place and reported operational before the troops staggered back to the mess hall for soup and sandwiches before drawing bedding and making up beds to finally flop into them; exhausted. What a day it had been although it should be pointed out that it did not all happen on the first day. It was an on going thing and a matter of priorities.
There were two items of private transport parked in the officers mess area. One, the car that had caused a colleague so much trouble to get into the country, and the other, a neat little bright red MG.B. belonging to the Station Commander, or to be precise, his wife. Some months previously King Hussein had made a present of it to the CO. but no sooner that the Embassy heard of it they invoked Queens Rules and Regulations about the acceptance of gifts by serving officers and it was 'no can do'. I do not know who squared it all up, but the King took it back and then presented it to Mrs.C.O. There was no argument with that!.
After a few hours sleep the second day was a memorable one as far as some of us were concerned. There was no need to push anyone and after a quick breakfast the hustle and bustle started again. I had not even had time to go to the airfield for the day shift although we were down to six controllers by that time with postings out and no replacements and having left ATC problems to another controller I had hardly had time to check out the fire services deployment when a message direct from the CO was delivered. It required two controllers, six firemen, two radio mechanics and two other technical trades to muster with tool kits as appropriate, small kit, (essential personal belongings), plus one major fire tender, to return immediately to Amman to put the services back on the air again. It had not taken long for everything to fizzle out and the King had made
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a personal appeal to the Group Captain for assistance. I had no problem in nominating my No.2. A New Zealander, an ex POW like myself who would know how to take care of himself. I went with the fire tender and the others went by air arriving more or less at the same time. I had been delayed a few minutes before setting off as I transferred a couple of cases of Brandy from the Mess stocks to the fire tender…..just in case of emergencies!!!!.
My colleague had already taken stock of the situation and was waiting at the foot of Air Traffic Control when we arrived and we quickly sorted out a plan. A young Jordanian pilot was 'in control' in the tower and was doing his best with a verey pistol and a stock of cartridges which was about to run out as there had been a total breakdown of communications despite, as I had understood, that the civilian terminal facilities were all in place if needed. A bit of 'know how' would have helped, but civil aircraft were still scheduled and something had to be done so everyone went about their business. Within two hours everything was ticking over again. The main generators were started up. Power was back on, batteries were being charged, verey cartridge stocks were replaced by scavenging among the Jordanian Air Force aircraft, tuning had been carried out and crash and rescue services were operational, with limitations, although the Jordanian Air Force appliances would not join ours on the hard-standing but 'control' remained in the hands of the Jordanians. We flatly refused to have anything to do with it....it was their airfield and that was that.
By late afternoon our activities slowed down as intercomms [sic] and radio communications were all back on line so we waited around for something to happen.
Eventually we were rounded up and taken to a mess hail in the Jordanian Air force compound where we were fed. We certainly needed it. We had had nothing for ten hours other than perhaps a small share of a bar of chocolate that someone had thoughtfully put in his kit.
After that we were taken to our accommodation. I could hardly believe it was happening. The keys of two married quarters had been produced from the Guard Room. One was my old quarter and the other the Station Commander's.
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My colleague and I took rooms in my old quarter and we put the men in the CO's residence as it was the larger building but after a good look around we decided that there was plenty of room for all of us in the big house and that we would move in the following day. There was room for us at one end and for the men the other with the lounge designated as a common room. Our stock of drink was added to what we found in the main house. The CO had lived in it right up to the moment we had moved out and hence his wine stocks were still there in his store and side-board. It was an Alladins [sic] cave!. Exactly as he had left it. Nice of him. We promptly appointed one of the Corporals as barman with the responsibilty [sic] of keeping it all secure and out of bounds during the working day. That way we could make it last so after a couple of rounds on the CO we retired for the night.
I must confess that it did seem strange sleeping .in my old quarter again especially as there remained a memento of the previous occupants. A jig-saw puzzle that one of my girls had left was still on the top of a wardrobe!.
We had been warned to be ready for a pick-up at 7:30 the following morning for an 8 o'clock breakfast so we were all formed up in a mini parade when the transport arrived on the dot and were duly conveyed to the same mess hall, where we had had supper the night before.
Most of us were hanging on to the little bit of kit that we had taken with us and had added a few eating and drinking utensils along the way. The quarters were still as they had been left by the last occupant, as per inventory; down to the last pepper pot... but who cared!. There were two ex POW's who had been obliged to eat with the fingers before, and were not taking any more chances.
We had a good breakfast and at 8:30 we were asked to wait for instructions as there was a great deal of activity ouside [sic] and we did not have to wait long before we found out what we were going to do next.
The mess hall was totally encircled by armed troops standing shoulder to shoulder and an officer told us that we were to stay put until things were sorted out. We were under house arrest!.
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By mid-morning the sorting out had been done as we just sat around twiddling our thumbs until we were asked to assemble outside as we were going to the airfield...but not before being asked for the keys to the fire tender!. There was no point in arguing so I reluctantly handed them over and then we were escorted to the airfield where we waited a little longer before our Pembroke came in so we all piled in. The pilot, who happened to be the Group Captain did not bother to shut down the engines. It was certainly not built to carry that many so it was a bit of a squeeze and it was even more of a squeeze to get it off the runway too. We used every bit of it and every bit of power that was available. We used all of the runway and just lifted off with everything straining all the way to land at Mafraq a few minutes later with some very hot engines. So much for that little expedition!!.
The CO did not say a lot apart from suggesting that there would have to be an enquiry into the loss of my fire engine and I think [deleted] g [/deleted] my answer was something to the effect that it might as well be done by the same board that would do the enquiry into the loss of his airfield!, but it was only a formality really in order to get it struck off and replaced.
In the meantime things had really been going on apace at our new base. The barbed wire had been strengthened. Trenches and gun pits had been dug. Sand bags were piled up all over the place including the fuel dump, the aircraft dispersals and other vulnerable places....including Air Traffic Control. That was at least no longer stuck out on a limb but a whole new pattern of life had emerged.
The station was on Red Alert permanently which was a rare situation for peace-time. Everyone was still armed to the teeth and the Amman party had reclaimed their weapons from the armoury. On reflection it was as well that we had not been armed when we had gone back otherwise I am sure that it would have meant another enquiry into the loss of our weapons.
The old Mafraq desert airfield had been completely deserted and everyone was confined to the new camp area. Aircraft had been shuttling to and from Cyprus and Habbanyia. Essential supplies were coming in and non-essential personnel were being flown out as a lot of adjustment was taking place.
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Air Traffic Control was still being maintained on a 24 hour shift system so the few that had been doing the job were only too pleased to spread the job out a bit. We all had secondary duties to perform as well so we were kept busy.
The Army had opened the Post Office again and some mail was already beginning to filter through from the UK but we had been advised that outgoing mail was being censored at Nicosia so there would be delays in that direction.
I was desperate for news of my wife who had not been well prior to leaving Amman and had had a dreadful time going through Cyprus, Stansted and subsequently through Hendon before being able to catch the first train out of Victoria in the cold early dawn of an English winter. She had caught a chill. Her nerves were shot to pieces and it was just as well that she had opted to go back to her parents home in Worthing where she could be looked after much better than if she had gone to a transit camp at Blackpool which had been one of the options.
From her most recent letters it was obvious that she was still unwell and was not being helped by the disruption of the mail from our part of the world either.
All our goods and chatels [sic] which had been flown out of Amman was somewhere en-route so a lot of new clothing had to be purchased and it was not easy but somehow she was coping. For the girls it had all been quite an experience although even they were glad to settle down in the local school once more.
Our daily routine developed into something like normality once more. There was plenty of ammunition and we could spend as much time as we wanted on the range which had been quickly set up but in a very short space of time we set up our own on the airfield with aid of a borrowed bulldozer. I had qualified as a range safety officer at Mareham [sic] so we soon got clearance to do our own thing. The targets were of the tin and bottle kind and there is nothing like practice to improve marksmanship!.
One also learns considerable respect in the handling of firearms provided that the basic rules are observed, and they were. No fooling about. A gun should always be handled as if it was loaded so loading and unloading and cleaning, going on and off duty never produced one incident of mis-handling...fortunately!.
Aircraft continued to go in and out, and in most instances we
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had notification as soon as our communication with the outside world had been re-established. It was all radio and radio teleprinters of course so with all the coding and de-coding that was required the signals cabin was going flat out.
We were very surprised one morning we we [sic] went off-duty after a busy night with Hasting's coming and going to find that we had several heavy artillery peices [sic] already dug in, sandbagged and manned by the R. A. ready for use. The question was, against who?.
We were not left in doubt for very long. Within 24 hours of their arrival the news hit us that combined French and British forces had invaded Egypt and the Suez Canal Zone and then we were immediately on a war readyness [sic] state.
News was limited to the personal radios that many still had but the fresh restrictions under which we were then placed gave us more to worry about.
Diplomatic relations with other Arab countries were broken off and we could no longer use the air route across Syria to Cyprus and all traffic had to be routed via Habbanyia(Iraq) and Turkey. Isreal [sic] was at war with Egypt and Jordan. Iraq was making protests in respect of our presence and Cyprus was suffering some internal unrest from a regigious [sic] rebel. And we were sitting in the middle!.
That particular episode is but another chapter of history, so it might as well be left to the historians to write it down. All I was aware of at the time was that it was another fine mess I was in.
The daily routine went on but perhaps the biggest headache of all was the acute shortage of water. Tanks, water carriers and bowsers of every sort were pressed into service for storage. There were no laundry facilities and it soon became neccesary [sic] to institute bathing parades for about twenty people at a time to strip wash at a water bowser and then dunk clothes at the same time. It was not very well received by some of the more sensitive youngsters, many of them national servicemen but thank goodness the weather was still fairly warm with the odd shower from time to time. At least when it did rain Air Traffic Control had a plentiful supply with the benefit of the stream that ran under the runway. More than enough on one occasion after a really
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heavy downpour when a great deal of rubbish was carried along in the flood which blocked the grating and then diverted the stream over the runway!. A useful job for the fire services.
The rain did bring some other problem though as the airfield had been built right across an age old camel route from the North right down into Saudi Arabia. Camel trains naturally followed the water supply and took years to go each way with many young being born en-route.
The older animals knew the route instinctively and invariably travelled in the cool of the night with the herders fast asleep in the saddle but it played merry hell when they blundered into barbed wire and other things like an airfield across their path. There was a great deal of growling, bellowing and other noises that camels make as some of them got tangled up.
Some wire had been strung out earlier to divert them from their route but it was a waste of time. You only had to look at a camel to realise that going around it was very far from their minds. The easiest way was to remove it and thoroughly inspect the runway at night before it was. I think it save a lot in compensation too!.
I had one piece of good news anyway. The two cases of Brandy that I had diverted from the bar stocks were written off and did not get charged to my mess bill, the paperwork for which had all been brought from Amman. It would not have cost much anyway. At approximately 50p a bottle it would not have been more than £12 in total in those days!.
Since we had moved to Mafraq our rations had been fairly basic although with the air supply we had been topped up and were adequate for several weeks if we had been completely bottled up. Nevertheless. the NAAFI manager, who was a member of our mess and in fact shared a room with me, decided that he would do something really special for one week-end and set to work with some 'surplus' stocks to make an enormous pie. In a bath tub!.
In went four chickens, obtained locally, followed by several pounds of bacon. The contents of several tins of pork and sausage meat. Corned beef, spices, all suitably spiced and sloshed into the tub with several dozen halves of boiled eggs. The pastry took umpteen pounds of flour and fat to make the lining and
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the lid and when finally decorated was a near masterpiece as the 60lb. pie was hoisted into the oven.
After hours of cooking and cooling it was finally brought ceremoniously into the dining room with all the solemnity usually reserved for a royal haggis. It really did look good with it's pastry leaves and rosettes all glistening with the overall glazing. It cut beautifully and tasted gorgoeus [sic] . Certainly it seemed worth all the effort that had been put into it….until the following day!.
Some people said it was due to a richness that we had not been used to, others reckoned it was over indulgence but the medical officer decided that as the medical centre was inundated with officers going sick that perhaps the ingredients were not as fresh as they might have been. The local chickens were suspect even though they had been bought live. (You did not normally buy anything of that sort out there unless it was on the hoof or still clucking). So the MO had the last word and condemned it to be consigned to the fire. I thought it was a great shame. I had had a double portion and I was OK, and so was the NAAFI manager who took out a large chunk before disposal. And we still did not come to any harm. Need one say more!.
There was one weekly event that many people turned out to see. It was the 'train' that went through from Damascus to Bagdad a few miles from us, usually on the far side of the old Dawsons Field, only it was not on rails. It was a huge Mercedes locomotive/coach with a trailer coach like a gigantic silver caterpillar. It's wheels were between 7 and 8 feet in height with great balloon tyres that looked as if they had come off of a Stirling. With a crew of drivers, engineers, radio operators navigators and stewards it just bored majestically along like the proverbial ship of the desert in a plume of exhaust smoke and a cloud of sand. It really was an impressive sight as it went through. Unfortunately I was never in a position to photograph it as zoom and telephoto lenses were not so readily available as they are today.
After [sic] while the rigid restrictions were eased a little although we were required to wear uniform all the time. Everything to the West of us and that included the town of Zerqua was still out of bounds but we could go in small parties Eastwards to
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the marshes where there was some wildfowl and some remnants of an ancient civilisation.
Among them were the ruins of an old Bysantine [sic] town which still bore the marks of the progress of the Crusaders that had passed that way hundreds of years before. The most amazing thing was the size of the building blocks. Something like 4ft square and there was still a lot of it standing. Mostly it was being used as a shelter for camels which were being looked after by a motley collection of very ragged boys who surprised us by having a smattering of broken English. In fact they even looked a little European and I will say no more about that other than to note that the British had been in those parts for a long time!.
The method of construction was to remain a mystery as we could find no books on the subject in our limited library but generally it must have followed the same ancient techniques used by the Romans and the Pharoes [sic] , who seemed to be able to move huge quantities of stone with only crude equipment…..and a lot of expendable manpower. In one wall there was a door of solid stone 18ins. thick, some 4ft by 5ft hung by 3ins. pegs, hewn out of the solid, which was perfect fit and capable of being swung to and fro' in balance by a finger touch. Quite remarkable, and a welcome outing in a place like that provided some relief from our normal routine.
I took the opportunity to fly down to Aquaba on one accasion [sic] . The firemen down there were on detachment originally from Amman on a rotational basis and some of them had been there overlong. I had been badgering the CO. for a long time and eventually got clearance to go down and swap three of them over, as well as taking what mail there was. Mail had been very spasmodic as the lines of communication kept changing.
When we were in Egypt the run out of Fayid to Amman used to parachute the mail into Aquaba and aircraft landed infrequently. When Egypt packed up some went by sea and some went via Amman and then it all got held up until it went via Cyprus and Amman and then the routing was changed to Cyprus/Habbanyia/Mafraq with the inevitable delays. With only limited communications between Mafraq and Aquaba three firemen had a nice surprise when they found that they were being relieved. I tried to find my cousin but learned that he had already returned to the UK.
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At his age he was due to end his long service with the army and at last get the sand out of his shoes. I could understand how he felt after all the years he had spent in Mesopotamia [sic] before the war and he was no doubt relieved to get out of another of many tight spots including the evacuation from Dunkirk.
We had a very nice surprise one day when a couple of young English nurses in an old banger presented themselves at the main gate asking for shelter for the night.
They were en-route from the UK to India the hard way. Right across the continent, a hop from Turkey to Cyprus. Another to Beruit [sic] and Damascus, then following the route of the old Hadj railway to Zerkqa before setting off across the desert for Bagdad they found an out-post of the British Empire on their route so it changed their plans a little.
Room and board was found for them. They were fed and rested and their old banger, which was actually in better condition than it looked, was serviced by the MT. section who were only too pleased to have something different to do. After spending a couple of nights with us they were given a resounding send off and good luck to them. There was still some spirit of adventure left that was for sure. They were not the only women to undertake such a daunting journey.
When the families were being evacuated from Amman there was one lady who decided to drive the family car back to the UK. If they had had as much trouble in getting the car into the country as my colleague then there some logic in it, but she took two youngsters as well.
We heard that she had made it after many weeks on the road and her route had taken her out of Jordan into Syria. Then further on into Turkey, Bulgaria, Yugoslavia, Austria, Germany and Belgium before it became neccesary [sic] to cross the last ditch...the Channel!. Some journey. Nearly 3000 miles. Who said that women were the weaker sex.
We were still losing controllers without replacement. The next one to go was the same chap who had imported the car and the NAAFI manager was being posted back home as well so they went together. They filled up the car with their kit, fuel and supplies and they set off for the 500 mile plus journey to Habbanyia following the pipe-line towards Bagdad and Basra.
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The pipe-line was the best possible navigational feature for crossing the desert as there was no road then. Just the pipe-line and a string of desert air-strips that were generally American oil company manned with their own system of communication. All that for a pipe-line that had not pumped oil for years!.
My wife was continuing to have a rough time of it and for some reason was not getting all of my letters. Her nerves were still bad and she was having a lot of treatment whilst I was still stuck in that place. True, we had the facilities of mess life and the Squadron pilots who were not doing much flying had set themselves the task of starting up a cinema in a marquee. The RAF Film Service had fallen down on the job and nothing was coming in other than privately arranged 16mm films from Habbanyia and using the 16mm projectors that were supplied for training films we managed some form of entertainment. Our original 35mm equipment in our cinema had been left behind in Amman but we coped even though we had to stop the programme to change reels and it very often went out of synchronization...accompanied by hoots of laughter.
A games night in the mess on one occasion provided a little distraction but it was a night that I fear I became a little unpopular with the organisers, The Squadron pilots of course. It was a games night with a difference as it was turned into a gambling den despite the fact that normal mess rules forbad the playing of games for money. Anyway, our conditions were far from normal and I recall that the bank was holding it's own at most tables but the roulette wheel favoured me to the extent that I broke the bank. The first time was not so bad and after they had raised more funds I broke it again!. They said it was only for fun so I gave all my winning back and retired but I am sure that I would not have got my shirt back if I had lost it....but it was still a lot of fun despite the fact that the CO made some very disapproving remarks. He and I were not on very good terms by that time.
Our relationship had not been improved by another incident when I was Duty officer one night and one of the patrols called in to report that there were suspicious noises on one section of the perimeter according to the Guard Sgt, like tank track noises. I was just a link in the chain and passed the report on to OPs.
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centre. The CO decided to go out with the Guard Commander and found that it was only echoes from a generator exhaust and I got the stick for it. Still, I would have got a lot more if it had been a tank probing our defences and I had not reported it. As usual it was a 'no-win' situation for me.
We still did not know quite what to expect or from where. The Suez invasion was all but over. We had driven a wedge between the Egyptians and the Isrealies [sic] and they had agreed to pull back. Our troops were withdrawing and it was a very tricky situation not improved by the recriminations and world opinion on our role in the whole affair, and all was not quite what it seemed on the surface.
We had been warned that the odd Canberra might be making a dash for us from Cyprus but we had a bit of a shock to learn that on one occasion an RAF Canberra out on a high photographic recce' over Syria had something on his tail that he had not quite expected. A Syrian, (Russian made.), SAM 7 heat seeking missile!, and unfortunately it found him. As far as I recall one member of the crew was killed, the other was captured and was returned some time later when the situation had eased a bit. Not a lot was said about it.
Christmas 1956 came and a great time was had by all. The Officers and NCO's served the men in time honoured fashion. There was too much to drink and rationing was forgotten for that day. Unknown talents emerged with a station concert and a station song with many bawdy verses was produced along with one or two daft acts on stage. I am not sure what time lunch finished that afternoon but I reckoned we owed ourselves that.
My tour of duty, 2 1/2 years, was coming to an end and like most people I cherished the date which was bodly [sic] marked on my calender [sic] . In the old days it would have been "roll on that bloody boat" as the song goes although in the circumstances it was roll on any form of transport when I reported to the Adjutant for confirmation that the repatriation procedure would soon be be [sic] put in motion. I was devestated [sic] when I was told that I was being deferred as they could no longer afford to lose people without replacement. It did not take long to arrange for an appointment to see the CO only to be told that there was no appeal, the decision had been made although after we had been
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closeted for a while with some man to man talking and the production of some letters from my wife and her Doctors he accepted the fact that I might have a good case so he would see what he could do. He owed me that at least after one incident that ocurred [sic] between us that needs no airing so I was left sweating it out for a while.
Fortunately it did not take too long and I was soon involved in the paperwork to clear the unit, obtain an air priority and wait for another week before, I at last found myself on an aircraft for Habbanyia.
As soon as I got into the transit mess there was my colleague who had driven there in his car still trying to get it down to Basra but otherwise enjoying himself.
I found it very difficult to enjoy myself even when every day was virtually a holiday whilst I waited for a seat on an aircraft when I was so desperate to get home. My priority rating was still the basic, the bottom of the list!, so all I had to do was wait.
Fortunately I knew a lot of people at Habbanyia and was invited out quite a lot. I also saw a lot more of Habbanyia and on one occasion a party of us got together for a day trip to Bagdad.
That was a forty mile taxi journey each way across the desert as there did not appear to be a road and the return journey was of course done at night. I can only think that those drivers navigated by the various clumps of rocks that loomed up from time to time as there was nothing else to indicate which way to go except the stars.
In Bagdad we broused [sic] around, up the street of the goldsmiths, down the street of the silversmiths and up the street of the ivory carvers and in an about sampling the sights.
It was not possible to photograph all that I would have liked to as it seemed that the Iraqi army was guarding almost every street corner. Photographs had to be taken very discreetly after the first occasion that a threatening rifle was pointed in our direction, but it was a good day just the same.
I was still kicking my heels after a week without having been called forward so I buttonholed a Valetta captain that I had known at Fayid who was flying a freighter to Cyprus the following day and he agreed to take me as supernumarary [sic] crew. Air Movements
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staff agreed and I was out on the airfield, baggage, hangover and all by 7am, after very little sleep. I wish I had had the good sense to have abstained but it had all developed into another fairwell [sic] party and I don't think I have ever felt so bad before. I almost signed the pledge [underlined] again!. [/underlined]
The thunder of the take-off just about scrambled every nerve in the brain-box but that was only half of it. We were of course taking the roundabout route going North-West to cross the Turkish border then West over the mountains and the Valetta thundered it's way up to 16,000ft with the crew on oxygen, all except the supernumary [sic] crew member who did not have an oxygen mask so I cupped a spare outlet hose in my hands with it on full flow I gulped and and [sic] gulped until the hammering in my head became a little more bearable. I was very glad when we turned South and started letting down clear of the mountains on the last leg to Cyprus. What a blessed relief it was to touch down at Nicosia and sample that first cup of coffee in the transit lounge.
With thanks to the pilot for the completion of one more leg of the journey behind me I reported for documentation and when that was done found myself signing for a Smith & Wesson .38 with six rounds and a printed set of instructions before being transported to a hotel in a quiet area of Nicosia. Basically the istructions [sic] were to the effect that if I was out in public I had to be prepared to defend myself although the natives seemed friendly enough on the surface there was still an undercurrent of dissent. Most of the troops that had invaded Egypt who had used Cyprus as a jumping off point had been withdrawn and I certainly had no intention of going very far on my first day in Cyprus. I was in need of a lot of sleep.
The following day, fully refreshed, I was off to re-visit Nicosia city centre and I was dammed if I wanted to take a pistol stuck in my belt like some bandit as all my webbing had been packed away in my 'deep-sea' kit so I left it in my room.
I was wandering along quite happily taking in the sights down a main street when a car pulled up alonside [sic] with a screech of brakes and my immediate thought was...'whoops-here is trouble' and I turned quickly to asses [sic] the situation only to see a chap that I had known in Amman who said with some urgency "Tom Gamble,
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get in you bloody fool", so I did.
It turned out that I had been strolling down 'murder mile' where more than one bloke had bitten the dust in recent months. He was more concerned afterwards that I was not armed but who knows, perhaps it was because I was not that I did not become a target. He lived in a bungalow not far from the Hotel so that's where we finished up for tea, dinner and drinks on more than one occasion.
He was a useful chap to know being one of the Air Movements and despite the fact that I had been told that I would be called forward when a flight became available I didn't think a daily visit to Air Movements would do me any harm, if only to be sure that I-was not overlooked. Not that he could expedite my passage. That was determined by my priority and a long waiting list but we chatted about this that and the other and he told me there was a compound in the freight area with all the Amman baggage in it so we went to have a look. Under a large tarpaulin was a huge pile of boxes and on investigation we found all the Gamble's unmistakable boxes on the edge of the pile. I couldn't mistake those boxes. One of them had been my father-in-law's tool chest and another had belonged to an Uncle who I had never known, who had been killed in France during WW1. He had had it made in India so it was certainly well travelled. Anyway, they had already been there three months and whether he exercised his perogotive [sic] or not they were back in the UK two weeks later.
I had many a pleasant time with his family for odd meals and parties as well as a couple of runs out into the country and to the coastal resorts of Limosol [sic] and Lanarca as the days went by.
Despite the fact that I checked daily with Air Movements the answer was getting monotonous, "sorry, not today" was not what I wanted to hear and seriously thought of using the knowledge of my wife's condition to 'up' the priority although I had already sent a cable to her to let her know I was in Cyprus and still waiting when, at last, after a week I was told that I was allocated for the following day so all the paperwork was done. I sent another cable to say I would be on my way and duly reported with baggage, ready to go. I actually got as far as the steps to the aircraft when a Service Policeman came rushing
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up with an Air Movements Cpl and a harassed looking airman with a suitcase. Papers were waived and I was taken off of the manifest to go back into transit. The airman had compassionate grounds for getting home in a hurry and that's the way it worked. He had a higher priority than I did and unless you were very senior it was usually an officer who had to give way. It cost me another cable to say I was further delayed.
Air Movements confirmed that I would be away the following day and I think I went to bed that night with everything crossed but it all went according to plan. There was another emergency boarding but that time it did not effect me as my priority had gone up one as a result of the previous day's cancellation, so I was off at last in a chartered Eagle Air Lines Viking stopping; at Nice for refuelling and thence to Stansted and finally to Hendon for disposal. After that I was on my way to Worthing, home and family.
That was the end of my Middle East tour. All that packed into two years and seven months!. By that time it was the beginning of February 1957 and I was not thinking too much about my next appointment. I would know all about that when I reported to the Air Ministry within the customary 48 hours of my arrival in the UK. Family business was of the highest priority as it was obvious that Dorothy was far from well with a nervous disorder so before I reported to Air Ministry I got a letter from her doctor and was prepared for any problems that might arise.
I need not have worried. The Personnel Staff could not have been more sympathetic and sorted out a posting for one that was beyond any wildest dreams. Tangmere, just 18 miles from Worthing so off I went with two weeks dis-embarkation leave to sort things out.
It did not take long to get a small car and we visited Tangmere to take a look at what was to be our new home and to complete an application for Married Quarters which we were told, would be available soon and another visit to the Senior Controller soon put me in the picture. There was one small problem. It was another 24 hour shift working Air Traffic Control situation. Another of the many geographically placed units that provided an emergency service although that would not present much of
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a problem once I was in quarters. I was used to sleeping away from home....although that did not mean that I liked it.
The two weeks went very quickly but at least we made the most of it. We got out and about visiting family as part of the process of rehabilitating my wife until it was time to report for duty and once again after the arrival formalities I was up in the control tower ready to start local training to bring me up to the very high standard required on such a busy unit.
There were two resident Squadrons. One of Meteor night fighters and the other of Hunter day fighters and their activities ensured that Tangmere was not going to be dull. A controllers handling capability had to be brought up to being able to cope with up to eight aircraft at a time....and that was pushing it!. What took a little time to get used to was the fact that every time I was up in the tower I was looking down on an area of tarmac where only 12 years previously I had been de-loused on repatriation from a German POW camp, but it was the general atmosphere of the place that I found so fascinating. To me it was like being on hallowed ground and all rather pleasant after my recent experiences and somewhat comforting to find that I had served previously with three of the controllers.
Within a matter of weeks I was put to the final test required by the Senior Controller and was certificated for solo watchkeeping and bit by bit I was also creeping up the married quarters waiting list until one day I was allocated a quarter.
Unfortunately it all went sour the following day when I was told that it had been re-allocated to the Medical Officer!. It was not very well received at home although I was told that another would be allocated in a few days so I was reluctant to have made the protest that I could have done. My knowledge of the regulations told me that as a National Serviceman the M.O. did not qualify for quarters!, but it was politic to let it ride.
Within a matter of days I was allocated a quarter for the second time and there was considerable excitement in the family when they were told that we would be moving soon.
It was either the next day or the following one when I went on duty that I was told, yet again, that it was being re-allocated. I could not believe it. If I had done that sort
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of thing when I had been looking after quarters at Coningsby I think I would have been lynched but that time I did not take it laying down. It did not take long to find out that it had been allocated to the new O.C Flying Wing, (my boss, two steps up) on ex officio grounds, meaning that the quarter goes with the post irrespective of the waiting list. That was the regulation and as such it was acceptable, apart from the fact that the out going Wing Commander was still occupying a Quarter!. As far as I was concerned that was not on and if I was go home and tell Dorothy once more that we were further delayed the next thing that I would be doing was resigning my commission. I had just about had enough too but after more consideration than I would have given most problems I asked to see the Station Commander, Group Captain Hughie Edwards.VC, among many other decorations, and with tounge [sic] in cheek put my case as succinctly as I could. A change from my usual bull at a gate tactic. Out came the relevant order, in came the OC Admin, and the S/Ldr Admin and the Station Adjutant, the order was taken apart with a decision in my favour and apologies for the cock-up. After that it was my turn to apologise for having the temerity to make such a protest and it all ended up without anyone being upset and within a week we were in quarters. I can think of one or two CO's who would not have reached a similar decision whatever the regulations but enough said about that.
Before we moved our boxes had at last been delivered to Worthing and we didn't know whether to laugh or cry when they were opened up. Customs had already been through some of them and they had been badly repacked. Crockery, glass and ornaments had been broken. Clothes had gone mouldy and had to be thrown away. Linen that we thought was white when we packed it was a nice shade of brown as a result of a couple of pounds of Jordanian and Cypriot sand in each box a lot of which had filtered into the sewing machine box requiring a complete overhaul of that to avoid further damage. Nevertheless, most of it was usable. Just one of the snags of living out of a suitcase and boxes for years but we settled into our new home and a comfortable routine was soon established. The girls were soon back to school and there was continual family movement to and from Worthing as we picked up the threads of a more settled life and Dorothy's
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health began to improve. It really was turning out to be a very a happy unit too, and I had become the Station Fire Officer again!. It was suggested that I should go on the Fire Officers short course at one time but I cast that one aside. "No thanks, Iv'e[sic] had enough on the job experience" and left it at that. I didn't protest when the phone was put in though. Being out of my bed every fourth night I could cope with but I was trying to avoid being away from home any longer than that for a while.
It was shortly after we had settled into the routine that I heard the sequel to the Mafraq situation. Not a lot was mentioned by the media and I got most of the information from my correspondence with friends but apparently within a few weeks of my departure we abandoned the place. It was quite an operation. Again, everything was made mobile. Vehicles got armour plating and Bren gun mountings. Some 400 vehicles that had been in the Maintenance Unit were made ready and loaded with all the other stores, preparations for which were going on before I left as that many vehicles require a lot of batteries but the distilation [sic] plant did not have the capacity to produce the required amount of distilled water. Even at that point a decision had been made to use any sort of water and throw the batteries away after a short life. All had been put together in a very large convoy of 600 vehicles were fuelled and provisioned for the 500 mile journey, armed to the teeth still, the aircraft were flown out so off they set off with air cover and air supply all the way to Habbanyia.
Quite an experience for a 'peace-time' operation. There was no real problem and eventually it all finished up at Basra for shipment.
I eventually heard from the chap who had had all the problem with his car. It did eventually get to Basra and subsequently back to the UK, as deck cargo on the Ark Royal, very scratched and bent with a lot of bits missing. There was a car with a history!,.
One of the biggest surprises that I got one day was a bill from the accounts department; for1s & 7d, (7 1/2 pence in today's money) for 'barrack damages' on the occasion of leaving my quarter in Amman. It was for the deficiency of one wash basin plug!. Absolutlely [sic] incredible after all the millions of pounds that
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the evacuations had cost the Government. And I get a bill for 7 1/2 pence!. When I approached the Accountant Officer with a suggestion that it ought to have been written off he was adament [sic] . It had to be cleared from the books and although it cost me more than 7 1/2 p in stamp duty I paid it by cheque just to make a point. How bloody silly!.
Secondary duties were always coming the way of Air Traffic Controllers and one that fell in my lap was an audit of the bedding store inventory. I had a full briefing for that one and the appropriate Air Ministry Order thrust under my nose to reinforce the importance of checking thoroughly. It was the first time that I seen the order and it was almost word for word of the paper that I had put forward years previously so obviously it was an successful system. I wonder who got a pat on the back for that?. Certainly not me.
On one fine day up in the top tower doing airfield control with a few Hunters flashing around the circuit I knew by the clatter of footsteps on the stairs behind me that the party of .Air Cadets that I had was expecting were about to descent upon me and on turning to meet them was astonished to find that Peter Hobbs who had been the Navigator in the same crew as myself on Stirlings in 1943 was the officer in charge. I don't know who was the most surprised and for a while I was far too busy for any conversation although later on when it was quieter we really did get down to business. I picked him up later in the day to come home for tea and later for a drink in the Mess and we had a lot to chat about but the extraordinary thing was that when we met umpteen years later he had no recollections of the meeting at all, although at least he could remember coming to my wedding. That is more than Paddy Martin the Flight Engineer could!.
As we got into the Summer I had a feeling that all was going too well to last. In July I was dispatched to Shawbury for an eight week Radar course. Just as the kids school holidays were coming up. Nevertheless, I took some local accommodation at Wem and managed to live out for nearly a month. That gave everyone a change and a chance to tour new areas and a great deal of Wales as well. It actually made a very nice break for us all and although it was my second visit try Shawbury it was not to be my last.
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I passed out of that course with possibly the best mark that I had ever achieved despite it's intensity and in due course reported back to Tangmere for duty.
There was of course the usual period under instruction but I was certificated after ten days and back on watchkeeping duties with the ability to be rotated anywhere in the control system.
Ground Controlled Approach as the radar system was called was most satisfying and there were many occasions when I was required to pull out all the stops. It was very demanding but rewarding nevertheless. Some of the highlights of my experiences in GCA are firmly imprinted on my mind.
One occasion that I remember well, and I think my younger brother will as well, was when I was on stand-by on the end of the telephone at home and he was staying with us as he was also recovering from a nervous disorder following a matrimonial problem. I took him with me when I was called out.
The alerting system had already brought the equipment up from the stand-by mode to full power as we raced for the operations truck and I made contact with the tower as I slid into my seat. I put him on a spare headset and was pointing out the significant blobs on the radar screen and after that concentrated on the job in had [sic] , showing him the progress of the blob from time to time. The customer was a diverted Hastings from abroad and although our weather was bad elsewhere was even worse so with 600 yards visibility and a 200ft cloud base I got stuck into my very first operational talk-down. I had been on the other end often enough and knew that it was not easy to handle an aeroplane completely on instruments, boring into the murk, descending at around 130mph. That was probably why I always projected myself into the cockpit when doing talk-downs and felt as if I was virtually holding hands with the pilot and everything went smoothly. The pilot had a full instrument rating and the rest was up to me. When we came to the critical bit, just in the bottom of the cloud at half a mile from the runway threshold he was as steady as a rock, still doing around 120mph, in contact with the approach lights through the murk to the point of touch-down when I flicked the transmitter switch off to hear the pilot report "on the runway" as I turned to where my brother should have been to as I said "I'll open the door
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and you will see him go by"....he was not there. The strain had been too much. He was flat out on the floor and although he did not take long to recover he vowed that would never place himself in that siuation [sic] again and was very glad to get back to the house where a drop of the hard stuff restored him. I don't know if it was the shock treatment but he made good progress after that and got his feet firmly on the ground again.
Another visitor to the tower one day sent a few people into a panic as the sight of a policeman' uniform will often do. Even if you have done nothing wrong. Nothing you can remember anyway!. It was my wife's cousin, a local police patrol Sgt who was making a courtesy call, and in the course of our conversation he conveyed his Inspectors compliments. It had come out during a chat that he was none other than the chap who had been in the same hut as me in Stalag 11d, Nuremburg POW camp. It certainly was a small world!.
Our Senior Controller had a unique talent. He was in great demand to perform party tricks with cards and the like but his best performance was as a Hynotist [sic] .
Like most-people I was sceptical even when I saw people doing quite remarkable things, under the 'influence' I was still not convinced. Not until I was included in a group session. When the preliminary process of selection and conditioning had been done and I was told that my right arm was heavy and I could not lift it I said to myself "rubbish', I will show him. But I couln't [sic] , or my leg when we got round to that any more than I could stop the daft answers to questions coming out of any mouth when I tried not to say them. After that I was convinced and knew that people who were. getting drunk on a glass of, water, acting like chickens and other animals were not just part of the act. I submitted myself to several sessions and it was to be the same every time. He really did have control and was very good but the CO. put a stop to group sessions particularly if any of the pilots were involved. He reckoned that pilots were too vulnerable and did not want any talked into the ground!. Although it was most unlikely as one has to submit oneself to hypnosis it was perhaps a wise move.
We were getting into the Autumn of that year when I collected another secondary duty, that of taking charge of the Corporals
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Club, and on the face of it it seemed easy enough. Like a lot of other things that had come my way!. I soon found out that picking up the takings every morning, and checking the books and cash in hand and stock-taking once a week was a job that I could do without. The takings were very small. There seemed to be no more than half-a-dozen people making use of the place on any night and as far as I was concerned it hardly justified the services of two part time volunteer barmen and yours truly putting in two hours every week when over a hundred Corporals never even bothered to stick their noses in the place. That's the bit that peeved me most and I was 'piggy in the middle' again. For all that if anything that went wrong I was the fall guy.
A survey showed that for the year that it had been operating the takings had never reached what I would call reasonable proportions, albeit it was a non-profit making set-up, and the NAAFI manager confirmed that when the Cpl's bar had been run by them it had not needed any extra staff. That was enough for me and called a general meeting of the club with only two items on the agenda. One, "do you regularly make use of the club facilities;" and two, "would it make any difference to you if it was to revert to NAAFI management", The vote was a unanimous NO to each item and armed with the results of my survey and the minutes of the meeting I presented my case to the CO. When he realised that an officer was spending more time on Cpl's club business than most of the Cpls made of the facilities he agreed immediately to it's disbandment. He did make the observation though that as I had not appeared to be keen on taking the job anyway was my action the easy way out. A straight "yes" surficed [sic] !.
We were still making the most of Tangmere and the area, there was always something going on. On one occasion the Mess laid on a Battle of Britain garden party with invitations to all and sundry including of course many of the 'Few' who had fought from Tangmere. The invitation list was very impressive and I was awed by the prospect of being in such illustrious company. It was a schoolboy's dream come true.
Douglas Bader was there doing his usual stomping around and chatting with his old chums and gold braid seemed to be dripping
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everywhere. I spotted one of the 'Few', a Group Captain who had been my boss when I had been at Transport Command HQ. If ever I am asked about my most embarressing [sic] incident what happened next is certainly one of many.
I tried several times to catch his eye if only to make my presence known so when he eventually looked in my direction and approached I thought it would be an opportunity to make small talk for a while. He never seemed to notice although I had my hand stuck out to grasp his he went right by and gabbed the hand of an elderly steward who was behind me. As I looked in amazement at him pumping the arm of the steward he looked around at me and said "sorry Gamble, I couldn't let this bloke go, d 'you know, he was my batman in 1940". Then I understood and I knew that he had got his priorities right so I retired to the refreshment tent.
With the winter approaching the GCA became more and more important to our activities. On one occasion we had a flight of three Hunters of the Royal Netherlands Air Force notified but our weather deteriorated very quickly as they were on there way and when they did arrive they only had a very limited fit of frequencies which were already cluttered up by other traffic using Ford and Hayling Island. They were also quite low on fuel and on that day I think I created a precedence in Air Traffic Control by declaring an emergency 'Mayday' on the frequency requesting all other users to clear the channel. Needless to say it worked and with the GCA operator monitoring their progress they poured down from the overhead and landed without a hitch in what were still very poor conditions but a quite oblivious to the fact that the situation could have been much more serious. Another less successful incident was the talk-down of a diverted Valetta from overseas. His destination was below his limits and ours were marginal but three times I talked him down to the half mile decision point but he would not go that little bit further and overshot each time. After the third time he asked for a further diversion and was sent to Manston. I felt very sad about the end result of that. I know he was in the right place to make a touch-down but either he was sticking to the rules or he was lacking confidence in me. We will never know. The runway at Manston was icy, he braked and slid after
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landing, dipped a wing and pranged in a ball of fire and all of the crew were killed.
On another occasion I was on duty on a dirty Saturday morning in what was our published availability time for the Radar. We had not been warned of any traffic, the equipment was in the stand-by mode and I was in the crew van with my feet up sipping a cup of coffee when the tower controller came on the intercom. He only said two words, "urgent...in" and I was off to the operations vehicle with the mechanic at the double.
The mechanic started building up to full power as fast as was permissable [sic] as I contacted the tower to be told that we were taking on a Sea Vixen from Ford as there [sic] radar had just packed up as they were recovering aircraft from the Victorious in the Channel. The tower controller was positioning the aircraft into the pattern on time and bearings as my picture was filling in and I had already been told that he was short of fuel. Why the Fleet Air Arm had to fly to such tight limits I do not know but as soon as I had him in contact and he had changed to my frequency I asked him to confirm his fuel state and he quite calmly said "I can't overshoot if that's what you mean", so it was going to have to be a first timer.
I suppose my voice was calm enough, my directions accurate enough and his flying precise enough for him to ignore any limitations to make a perfect touch-down and then he promptly ran out of fuel on the runway as he was saying his 'thank you's'. I wonder though, if he was anything like me absolutely saturated in persperation [sic] !. All part of a day's work.
y
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Page 170 is missing
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Part of ‘Nil Desperandum’
Wyton 1962. Dot had become paralized [sic] from the waist down.
we were managing; just!.
After Dorothy had been in Addenbrooks for three weeks her condition had deteriorated further with almost no control over the lower part of her body as they carried out test after test whilst we continued our prayers in our own way. There was no time to spare to attend church for formal services. We were much too busy. Then the ultimate test came up on a new machine that Addenbrooks had just installed. Dorothy was the first person to have ever been strapped into it. Normal X-Rays had failed to show anything but that machine was the very latest. The patient was strapped to the bench which was set in double gymbals [sic] which rotated the body in every possible angle to a number of X-Ray cameras. The contraption looped, rolled and twisted and turned until she was dizzy but when they interpreted the results they did at least find the problem, which was all that they told me at the time apart from the fact that are operation was necessary and everything had been arranged for it to be done at The London Hospital in Whitechapel which specialised in neurosurgery so I managed some more time off to go with her in the ambulance to see her settled in. That is all I could do....and pray some more!.
The operation was scheduled for a week later and the surgeon wanted to see me first so I knew the time had come. I had to find out sometime but when I was told I was just about bowled over. When you are told that an operation has a fifty fifty chance of success you draw your own conclusions as I did but although Dorothy had been told the same I was given some more priviledged [sic] information. The 50/50 chance was that, one she would die, or two, she would be a cripple for the rest of her life.
I have made a few decisions in any life but to give approval for an operation that could have such consequences was perhaps the most difficult I have ever had to make. That was my Dorothy they were talking about. The little schoolgirl that I had known since I was seven and who had never subsequently questioned my career decisions and had always supported everything I had done. I hoped and prayed that I would not let her down.
As far as I was concerned at that time that the end of my service career. There was no way that I would be able to carry on, my
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work was suffering too much already; and I signed on the dotted line. Dorothy never knew about that 50/50 chance for years and neither did the family. I left everyone to draw their own conclusions and not everyone realised the seriousness of the situation, and never have. As for me I was back to work, looking after the kids and trusting in the Lord.
Eventually the operation took place, all eleven hours of it in the hands of a most celebrated surgeon and as it was a teaching hospital it was all recorded by colour cine' camera's under the eyes of dozens of students in the galleries. I found it very difficult to concentrate on work but eventually I phoned to find that she was out of surgery, confortable [sic] , stable and all the normal things that the nursing staff are trained to say but it was a couple of days before I could get down to see her.
To aovoid [sic] upsetting the system too much I could only visit between shifts without landing myself in more trouble by asking for more time off. She looked pale, she had had three blood transfusions during the operation which had been to the area of the inside and around the back of the spinal column between the shoulders to remove a tumor [sic] . A very delicate job, and touch and go.
It would be three weeks before we would know whether it had been successful and in the meantime she was told not to move a muscle or even think about it. Every movement she wanted to make had to be assisted. About the only thing she could more without assistance were her eyes and mouth. Not easy.
Whilst she was in that state she developed some side effects like a sort of bronchitis that had everone [sic] baffled although it eventually got sorted. That was one time that we were able to do something for the hospital, they had done so much for us and she was not the only one suffering from the same congestion in the bronchial tubes. They had tried everything and Dorothy suggested that one of Grandma's cures might help so they went along with it. Off they went to the fruit and veg. market on the opposite side of the road to the hospital to buy lemons and then produced Grandma's mixture. Hot pure lemon juice and honey!. Two doses and a cough and up came the offending obstruction with a great deal of relief. It went down to the
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path. lab immediately and funds were promptly allocated to buy more lemons and honey from the market and everone [sic] received the 'cure'. That made some considerable improvement in Dorothy's condition and she began to get stronger. Family visits were allowed, all except the baby and after two weeks, although she was not supposed to move, came the moment we had both been praying for. She reckoned she had been static long enough and had experimented a little. It may not seem a lot, but when I made my next visit she said to watch the foot end of the bed. The bed clothes rippled. She could wriggle the toes of both feet so that was a good sign but we could do no more than hold hands in our excitement. We coudn't [sic] even embrace due to all the dressing and padding around her but that was the beginning of her recovery.
Within a couple of days she had experimented a little more to find that she could move her legs and there was feeling in them, a fact that she was able to tell the surgeon on his rounds. He and his staff were excited too and she had the all-clear to try, very gently, other movements, in a closely controlled situation, and what she was able to do caused even more excitement. Of course, she was prodded, pricked and scraped to test all the reflexes that had previously packed up and all the right signs were there.
At the end of the third week she was allowed off of the bed into the vertical position and most people will know what that is like, even if they have only taken to their bed for a few days. After fighting the nausea and using a walking frame for a few days she decided to go solo. No walking frame crutches or sticks and she did the length of the ward from bed to bed with a lot of encouragement from everyone in the ward.
Day by day she improved, doing a little more each time and getting her sea legs. Her wound had healed well and she could do most things by herself including turning over in bed. Even her vericose [sic] veins had improved due to the bed rest and the end of another week she was transferred back to Addenbrooks Hospital on a stretcher by train with private compartment!.
After a further week the hospital authorities were making arrangements for her to be transferred to Huntingdon hospital which would make it easier to visit when, out of the blue they
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changed their mind. She could come home for convalescence!. The relief was indescribable. It was an emotional time for all of us, and I can barely recall what went on apart from the fact that I was totally overcame when the strain of the last few months manifested itself and I had to go and lie down in a darkened room for a while to wait for my brain to simmer down. Eventually I was able to get myself together and bit by bit we were able to tackle the daily routine once more and re-establish the family unit that had been so disrupted.
Every day brought improvement and by the time she had been home a month Dorothy had not only managed to walk comfortably with the pram and to a certain extent unaided, after another few weeks she even managed to ride a bicycle again. That was quite an achievement and when she went back to Whitechapel to see the surgeon he and his colleagues could hardly believe that it was possible and were justifiably highly delighted. Dorothy turned down an invitation to appear in person to back up the film for a presentation at a later date. It would have been very good for the moral of the team but we had more important things to attend to by then.
Fortunately the tumor [sic] had been non-malignant and was in a place of honour in a pickle jar and we were only too happy to say our 'thank you’s' to all the ward staff and doctors who had made it possible, including a letter to Peterborough hospital staff who had started it off. But who had really made it all possible!?.
By what stroke of fate was it that she went to Peterborough hospital on that day when a particular nurse was there. What caused the surgeon to express such surprise at the supple state of Dorothy's spine if it had not been the dedicated work of the Chiropractor, and what guided his hand in a most hazardous operation which they considered to be a near miracle?. Who knows. When we wrote to the faith healing organisation telling them of the outcome we received a most beautiful letter and so we went on from there.
Not everything was as it had been before. The bits that they had taken out of Dorothy's spinal column to get at the tumor [sic] had left her a little shorter than she had been. She had to walk fairly fast to maintain her balance and her ankles were
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turned over slightly inwards. Small things really and as time went on they became less and less of a problem.
For me it was back to the routine again to try and make up lost ground. No more time off, full shiftworking again including night shift although we had lost the emergency service requirement we manned for 24 hours to cover USAF traffic. All throughout those months of anquish [sic] there had been a lot going on that I had still been involved in. We had got rid of our museum piece of radar and taken the new equipment into service and were beginning to shake it down as we were developing new, safer and more sophisticated systems of traffic handling. In such an environment everything was ongoing as problems were confronted and solved almost daily. It all directly involved me one way or another as at the same time I was working my way through the system to refresh my proficiency certificates until it all finally settled down and was running efficiently. At least, during that period I had not collected any secondary duties like Fire Officer!. The only certification I lacked was that of supervisor and no doubt if I stayed there a little longer I would have made but before you could say "Christmas 1962" my next posting was notified. To Laarbruch, Germany, effective from the following February!. I was a bit peeved as I had regularly requested to be trained for area radar which would have widened my scope but at the same time limit the units at which I could serve but it didn't work out that way. I found it somewhat frustrating at times that whilst I was bouncing around like the proverbial yo-yo every 2 1/2 years (or less), there were people around me in different professions who had been in the area for ten years and more. They had done the rounds of Wyton, Upwood and Brampton, bought houses and raised families all in the one area. I should be so lucky!!!.
At least we had plenty of time to organise ourselves. I knew a few people out there so I set the wheels in motion for renting a some private accomodation [sic] to hold us for a while until quarters came up and finished with a place in the town of Goch, about eight miles from the airfield and where the RAF had some married quarters. The two eldest girls were going to have to go to boarding school at Hamm in the Ruhr which was not entirely to our liking but local military schools only went up to junior
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grades, after which it was off to boarding school, either in the UK or Germany. to. A very limited choice so Hamm it was.
After some careful planning we made the move as painlessly as possible. I went privately two weeks in advance with the car loaded up to the hilt almost 16 years to the day that I had baled out of a crippled Lancaster over that country.
The car really was loaded. I only had a little cockpit left that was not stuffed with something and it wallowed somewhat, but I was not rushing anywhere. A gentle jog would get me there if the suspension held out and I got perhaps the best advice that I could have had from A NAAFI manager who was returning to Gutersloh, on what to look out for when driving with UK number plates out there.
We were on the Harwich to Hook route so I had the advantage of following him for a while as I settled in to driving on the opposite side of the road. In the first large town that we came across the very thing happened that he warned me about.
The rule of the road is such that you give way to traffic on the right, therefore if you are on the left of any conflict between two vehicles you are in the wrong and penalised accordingly. Cut and dried in Dutch and German law. So if you are a Dutchman driving a beat up banger that needs a new engine, and replacement panels what do you do?. You bounce an English registered car that you know has got to have good insurance cover and that's what very nearly happened!.
A couple of youths in an old Merc. made a bee-line for me from my right hand side and I had to work very smartly on two occasions to brake and weave away from his obvious intentions. Then he must have got angry and tried it a third time but I got out it by jinking around the wrong side of a tram which he promptly collided with so I had no further problem with him. Trams in Holland have absolute right of way so he was the one to finish up having to do a lot of explaining and no doubt a hefty repair bill.
I was even more wary after that but there was no further trouble after waiving [sic] goodbye to my 'pathfinder' friend and in due course crossed into Germany at Nijmegen. The loaded car caused considerable amusement among the German customs officers. I don't think that they had seen a vehicle quite so well packed,
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roof rack and all. The only room for any cigarettes was on top of the blankets that covered everything up to the sill line, but they got the message when they realised that it was all mainly household goods and I was away again without any hassle.
I was relieved when I finally arrived at my destination and although I had planned the route very carefully I made sure that I stayed on track by calling at numerous bars on the way. That had resulted in an intake of several beers which caused the interval between stops to become shorter and shorter. At the last port of call, in a bar just off of the market square in Goch I tried out my well rehearsed little bit of German on the lady behind the bar "Bitte, vo ist drei unt vierzig Weeze Strasse"?. It must have sounded alright as I had already asked for an "eine kleiner beer, bitte", but she came out with a torrent of German and then was amazed to be told "langsam, ich sprechen kliene Deutsch" and that was almost the limit of my German. It didn't matter a lot. After a good laugh, another beer and a lot of arm waving I only had a few hundred yards to go and there was 53 Weeze Street, a tall terrace house that looked a little battered with other houses each side still shored up or boarded up with panels of wood and galvanised sheeting. It was no palace but it was going to have to do.
The landlady was a charming elderly lady, almost Victorian, who managed only a few words of English but magically produced a cup of tea and over that I found that her husband had been a merchant sea captain and had been lost at sea but all was quite friendly when I told her that I had been more fortunate after being shot down not so far from where we were sitting. After that I started to unload the car with the tool box being one of the first things and then places were found for everything with shelves, brackets, hooks and the like with her permission. I wanted it to be as homely as possible, and it certainly needed the personal touch. There was basically only two rooms and nothing that could be called a kitchen, only a long passage off of the living room. It had a wash basin and a cold tap and at the far end was the toilet....unscreened and frozen up anyway!.
I could have done a lot with emulsion paint but I did not have time for that. I worked on it with what I had in terms of covers,
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screens, tacks and nails, pictures and plaques and it soon looked considerably brighter which rather surprised Frau Van Cooke who had kept me supplied with tea and cakes throughout the unloading and conversion process. The last last [sic] thing to install were various electric and gas cooking appliances and it was all done. It would not be too much of a shock to the family on first sight at least and then I was off to Laarbruch to stay the night with friends who had been at Tangmere with us before going down to Wildenwrath for the homeward journey.
I had arranged to leave the car at Wildenwrath in the care of friends who had fixed me up with a flight to Northolt in a Pembroke and it all clicked into place. Later that day I trained to Huntingdon and home. So far so good and a couple of days later we gave up the quarter and travelled as a family to Manston via a night stop in London where several of the family had congregated from Worthing, and then by air direct to Wildenwrath. The air movements staff were somewhat surprised when; as a family we by-passed all the normal transportation facilities, but all I had to do was pick up the car and set off for our new home. It was not much but we were together and we made the best of it. Frau van Cooke was a little concerned as she had obviously mis-understood that we were five in family until the eldest girls were off to boarding school but after some adjustment to the rent she made another small room available and we were fairly comfortable. Fortunately the weather had turned a little warmer and the toilet had thawed but the thing that seemed to bother Frau van Cooke most was that as the rating system in Germany was based on a poll tax the appropriate authorities had to be informed of changes as they occurred. We overcame it as we did most things. The day after arrival I was reporting for duty. The girls were enrolled at the camp school temporarily before their places at Hamm had been confirmed and we were very soon into a routine. It was different though. It was a long time since we had lived in anything but an Air Force community and in it's way it was very interesting. We soon integrated into the local environment and we had no problems in adapting. Frau van Cooke and our neighbours were kind and helpful [sic] . The local garage housed the car overnight for a modest fee when I was not on duty rather than park it in the main road and we
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soon got used to the the [sic] German way of doing things. First and foremost, the cleanliness of the area in front of a building was the reponsibility [sic] of the occupant so it seemed that there was competition to be the smartest although they were very reluctant to allow grass to grow on the verges. They were all raked and scratched into patterns. Bicycles were ridden on the footpath but always according to the direction of the road traffic and the bicycle bell was mandatory. Cars could be parked in the roads but only in the direction of the traffic but not both sides of the road at the same time. It was a very practical arrangement. Parking was relative to the date and the house numbering. Odd dates on odd numbers and visa versa. Cars were not washed in the street on Sundays and neither was washing hung on the line. Sundays was a day for visiting the family in Sunday best clothes and for church. How much that routine has changed over the years I would not know but at that time it seemed to be a comfortable arrangement. Another practical method of designating where speed restrictions started and stopped was by applying the standard 50k limit at the signpost at the town limits on the way in and at the signpost on the way outwhich [sic] gave the name of the next town or village on route. Very simple, economical and effective.
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The town of Goch was a market town very close to the Dutch border and more or less on the line of what had been at one time the old Seigfried line. It had suffered badly from savage fighting when the big push was launched on the 8th February 1945, the day after I failed to return, when the Allies attempted to reach the Rhine all along the front. The Canadians had forced a passage by the most bloody hand to hand fighting along the very road in which we were living after they had taken Weeze and most of the houses still bore the marks of the battles as did many places in the town centre. The houses adjacent to us were not the only one's that were boarded up skeletons and the Town Hall was still pock-marked with scars from shell and morter [sic] splinters as well as anti-tank and canon fire but despite it all life went on as near normal as one would have expected at home.
The attic rooms above us were not part of our let but we investigated at one time and I immediately regretted it as it upset the girls. The flimsy doors at the bottom and the top of the narrow winding stairs were both splintered with bullet holes and the walls were well and truly peppered with holes and some very nasty stains which obviously would not wash off. The attic itself was no better and there were still remnents [sic] of uniform scattered about and it would appear that nothing had been done other than to clear the casualties of the battle. It was not difficult to imagine the desperate and bloody fighting that had gone on in that place and we only ever went up there that one time.
Despite it all, the Germans had built a memorial to a British officer who had been appointed as Town Major to manage the civilian administration which was standard procedure after the battle had passed through. It was neccessary [sic] to get public facilities running properly as soon as possible and tie up the minimum number of fighting personnel. His job was to help to get things going again as smoothly as possible and to that end he applied himself in such a way that he became highly respected by the locals for his ability to be hard working, fair and just. Unfortunately, it had to be a memorial plaque as, once the town was capable of running itself again he had rejoined his unit up at the front and had been killed in action. It was something to think about that their appreciation was so recorded which
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was more than could be said for some of the German military whose presence in the area still showed…but in a different way. In the town of Kevelaer, which was renowned for it's manufacture of religious artifacts, there was a tall wall alongside a church absolutely riddled with bullet holes where a large number of the population had been lined up and shot..by the SS!, as apparently the battle raged to and fro they had been evacuated several times for their own safety until finally they refused to be moved. They were prepared to stay and take their chance and after seeing that terrible sight I could understand that the population of some German towns were prepared to show their appreciation for their deliverance from the yoke of Nazizm [sic] .
Eventually the time came for the two eldest girls to start at Hamm when the new term started and they set off by train with others who they had met between terms. It seemed better that way and probably allowed them to settle a bit quicker...but they did not like it that was for sure. Boarding school discipline was not to their liking and the school buildings were a bit grim. They were converted SS barracks and most of the pupils were quite certain that the matron had been left behind by the SS when they evacuated all those years ago!, but they coped.
We went to Hamm whenever the opportunity arose. Week-ends when they were allowed out and half-term so we took them about as much as we could to places of interest but there was invariably tears when we were obliged to leave.
Fortunately the journey through to Hamm was only just over two hours but it was an interesting route whether by autobahn or the 'scenic' route. The autobahn route was right through the 'Happy Valley' Ruhr industrial complex that had received such a pounding from Bomber Command and still showed it and the scenic route to the North was through some very badly damaged towns, including Wanne Eikle when we diverted to have a look at the place. Nevertheless, it was surprising how quickly the economy was recovering. When we first arrived a great deal of our transport and services were provided from local resources under the reperations [sic] agreement but as industry recovered that was was coming to an end and British products were taking over.
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We had plenty of friends in and around Laarbruch and at other RAF units in the area. There were plenty of places to visit and Arnhem and Nigmegen [sic] were near enough for shopping expeditions
as well as paying our respects at the military cemetary's [sic] both at Arnhem and the Reichwald. Despite the fact that the camp had very comprehensive facilities we got out and about as much as we could. If we were going to be stationed in Germany we were going to see it, particularly when the eldest girls were home from Hamm or we visited then there. I remember once asking the technical F/Sgt in charge of the radar how he liked the place and was surprised to find that he did not think much of it but after a little more discussion found that he had not been outside the main gate since he had arrived!. Even by the end of his tour he had only been 'outside' twice and his wife not at all. It seemed a bit 'head in the sand' to me as most people we knew got about as much as possible.
There was one place we found, a little different from when I first encountered it, and that was the spot where I had landed safely in 1945 and nearly got shot by the side of the road. The house where I was first interrogated was as it was imprinted on my mind. Only 22 miles from Laarbruch. I even entertained the thought when I scouted around the area that I might recover two soggy one pound notes and my old I.D. card. Some hope!. The area of small nursery pines had grown to some 50 to 60 feet high and although I looked around the area I could find no sign of the whacking great hole that 'D' Dog would have made if that was where she came down. I never have found the crash site. It was years later that I made a serious attempt to find it but MOD Historical Records could not help other than to say that they had information that they could not disclose. Possibly a cover up for the fact that they knew nothing although they were interested to know where we baled out and why. 'D' Dog was the only aircraft Bomber Command lost that day and the crash site is still listed………………..
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as 'unknown'. That local tour was one of many that we made to places that were engraved on my memory and noted in my diary. At Krefeld I couldn't even find the airfield!. At Dusseldorf the old airfield had been swallowed up or otherwise expanded although the ghosts of the past were swirling around when I surveyed the area on more than one occasion from the terminal buildings.
At Frankfurt although I followed the road out towards Ober-Orsal I could find no sign of what had once been the infamous interrogation centre of Dulag-Luft. Throughout the next two and a half years there were not many areas that we did not visit as we ranged far and wide with the benefit duty free pre-paid petrol coupons that were more than enough for our requirements. Shortly after starting the daily routine of setting off for the airfield one morning I picked up a Warrant Officer who was heading the same way. He too had only just arrived and lived not far from us. He was the Technical Wing Adjutant and his son was destined for Hamm school the same as our girls. That was the start of a long and deep seated friendship of the sort that one rarely made in the service as most friendships were like the ripples made by a stone in a puddle. They tended to dissipate when one or the other moved on but we are still in touch after 35 years.
I was soon certificated and operational. The work at Laarbruch was slightly different although it was not a continuous 24 hour shift system that I had become used to but we kept a skeleton crew on standby outside normal working hours to fulfill [sic] the requirements of 2nd Tactical Air Force. The aircraft were Canberra bombers and the more modern delta wing Javelin night fighter. A touch of both Bomber Command and Fighter Command which made for some very interesting procedures. Other than that the rest of the set-up was fairly standard. The GCA radar was the same type that I had used at Tangmere and I was promptly placed in charge of it for it's operation proficiency which included checking out other controllers and to train to a high standard of re-positioning and setting up of the equipment when the runway in use was changed. The requirement was to do it within an hour which was a tall order considering that there was the operations trailer, the power supply trailer and rest
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caravan weighing in all about 40 tons to be moved with great care considering that it contained some quite delicate equipment and cost around £250,000!. Bend that little lot and someone's head would roll........mine!.
The route to Hamm took us down to the new bridge at Vesel, slightly up river from the remnants of the ends of the-old bridge that had been destroyed during the war in that hottest of all hotspots. It was from that very area that massive armies had gathered to force a crossing of the river and where Churchill had fired one of the first shots of the assault by pulling the lanyard of a very big gun and where the biggest Airborne landing of 22,000 men had been landed by glider and parachute on the East side of the town. A very historical place militarily and a slightly battered one having been given a terrible pounding by Bomber Command prior to the attack by ground forces. Nevertheless, a lot had been rebuilt and the new system had taken advantage of a lot of open space and vast quantities of rubble. We usually swept through and in a few miles had linked up with the autobahn.
I got my first taste of motorway driving out there when they were were [sic] still building the M1 in the UK although the southern end was usable I had not used it but it was like a battlefield. 90% of the autobahn traffic seemed to be VW Beetles and the like with a top speed of a little over 70mph, about the same as mine, but it was the way they were driven that put the wind up me.
There was no speed limit and drivers just hurled themselves along at maximum possible speed with foot flat on the floor all the time, come what may. Nose to tail, bit between the teeth, no leeway whatsoever and no margin for error, just going like the clappers all the time. I really felt as if I was back in the Battle of the Ruhr and found it decidedly uncomfortable. I don't think that there was ever one journey that we did that we didn't see the results of what appeared to be suicidal driving so I started to try and prove that the MT instructors at the base were not going to include me when they quoted the statistics of 90% of drivers [underlined] will [/underlined] have an accident whilst in Germany. [underlined] They were right though [/underlined] !. I came unstuck eventually. In the meantime I just battled on. On one occasion we had just cleared the Ruhr
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area on the autobahn heading for Hamm with particularly heavy traffic developing into two solid streams doing around 60 to 70mph and I felt concerned enough to do as I still do today under such circumstances....get into the 'slow' lane where there was at least room to duck onto the hard shoulder if there was trouble. I was suddenly aware that way ahead stop lights were coming on like strobing airfield approach lights and was immediately on the alert. I suppose other drivers concentrating on the vehicles directly in front were not aware that the stop lights were coming on were getting closer and closer and then as it was obvious to me what was going to happen I jinked out onto the hard shoulder. I must have done it with split second to spare as some 200 vehicles shunted each other with the screeching of brakes, bangs, thumps and the sound of tearing metal and breaking glass. It was followed immediately by the cries of the injured when all other noises had stopped.
No-one in our immediate area was badly hurt although there were numerous head injuries and the odd broken limb with a fair bit of blood splashed around so it was out with the first aid kit and to the rescue. Fortunately, in addition to the mandatory first aid kit I had for years kept a large package of war-time wound packs in the car and they came in very useful although I what some people thought when they found that they were British Military packs dated 1943 I couldn't say. They did the job despite the fact that in most cases the safety pin was rusted!. Small matter. I had found them in an abandoned store in a pill box at Oakington in 1947…..I was not the sort of a bloke to waste things!. They lasted many years. In that instance we were luckier than the majority and it took an hour and a half before the autobahn ahead was cleared sufficienty [sic] for us to proceed past piles of smashed up vehicles, and then we came to the root cause of the pile-up. Unbelievable!. There were [underlined] two [/underlined] white police cars mangled together more or less standing on end up against a bridge support. We subsequently learned that they had been heading the long snake of cars to keep the speed down but had been playing 'tag' and had obviously not-been very clever.
I felt at the time that 'someone' was definitely out to get me having so far escaped all other intentions of the Germans to eliminate me and it did not improve Dorothy's attitude to
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sitting in what was often classified as the suicide seat, ie, the passenger seat of a right hand drive vehicle being driven on the right hand side of the road. There was even more apprehension by the time that particular week-end was over. We had just got into Hamm and rounding a corner had to duck to miss the car ahead that had lurched around the corner, bounced off of one of the large concrete cylinder things that were liberaly [sic] sprinkled around their street corners and then finished up with the front wheels over a small garden wall. It was a British Forces registered vehicle also heading for Hamm school but no-one was hurt and the driver declared that he needed no assistance so we pressed on. Nevertheless it was a great weekend with the girls who enjoyed their visit to Munster zoo we thought no more about driving and it's associated problems until we were on the return journey.
I was gaining slightly on a VW Beetle but held back for a while as it was lurching about over both lanes in very light traffic. It was some time before I ventured alongside and was somewhat shocked to find that all of the windows were closed and steamed up and all four occupants were asleep, including the driver, hunched over the wheel. I gave the horn as much as I could for as long as I could to rouse everyone, making signs to wind down the windows until it was safe to pass and felt after that that I had done my good deed for the day as that bloke was very close to running off of the road. He would not have known much about it though as he was doing what most beetle drivers did. Foot still flat on the floor regardless.
As always there was continual movement of personnel, most people having settled into a 2 1/2 year tour. We had with us people that we had known at many units including Amman and Egypt as well as Mareham [sic] and Wyton so of course the usual thing was happening with the married quarter waiting list as we went up and down like a yo-yo. There was one movement that had occurred just before we arrived although would not have made any difference to our quarters list, that of the Station Commander whose Adjutant I had been at Marham but he had gone on with more promotion. After that apparently almost every move he made was with further promotion until he eventually retired as an Air Marshall with a Knighthood and a handsome string of awards and
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decorations including; GCB, KCB, CB, CBE, OBE, DSO, DFC, AFC, and I must confess that I am proud to have received a great deal of instruction from him in the three years that I was his Adjutant.
The eventual allocation of married quarters at Laabruch could not have come at a better time. 53 Weeze Strasse was not the most suitable of places but it had enabled us to recover our finances to the satisfaction of both the bank manager and our-selves, and I hope, Frau van Cooke, so we moved into our comfortable centrally heated house shortly before the winter set in and had a damn good house warming party to celebrate.
Everything sailed along quite happily despite the girls dislike of boarding school and our youngest was soon into her third year but we were outgrowing the little Ford Popular and it's three speed gear box was a bit tedious at times. It was time for a change and we considered all the options. In the end I ordered the new Ford Classic (tax free) from a firm in Chichester in Sussex with a part exchange deal and it was all done when we went back to the UK for a holiday covering the school term break.
That was going to be the car that would see me through for the maximum number of miles before another change became neccessary [sic] . I ran it in carefully and the engine was treated with all the right things to achieve longevity and when our leave was up it was fully prepared to do anything asked of it, nevertheless, no sooner than we were back into Holland on the way back one of the first things we came across was a car upside down in a ditch at the side of the road with arms and legs hanging out of broken windows. I only stopped for a quick look and decided that there was little I could do that would not involve and upset the family so I pressed on for about half a mile until I saw a house with the sign outside denoting that they had a phone, nipped in and asked them to telephone ambulance and police to get to the scene, and then continued my journey. I've sometimes thought that I might have been able to do more at the scene but the inside of the car was like a butchers shop with not a lot of hope for the occupants.
The Classic was soon re-registered with British Forces plates and as it was a new model it always attracted a great deal of interest wherever we went. There was usually a crowd around
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it wherever it was parked.
There was one place just over the border in Holland that we visited regularly. The village of Well was an interesting little place and one of it's most comfortable establishments was a little restaurant and bar on the side of the River Maas. 'Auntie' Nellie was mine host and she was a remarkable person. She was well known for her resistance work and had been responsible for numerous evaders to pass along another link in the chain back to the safety of their own lines. It had obviously needed someone like that who was handy to assist in the river crossing. The Maas was quite wide and fast flowing at that point and the nearby bridge was a war-time Bailey built especially to carry military traffic from Eindhoven; still carrying heavy traffic. Our free week-ends were often spent there for shopping and for refreshments in the restaurant, watching the barges chugging by with all manner of goods piled on them and the bargees washing, bicyles [sic] , dogs, or watching a UK football match on the tele. but there was a bit of a problem with that. The football commentary was usually in Dutch so a radio was set up alongside and we had a commentary in English for the same match that suited the Dutch, English and German patrons who all gravitated to that place. Great fun greatly assisted by good strong Dutch beer, or possibly something hotter and stronger on cold days.
We visited the area many years later and it had not changed much and one of the girls plus her own family visited many years after that and it was still pretty much the same. We had a lot of time for the Dutch people and found no difficulty in integrating. In fact, we could quite happily have taken up residence there.
Crossing the Dutch/German border just North of Goch a few months after getting the new car the windscreen disintegrated in my lap and of course being a new model not yet on sale on the continent it took a week before a Dutch Ford agent could fit another but that was nothing to what happened later. With a new car I thought that I had overcome the love/hate relationship that I had always had with motor vehicles, but I was always
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to be in trouble with them one way or another.
Something else cropped out that I was not overjoyed about. The 'cold war' that was the very reason that we were out there demanded emergency establishment manning in the event of going to 'Red Alert' and on that deployment I would have been immediately on my way to my war establishment post. To Gatow, Berlin!!!, right in the middle of the contested Russian Zone. Just my luck. I would much rather have been going in the opposite direction!, away from any conflict but due to it's security classification I had to keep that possibility under wraps.
Life was anything but dull. The job of Station Fire Officer landed in my lap again almost as soon as I moved into quarters although it was the usual arrangement. A senior fireman did the work and 'Sir' was the dogsbody who took the flak if anything went wrong but it still helped to know as much as possible about the job. I had learned the hard way but the crash/rescue element was always under the operational control of Air Traffic Control and I thought that having got that job it would be enough---wrong again!.
There was plenty to occupy my mind and my hands. There were liaison visits of all sorts on a two way basis. The local German and Dutch fire services were entertained and visa versa (but not both at the same time). At one time I had two Luftwaffe NCO's for several weeks to polish off their GCA training although their initial training had been with the Americans and we all used the same procedures. Even our GCA was of standard American design. All very interesting!. A very daft situation arose with them on one occasion as naturally they were billeted with us and it seemed natural for them to use their camera's. It is true that we did have one very secure area in the vicinity of the Canberra dispersals on the far side of the airfield but the Service Police were I think a little over security concious [sic] when they pounced on them in the domestic area and ripped the film out of the camera's. Typical. I did have a word with the senior policeman but it was a waste of time. He reckoned that he was not having Germans photographing our installations. Bloody daft!. They had built the station for us in the first place!
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My interest in photography had developed further to the extent that I joined the unit photographic club, a move that I was to regret later and although the facilities were a bit run down I was able to widen the scope of my activities in that field as I had sold all my processing gear back at Wyton when finances were taking a bit of a hammering. What happened next was just waiting to happen. The current Officer I/C (in-charge) was posted and they did not look very far for his replacement. There were no terms of reference so I was instructed to write my own for approval and then my brief was simple. "It's a mess, put it back on it's feet". I knew it was a mess, the trouble was that I had told too many people. In the main it was used by people for standard processing at a profit, and who were not very interested in cleaning up. It did not take long to find out that there was about twice the number of people booking out the keys as there was on the register so it was a matter of going back to 'square one' to lock the place up and out of bounds to all but a selected few who were formed into a committee until a new system was set up I had the place refurbished with all the enlargers overhauled by a local German photographic supplier, new black-outs and racking resulting in four good booths. Eventually we agreed the maximum number of people that we could have on the register, all old membership cards were invalidated and new cards issued against the subscription register which was to be renewed annually and 'bingo'. With new rules, a studio and lecture room we opened up and it flourished. One feature I introduced was processing on certain nights only and a weekly 'beginners night' series of talks for the benefit of those, schoolchildren, wives and all, who wanted to know the basics. I well remember my own first efforts when every other word the 'experts' said was 'double dutch' to me so I was determined that each of the four talks was pitched as low as possible and repeated every month. It worked well and it was popular.
As we went into the first Winter we were glad of the design of the married quarters. Airmen's and Officers were all built along the same lines albeit to a different standard. The typical concrete box built on top a cellar and around the plumbing. There was no piping showing inside or outside. The cellar was
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the utility area, with concrete wash tubs, floor drainage and other mod. cons. and a store room. It all looked rather like the inside of a submarine with huge pipes and turn cocks along the passage…..but there was no boiler!. Hot water was provided by a huge boiler system to the whole station along deep insulated piping on a communal basis, the only base in Germany to have such a system and it made everything very comfortable and convenient. Especially when an Officers wife went 'down below' to see how the plumber was getting on with a job only to find that he was sitting in one of the wash tubs, in the buff, happily blowing bubbles in oodles of hot water. Now that's what I call initiative and it caused a bit of a giggle when the story got around.
Later on our store room became the 'Den' where the girls and their friends congrgated [sic] to get away from the 'oldies' but at least they had their own space. Goodness knows how many there were down there at times after we got fed up answering the door and fixed up a string and a bell system through the outside grating.
Being a house of concrete the attic had a concrete floor as well and all the roof beams had built in hooks for what I assumed to be hammocks if ever they were needed as barracks providing a very useful sleeping area particularly if anyone was overwhelmed with visiting friends and relations from the UK.
As it happened we never were and although my father-in-law expressed an interest to visit us and take the opportunity do the tour of the WW1 battlefields he found it more than he could bring himself to do and could not set foot on German soil; and he never did. The memories of his brother being blasted into eternity at his side, and his own wounds were too strong for him ever to forget that episode in his life.
Before the winter was out we skated and tobogganed. Everyone enjoyed themselves in the light fluffy snow of the kind that one did not normally see back home until at last Spring broke through and work and play took over the scene again. The Winter was a bit hard although nowhere near as bad as the one to follow but a lot happened in between.
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One tour we put together for the early Summer holidays came unstuck. It was planned as a round robin right down through Central and Southern Germany, into Bavaria, Austria and Switzerland, France and back home over at-out ten days. It did not quite work out like that although we were making the most of it until it went wrong.
We went to Nuremburg and found the site of Stalag X111b but there were no huts left, only a police Guard Post and we were allowed to browse around. Then on to Stalag V11a Mooseburg and back to Munich for a night stop. The memory plays funny tricks though. Despite my notes I found it very difficult to locate some places and even when I did positively identify places from the notes they were sometimes unrecognisable. We had already found the same problem around the UK!. However, our navigation went a bit haywire down in Austria when we took a wrong road up in the mountains and instead of going into Switzerland we found ourselves back in Germany again. Not that it mattered much. All of the scenery was absolutely splendid and eventually we were into and out of France crossing the border into Germany again near Strasburg. We were ahead of our schedule so we decided that we would head for home rather than go for another night stop and were about ten miles South of Heidleburg when some idiot driver pulled a stunt that upset a few people; us included and so we finished up with a night stop anyway.
I was the tail ender of seven or eight vehicles in convoy doing near enough 70mph in the 'fast' lane with no traffic in the other lane when a light truck going like a bat out of hell came up behind making angry signals with his lights for us to get out of the way, which I did and then I resumed the tail end position. I did not stay behind him long as obviously no-one else was going to move over for him so he pulled out and went through on the wrong side. No doubt he had worked himself into a frenzy of agressive [sic] behaviour, (what is called road rage today is nothing new) and as soon as he got to the head of the column he did something quite unexpected. I could see the whole thing happening as if in slow motion as he literally hurled his vehicle across the bows of the leaders and them stood on the brakes. What happened next was anything but slow motion but long before
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anything happened directly I was on the brakes and everyone on board slid up against something solid before each and everyone of the cars shunted one another with a series of thuds until despite my heavy breaking we slammed into the one in front with such a wallop that it shot forward again into the one in front and our roof rack landed in the road between us. It was very fortunate that I was 'tall end charlie' as I am quite sure that we would have had one in the back of us as well.
After a quick check to see if we had any injuries, to be very relieved to find that only the eldest had had a scratch from a broken Coke bottle I dispatched her immediately to about fifty yards back along the centre section to start waving her white cardigan like mad, and got everyone else out onto the central reservation in case some damn fool back-ended us. It was not difficult to get out of as the impact had given us a 'droop snoot' and the doors had sprung with an overlap of some four inches. One could see at a glance that that we were not going anywhere in that car for a long time.
Checking on the vehicle in front and recovering the roof rack disclosed that the middle aged couple in the BMW that I had hit were badly shaken but otherwise unhurt although their car was quite badly damaged. The front end was bent, the back end was scrunched, the boot lid had sprung, and the exhaust had fallen off. They were both in tears though as the car was absolutely brand new, direct from the factory on delivery with only 22km on the clock but that was the least of my worries.
Between listening to their tales of woe, refixing the roof rack and repacking some of our spilled goods with a very watchfull [sic] eye on the traffic that was still hurtling by I still had time to take a few photographs before the police arrived and my daughter could retire from her rather exposed position to the relative safety of the central reservation where all the damaged cars had been pushed once the police were satisfied with explanations and that the exchanges of insurance details had been attended to. That's the way German traffic law worked; 'he who does the bumping does the paying', so you dealt with the one in front and the law is satisfied.
Breakdown vehicles appeared as if by magic but we had to wait a lot longer than most to get cleared as I, being a member of
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the military, had to be dealt with by the appropriate military authority, in that area, the U.S. Army, who could not have been more sympathetic and helpfull [sic] . The car was eventually winched onto a civilian break-down vehicle, (which I subsequently had to pay for) and off it went with us following up in a staff car to see it settled in a field full of other wrecks. Our surplus goods were left in the care of the driver of the breakdown-truck before we were finally deposited at the steps of a very nice Hotel in Heidelburg.
In normal circumstances we would have enjoyed that visit to the beautiful city of Heidelburg but not that time. We were just about broke. I had a Hotel bill to consider as well as the train fare back to base. I did not have a German bank account and there were limits that one could do then with a UK chequebook. Nevertheless, we dredged up every mark and phenig [sic] that we could, including the kid's pocket money but it didn't allow for a meal so we just had to picnic on the bits and pieces that we had recovered from the car and ultimately went to bed very tired if not a little hungry. It still took a long time before sleep came to me. Here I was again, virtually stranded in Germany wondering what was going to happen next. Every piece of the day’s action kept floating in frost of my eyes. Of all the damn silly things. All those occasions of war-time flying over enemy territory escaping injury by the skin of my teeth, to finish up in Germany with a pranged car and very nearly a damaged family as well.
I made myself a promise before I want to sleep, to never, ever again put myself or my family in such a situation again. There had to be a way to adjust one’s driving technique to reduce the risks, so I was going to have to swallow my pride. Meanwhile I had become one of 2nd TAF's motoring statistics having been told that nine out of ten drivers would have an accident I had scoffed at the idea...but they were not wrong.
The following day after paying our bill and buying tickets there was not much left in the kitty so it was rolls, butter, sausage and fizzy drinks bought locally for breakfast and for the journey, then we were off.
That part of the journey was a tour to remember for it's sheer
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beauty but I think that I was the only one to remember it in detail. The weather was perfect. The scenery along the Rhine was picture postcard stuff of vinyards [sic] and castles perched high up on hillsides especially the area around Koblenz was too good to miss particularly as I had run out of film and could not even afford to buy another. I kept waking the family up to look at, it but at that stage of the game they were not too impressed although I was out to make the most of it. To hell with the car, insurance would take care of that and the most important thing was that we were all together and all in one piece. That's all that mattered. We eventually arrived back at Goch, a colleague picked us up and that was the end of that holiday and touring for a while. There were letters to write and reports to make as we eventually settled down to life without a car. I tried to negotiate for the car to be transferred to Holland for repair as it was a new model not yet available in Germany although it was filtering onto the Dutch market but the agents for the UK insurers who were based in Hamburg would not entertain the idea and weeks went by as they deliberated. In the meantime my neighbour who had just bought a new car agreed to run it in by driving me down to Heidelburg to pick up all the stuff that we had been obliged to leave behind. It had all been prepared and packed and even lunch was provided for us. He and his Frau earned our gratitude and their remuneration for their thoughtfulness. It helped me overcome my dismay when I went to see the car sitting forlornly among the wrecks. It had already been vandalised, possibly on the assumtion [sic] that it would be a write-off. All the wheel trims and the front wheels had gone as well as the wing mirrors. The battery had gone and the petrol had been drained off all ten gallons of it as we had only just fuelled up for the home run. I had been relying on some of that to help us to do the 300 mile round trip but someone had beaten me to it. Of course no-one knew anything about it. The yard did not belong to the recovery chap and there were notices around in German disclaiming responsibility for any losses etc. It was to be expected!.
The months went by and were particularly frustrating. Having looked the car over carefully on that visit I figured that it ought to be classified as a write-off but the insurance company
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disagreed. I tried to get it taken to Cologne, the German manufacturing centre for Fords but eventually it was transferred to Mannheim for repair. I found out later that the front was completely cut off and replaced, something that would not be acceptable today but that was it and they had the last say. I was without it for six months and a lot of annoyance which did little for my blood pressure.
I busied myself in work of one sort and another. We did not go out of camp much and the girls had settled themselves into local employment so it was the photographic club that received most of my attention which was soon flourishing financially and with a lot of enthusiastic new members. So much so that Laarbruch was selected as the venue for the Command Photographic Competition. It all went well with the cooperation of the Education Flight and the fact that I won two awards had nothing to do with the fact that one of the judges had been my neighbour at Wyton. All entries were coded which was standard practice.
Air Traffic Control was more or less routine. By that time I was convinced that I had covered just about every aspect and I was still making it known annually, that I wanted area radar training for the future. Nevertheless, I had one experience which I thought might have influenced a decision but it didn't.
I was doing stand-by shift in the radar track after I had been informed of a large formation practice of aircraft from 2nd TAP units to the South-East of us and I had been monitoring their progress when I was asked to take control of an aircraft being flown by the C in C who wanted see how the formation was shaping up.
It was really difficult after taking him on. I found out from the formation Ieader the detail's of the altimeter setting and then working him on a different frequency did a perfect fighter interception placing him just above and 100yds behind the formation. He even asked if I was a Fighter Controller and was somewhat surprised to find that he was being controlled by an airfield radar. He did say "as good as any fighter control interception" but he didn't bother to find out who I was!.
Our GCA was not without it's troubles though. There was one
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expensive internal item absolutely vital to it's operation that was costing dollars to replace and contracts had-been let to produce them in the UK under licence but they didn't always last for the expected running time but at least we had replacements. Our headphones were a different matter. Some of then were the original issue with the radar unit and were always in need of repair which was common in almost every similar equipment in the RAF. I found that intolerable. Aircrew helmets and associated communications equipment cost hundreds of pounds to ensure absolute reliability and safety and I was sometimes sweating a bit when we were obliged to operate in marginal conditions with our own equipment that could fail at any time. I indented for new head-sets to be told that they were too expensive and were to be repaired locally. I made a fuss and some were taken away by Command signals workshops for repair but very few people knew that I had got something else up my sleeve.
My contacts with my opposite number in the Dutch Air Force at Vokel was very helpful in finding out that their Bell helicoptors [sic] used the same sort of headset and were replaceable under a NATO agreement. A liaison visit exchanged three of them but I kept that quiet. The only time they came out was when we were operating in marginal conditions; and I kept up the pressure for total replacement much to the annoyance of the technical staff particularly when the refurbished sets proved to be unreliable. Eventually, wondering how long it would take to get something done before the next winter set in I really put the cat among the pigeons. I did a 'Douglas Bader' and signalled 2nd TAF HQ that the radar was declared 'non operational-training in visual conditions only due to technical problems'. Phew!, that really did get things moving. I knew through the 'grapevine' that new UK produced headsets were becoming available and that the C in C of Coastal Command had authorised the local purchase of replacements for his radars...that was good enough for me and was part of my argument and I flatly refused to change the status of our radar until something similar was done. As with Douglas Bader the result was dramatic. Within a week all the stops had been pulled out and I received replacements direct from the manufacturers completely by passing the normal stores
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procedure. All I had to do was to pass the invoices back through stores to confirm that I had got them and turn in the old one's for write off. We were operational immediately but I got a hell of a lot of 'stick' for it. Bader might have got away with it but I didn't. I had upset too many people along the line by taking a short cut and there were no thanks for my achievment [sic] .
In the late summer I did another liaison visit that was most interesting; to our Fighter Control Centre at Udem....in the war-time bunker that the Luftwaffe had used to track our bomber streams and direct their fighters although of course it had been modified to our sytem [sic] . It was similar to our UK fighter Control Centres that I had been in although it just felt different but what was interesting was the fact that there were a lot of Luftwaffe personnel around as a new generation was being trained by us. It led to to [sic] another liaison visit later when a few of us went to a radar controlled Luftwaffe ack-ack unit somewhere towards Wesel. Now that was interesting; less than ten miles from where a similar unit had shot us down in 1945 and very enlightening.
The winter was nearly upon us when I eventually received notice that the car was ready for collection so off I went to Mannheim only to find that as far as I was concerned it was not. It was lacking all sorts of bits and some parts were still unpainted so I returned without it. There was an angry exchange of letters between myself and Hamburg and claims for costs until I was eventually told it was positively ready so off I went again. Then the s……hit the fan. Hardly anything more had been done and although I phoned the Hamburg office and got the OK to take it subject to a settlement the repairers would not release it until it was paid for. Oh boy oh boy!, what fun and games. More phoning, Hamburg making arrangements to transfer money via banks, a night stop for me and eventually it was released so off set for the 230 mile return journey, and not before time. It was a good job that I had fuelled to the brim as the weather did not look at all promising. I soon connected with the Autobahn and had not gone more than 30 miles when I ran into a snowstorm that turned into a blizzard, just what I wanted!, although it
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slowed things down considerably and the traffic thinned out as snow came down in about the heaviest fall I had ever encountered. It was very soon some two or three inches deep and going was getting difficult although mostly I was in virgin snow and still getting a grip. I pressed on nevertheless having in mind that it looked as if I was going to have to make another night stop somewhere but then found that in the confusion of the poor visibility in the ten lane junction near Frankfurt I had picked up the wrong lane and was on my way North-East, towards Wuppertal!. There was only one thing to do and that was backtrack. Although the snow had stopped leaving a depth of about 4ins. it would have been quite impossible to go across country so it was back 20 miles and then find my way through the network of the ten lane junction again until I was on track for Cologne once more. By that time it had got dark and I was somewhat relieved to be heading in the right direction at last and was working out my ETA (Estimated Time of Arrival) when there was a hold up. It took some time for the traffic to creep forward and over the brow of a hill before I could see what had caused it all. There was a large articulated lorry on it's side blocking most of the carriageway and the police were only allowing one vehicle at a time down the hill past it as by now the snow had become impacted and it was a bit like an ice rink. When my turn came to make the descent I was amazed to find that the firemen and the 'wreckers' were actually cutting the lorry to pieces with blow torches to remove it in sections and was very relieved when I was finally in the clear again and heading for home. It took a total of twelve hours to do the journey. I had left in daylight and arrived with the dawn feeling hungry and very very tired. It was just "Hello, don't ask qestions [sic] and Goodnight”.
I finally came too, refreshed, reported that I was back and started the negotiations with Hamburg to restore the car to it's new state which I estimated would cost another £300 and they paid up in full. That was not the end of it though....
Winter soon descended with a vengance [sic] . It got cold and then colder. The bottom fell out of the thermometer and one morning, in common with many others I found the car locks frozen. Possibly
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like others I poured almost boiling water on in an attempt to unlock it but it froze as it hit the car and it was several days before the temperature went up a little to allow everything to release. then a great deal of the new paintwork came away with the defrosting!. I was very cross to say the least but I had it all renewed within the allowance that had been made by the insurance company. That still was not the end of it………but then the winter really set in.
Even the underground pipes froze in places and the works department produced a device that had not been used for years. It was a mobile motor driven generator producing a low voltage high amperage current that was attached to the fire hydrants and when the power was switched on it virtually heated the pipes up and they thawed. I had never seen anything like it before but at least the Fire service was kept in business. Even in the readiness areas the immersion heaters in the fire vehicles were needed to avoid freezing up. I put the fire dept to work to flood and freeze a fairly large depression of grassed area which produced an ice rink for several weeks. The centre of it was nearly two feet of solid ice and it was so cold that even the moat around Well castle in Holland was frozen to a depth of over two feet. Nevertheless we were still in business until it snowed again. We had been waiting for it and all the snow clearing machinery had been brought out and made ready but when it did start it made what I had been through when I brought the car back look like a little flurry. It snowed and snowed continually until there was a good ten to twelve inches over the whole airfield; and not the sort that would go away!.
With no flying possible we started to tackle it with everything we could muster to get the airfield clear. One machine had flame heaters for melting an icy surface, a hopper with finely graded sand with a worm feed which distributed the sand on the melted surface before it froze again. Result; a sandpaper type surface that was ideal for braking on at the upwind end of the runway. That's the way I figured it but everyone had different ideas particularly among those who had taken charge of the operation. It was attempted on snow, it was overworked and eventually it had a major breakdown. The various teams pushed and shoved snow all over the place with the snow ploughs and one crew even
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managed to put a twelve foot bank right in the runway threshold!. The equipment was the best with four wheel drive MAM diesel trucks with chains, and the blades could be swung either way for a left or a right cut, two splendid 'Snow-go’s' with flail intakes and plume blowers but the whole lot was being used piecemeal. Some ploughs had been used as bulldozers and a lot of snow was just being shifted from one place to another without opening up areas. After 24 hours of quite useless effort I stuck my neck out and produced a sketch plan of my own and there was very little argument. Obviously I couldn't make a bigger cock-up than had already been made and it was accepted. I assembled six ploughs in echelon with a half blade overlap followed by the two Snow-go’s and working on a plan to shift the snow [underlined] away [/underlined] from the taxyways [sic] we were off. It worked like a charm and mountains of snow was being cleared without blocking up other access points. At the end of the first cut I took the whole lot into a dispersal to swing the blades for the next run in the opposite direction when the CO turned up and 'suggested' that I would be better employed clearing snow instead of messing about changing the angle of the blades. He was not amused when I 'suggested' that "I was doing it my way" but really, there was no basis for any argument. I had already cleared half of a mile long taxyway [sic] in one sweep which was more than anyone else had done in the last 24 hours so with his permission I would like to carry on and prove a point, and perhaps he should judge my efforts by the result, particularly as others had not achieved much. How to get on and influence people!!!!, but I was cold and tired and past caring.
However, it did work as I expected and we were the first 2nd TAF airfield to be declared 'open' despite the fact that after I had left a colleague in charge whilst I went for a meal on my return found that he had managed to put 200 tons of snow back where I had just cleared it from. At least I had justified my plan and we were invariably the first 2nd TAF airfield to be declared clear after subsequent falls of snow. There was only one way to do it and I spent hours out on the airfield in -15 to-20 degrees. I followed it up with a written 'Snow Clearing Plan' with sketches and techniques to show how the basic plan could be adapted for any airfield and it turned up
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in print later. There were no thanks, just hard work and chilblains although there was a certain amount of satisfaction in having done something practical and useful. It was a relief when the deep freeze gave way to the first signs of Spring though and thoughts turned to planning the last holiday we were likely to get in that area. Before that happened an urgent problem put Dorothy into the Military Hospital at Vegberg near Rhiendalen for about ten days and we very nearly did not get the holiday but the planning was well advanced so we decided to go for it.
We had been fortunate in purchasing a slightly used but almost complete camping outfit so the destination was the Costa Brava in Spain. There were several dummy run exercises in the garden for putting up the tent until everyone knew what they had to do and the day came when all was assembled, loaded on the car and off we went.
Up to that point in time we had done no long distance travelling since the car had been repaired although there had been no problems. They started when we reached the area around Frankfurt when we were on long hill climbs when there were signs of overheating in the clutch and the most terrible noises from the gear box. With a little experimentation I found that the heat and the noise could be reduced by holding the highest gear for as long as possible which was not easy as the car was so heavily loaded. Eventually the decision was made after our first night stop at Frieburg that we would press on to the half way point at Geneva and that if it did not improve we would turn about. Strangely enough it was only lower gear hill climbs that produced the problem and in fact when we tried the odd run unloaded it was OK. We pressed on although I still had no idea what was causing it. I just wanted to be on holiday.
Actually we nearly abandoned it for other reasons. Dorothy did not like camping!. Not after our first night stop anyway. It was the way we had pitched the tent on a very slight slope in the semi-darkness and the natural movement in our sleep that found us up against the sides of the tent. That and the noises of the frogs at the lakeside did not exactly induce sleep.
Somehow we managed to retain some sense of humour even when in the early hours of the morning Dorothy had twisted herself up in her sleeping bag and I was awoken by gurgling noises and
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"get this b……zip out of my mouth"!!!!. That and the fact that it had started to rain heavily did not improve matters. It did not stop us moving out though. With a wet tent on top that then weighed twice as much as when we started!.
The next stop was Geneva where we were aiming for a camp site on the banks of Lake Lemon and it rained nearly all the way. What fun!. We had to put up a wet tent and I very nearly turned about at that point. Nevertheless, there was a pleasant little restaurant not far from the site and we indulged ourselves to the point of feeling a lot more comfortable by the time we turned in.
It had at least stopped raining but everywhere was clinging cold mist and these were the conditions when we packed up and moved out again, heading for Orange in the south of France where we were planning to stay with friends. We just ploughed on and on and on in those conditions through the Swiss mountains not seeing much more than the road is front of us until we got into France and the weather cleared up at last. We had a comfortable night stop in real beds and managed to get the tent up to dry out. We had arrived just in time for the May Day celebrations and had a great time dancing and drinking in the square on the fringe of the ampthitheatre [sic] . I think somehow that managed to bring us back to some sort of normallity [sic] .
Rested, well fed and with a dry tent packed off we went the following day heading for Spain and for a long time the weather was fine until shortly after we stopped for a break in Perpignan. Then it started to rain again. That was just what I wanted through the Pyrenees! and there was still a long way to go.
By the time we got to the border we were enjoying a full blown thunderstorm with lightning, thunder and lashing rain but the French customs just waived us on and we only made a short stop at the Spanish customs. Just long enough for the customs officer to determine that we were a British family on a camping holiday. That brought forth peals of laughter and he brought all his mates out to join in the fun. What's the Spanish for "blood silly British"??!!!!. We just laughed with them and pressed on but I was getting very very tired by that time and we had another good laugh before we finally stopped for the night.
Some time after we had left the border post we were being........
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followed by a German registered mini-bus and the damn fool driver made several dangerous attempts to overtake. Why he could not have been satisfied in following someone who was doing the 'pathfinding' for him I do not know so when we came to the edge of a town I thought that I would give him the opportunity to pass as I groped my way through a left and a right turn and several inches of water which almost obscured the line of the road. The mini-bus driver thought his chance had come as he surged past on what he thought was the road straight ahead and finished up along a shopping boulevard and came to a grinding halt mixed up with cafe’ tables and chairs!. He certainly paid for his impatience but enough was enough. If we got to Tossa-de-Mar that night we would still have put the tent up so with about 60 mls to go we decided that a comfortable night stop in a Hotel in Gerona would be a good idea. It was!. A meal, a drink and I crashed out.
The weather had cleared up by the morning and it was only about 30 mls to our destination through the winding roads of the area lined with carbuncled cork oaks. We were on site, tent up, and prepared to stay for at least ten days.
I think it was worth the effort. With a family of five I don't think we could have done it any other way even though there had been a few problems on our 1062 mile journey. We were not the only people ever to have had problems. One of our neighbours in the previous year had undertaken a motoring holiday to the North through Hamburg and on to Denmark and Sweden but had lost most of their baggage when their roof rack had seperated [sic] from the car and was very nearly pulped. There is no guarantee that all will go according to plan even with the more modern form of air transport to exciting places; not when several days may be lost sitting around an airport lounge or the hotel has been double booked. We had ten supurb [sic] days bathing, taking in the sights, and cruising around. The strange thing was that the car behaved itself so it didn't seem worth doing anything about. Perhaps one of the most interesting roads that we took was the coastal mountainous route from Tossa de Mar to San Feli'u. Only about twelve miles as the crow fly's but with most spectacular scenery and [underlined] 365 [/underlined] hairpin bends which actually doubled the road miles but it was interesting to say the least. We cruised the
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Costa Brava taking in the sights, eating and relaxing where it took our fancy, had a day in Barcelona and the scenic route through the Sierra de Montseny area to return stopping at numerous unspoiled villages where we were welcomed with open arms. Today there is always the tendency to want to dash from place to place along the new coastal motorway system and miss a great deal of the real Spain but we lapped it up. We even got used to the Spanish style of driving!. especially in the wrigly [sic] mountain areas. The locals had a tendency to maintain the maximum speed come what may, with the result that they approached blind corners at high speed, on the wrong side of the road, blasting away on the horn. The theory was that if there was no answering blast from anyone approaching from the opposite direction then it was safe to continue fast; and on the wrong side!!!. A bit dodgy nevertheless.
We have many recollections of that holiday, like the first time one of the girls took to the water in her new bikini only to find that as soon as it got wet it went transparent. A bit embarrassing for a sixteen year old, and we found that there were quite a few British on holiday there including one RAF couple who actually lived in Gogh. We made the most of it anyway and the day finally came when we had to be homeward bound.
The weather had generally improved and after getting back into France we took a different and very scenic route through the foothills of the Cevennes to Lyon and on to Bescancon and Belfort to finally pick up the motorway system northbound and home only making two stops en route. I was glad to get home. Being the only driver on a journey like that does impose a certain amount of strain but I was soon back to work and an opportunity to find out what had caused the heat and the noise but everything seemed OK until I checked the gear box oil level. Absolutely empty!!. I cross checked the detailed worksheet that the workshop had provided (in German of course) which showed that they had for some reason stripped both the engine and the gearbox and meticulously recorded every nut and bolt removed and/or replaced.....except the replacement of the gearbox oil. I think that possibly the only reason the gear box survived some 6000 miles without lubricant was because I had treated all the original lubricant with a propriety molybdenum after it's running
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in but to say I was annoyed is an understatement. It resulted in an absolutely stinking letter to the insurance company, who typically, would not accept the complaint without comment from the workshop.....and the workshop made every excuse in the book to avoid the issue. I gave it up in the end as I had just been notified of my next posting with nearly six months notice. Unheard of for me. I was going to Valley in North Wales so there was not much more time to finish our touring. We did the area towards Berlin to visit friends at Gutersloh who had visited us previously. That was the chap that had also been a POW with me, and at Wyton, and Marham, who had visited the Reichwald War Cemetery with me and whilst walking around was telling me how he was the only survivor of his crew when they had been shot down a year earlier than myself in a Halifax, near Krefeld. Naturally he wondered where his crew had been buried as we viewed some of the 5000 aircrew graves when he stopped with a gasp. There they were, all six of them in one row!!. Talk about "There but for the Grace of God go I"!. I retired to a respectful distance to allow him to compose himself. Whilst we were that way we visited the Mohne Dam and the Sorp and back at Laarbruch we visited Amsterdam and did the tourist thing by canal bus. We visited the amazing scenic park of De Efteling and another place in Holland which was an inland sort of water park. Probably the for-runner of Centre Parks, Bad Boekelo. Inland but just like the sea-side with fine sand and lots and lots of safe water fun. The first time we had come across the wave making machine but it will always stick in my mind for one incident. Everyone was lolling about and Dorothy was returning with some ice-cream with her sandles [sic] producing spurts of sand as she walked. Just as she approached a young Dutchmen in a reclining position who was inspecting the inside of a sandwitch [sic] , one of the spurts of sand left the toe of her sandles [sic] and joined the mustard, splat!!!. He looked up in amazement and then burst into laughter as we all did. So much the easier way of dealing with it and he shared our sandwiches!. We finally found the area of the windmills. There is only one area where they are plentiful and that is in the canal area east of Rotterdam. Kinderdyke. One of the few areas where national dress is often worn and very photogenic. About the last interesting event that I recall
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in Air Traffic Control matters was at the commencement of a flying excerise [sic] when our Javelins were sitting on the Operational Readiness platforms at the end of the runway hooked up to the Fighter Control network as we were so that we were able to listen out on the net but I was not prepared for what came out of the box…….. “Achtung……. Achtung……. XXXXXX(callsigns) shcramble [sic] ……shcramble [sic] ."…followed by the interception instructions. It was the first time the Luftwaffe controllers had been placed in the 'hot seat' and I must confess that it raised a few eyebrows among among [sic] a few of Bomber Harris's 'old lags" who formed about 50% of our controllers. As ironic as it was we had no option but to move with the times.
We were coming to the end of our visits to our favourite cafe at Nijmegen. A delightful family run establishment where no order was too much trouble for the somewhat rotund proprietor. We invariably topped off our shopping expeditions there and it was one place where I saw muscles [sic] served up as a meal on their own....in a large enamelled washing up bowl!. I like muscles [sic] but enough to fill a kit-bag in one go would be bit too much for me but one of the national dishes I believe. I wouldn't like to cope with that if any of then was a bit 'off'.
With plenty of time to sort things out and having been told that quarters would not be immediately available I managed to arrange a rental at Amlwych [sic] on the North side of Anglesey and our friends who were also posted to Valley more or less at the same tine arranged a rental in Holyhead. Of course there was packing to arrange. Goods in store in St.Ives to be transported to Amlwych [sic] , travel arrangements to be made etc, etc. The process was no longer a daunting prospect, we had done it often enough!, and eventually we cleared the station and we were on our way.
Dorothy and the girls went under service arrangements and flew from Wildenwrath on their way to Worthing and I set off with the car loaded to the hilt via the Hook and Harwich. It was an absolutely dreadful crossing in a Force 9 gale. People were being sick all over the place, and it was virtually impossible to sleep. All the berths had been booked and a good good [sic] many others and myself were making the best of deck chairs lashed to the decks. The usual seats and benches offered very little comfort as people were being thrown off of them all over the
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place and the bar and kitchens shut early as it was so difficult to cope with the pitching and the tossing. There were some very unhappy looking passengers around when we docked in the morning and I must confess that at times during the night it would not have worried me if we had foundered....I think I just wanted to die!. Nevertheless we started to dissembark [sic] and I was not in a hurry but one Army Officer who had obviously been well ahead of me had allowed his discomfort and his haste to get the better of him. It does not pay to get 'stroppy' with Custom Officials!.
He was standing by his car, tearing his hair out as they were removing absolutely everything from it which had been as loaded as mine. And I mean everything!. They had removed the seats, emptied every compartment and opened every package. It was strewn all around the car. I felt bad enough as it was so I declared every cigarette, gram of tobacco, and drop of booze and when they had deducted my allowance only asked for a nominal payment on the excess!: There was a little fuss over the car which I had already re-registered and re-placed the UK plates. They reckoned that I had jumped the gun but the documentation was all in order although there was some other documentation that was not quite right that at least we had a laugh about. I was bringing back our Budgie and [inserted] I [/inserted] had pinned it's import licence to the cage. Trouble was there was only half a licence, the other half was in the Budgie!. There was enough of to get by with and I was off to Worthing.
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Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Water under the bridge
Description
An account of the resource
Part 1. "By the Seat of his Pants". Covers from Alan Gamble's years as a schoolboy in Worthing in the late 1930's, up to joining the RAF in 1943, where he trained as a wireless operator in Blackpool. He joined 620 Squadron, which was equipped mainly with Stirlings and based initially at Leicester East, then Chedburgh, before it moved to Fairford in 1944. He flew 29 bombing and mine laying sorties over Germany and elsewhere. At Fairford '620' also supported SOE and participated in the Horsa glider operation at Arnhem.
Part 2, "No Problem Sport".Covers Alan Gamble's short flying history over France in 1945 before being shot down, and his experiences as a POW in southern Germany and subsequent liberation. The manuscript of Part 2 appears to be complete except for one or more pages missing about two thirds of the way through. This is at the beginning or the end of a fragment bound by metal clips, and could easily have become detached as the outside pages of some fragments' in Part 3 were also lost. It is therefore possible that only one page is missing.
Part 3. "Nil Desperandum".Covers Alan Gamble's post war experiences up to about 1963. This has not been read.
The manuscript of Part 3 is missing pages 24-86, 120 and 170, the latter two being the outside pages of bound fragments. (Page numbering here has assisted in reconstruction).
Additional information about this item was kindly provided by the donor.
Creator
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A T Gamble
Format
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Multipage printed document
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
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BGambleATGambleATv1
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Wehrmacht
Wehrmacht. Luftwaffe
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Bedfordshire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Skegness
England--Suffolk
England--Lancashire
England--Blackpool
England--Wiltshire
England--Norfolk
Wales--Gwynedd
Wales--Porthmadog
England--Cumbria
England--Barrow-in-Furness
England--Oxfordshire
Germany
Germany--Krefeld
Atlantic Ocean--Bay of Biscay
Germany--Gelsenkirchen
Germany--Cologne
Germany--North Friesland Region
Atlantic Ocean--North Sea
Germany--Hamburg
England--Cambridgeshire
Germany--Nuremberg
Italy
Italy--Turin
Germany--Peenemünde
Germany--Berlin
France
France--Modane
Germany--Kassel
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Jordan
Jordan--Amman
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943-06-13
1943-06-17
1943-06-22
1943-07-03
1943-07-24
1943-08-10
1943-08-12
1943-08-17
1943-08-27
1943-08-31
1943-10-03
1943-11-03
1945-01
1945-02-03
1945-02-07
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Peter Bradbury
115 Squadron
149 Squadron
15 Squadron
214 Squadron
3 Group
620 Squadron
622 Squadron
9 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
Anson
B-17
B-24
bale out
bombing
bombing of Hamburg (24-31 July 1943)
bombing of Nuremberg (30 / 31 March 1944)
Botha
C-47
coping mechanism
crewing up
debriefing
Defiant
Do 217
Dominie
Dulag Luft
evading
fuelling
Fw 190
Gee
gremlin
ground personnel
Halifax
lack of moral fibre
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Me 109
Me 110
meteorological officer
military discipline
military living conditions
military service conditions
mine laying
Morse-keyed wireless telegraphy
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operational Training Unit
P-51
Pathfinders
petrol bowser
prisoner of war
Proctor
promotion
RAF Barrow in Furness
RAF Cardington
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Feltwell
RAF Marham
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Stradishall
RAF Turweston
RAF Waterbeach
RAF Yatesbury
recruitment
Red Cross
searchlight
service vehicle
Stirling
strafing
tractor
training
Wellington
Window
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1172/11741/PSouthwellBR1601.2.jpg
9a7c396496641eda96c6db3449a4f406
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1172/11741/ASouthwellBR160903.1.mp3
5ddd2f3974411b29035fa9bcd8f13711
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
Southwell, Brian Robert
B R Southwell
Description
An account of the resource
17 items. An oral history interview with Brian Robert Southwell (b. 1916, 402261 Royal Australian Air Force), his log books, documents and photographs. He flew operations as a pilot with 148 and 178 Squadrons.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-09-03
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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Southwell, BR
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
AP: This interview for the International Bomber Command Centre is with Brian Southwell. He was a pilot on Wellingtons and Liberators and numerous other aeroplanes post war. The interview is taking place at his brother Don’s house in St Ives in Sydney. It is the 3rd of September 2016 and my name is Adam Purcell. Brian, can we tell, can you, or let’s start if you tell me something about your early life growing up. School and first job and things like that.
BS: What I’d done early?
AP: Yeah. Tell me something about your life before flying.
BS: Well I was always interested in flying but at the time, at that time it was, the Depression was on and we had no money to go fiddling around, looking at aeroplanes [laughs] around the joint. So I had to, I had to sit back and get an office job and that. So I was just started off doing some accountancy which didn’t, which didn’t interest me at all. I went back to flying and I built that model aeroplane. The Moth. And while I was doing that I got to know a whole lot of de Havilland’s. You know the people out out at the factory there. And they were very helpful in getting me all the drawings and all sorts of things there to operate with. And I met all sorts of people that had, a lot of them had their own aeroplanes and I got very friendly with a man called Axel Von Goes. G O E S. His father was the Swedish consul in Sydney. I was chatting away to him there and he said, ‘I’ve got an aeroplane here,’ he said [laughs] he said, ‘It’s mine.’ And his was a little, a Leopard Moth. So he bought the, he had the sort of, the Leopard Moth there and he took, took the aeroplane up to barrel there and he landed on a racetrack over there. He made a little error on the place and knocked the tail on the fence and then smashed it all up. So he, he sold, sold the wreckage to de Havilland’s. The next thing, he appears he’s says, ‘I’ve got another aeroplane,’ I said, ‘Oh no.’ So he bought a Fairchild 24 that he got [unclear] with. And he decided he’d go to England to learn a particular skill. To do a course there. So I went down to England too with a ship with the Fairchild 24 and it fell off the sling there and headed out along the bloody ground. He got away alright there. He got to England alright, did his course there and he said, ‘I’ve sold the bloody Fairchild, he said, ‘I’ve sold it to a Dutch crew. A Dutchman.’ So he sold that to a Dutchman and still get him without an aeroplane. So he started off going back home via America. So he darted into a factory there and he ordered a bloody Stinson which he bought. That’s, that’s been going for quite a long, quite a long time and we used to get the aeroplane and we’d go to do all sorts of trips around. Yeah. Brisbane, Melbourne and all around, around New South Wales there. It was a beautiful little aeroplane. What does he jolly well do? [I’m with A&A [?] at this stage of the game he said, ‘Will you come up and do some checks with me on a Stinson.’ I said, ‘Well what have you done to the bloody thing?’ And what had he done. He’d put a new engine in it. A different engine in it. A 5-cylinder radial engine in it which ruined the whole bloody aeroplane. Poor old Axel. He went to Melbourne and he got married. He didn’t get any enthusiastic from his wife and children. So that was it. Yeah.
AP: So did Axel —
BS: Was that enough for you?
AP: Did Axel teach you to fly? Was it, did Axel teach you to fly and you flew with Axel? Is that the story? Brian. Did Axel teach you to fly?
BS: I did a lot of flying with him. He was unofficial. He wasn’t an instructor. But he’d aviate the thing around the place.
AP: So —
BS: I recollect he used to be a great enthusiast at stall turns. We took this Stinson over his house at Rose Bay. He had a house in Latimer Road, Rose Bay. Anyhow, we get up top there and were doing all the stall turns and what have you, around the place and the bloody engine stopped. So we [laughs] what did we have to do? We had to land on the golf course. You can see now all the people looking out of the flats [unclear] as we went gliding past with no propeller going. Oh dear. Oh dear.
AP: Very good. So, Brian where were you and what were you doing when you heard that war had been declared?
BS: What was that?
AP: Where were you and what were you doing when war had been declared?
BS: I can only just hear you.
AP: Sorry. Where were you and what were you doing when war was declared?
BS: Oh, when war was declared I was working in an office. I got out. It was pretty well into the start of the war. I was in the 22nd of July 1940.
AP: And so you, you went straight into the Air Force.
BS: Oh yeah. After, when I had to go up to Bradfield Park out at Lindfield here. And that was the ITS [Initial Training School] place. Then I had to go out to, out to Mascot, to 4 EFTS [Elementary Flight Training School] to learn to fly. And after I’d qualified on the Tiger Moth, I was sent off to 3 SFTS [Service Flying Training School] in Amberley in Queensland to fly an Avro Anson. That kept me going for a little while. I was sent home on leave and what have you and the next thing, I’m, I’m posted off to England on a bloody ship. No one recorded any of that around the place but I can assure you I was given, handed a ticket mind you. A first-class ticket to England. That took us bloody months and months. We were, we went to South Africa. Across to Fremantle. To South Africa. Went up to Puerto Rico. I had quite a look around there and we finished up getting over to England. That was an embarkation place where you decided what you were going to do. The sent us off to different, I was sent out to this ferrying. Crowded with the little aircraft. Not the Liberator.
AP: Can you tell me, Brian about your first solo?
BS: First solo. Yes. I remember the man’s name. The instructor was Mr Campbell. Mr Campbell that was running this out at, out at Mascot. All the training place there were mainly ex-civilian pilots and they were taken into the Air Force. They were made flight lieutenants and off they went. Yeah.
AP: And —
BS: More?
AP: What happened on your first solo?
BS: Oh, the first flight. I remember I took off on the one six area from the south there and I went down to the flying area training and [laughs] and had a little run around. Before I went old Campbell said, ‘Watch you don’t bloody well bend that bloody aeroplane.’ I said, ‘Alright, I won’t bend the bloody aeroplane for you.’ So I, 5 ASC I’d done the thing and it’s it didn’t took a very long flight. He was pleased to see me back I can assure you. Yeah. He died later on.
AP: So —
BS: There was a lot happened to those. He was somewhere over overseas and where you turned one engine and he turned it back into a, into a bloody hill. That was it. Yeah.
AP: Did you, did you see any accidents?
BS: What was that?
AP: Did you see any aircraft accidents during your flying?
BS: Accidents?
AP: Yeah. Particularly during your training.
BS: No. Only the, you know Liberators and what have you. There you saw the bloody Germans and what have you getting, getting all annoyed [laughs] Yeah. Because we were, we were operating a very [unclear] like up to a max number of about four in a flight you know. It made it a lot easier than the people in the Bomber Command who had ruddy dozens and dozens of bloody aeroplanes. Because we used to, we were in North Africa in a tented, tented camp shared with Americans. And the Americans fortunately supplied all the food which was, which was very good. And we used to, of a night time we used to go up the Adriatic Sea and you’d see the Mount Vesuvius as you went past there and you’d go right up to the top and you’d go up to the Danube. And you’d go about twenty miles down the Danube and you’d let all the fellows out. All the Yugoslavs. They were, they were quite interesting people except that they didn’t speak much bloody English. They did, they did what they could. Yeah.
AP: So, what did you think of wartime England?
BS: What did I?
AP: What did you think of England when you first got there?
BS: How’d I get there?
AP: What did you think of England when you first got there?
BS: Oh, I thought it was, it was excellent, yeah. I liked it very much because I had, I had a lot of relations over there. In Maidstone in Kent. And I used to visit him quite a lot on my leave. He was very popular with a lot of my crew because he owned a bloody brewery [laughs] . Fremlin’s Brewery. One other thing. English people were very good.
AP: Did you, did you see much effect of the war in England?
BS: I saw a few bombs around in London while I was there. But as I say I used to spend most of my time down at Maidstone in Kent. I kept away from the action of the aircraft. Because this person as I used to go to see in England her daughter is down in Melbourne. She’s still here. And the place in England it was absolutely fantastic with the aircraft people. And there was some people in the, who I used to go and stay with there at Maidstone he used to or she used to have people in for dinner. Anyhow, this particular night they brought in this flight lieutenant but he was actually First World War. So he sat back and told us all about what it was like as a controller and what have you in England. He said, he was up in the tower there. He had the green light, you know. The red light there to operate in. A noise came over and he said, ‘I’ll give this bloke the green light.’ So he gave the green light. This bloke came and landed. Unfortunately, he was a bloody German. A Focke Wulf 190. He thought [laughs] this is good. He goes along and then another German came around and there was three of them altogether they caught. All Germans. On the green light. Yeah.
AP: That’s, that’s incredible. Alright. So when you, you first get, got to England you would have gone to Bournemouth, I think.
BS: Bournemouth.
AP: Yeah.
BS: That’s right. There were places there. One was Bournemouth and the other was Brighton.
AP: Yeah.
BS: Yeah. Yeah.
AP: What did you do after you’d finished at those places?
BS: What did you say?
AP: Where did you go next after, after you’d just —
BS: I went on those trips to — out to the Middle East.
AP: Did you do an Operational Training Unit course in England?
BS: Did I what?
AP: Did you go to an OTU [Operational Training Unit] in England?
BS: What did you say?
AP: Did you go to an OTU in England?
BS: I think you’d better call [unclear]
AP: Ok. Alright. Let’s, you were talking about going to see your relative in Kent. What, what things did you do on leave?
BS: What would I do with the people in Kent? All sorts of people. They used, they used to take me to see, put on a bloody show. Show all the locals what the RAF were and what have you. Yeah.
AP: Did you [pause] ok. Tell me how you met your crew.
BS: Which?
AP: How did you meet your crew?
BS: They were just picked out. I didn’t any. I had two bloody gunners out there and [laughs] they were very nasty little fellows. They were interested in taking, escorted away from the establishment. Constantly, ‘Get away and don’t come back here.’ I took them back to Australia. Salmon. Ted Salmon and Mr Kipp. I forget the other one’s name. [unclear] No. I can’t remember the —
AP: Right. So you went to the Middle East.
BS: What’s that?
AP: What did you do in the Middle East?
BS: In Italy?
AP: In the Middle East. In the Middle East.
BS: Oh sorry. We used to operate out of Derna. That’s on the North African coast there. We were all living in tents and it wasn’t very comfortable I can assure you there. And we used to do bombing raids on Tripoli and Benghazi and on the ships and what have you. We knocked a few ships off the place. And Crete. We used to go give old Crete a bit of a, a bit of a rumbling over. I had the air forces, the Lord Trenchard, he came down to see us at the squadron and he said, ‘I’d like you to try and get rid of some of these [unclear] like Maleme at Crete. And he said we’ll have all goes on this. So, he was alright. About five bloody days we hopped down in at this place. You’ve never seen such fires in all your life. Yeah. It’s the question of you’re getting around getting this information because there’s so many other people have gone now that can tell you where all these things were and what have you.
AP: This is why I’m talking to you now Brian.
BS: Yeah.
AP: While you’re still here.
BS: Oh, I know. I belonged, when I, I retired in 1976 and I would join a lot of these historical societies and what have you there but they were more interested in writing books out themselves rather than about the people that were involved in those days. So —
AP: Can you, can you tell me something about when you were operating out of Libya?
BS: Out of where?
AP: I think you said Derna.
BS: Derna. Yeah.
AP: You said you were based in Derna.
BS: Yeah.
AP: What, what was that place like to live in?
BS: That was very interesting. Very, very old houses and that there and on your day off you could go down into the village. A lot of them were just as left you know. People living in there and they were quite, quite to do with, but what we used, of all places we needed the bloody Arabs and, but the Arabs were the American source of pistols. And the Americans used to get on a truck and go out in the desert and find one of these big Arab compounds and get themselves a nice Beretta or some other gun [laughs].
AP: What, what things did you do to, to keep yourself amused? What did you do to keep yourselves amused when you weren’t flying?
BS: When I was flying?
AP: No. When you were not flying what did you do in Derna?
BS: I used to go around. The man that ran, who was the managing director of the brewery. He was, he was a very friendly. He used to put me on to all sorts of people that he knew to put you on to about what goes on around the place.
AP: And, and what’s sorts of things were going on around the place? What sort of things did you go and do?
BS: Well, there wasn’t much out there to do other than to go to the pictures. But I never used to be interested in theatres. No.
AP: Alright. Were there, were there any superstitions or hoodoos on your squadron?
BS: Any hoodoos?
AP: Or superstitions or anything.
BS: No. No. No.
AP: No. No squadron lore. Oh, worth a try. Ok. Let’s talk about your operations for a little while. In, in the Middle East what sort of work were you doing? What sorts of targets were you bombing?
BS: Well we were doing all the bombing up in Tripoli and Benghazi and the shipping around the place. But we were also but I got, I was in hospital for a little while and I had to go with a couple of other blokes to fly with and they took me to see [unclear]
AP: What — ok. So, you were flying. What were you flying? Liberators or Wellingtons?
BS: Oh, sorry, I told you we went up to Belgrade. Belgrade. And —
AP: And what did you do at Belgrade?
BS: At Belgrade we had a look at the locals at low level. Because those Liberators you know had huge bloody engines. Four engines in them in there and when you came down low you used a lot of fuel and with the fuel there was a whole load of flames coming out of the bloody thing. Oh yes.
AP: And what, what other fun things did you get up to in aeroplanes?
BS: A couple of times around, a couple of trips. On one, one of the COs as a matter of fact. He said he’d like to go and have a good close look at Belgrade. He didn’t realise how close it was going to be [laughs] Because Belgrade’s got a lot of bridges around the place. Anyhow, we levelled out and it was all lit up. We were right on the bloody deck there and there was people running everywhere. We went flying up and away and then it was to Derna again. To get up to Derna was six hours and going back was six hours. And all, all these men from, the Yugoslavs and what have you they couldn’t speak much English around the place. They used to be parachuted out the back of the, back of the Liberator.
AP: So, you were dropping parachutists.
BS: Yeah.
AP: As well as bombs.
BS: Also, a whole lot of supplies they used to give them. All sorts of stuff for the locals to live, you know. There was gold and all. You name it, it was around.
AP: So, this was what you used to deliver with the Liberators.
BS: Yeah.
AP: Wow. Wow. So, what, what did you do next? Where did you go after that?
BS: Where did I — ?
AP: Where did you go after that?
BS: I went on, I went to do a flying school at the RAF school of flying. I was in an airfield for about a month on Airspeed Oxford aircraft. That was a very nice interlude. Resting. Yeah.
AP: Did you, did you, you were an instructor I believe.
BS: Oh yeah.
AP: Can you tell me something about that?
BS: It was quite interesting. The chief there, he called me in and told me this, ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I wish you could keep [unclear] a lot of people wanting to pay, to come for flying in the RAF.’ And he said, ‘The parachute girls are alright,’ what have you. ‘We’ll give them a ride.’ So I was appointed the overseer to the passengers.
AP: So, when —
BS: He’s dead now. Bill.
AP: When you were —
BS: When I got [pause ] I’m just trying to think there. I went to this flying school. What he said there was that the people who were a much higher rank than I was. I was a warrant officer at that time. So he said, ‘You’d better get yourself a commission.’ So I said, ‘That’s alright. Thank you very much.’ So he said, ‘Go in and see this place.’ I went down to a magnificent old house in 5 Group and listened to what I had to say. They had this magnificent big old table there with, magnificent carved chairs and what have you there and all these people asking me silly questions. And I think they thanked me very much for my interest and I said, ‘Thank you,’ and off I went out. A couple of days later the bloke said you’d better get down to bloody Melbourne and get yourself some uniforms, the officer’s uniform store. So, I went down to Melbourne — to London at least and went to a place in Saville Row of all places. I was in there for, I went a few times. I had to go in there to check out. Then I was, another day I had to go down to get a uniform, not a uniform, an overcoat. I wore it. A beautiful overcoat from Saville Row in London. Yeah.
AP: And that was part of your officer’s uniform?
BS: The real old-fashioned tailors and they were sitting up on top of a bloody chair and this little —
AP: What —
BS: I’m sorry if this is a little bit boring for you.
AP: That’s alright. I’m coming up with questions. Its ok. So, you’re in London. Right. At Saville Row and all that sort of thing. What, what did you think of wartime London?
BS: What was this?
AP: What did you think of wartime London?
BS: I can’t hear you.
AP: What did you think of London during the war?
BS: London itself?
AP: Yeah.
BS: Oh, I didn’t [unclear] impressed with it. Yeah.
AP: Was it —
BS: There was very opportunity to get around looking at all the sights around the place.
AP: And what sorts of things were you looking at in London?
BS: Have you seen Felicity’s little, did she show you that?
AP: I did. Yes. Very good. Alright. So, who were you instructing at Lichfield? Who were you teaching?
BS: That’s 27.
AP: Yeah.
BS: Lichfield. Staffordshire. Is that? Where the potteries were. All the potteries were around there.
AP: Can you tell me a story or two from Lichfield?
BS: Oh yes [laughs] I can. At Lichfield it was very interesting because there is a big cathedral church at Lichfield. It’s the only one in England with three, three spires on the thing. So, I had a friend, he was Warrant Officer Webb and he used to fly the Moth Minor. That was for recreation. He would go for a ride in the Moth Minor. So, he called me up and he said, ‘How about we go for a real run around in the Minor?’ So I said, ‘Alright. We’ll go running around in the bloody Minor.’ So away we go. Anyhow, he didn’t do much around there. He got right down on the spires. He was amongst the bloody spires there [laughs] And when we got back, we got back to the to the RAF station there and the CO was really jumping up and down, ‘What on earth were you annoying [laughs] annoying the bishop down,’ [laughs] He said, ‘You were flying down his spires.’ So anyway, we dined off that for a while.
AP: What was the —
BS: I’ve never been so close to a spire of a church in a Moth Minor.
AP: Can you, can you tell me about the pubs in England? The pubs. Did you go, you know when you were on time off, when you had time off did you go to the nearest pub to have a drink or something?
BS: I used to go, it took me a lot of time to get the train down to Maidstone in Kent. To my relatives there.
AP: Alright. So, what, what happened after Lichfield?
BS: When I finished up all my operations and what have you they said you were going to go, you were going home. I said well that’s very good. Off we go home. I get down to the bloody docks there and we were going to New York. Here we are sitting, sitting and there’s a bloody great Cunard liner. The Aquitania was there and it was full of American troops on the way home from Europe and what have you there. Crammed on that ship was sixteen thousand army people. Yeah. Sixteen thousand. I was very glad I was in the officer’s mess to get a decent feed. What else would you like to —
AP: So, you went, you went to New York on that boat.
BS: Oh sorry. That was another one. When we got to New York what was it? Oh, we found, they found out that the air attaché was an Air Marshall Williams and he was in the Pentagon. And they organised all these, these aeroplanes they’d bought, the only places we had for them was they organised a bloody crews for them. So, the snag was that you had to have an instrument rating to fly in America. So they had to find somebody to do this. So I get shoved off. I shove off to Chattanooga in Tennessee. To Smyrna, Tennessee. I was down there for a month to do all my training for the white card and what have you. That was it. I got my white card. Yeah.
AP: What, what sort of training did you have to do for the instrument training?
BS: The training out at Smyrna was absolutely excellent. First class. The visit to the Pentagon was a very interesting thing. It was a huge place.
AP: Tell me more about that. Can you tell me more about the Pentagon? Can you tell me more about the Pentagon?
BS: I’m not really sure but, Felicity and I think she seems to know more about me in those days these days.
AP: Right. So you did your instrument rating training in the US. What happened?
BS: Oh yeah.
AP: What happened then?
BS: Well, I was able to fly anywhere in the United States with my white card. With a Liberator. I could just trundle out, fill up the tank and off we’d go. That was it. Yeah.
AP: And, and so where did you go?
BS: Oh, I went to Kelly Field the place I went to. They were very good. The instructors at the place. They were a lot of ex-airline pilots and they were very good.
AP: And, and what did you then do with that instrument training?
BS: Around New York we were really feted. They treated us like bloody kings. It was quite a novelty, I think. The American there. Aircrew flying around New York. But after it was Pan American that would go with them around the place and they used to have special trips from Australia to New York. For a hundred and thirty-four dollars Sydney to New York. So, I would go there every time of the week. I wanted to. My sister, she was there for twenty eight years at the consulate there. Yeah.
AP: So then, after you did this training in, in the US then you flew to Australia. Can you tell me about that?
BS: After I’d finished the training thing I was a trainer. Up to Sacramento in California. Sacramento is the capital of California and I was told to take one of these great new aeroplanes which I did. Got the aeroplane. Off I trundled with this great monster and that was it. That was, then after I’d arrived back in Australia I got sent off down to Tocumwal. I knew some fellows in the air force and I sort of said, ‘Listen. There’s no future in joining the bloody Air Force.’ I got out of there very rapidly.
AP: Can you, can you tell me a little bit about flying across the Pacific? What was that like in a Liberator? The brand new aeroplane. What was it like to fly across the Pacific in a brand new aeroplane?
BS: Across the Pacific. Well it was quite, it was quite plain because we didn’t have all the things there are around now. Radios and what have you. I remember it took us, took us to go from Sacramento to Hickam Field in Honolulu there, it took us about twelve hours. Yeah.
AP: Can you tell me a story about that trip? Can you tell me a story about that trip? About that?
BS: No. Strange to say it was very uneventful. The four engines all went nicely. And I, [unclear] Amberley, Queensland. I remember getting back there about 5 o’clock in the afternoon. I was most relieved. The locals were alright. So I got down on the bloody deck and flew over Redcliffe. Ambled in. There was nought to do there. The customs were all, had all gone off for the night so had to come back the next night to do our customs check. Yeah.
AP: And how many hours were on that aeroplane when you arrived?
BS: Oh, I couldn’t tell you. [unclear] Maybe thirty something hours.
AP: And you did almost all of them. Pretty cool.
BS: Well, it was all a piece of cake sitting back in a nice bloody new aeroplane, you know.
AP: So, so what happened after that?
BS: Well I got sent down to Tocumwal. I was popular down there because all these people down at Tocumwal thought that they were going to America to pick up these aeroplanes.
AP: What, what did you do at Tocumwal?
BS: After that, after that I joined, joined the A&A [ANA?]
AP: And can you tell me some stories about that flying perhaps?
BS: Australia deteriorated in a lot of areas as regards to the RAAF.
AP: Sorry? Say again. What were you saying then? What were you saying then, Brian?
BS: What was I saying?
AP: What were you saying just then?
BS: What was I —
AP: What were you saying? Ok. Don’t worry. So could you tell me a story about A&A?
BS: A&A. Well it was quite interesting. I started off on a DC3 and a DC2. Very good flying. I was the first officer at the front there writing out books and everywhere you had bits of bloody paper to fill in around the joint. Yeah.
AP: And what —
BS: A&A unfortunately deteriorated rather more than some [unclear] to whatever [unclear] staff didn’t like us very much. That’s when I had the, they had that Convair that John was talking about down at Woollongong.
AP: And can you just, because we weren’t recording the conversation earlier can you tell me your story about the Convair and Sydney Harbour Bridge.
BS: Oh yeah. Well that was a remarkable aeroplane. The Convair. because you sit over the top at nine thousand feet there and all you’ve got to do is slam the wheels down and look out and see where the runway is and what have you. And you adjust the rest of the, the rest of the descending and you could go down from the Harbour Bridge down to [unclear] there. Very bloody quickly time. Yeah.
AP: So it was a very, a very manoeuvrable aeroplane.
BS: Oh yeah. There was a, there was a 340 [unclear] TAA [?] and so on.
AP: So you had a fairly varied flying career. I think there’s something like twenty-seven thousand hours in your book.
BS: Twenty. I finished with twenty-seven thousand and seven.
AP: And seven.
BS: Yeah.
AP: And what is, or how many different aeroplanes did you fly?
BS: What with, as a passenger, that was quite a bloody aeroplane so I managed to get wheedled into a little [unclear] and have a look in it.
AP: As a, as a pilot what is your favourite aeroplane?
BS: Oh sorry. As a pilot I only flew the, the Wellington I flew. That was another. Another bomber.
AP: What, what was your favourite aeroplane? What is your favourite aeroplane, Brian?
BS: The Liberator was my favourite there. You could really get around in that.
AP: I’m sorry. I did, I missed that. What was your favourite?
BS: The best one I used to fly around in was a little Stinson with my friend. The Swedish consul’s son.
AP: Very good. So, what, when did you retire did you say? When did you retire from flying?
BS: When did I — ?
AP: Retire. When did you retire? When did you stop flying?
BS: Oh sorry. Age sixty. ’96.
AP: And what did you do then after you retired?
BS: They very condescendingly gave me a private licence notice. I never ran it up. The only thing I’ve ever flown in, a chap offered a ride in his private aeroplane which frightened me no end. It was a bloody Rapide. A de Havilland Rapide.
AP: You told me a story before as well about Keith Smith.
BS: Who’s that?
AP: Did you tell, you told me a story about Keith Smith before.
BS: What’s the name?
AP: Keith Smith. You told me a story before about Keith Smith.
BS: Keith Smith.
AP: Keith Smith.
BS: Oh Sir Keith Smith. Yeah. I used to work in an office once. I used to go around and see old Sir Keith about is writing the cheques out and do all sorts of things there. I got friendly with him. He was a very nice man to talk to. And another fellow I used to talk to was Sir Hudson Fysh you know, from Qantas. He was another good fellow.
AP: What did you have to do with him?
BS: I used to carry him from Adelaide to Sydney on occasions.
AP: And you said you went flying with Keith Smith.
BS: I never flew with Sir Keith Smith. I only saw him in his office.
AP: Oh ok. Alright. Ok. Tell me your, your favourite flying story. Can you tell me your favourite flying story from your flying career?
BS: My flying what?
AP: Can you tell me your favourite story of your flying career.
BS: [unclear] No.
AP: No? [pause] Alright. How, Brian, how did you find, after Air Force how did you find readjusting to civilian life?
BS: It was very interesting Adam because as I say I was a bloody clerk you know sitting in the right hand seat of the aeroplane with bits of bloody paper and books and what have you. Do this. Do that.
AP: How, how did you find civilian life after air, the air force?
BS: [unclear]
AP: How did you find civilian life after the air force?
BS: The civilian flying was quite interesting. I used to, to fly to England with the RAF. They were very good at the OTUs.
AP: So, in, in what way were the RAF very good?
BS: Well I used to go to work at 9 o’clock in the morning. Had my breakfast. I waddled down to the flight and have a chat around the joint. Come along and so many people want to go flying today. If you could fill in. I’d say, ‘Alright. I’ll fill in. Give these people a bit of a run.’ We were going in a smaller aircraft than the Liberator. The Liberator they never ever took us to go flying with passengers in them. Around the place at all.
AP: What did you think of the Liberator as an aeroplane? What did you think of the Liberator?
BS: The RAF?
AP: Of the Liberator. What, what was your impression of the Liberator?
BS: Absolutely fantastic. I was very careful of those bloody big bits out the back though [laughs]. The rudders and things down there.
AP: And how, how easy was it to fly?
BS: Quite good. One thing, we didn’t have a lot of bombs in there. Very well. When you laid it up with six thousand pound bombs there.
AP: And were you ever involved in any crashes?
BS: No. Never any crashes. No.
AP: Were you involved in like the aftermath? Like investigating any crashes or something like that. There’s a, something in one of your logbooks I found which —
BS: We were going down to Melbourne. The little aerodrome down there. The little one for aircraft.
AP: Moorabbin.
BS: Err —
AP: Moorabbin.
BS: Moorabbin. Yeah.
AP: Yeah. So, there’s a, there are a few photos in one of your logbooks. It’s in an envelope and it says crash — Victor Hotel Charlie X-ray Delta. Higgins Field, Cape York. 5th of May 1945.
BS: Where’s that?
AP: This is in your logbook.
BS: Oh yeah.
AP: And there are some photos of that.
BS: Was it May?
AP: Yeah. May 1945. Yes.
BS: That was a very frightening thing.
AP: Can you tell me about it?
BS: Oh yeah. When we used to transfer from one crew to the other at Higgins Field. That’s the name of the aerodrome right at the top of the point there. So, these characters, they came roaring in and it was pelting with rain and what have you there. And they got caught. Caught out. They smashed the bloody thing as you see there. She was really a mess because there were bits, bits of people and bits of bloody freight and all sort of things they’d got on the joint. They brought a lot of material. Rolls of fabrics. The Tiger Moth. And in the crash they all came loose and they were rolling all over the joint. This big roll of fabric.
AP: And what was your involvement?
BS: [unclear] I went up there to have a look at the crash and I found a man with this RAF Tiger Moth. He said he’d take me up and have a look around which he did.
AP: So, you were, you were up at, where was it? You were up at Higgins Field at that time.
BS: Higgins Field. Yeah.
AP: So you were there when it happened? Brian, Brian. Were you there when the crash happened?
BS: Was I there? Yeah. I was. Yeah.
AP: Yeah. So —
BS: I was sitting with a crew waiting for the, to get an aeroplane to go flying again.
AP: And, and what happened after that?
BS: Well there was no action going there at all after all the people were dead.
AP: Yes. This is true. Can you, what was I going to [pause] yeah. So tell me, tell me the story of your caricature. I’m just looking at your logbook and I see a little caricature of you. A little, a little cartoon.
BS: Yeah.
AP: Can you tell me about that?
BS: The cartoon.
AP: Yeah.
BS: I don’t know who the artist was. That was in, sent up to Melbourne to go to London to get the cartoonist to get going but I never ever got a copy of that thing. I was going to get Felicity to copy that. It’s a beautiful head [laughs]
AP: Yeah. It is. It is. I guess we should, we should go back to the beginning. Can you tell me about your model aeroplane?
BS: The model aeroplane?
AP: Yeah.
BS: Well, I decided to make this bloody, this bloody model and I approached de Havilland down at Mascot and I told them what I wanted to do and what have you. And I said could I have some access to the drawings and the store. The store and what have you there. No problem at all they said. Which they did. They folded now. Folded up. The company have. de Havilland’s. They have a big museum in Salisbury. Near Hatfield in England.
AP: How, how long did the model take you to build?
BS: It took me eighteen months to make that model.
AP: Wow and —
BS: You know all these bloody ribs, you know. Bloody pages of them.
AP: And what happened then? What happened to it after that?
BS: Well, I was approached by the Australian Women’s Flying Club for an instructional thing. They wanted to use it and they said, ‘Yes we’ll look after it,’ the war and what have you, I never heard another bloody thing from them.
AP: Oh really. Not very nice.
BS: Yeah.
AP: There’s another photo in your logbook. This is logbook number three. It looks like it’s a Stinson or an Auster or something. It looks like it might be you standing next to someone.
BS: What’s that?
AP: There’s a, there’s a photo in your logbook. In 1946 I think.
BS: [unclear] Felicity here. She was looking at all these things and telling me and I haven’t a clue what she’s talking about.
AP: It looks like it’s a Stinson because there’s an entry that says Sydney, Old Bar, Coffs Harbour Casino, Brisbane and it’s in Victor Hotel Alpha Charlie Zulu.
BS: The which?
AP: Alpha Charlie Zulu. It’s a Stinson.
BS: Yeah. That was my friend Axel.
AP: Yeah. Can you tell me something of that flight?
BS: Well that aeroplane was a magnificent aeroplane but as I say I had to keep away from the A&A and CAA [?] The A&A, and they took a dim view if you went flying in other aircraft with other people.
AP: Why was that? Why? Why?
BS: It mentions in there about ACZ [?] does it?
AP: Yeah. There’s a photo of it. There’s a photo of you. And it must be you and Axel.
BS: Yeah. Yes.
AP: It looks pretty cool. Let’s have a flash through it. Now —
BS: He was, he was quite a character that bloke. I used to like him but a lot of people didn’t like him but I thought he was rather good. He was educated in England. Do you know where it is? Eton College.
AP: Eton College.
BS: Yeah. Eton College. Yeah.
AP: Something else I found in your logbook is a map of Tripoli. There’s a, there’s a map Brian, in your logbook, of Tripoli and it has anti-aircraft guns marked and it’s got a big red thing that says “Secret.” Do you know anything about that? Brian. There’s a map in your logbook of Tripoli.
BS: Is there?
AP: Yeah. What, can you tell why? Why is Tripoli important?
BS: Tripoli?
AP: Yeah.
BS: That’s the target. Target sheet that is. We were given those to sit there when you’ve got sitting there like a bloody idiot watching where the bombs go.
AP: And can you also tell me about — it looks like a Slovenian or a Polish nickel. It looks like it’s a Slovenian or a Polish nickel. It’s got a photo of Essen in it. Do you know? It’s in your logbook. You were telling me. You were telling me earlier.
BS: As I told you Felicity was looking at these things. She never told me about that. She doesn’t realise that I can’t bloody well see.
AP: It’s unfortunate. There’s also, that looks like it’s an Italian one. So, can you tell me about a nickel raid? What a nickel raid was?
BS: About what?
AP: What was a nickel operation?
BS: A nickel was leaflets.
AP: Yeah.
BS: Leaflets there.
AP: Can you tell me about that?
BS: You’ve seen one in there have you?
AP: Yeah. I have.
BS: As I told you when you opened the bomb doors all those things used to float around. Be all over the bloody place. That was it. A nickel. That was, that was a slang name for a [unclear] out of the cabin.
AP: Cool. What’s this? That’s another map of Tripoli. Alright. Well I think we’ve come to the end of my questions. So thank you very much. Thanks very much Brian.
BS: Thank you. I’m sorry [unclear]
AP: No. You’ve, you’ve told me some good stories so that’s really cool. So I’m going to turn the microphone off now and I’ll go and get Felicity. Ok.
BS: Thank you. Yeah. I’m very pleased to see that someone’s around that’s still around looking into what goes on years ago.
AP: I wouldn’t end. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
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 Brian Robert Southwell
Creator
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Adam Purcell
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-09-03
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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ASouthwellBR160903, PSouthwellBR1601
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Pending review
Format
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01:01:07 audio recording
Description
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Brian Robert Southwell was born in Sydney and lived during the Depression which saw him have to set aside his interest in aircraft in order to secure a steady wage with an office job. He spent eighteen months making a model aircraft with the support and practical help of the de Havilland aircraft company. He made friends with the son of the Swedish consul in Sydney who was an aircraft enthusiast and he was able to fly with him. When he was able to volunteer for the RAAF he began training as a pilot on Liberators. He was a member of a special squadron dropping supplies and partisans into occupied areas. He also took part in other bombing operations while stationed at RAF Derna in North Africa.
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Contributor
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Julie Williams
Michael Cheesbrough
Spatial Coverage
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Australia
Libya
Libya--Darnah
New South Wales--Sydney
North Africa
Libya--Banghāzī
New South Wales
Temporal Coverage
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1940
1945-05-05
aircrew
B-24
Fw 190
Operational Training Unit
pilot
RAF Lichfield
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/888/11127/AHughesWH151021.1.mp3
33613f53da69484a983e122f2ed1e463
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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Hughes, Harry
William Henry Hughes
W H Hughes
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Flight Lieutenant Harry Hughes DFC DFM (- 2023, 159079 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a navigator with 102 Squadron and then with a Mosquito Squadron.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2015-09-21
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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Hughes, WH
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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HH: It’s all in the book, I think, mainly, isn’t it?
AS: Most of it is, but we need to get it on tape. I think. This is an interview with Harry Hughes, flight lieutenant Harry Hughes DFC DFM, a navigator in wartime Bomber Command on 102 Squadron and then later on Mosquitos. My name is Adam Sutch and the interview is being conducted at Harry’s home in St Ives. Harry, thank you ever so much for agreeing to this interview. Perhaps we can start by going over a little your early days. I believe, you were born in Dorset.
HH: Yeah.
AS: Okay. Did you have brothers and sisters?
HH: A sister, yeah. But I went to school in Sherborne, the Grammar School in Sherborne not the big school, not the public school. And, it was a good school but there we are, I think it was a good school anyway but they’ve, in their wisdom they’ve closed it down now and they amalgamated with the Lord Digby school, ‘cause the Lord Digby school is gonna cost too much to repair or something and I think some builder wanted to get hold of their building anyway and make flats out of it. You know, usual thing.
AS: Yeah. How did you get on at school? What were your subjects? What did you do well at in school?
HH: Mainly in maths. I got a distinction in Maths and a distinction in Physics and Chemistry. Otherwise I got all passes except English language in which I got, I didn’t fail, I got a pass, just got a pass so I didn’t get my ‘tric. Did so⸻
AS: Sorry.
HH: Anyway that’s beside the point. Anyway I left there in 1940 and my very first job was a night watchman for some lady at Lewisham Manor near Sherborne, who lost all her staff and she wanted somebody to be in the house at night and to patrol the grounds. While I went round the grounds once, no, never again, it was too bloody scary [laughs].
AS: Things that go bump in the night.
HH: Yeah, there was hooting and things [laughs]. Anyway that’s beside the point.
AS: But this was 1940. Was this, was the Battle of Britain going on over your head or had that finished?
HH: Yes, yeah.
AS: What, was that what pushed you towards the air force or?
HH: No. Well, I think. Well, what pushed me towards the air force was the fact that I went, my father wanted me to join the navy and I, I went down to Portsmouth to sit an exam to be a writer or a supply probationer [unclear] his own clerk, and I didn’t fancy that, but anyway they gave you twelve blocks of pounds, shillings and pence to add up that way and then you had to add up that way and then you had to add them all up across and then the figure you got down here and the figure you got down here should have been the same. Mine was nowhere near. Anyway.
AS: But your maths were good so, you threw it really, didn’t you?
HH: Pardon?
AS: Did you deliberately mess up, because your maths were good.
HH: Yeah. Yes, I know, but not the accountancy type [laughs]. Anyway, we then, coming back on the train, I was pretty certain I’d failed, so, coming back on the train, I had to change at Salisbury and I had about an hour to waste, wait at Salisbury so I went in the town and I saw an RAF recruiting office. So I went in there and saw a sergeant there and I signed on for aircrew.
AS: Just like that?
HH: Yeah. And they took me on as a pilot or navigator and then I had to go to Oxford for attestation and I went there and with all the gunners from South Wales and what have you became gunners rather, from the mines, you know, and so that’s how I came to be in the air force.
AS: Okay. Did you go through the aircrew recruiting centres in London at Lord’s and?
HH: Yes, I was the first one there.
AS: Really?
HH: Very first one to go there, I think. In July ‘41, I suppose, yeah.
AS: That’s pretty early. What, what happened then? They’ve taken you into the air force at that stage, I suppose, you didn’t know what you were going to do.
HH: Well, we went to ITW and⸻
AS: Where was that?
HH: Down Torquay, which is very nice and, I’ve got my bloody reading glasses on, no wonder I can’t see, and then I was sent down to America to train.
AS: Okay.
HH: In the United States Air Force.
AS: Straight from Initial Training Wing.
HH: Yes. Straight from ITW. We didn’t get a chance. Later on they used to, they did a little course on Tiger Moths up on somewhere in the world, somewhere up that way.
AS: So, you hadn’t actually flown in an aircraft when you went to.
HH: No.
AS: How did you, obviously they wouldn’t fly you over, but how did you get across the Atlantic, in a convoy or?
HH: Yeah.
AS: Okay. What was that called?
HH: I went out on a ship called the Highland Princess, which I ended up selling. I sold the Highland Princess, the Highland Brigade and the Highland Monarch.
AS: Presumably not during the war when you got there.
HH: No. Four of them, I sold them in about ’51, or ’52, something like that
AS: Okay. So, you’re going across the Atlantic in convoy. Was the ship crowded? What was the conditions like?
HH: Well, we were in hammocks, you know, on meat hooks in the, you hung your hammock on meat hooks in the lower hold, you know?
AS: Gosh.
HH: And we are right up on the stern of the ship because every time the, I think she was twin screwer if I remember rightly, because every time the ship rolled the prop shoot [mimics a sound] [laughs].
AS: Is that the prop coming out of the water?
HH: Yeah.
AS: Gosh! Gosh, and so, there must have been hundreds of men on the ship with you.
HH: Yeah.
AS: All [unclear]
HH: The one thing you found out, you had to hang on to your four and a half hat because one went missing, what did he do? Go and pinch another one. So, it went all round the ship [laughs]. [unclear]
AS: Like measles, isn’t it? Yes, yeah, absolutely.
HH: Yeah, I remember that so, I hid mine, anyway.
AS: So, you went across in uniform with
HH: Yeah.
AS: Hundreds of other people.
HH: No, when we got to, we were being issued with, at Wilmslow I think it was in Cheshire, we’d been issued with a grey flannel suit to wear in America, ‘cause we all had to go down grey worsted suits, you know.
AS: Ah, ‘cause America wasn’t in the war then.
HH: ‘Cause they weren’t in the war then, yeah.
AS: Right.
HH: So, and so we went down to Maxwell Field in Alabama first of all for acclimatization.
AS: Wait, where did the ship come in?
HH: Halifax.
AS: Oh, so you landed in Canada.
HH: Went to Canada first, yeah.
AS: Okay.
HH: And then, I think, yes I think we were there, we were trained down to Toronto, I think, and then we went from Toronto down to Alabama, to Maxwell Field, to Montgomery, Alabama.
AS: Okay. Was the whole journey really well organised⸻
HH: Oh yeah.
AS: Or was is the usual service mess up?
HH: No.
AS: No. It was good?
HH: It was good, yeah, everything seemed to go to plan I think, pretty well.
AS: How were you received at Montgomery, at Maxwell Air Force base?
HH: Oh, pretty well. In fact, the very first Sunday we were there, first weekend we were there, the American officer came round and, when we were having lunch, and he said, there’s a fair in town at the moment and they’ve heard that you boys are here, so we’d like you, they’d like you to come along and be their guest. So we thought we were going there but no, it was a scam, we were all scammed out of our money. Yeah, so we woke up in the morning, everybody had lost all their money, it was a real American type scam you know and I saw a coach loading up with American service people all in uniform. So I said, ‘Where is this coach going?’ ‘Oh’, he said, one of them said, ‘We are going to a little village called Prattville just outside of Montgomery and we’re going to church and if we’re lucky we will get invited out for lunch afterwards.’ So, I said, ‘Can we come along?’ Then the three of us got on board anyway. And we went in and sang all the hymns [laughs] and, real gospel stuff too it was, yeah.
AS: Deep South, isn’t it?
HH: You know, happy happy-clappy type of fellows, kind of stuff, you know, and anyway afterwards all the American were all invited out to lunch and we were there, standing there, wondering what the hell to do, because it was a long walk back to Maxwell from Prattville ‘bout twelve miles I should think and then suddenly this lovely blonde comes up, she says, ‘You all from Maxwell?’ I said, ‘Yeah, as a matter of fact, we are.’ ‘Oh’, she says, ‘Matter of fact what sort of language is that?’ she says. ‘Well’, I says, ‘Well, you probably wouldn’t understand but we are English’ [laughs]. ‘Oh’, she says, ‘English, you are English?’ And she rushed around and she got all the Americans to cancel so that we were all invited to and she was a daughter of a, she collared me anyway and the other two were taken off somewhere else, I don’t know where. And then, we had lunch and her father was the local judge and he said afterwards, after we had lunch, he said, ‘I guess you would like to take my daughter out for a drive, would you? We gotta a nice Buick in the back. Buick with a steering column for your change’ and I didn’t even have a licence [unclear] never mind [laughs]. Never mind, and I got in anyway and I drove her out, bit of snogging and came back. And that was that and I never saw her again, she, I heard later she married an American navy pilot, who got killed in the Pacific. Yeah. So I could have followed it up if I wanted to but I didn’t but by that time I was back in Canada anyway.
AS: So when did the serious business of learning to fly start and how did that go?
HH: Pardon?
AS: When did the serious business of learning to fly start and how did that go?
HH: Well, when I go to, we went down to, we were posted from Maxwell Field down to Albany in Georgia to an aerodrome called Darr Aero Tech, that was the owner of the aerodrome, I think, Darr Aero Tech. And it’s still there, I was there not long ago. And so, I suddenly had to do a flight commander’s check and he decided, he decided to wash me out so I went back up to Canada and trained as a navigator.
AS: On the flying piece, how much flying did you do? Do you think it was fair that you got washed out?
HH: No.
AS: How did that come about?
HH: Well, they wanted, they, the Air Ministry wanted as many people washed out as possible who could train as navigators, bomb aimers and gunners and what have you. They weren’t too short of gunners but they.
AS: I believe you had an instructor with a German sounding name.
HH: Oh yeah. Schmidt.
AS: Schmidt.
HH: Yeah, that was a joke really. That was in the book, wasn’t it? Yeah.
AS: So maybe he sabotaged your flying career, your piloting career. So, I presume that a lot of people were washed out at this stage.
HH: They were, but [unclear] was never washed out.
AS: Wow.
HH: Over eighty percent. I know it was a whole lot of us came back. And on Pearl Harbour, the day of Pearl Harbour we were giving an exhibition rugby match in the town. And suddenly over the tannoy came an announcement that Pearl Harbour had been attacked by the Japanese and so everybody went home, they all packed up and went home. So we went home as well. And that night, I had a place I used to get under the wire and go into town at night, you know [laughs] and when I came back to get under the wire there was a man there with a gun [laughs]. And he was trying to shoot me because he thought I was a Japanese. He said, look mate, I don’t like your look, you look like a bloody Japanese [laughs].
AS: Did you go out of through the gate after that?
HH: No. Well, I didn’t bother after that.
AS: So.
HH: I went back, well, the following day we were on the train to go back up to Canada.
AS: Is that quick?
HH: Yeah.
AS: Flight commander’s test and then pack your kit and off you go.
HH: About for, about a week later I suppose I was back, I was on the train going back up to Canada. And it’s quite an experience travelling by train out in America, isn’t it? In those days with the dining cars and everything, and the bars and but we had to change, we were on what was called the Chattanooga Choo Choo, but going the wrong way [laughs]. We were going there, were going north but the Chattanooga Choo Choo goes, comes south, doesn’t it? But we were on that line anyway. And I remember we stopped off in Boston and we had a bit of a wait there so we decided to go into town, we never did see Boston because we got on the way into town, we got attacked by these Irish Americans.
AS: For being British?
HH: We had taken them into the war.
AS: Okay.
HH: It’s our fault but [laughs]. And they were at war now. And they’d be getting called up and be killed. And then anyway we got away with that alright.
AS: You were physically attacked?
HH: Yeah, yeah. They had knives and God knows what. They weren’t very nice people. Anyway, I say Irish American but I imagine they were Irish Americans, being in Boston, wouldn’t you?
AS: Big population there, isn’t it?
HH: So, then I went to Trenton where I was interviewed by a group captain and he was Raymond Mass‘s brother.
AS: God lord, Raymond Mass of the Agfa?
HH: Yeah. It was his brother. He looked just like him too. Yeah. And.
AS: Was that a sympathetic interview?
HH: Yes, yeah.
AS: You wanted to be a pilot and then suddenly that stopped. Was the system generally sympathetic to you?
HH: Oh yes. So they were quite keen to take me on as a navigator. And so then I went from there to Quebec City, L’Ancienne-Lorette. And from there up to Rivers in Manitoba. Which was a dry town, that was, Prohibition there.
AS: Oh dear. Good lord.
HH: Yeah.
AS: Were you in uniform by this time? RAF uniform?
HH: Yeah. Wearing a Canadian uniform in fact [laughs]. They issued us with a Canadian uniform, which were quite smart actually. And they were very similar to ours but the cloth is a little kinder, shall we say?
AS: So, you’re in Prohibition and you went out, presumably looking for a drink, do you?
HH: Well, we knew that Mont-Joli was dry but there was a little, there was a port just down the river called Rimouski, which was a timber port mainly. I remember when I took my Institute of Chartered Shipbrokers exams, one of the questions was, could you explain what were the, how many and what sort of cargo was exported from Rimouski, well everybody else thought it was in Russia, didn’t’ they? [laughs]
AS: But you had a clear mental picture.
HH: Yeah, I’ve seen it. Anyway, we were trying to, we were drinking some, we went to a bar and we were drinking this clear liquid, we had asked for whiskey but they served us up with this clear whiskey, clear liquid and when we were coming back in a taxi we were, we’d had about two each of these, we were all very sick we had to stop the taxi we were really sick and we saw afterwards that [unclear] don’t drink anything that is given to you because there is a stuff called alcool which is made from wood alcohol and it’s can make you blind.
AS: It’s like drinking anti-freeze, isn’t it?
HH: Yeah.
AS: Gosh, lucky escape!
HH: And so that was that. So then from Mont-Joli we went to the staff end course at Rivers in Manitoba which was astronavigation, advanced navigations course it was.
AS: What was the basic navigation course? What was your basic navigation training like? Was it mostly classroom or?
HH: A lot of in the air.
AS: What were you flying in?
HH: Ansons. Yeah. Mark 1 Ansons you had to wind up the undercarriage, you remember?
AS: Yeah. Did you take to it easily, to the navigation, because of your maths proficiency or?
HH: Oh yes, yeah.
AS: And you found it easy to be an accurate navigator?
HH: Yes, I mean, you’re training all the time of course and right the way through when I came home from Rivers, came home over on the Union-Castle ship, called the Cape Town Castle, which I didn’t sell. And, what’s the time?
AS: Now.
HH: [alarm clock rings] The taxi, yeah.
AS: Okay. We’ll pause at there, shall we? [recording paused]
HH: Yeah. Astronavigation course A and it was mainly a flying by using star shots yeah. But when I got on the squadron, I mean you had to carry about three sets of books, you know, and a naval almanac as well. Had to work out your star shots. But when I got to the squadron they had a marvellous bit of equipment, a little projector over the navigator’s tail [unclear], which about that high off the table and you had to measure it up with a special stick to make certain it was in focus and on this astrograph there was three stars you could use and, two stars rather, two stars plus Polaris you use to get a three star fix, and you worked out a datum point for the time before you, before you got airborne and drew it on your chart and then you lay your chart down on the table and lined it up with the astrograph and then this projected the position lines of these stars onto your chart. So all, so, the bomb aimer, all the bomb aimer had to do was to take the star charts, he was, my bomb aimer was a trained navigator anyway and I think he’s still alive, I’m not sure, and.
AS: So it was very much team work.
HH: Yeah.
AS: Between you and the bomb aimer but actually on astros. So, you, we jumped straight on to being on the squadron. Did you know, as soon as you started navigator training, that you would be going to Bomber Command?
HH: Well, it’s pretty obvious I would be. Yeah.
AS; Okay. And, so, you finished your training in Canada, came back to the UK by ship, and what happened next before you got on to the squadron?
HH: I went to [unclear], is it Cumberland?
AS: I think Scotland.
HH: Up near Carlisle, north of Carlisle then, between Carlisle and Keswick I suppose. And a little aerodrome there and we learned to fly in wartime conditions, you know, where the balloon barrages were et cetera. Where to avoid them.
AS: And is this when you stepped up from Ansons to bombers?
HH: No, no, this is still on Ansons. And then from there we went down to Hampstead Norris still on Ansons and then we went to Harwell, Hampstead Norris was a satellite of Harwell at the time and then we crewed up with our pilot and wireless operator, I think we already had a wireless operator and we crewed up with bomb aimer and engineer, no, no, we didn’t have an engineer at that time, this is on Wellingtons and.
AS: What were they like the training Wellingtons, were they in good nick, were they ropey old kites or?
HH: No, no, pretty ropey, they were draughty as hell, oh God they were draughty. The wind used to whistle through that fabric, you know. [unclear] construction, wasn’t it?
AS: What was, was there a step up in gear going on to heavier airplanes and operational tactics?
HH: Oh yeah, yeah.
AS: You are moving much more quickly in your calculations and navigation than perhaps when you were training?
HH: We did quite a lot of cross countries and Bullseyes we did in OTU.
AS: What’s Bullseye?
HH: Bullseyes we did down, we’d go down to, say the Channel Islands and experience a little bit of flak there and then we’d come back up again and fly across to Portsmouth or somewhere and fly across the coast there or else we’d fly, out to the North Sea towards Denmark and come back into Hull.
AS: So this was almost a simulated bombing mission, was that?
HH: Yeah.
AS: Training, for training. Okay.
HH: They were called Bullseyes anyway in cooperation with the army, I suppose, with the the ack-ack.
AS: So, when you’re at OTU, you’re on Wellingtons.
HH: Yeah.
AS: Okay.
HH: Then we went up to a place called Riccall in Yorkshire, near Selby, and we had to, we trained, we converted onto Halifaxes.
AS: What, can you remember what year, what month this would be when you?
HH: Well, that would be about Christmas of, just around Christmas in ’42, I suppose.
AS: Wow, so what type of Halifax would this be? The Merlin one or the?
HH: The Merlin one, yeah.
AS: Okay.
HH: Yes, so the Hali, Hali 1, what’s his name? Not Gibson, what the hell was his name?
AS: Cheshire?
HH: No. Gus Walker.
AS: Gus, oh yeah, yeah.
HH: He was a lovely man, Gus was, and he’d taken out, all the mid upper turret and the front nose cone as well, there is a very big heavy turret in the front nose and like the Lanc was, you know. And then, it’s pretty useless that front turret was but anyway. Then, eventually we got the Hali II.1 A which had a four gun [unclear] turret on the top, yes, same as on the Hali 3.
AS: So your mid upper then got his job back.
HH: Yeah.
AS: So, Gus Walker he took these turrets out to save weight, to carry more bombs?
HH: To save weight, yeah. Just to save weight, to make it improve performance a bit. And get a better height. I better ring up my taxi.
AS: So, by taking the turrets off, Gus Water was giving his aircrews more of a chance really, wasn’t he?
HH: Yeah, but then later on they improved the, we still had the Merlin 22s, same as the Lanc had, you know. Merlin 22s, but the Mark II.1 A was a much better aircraft, you could get up to, you know, eighteen, twenty, twenty one, twenty two thousand.
AS: Loaded?
HH: Yeah.
AS: Which is, you were at the same height as the Lancs. And the Lancs had the habit of dropping their bombs on you. Which happened on our very first trip. We went to, we were waiting to have a nice easy trip but no, we got Essen. And then, when we were over the, when we were over the target on our bombing run but a whole lot of bombs dropped on us, a whole lot of incendiaries dropped on us and the engineer and myself had to go back and kick them out the door [laughs] and which is good practice actually, because it happened to us again over Wuppertal.
AS: Really?
HH: But that time there was a, I think it was a two thousand pounder or a thousand pounder, I don’t know, and it came and took our port rudder right off, and the port tail and the port tail blade yeah.
AS: And what sort of problems did that give the pilot?
HH: Mh?
AS: What sort of problems did that give the pilot?
HH: Well, we found, she was, it was still flying alright but I found that we were crabbing a bit. And I remember seeing a light below and I said, take a drift on that, would you? And anyway we found that we were crabbing quite about ten degrees to port, I think, yeah.
AS: So you do all your sums again and take that out by adjusting the.
HH: No, I just took ten degrees off every course [laughs]. Yeah.
AS: That must have been quite a hairy landing I would think.
HH: No, [unclear], yeah. I can’t remember it being anything but normal.
AS: Wow.
HH: And when we got back, the little corporal in charge of our ground crew, he came out, what the bloody hell have you done to my aircraft! [laughs] as if it was our fault, you know.
AS: Did you fly your own regular aircraft that you got attached to?
HH: Yes, yeah. D, we always flew in D, until one time we let, we were on leave and I think it was an Australian pilot took it and he was very conscious of saving fuel. So he throttled right back coming back and the result was that the, when we went to run the engine up the following day, the engine started to shake, port engine started to shake and suddenly the prop came off and went right through where I’d be normally sitting and sliced my table in half, but I was in the rest position now for take-off you know.
AS: Wow. So that was one of your nine lives gone?
HH: Yeah. I tell that story I say, as you can see I’m still here [laughs]. I wasn’t sitting there at the time.
AS: So, did they repair the aeroplane or was that the demise of D-Dog?
HH: But that was it finished, D-Dog was finished then and we got the Mark 2.1 A then.
AS: Still as D-Dog or was there a superstition about that?
HH: No. We were still with D, yeah. But, Jackie Miles, he was our mid upper gunner, he was really pleased to get that. We got four guns, he was really happy [laughs]. But it was much safer to have somebody in a blister looking down underneath.
AS: Is that what he used to do before he got the target?
HH: Yeah. Yes, and he used to put it in his log book, duty, rear gunner’s me [laughs].
AS: Yeah. On, when you were on ops, had the idea of the bomber stream come in by then?
HH: Oh yes. Yes, we were on the very first time they dropped, the Pathfinders used Oboe on the Essen raids. I think it was first used on the 5th of March, wasn’t it?
AS: I don’t know, 1943. This was.
HH: Yeah, ’43, ’43 by this time, yeah.
AS: So, it was quite early on in the idea of the Pathfinders.
HH: Yeah.
AS: So, you went on ops just as the stream and the concentration were starting to take place. I know you were deep in the bowels of the aeroplane at your navigation table. Did you, did the crew see other aircraft around them, feel the other aircraft around them?
HH: No, you are in the slipstream the whole time. Especially when you got near the target, when you’re on your final run, you sort of you feel the slipstream and you have got to remember that five percent of our losses were due to collisions, it has been estimated.
AS: That’s a high percentage.
HH: I think we were told that at the time to be extra vigiliant, you know.
AS: Against the dangers of collision. What about enemy aircraft on your first tour? Did you have any encounters with the German night fighters?
HH: Oh yeah. [unclear], he shot down two, he shot down a Ju 88 and an Me 110 I think it was, yeah.
AS: And this, this was your rear gunner.
HH: And he had a problem as well. A lot of Battle of Britain pilots would have given their eye tooth for a score like that. Probably would have gotten a DSO and a DFC.
AS: [laughs] there are a lot of unsung deeds in Bomber Command.
HH: Anyway then we finished up in October ’43 and I got sent up to 6 Group, it was a Canadian crew.
AS: With the Canadians. How did you?
HH: And they wanted everybody to be Canadians, you know. They didn’t want an English instructor so I got, I quickly got posted down to 3 Group. And
AS: Somewhere along the way you, you picked up the DFM. Was that during your first tour?
HH: Yes, was the first tour.
AS: And what was the story behind your DFM?
HH: I don’t know really. It’s not in the book even, not even in the, my citation is not there, there’s a book of DFMs in the RAF, book of DFCs and DFMs. And I think there was an Australian, called Cameron, he found this book of DFMs but I don’t know, I think Gus Walker probably. You see, I’d broken my left foot, I’d broken a bone in my left foot and what with having leave, we were due for leave I went on leave on with my foot in plaster, came back and had the plaster taken off and then I fell off my bicycle [laughs]. Didn’t help. So, the doc said, ‘Right, I’m going to keep you in hospital until your foot’s cured. I don’t want any arguments.’ And the following day Sam came in, he said, we are on tonight, [unclear] and they want me to take a spare navigator and I said, ‘No way, Sam, let’s go and see the doc.’ The doc was in a good mood ‘cause he was going on leave. So, have you read all this before?
AS: No.
HH: So, [pause] he said, ‘Alright you, you can go this time, but’, he says, ‘Provided you come back into hospital as soon as you get back. If you get back’, he said, ‘If you get back.’ So, he then went on leave. Anyway, I duly arrived at main briefing, done my navigation briefing, I think we came at main briefing and Gus Walker was on the door. And Gus said, ‘Where are you going?’ I said, ‘I’m on crutches you see. I’m going on ops.’ And he said, ‘Why?’ ‘I don’t where my crew is going, I don’t want them to go without me.’ ‘Well, oh alright then.’ So I went in and we went to Berlin that night. And when I got back, Gus was still on the station. ‘Cause he was in charge of three squadrons, wasn’t he? Up there. And he said, ‘Right, young Hughes,’ he says, ‘I’ve been hearing all about you, he says, ‘It’s alright, I’ll take you back to the hospital myself.’ And then I got in his car and he tore me off a bit of a mild strip for being irresponsible and some of that and then as I got out, he said, ‘Bloody good show anyway, Hughes.’ And I think it was he who recommended me for a DFM, I don’t know, probably.
AS: Excellent. It’s a wonderful, wonderful story. What happened, you said, you tried the book in the RAF club to find your citation. Have you explored anywhere else, to try and find the DFM citation?
HH: I did write to some time ago, I don’t know, I think they did, you get from RAF records I think.
AS: Okay.
HH: Because I wrote to them the other day and asked them if, ‘cause I had a letter from them to say that I could retain the rank, substantive rank of flight lieutenant when I finished in the reserve and use the courtesy rank of squadron leader. But I’ve never used it. So I thought it would be a nice thing to have on my tombstone, so I wrote and asked them if that still pertained, shall we say.
AS: And you are still waiting for a reply.
HH: Well, they wrote back to me and said that I’d have to give them some more proof of who I was, you know, passports, et cetera so I sent them up a copy of my, one of my utility bills and my council tax demand.
AS: Well, hopefully that’s good enough.
HH: It only went off last week, so we will have to wait and see.
AS: You mentioned briefings. I know the targets were different and the weather was different, but could you give me some idea of an average preparation for a mission from waking up in the morning to taking off. Is that possible, that sort of things that?
HH: Yeah, because you went down to the, you went down to the flights and you stood in the apron outside the squadron offices and at ten to ten on the dot, if you were on that night, the phone would ring. You knew you were on that night then and then, but if you waited and waited until ten past ten the phone would ring again to say the squadron’s stood down by which time we had all disappeared ‘cause we’d all. Didn’t want to go to on a bloody route march or something [unclear].
AS: So it was all incredibly secret but the routine gave it away.
HH: Yeah [laughs].
AS: So if the phone call came at ten to ten, you knew you were on ops that night, what would happen then?
HH: Well I did, we’d go down to our aircraft and check all the equipment in it and then if necessary you take it up on an air test and then you were back on the ground again by, about eleven, eleven thirty, and then you’d either come back and go to lunch and or else you’d and then after you’d had lunch you’d go on for navigation briefing at about two o’clock.
AS: So the navigator was the first person in the crew to know where you were going, what timing was.
HH: Yes, we knew where we were going, yeah.
AS: Was that a very full briefing, with weather? Is this when you drew up your courses, you got your turning points and what not?
HH: Sorry?
AS: Was this a very full briefing?
HH: Oh yeah, well, the navigation briefing, yes, you got your various tracks you had to go on to and hopefully they’re taking you around the defended areas you know.
AS: The flak and the searchlights, yeah. Was there a lot of work involved for you to prepare your charts?
HH: Yes, it took quite a time. You were mainly with your bomb aimer to help you, you know. Harry Hoover, my bomb aimer was a trained navigator, he trained in South Africa I think.
AS: So, you two were the only ones that knew at the navigation briefing the target. Was it difficult to keep it secret from your skipper and your crew?
HH: Oh no, you didn’t have to keep it secret but you just told the rest of the crew where we’re going so all this business about being a gasp when they, when the curtains were pulled across from the map.
AS: Probably you already knew.
HH: We all knew where we were going by that time, at least my crew did.
AS: So, you’ve done your navigation briefing and what happened then? Just sit around waiting for the main crew briefing or did you have duties to do?
HH: No, we just, by the time you finished doing the nav, it’s about time for the main briefing and then having done the main briefing you then went for an ops breakfast. The ops breakfast, which was bacon and eggs, baked beans, all the things you shouldn’t eat.
AS: Baked beans?
HH: Yeah.
AS: And you’re flying at twenty thousand feet.
HH: Yeah.
AS: Oh, that could have been interesting. What was the atmosphere like? Was there a lot of tension? Was there a lot of horseplay? Was there a lot of fear? What was the atmosphere like?
HH: I don’t know, I can’t remember now, there was a feeling of are we gonna make it or not, you know.
AS: Was that a personal thing or something that you talked about with the crew?
HH: I would never, never, never, never, my mid upper gunner, he, one day, we were in our room, I shared a room with him and he packed up all his biscuits on his bed and folded up all the blankets and sheets. What are you doing that for? And he said, ‘I don’t think we are gonna come back. So I’m putting the things in order now.’ And he got all his paperwork out and everything, letters and everything to his wife and things.
AS: What did that do to your morale?
HH: Well, I wasn’t, I wasn’t very happy about it but it was a scrub that night anyway. Then he said, afterwards he said, ‘God, good job we didn’t go to [unclear] because we weren’t going to come back.’ He knew.
AS: But after that on future trips he was fine.
HH: Well, I said, ‘Don’t you ever do that again, Jackie, I said, ‘You never do a thing like that again.’
AS: Tempting fate. What about off duty, what sort of things did you, you guys get up to that you can talk about?
HH: Sorry?
AS: Off duty, did you get much time off to yourself? Or to yourselves as a crew?
HH: Yeah. We, I used to go out with, mainly with another crew ‘cause all our crew, our skipper was commissioned, so we were all and the rest of them, Jackie Miles he lived in Leeds so when he had an evening off, he went back to Leeds and the rear gunner was the same, he was somewhere just outside Leeds. Sam was from Leeds as well, the pilot, so it was only the engineer and myself.
AS: So you latched onto another crew for the,
HH: Yeah.
AS: The social element.
HH: Yes, [unclear] crew, yeah. I was pretty friendly with his navigator but he got killed.
AS: And did the rest of the crew come back?
HH: Yeah.
AS: And brought him back?
HH: They brought him back, yeah.
AS: Your, we were talking about your navigation training and astro, during your time, your first tour on ops, did you start to get Gee in the aeroplane or any other navigational aids that you used?
HH: We had Gee.
AS: You had Gee.
HH: Right from the start, yeah. We had the Mark 1 Gee which was, used to have to tune it, the narrow knobs on the side and you had to tune it to get a signal and it’s like tuning one of those. Televisions, you know.
AS: Keep wandering off. Did you, was it as a big revolution in navigation as people say?
HH: The Gee was, yeah.
AS: The Gee was, it really did make a difference.
HH: Yeah, well, it did make a difference because, but you didn’t get it beyond the Dutch coast, it wouldn’t work beyond the Dutch coast but you had we, well, you had LORAN later, in Mosquitos we had Gee and LORAN. In fact, it really annoys me now to hear the met men talking about the jet stream because we found the very first jet stream. I found a wind of a hundred and ninety five knots at thirty thousand feet.
AS: Tailwind.
HH: Hundred and ninety five knots and when we got back, I told the met man, I said, ‘I got a wind of a hundred and ninety five knots and you were forecasting forty five to fifty knots.’ He said, ‘I don’t believe it, I don’t believe it!’ So he went to Group headquarters and the Group headquarters said we don’t believe it. They went to Command headquarters and the met people up there said they didn’t believe it either. But then everybody else came back with these winds and they suddenly realised what was called jet streams but now they talk about jet streams all the time. And what they mean is where the warm front, the warm tropical front meets the polar maritime front and all the way along that you get depressions form and then, and with it you get this so-called jet stream would form as well. Ah, so which comes first? The frontal systems or the jet stream?
AS: Must be the fronts, must be the fronts. So, when you are doing your tour, you’d had the nasty experience of being bombed twice by your own people, probably 5 Group above you.
HH: Yeah.
AS: Was that the limit of the difficulties you had? Was the aeroplane mechanically reliable or did you suffer?
HH: Oh, we, came back on three engines more times than we came back on four.
AS: Really?
HH: Yeah. I think we came back on three engines eleven times out of our tour.
AS: And what did your ground crew chief say to that?
HH: Well, it wasn’t their fault, necessarily, well, he didn’t think it was anyway.
AS: It’s just overstraining them, is it, full fuel, full bombload climb to heights. Coming back from the raids, what was your pilot like? Was he one of those that, wanted to pour on the coal and get home early or did he stick to heights and courses as briefed or?
HH: Well, he couldn’t do much else with a Halifax. But when I was on Mosquitos, with our New Zealand pilot, we were always first back [laughs]. Yeah.
AS: Becomes a matter of pride. On your first tour still perhaps we can talk a bit more about that. As you got towards the end, did the, you knew presumably you were going to stop on, what, thirty trips?
HH: Well, I did twenty six in fact.
AS: Okay.
HH: Which we were screened two trips early. I would have done twenty eight for my first tour, ‘cause the pilot had already done two second Dickey trips to start with. [door bell rings] That’s my taxi now.
AS: Okay.
HH: So I’ll just pause this. [recording paused] We were just talking about your tour length. The question I was going to ask is did you feel a real rising tension as you got towards the end of your tour?
HH: But we didn’t know we were towards the end, we thought we had another two trips to do.
AS: Okay.
HH: But, I remember Sam coming in and he says, ‘I have some good news for you, we’re screens and you’re off on leave from tomorrow. You are all going on leave tomorrow.’
AS: What did that feel like?
HH: Mh?
AS: What did that feel like?
HH: Ah, it was good feeling but I forget what happened now. When I was on Mosquitos I think when I was doing my last trip on Mosquitos ‘cause you had to do fifty on Mosquitos you see for a tour.
AS: So, you finished on 102 Squadron and were there many crews that went all the way through like yours did?
HH: No, not a great deal, I wish I had the [unclear] I’ve got it somewhere, might be in that case there, book of all the losses, you know. 102 Squadron losses.
AS: Oh, perhaps we can look at that tomorrow or now if you like.
HH: Well I, it might be in that case, I’m not sure.
AS: Let’s pause this and we’ll go and have a look. [recording paused]
AS: Harry, good morning, it’s day two of our interview sessions. It’s very good of you to agree to this interview. Can we start by going back to your first tour of operations during the Battle of the Ruhr on Halifaxes. Were you conscious at the time that this was a major battle or was it just one job after another?
HH: We were trying to hit Germany where it hurt, ‘cause we didn’t only go to the Ruhr and we went to places like Pilsen, and then we did Nuremberg and Munich and.
AS: Were you briefed on specific targets in these cities and told what you were going after?
HH: Oh, we knew that Essen was the Krupp works, yeah, and we were given a good, pretty good briefing by the intelligence officer what we were gonna hit because one time we went, we were going to. There was almost a mutiny one day because they were sending to some place I forget, Gelsenkirchen or somewhere, I forget where it was now, and [pause]
AS: What happened then? What was the mutiny all about?
HH: Well, the intelligence officer said that he didn’t know why we were going there, there was nothing there, there was just a spa town that we were going to hit but what we didn’t know, of course, it was a leave centre for the Gestapo and the place was full of the Gestapo officers and but you know initially we said, no, why are we going there, you know? And there was almost not exactly a mutiny but it was a fear of you know, why are we bombing this place, we probably would just hit a lot of women and children.
AS: So, this was 1943. So even at that stage.
HH: This is ’45. ‘43 rather.
AS: So, even at that stage there were some concerns amongst the crews about what you were doing and where you were going.
HH: Yeah, we didn’t, the Hamburg raids for example. That’s the first time there was a real firestorm and we went on three or four of those raids, I forget now, it’s in the book, Hamburg in July ’43. That book is falling to bits, isn’t it?
AS: Well, it happens to all of us, doesn’t it? As we get older. Here we go, 24th of July ’43 and the 27th of July ‘43. Ops Hamburg, yeah. And then the 2nd of August.
HH: Yeah, the 2nd of August when we, we’d already realised that the firestorms, you know, in then, we were dropping our incendiaries first and setting fire to places and then dropping four thousand pounders, two and four thousand pounders on top of the fires which, that’s why it’s called the firestorm, the blast from the comparatively thin-cased two thousand pounders and what have you, would suck in the air and the oxygen, you know, and cause these firestorms.
AS: So, the thin-cased bombs would blow the roofs off and then the incendiaries would go inside and.
HH: Well, you know, in that, wish I could find that, you could sit and watch that, the CD I’ve got somewhere in there of.
AS: Is it of a Hamburg raid?
HH: Pardon?
AS: Is it of a Hamburg raid?
HH: Yes, the first or second of the Hamburg raids which caused the firestorm. And I remember watching this from over the bomb aimer’s shoulder and watching these fires spreading and I remember saying, I felt very sorry for the people down there.
AS: At that time.
HH: At that time, yeah. In fact I said a little prayer for them.
AS: Is this something you discussed with the crew or any of your friends?
HH: Not really, no. I just said a prayer to myself, yeah.
AS: And was that really specific to Hamburg or to?
HH: Just to Hamburg, yeah. ‘Cause that was where the firestorms first started. Well, it was worst then Dresden actually.
AS: I believe so in the numbers lost. So, your first tour was absolutely in the thick of what we call the Battle of the Ruhr and extremely, extremely difficult and dangerous missions.
HH: The people who came after me, they’d done Hamburg and the Battle of the Ruhr, and then they had to follow on doing the Battle of Berlin. You can find my very last trip was to Berlin I think, no, it was Hanover. It was one of my last trips was to Berlin, that’s when I went on crutches, yeah.
AS: Home on three engines, that one?
HH: Was that Berlin?
AS: Yes, 23rd of August. And then you did a Munich and a Hanover. What was Berlin like? Was it special, was it the
HH: Pardon?
AS: Was Berlin perhaps the best defended target? What was Berlin like?
HH: It was the length of the trip really. You know, on heavies, on Lancs and heavies it took us eight and a half hours there and back. What’s it say there? [paper rustling]
AS: Seven hours fifteen, that’s still an incredible time. People talk about eight hour days, and that was a full day’s work at night.
HH: Was a full day’s work was being shot at too.
AS: And, I mean, was Berlin the best defended target, do you think or was that the Ruhr, perhaps?
HH: No, I think, I don’t think it was as bad as the Ruhr but it was, there was plenty of activity there but mainly a lot of fighter activity there over the target, over Berlin.
AS: And you, you could see the enemy?
HH: Oh yeah. They were coned and searchlights one time I was on Mosquitos, there was two Mosquitos, an Fw 190, and an Me 109, all on the same cone.
AS: Wow!
HH: And there is a painting of that somewhere. I described it, you know. And there is a painting somewhere that is called Berlin Express. And [unclear] have got the original.
AS: Okay, I’ll look for that.
HH: [unclear] then.
AS: Okay. Some trips to France as well. Le Creusot. You weren’t after a saucepan factory there were you, what was, can you remember what that trip was about?
HH: Oh yes, that was, they were manufacturing parts for tanks and things, I think.
AS: Gosh, here, after Le Creusot, Muhlheim, home on two engines.
HH: Yeah [laughs]
AS: What’s the story behind that? Did they just pack up or was it flak or?
HH: Yeah, they just packed up on us yeah, these Merlins were you know they were way overstressed on the Halifax and we came back on two on that occasion, yeah.
AS: After a lot of, after the Hamburgs that we talked about and Berlin, Munich. Now, can you remember that trip? September ’43 to Munich.
HH: Yeah.
AS: First off, first back, in your log book, eight hours, fifty five minutes. Did the stream hold together, the bomber stream hold together over these long distances?
HH: Yeah, you we were all given certain times, you know, you had to be at certain times on all the way along the track, at the various turning points, you know. And I think it did help, you know, no doubt about it and then with the advent of Window of course, it just threw their ground tracking, we had a little device, did I tell you, a little device called Boozer in Mosquitos.
AS: No, you didn’t, no.
HH: We had a little device which, when they were tracking you from the ground, a little yellow light used to glow. But when they were tracking from the air, a red light used to glow. And one night, we were coming back, and somewhere around about the Hamburg, sorry the Bremen Hanover gap, and this red light came on very bright and we knew the red light meant we were being tracked from the air you see. And then suddenly over the top of us, about the height of this building, just came two, I think they were Me 263s,
AS: The jets?
HH: The jets, yeah. Right over the top of us. And they didn’t see us. I got a photograph of a Mosquito somewhere I don’t know what she’s done with it now. I meant to ask her that when she was in last night.
AS: No worries, maybe today. So, this, the 262s had the speed, they were the only ones with the speed to catch you, really.
HH: Yes. They were doing about a hundred knots faster than us. Fifty to a hundred knots faster than us. And they just sailed over the top of us and disappeared in the distance. There were four jets, two of them.
AS: So they had radar airborne in the jets.
HH: Yes.
AS: That is a pretty dangerous development, isn’t it? That was another one of your nine lives gone, really, wasn’t it?
HH: Yeah.
AS: Your slices of luck. Back to your first tour, you, when did you come off ops?
HH: I went to a conversion unit, at a place called Wombleton.
AS: Okay, was that Stirlings?
HH: No, it was Halifaxes actually but.
AS: Okay.
HH: Canadian group, they are mainly on Halifaxes.
AS: In 6 Group, how did you get on with the Canadians?
HH: Not very well.
AS: Really?
HH: No. They are very, they didn’t want to know us, you know, they just wanted to get rid of us as quickly as they could.
AS: I’ve heard this that they were running,
HH: They wanted to run their own show.
AS: [unclear] as part of the Canadian.
HH: I remember getting one crew and I said, I wanted to send them back for further training because the navigator was absolutely hopeless. He really was, he couldn’t, it was like putting, I don’t know, he was thick as two planks, he couldn’t. So, I said if you’re sending this crew with this navigator they don’t stand a chance of getting through, not a chance at all. They’ll be shot down on, within their first five operations, they’ll be shot down.
AS: And do you know whether that came to pass?
HH: No. They didn’t like this, you know, the fact that I’d criticised one of their Canadian crews and I was posted down to 3 Group and, which suited me, and the crew got to squadron, got to a squadron and they did one trip and got hopelessly lost and I heard it afterwards that the CO of the, I think it was Lane, what was his name? Lane. He said, what the hell are you doing sending us crews that are, they should have been send back for further training. And I had recommended that.
AS: Had you been commissioned by this point?
HH: Yes, yeah.
AS: Okay.
HH: I was commissioned at the end of my first tour, I think.
AS: What sort of process what that? How did that take place?
HH: Pardon?
AS: How did, what sort of process what that? How did that take place?
HH: I just had an interview, I don’t know, who I had an interview with now, I can’t remember. And I mean after the interview I was then a pilot officer but I was a flight sergeant before and my pay was sixteen shillings a day as a flight sergeant but as a pilot officer I was only going to get fourteen and four pence a day. So they said, oh, we can’t have that so they gave me a six pence rise, six pence a day rise so I was getting fourteen and six a day as a pilot officer. And then eventually when I was a flight lieutenant after a couple of years, I was out in India by that time, and I got, well I was on Indian rates of pay anyway so, it didn’t factor.
AS: Back to the instructing. You finished an operational tour, had some leave and presumably your crew dispersed.
HH: Yeah. Pilot went to Rufforth converting many French Canadians and to go to Elvington, French, I mean French crews rather, French crews to go to Elvington, to 77 Squadron.
AS: Did you keep in touch with any of your crew members after?
HH: I came up to York a couple of times and met Sam, Jackie Miles I used to see and my gunner and Harry [unclear] the, the last time I’ve heard from him, he was up at near Shrewsbury.
AS: You all went to instructors jobs, do you?
HH: Yeah.
AS: Did they teach how to be an instructor or did they just send you off?
HH: No, I just went in and just talked to them and told them where they were going wrong, you know, and how to waste time and things like that.
AS: In the air this is.
HH: Yeah.
AS: So, did you do any formal classroom training of these chaps or was it just, what, supervising in the air and on the ground?
HH: Yeah.
AS: Supervising?
HH: Yeah, just going through their logs and charts individually with them and showing them where they’d gone wrong.
AS: And I believe the same sort of thing used to happen on ops, that when you came back your nav leader would go through your charts, is that right?
HH: Yeah. Yeah.
AS: Okay.
HH: They’d assess your, that’s the assessment on each one there.
AS: That we saw before.
HH: The little design on his wall, Charlie had, he had sort of a little square beside each one of you and you had two dots for very good, one dot for reasonably good, no dots at all for
AS: Average.
HH: Just average. Yeah.
AS: That’s his way of keeping track. So, on 3 Group, is this when you went to Stirlings? When you were training?
HH: Pardon?
AS: When you left the Canadians and went to 3 Group, that was, what was that, Stirlings, was that the Conversion Unit there?
HH: Yeah.
AS: Okay.
HH: Yeah, it’s down at Chedburgh.
AS: Okay.
HH: And, yeah, Chedburgh, near Bury St Edmunds. There was a beer drought down at that time and we used to cycle miles to find a pub with beer [laughs]. Then we’d keep very quiet about it [laughs].
AS: It’s not too bad.
HH: Me and a Canadian called Connors and we wanted to, we’d heard about that 8 Group wanted Mosquito pilots and navigators, so, we both applied to go, we both applied to go back on ops together. So, our first application, we were turned down because, being in 3 Group on Stirlings, you know, they were rather short of crews, and so we were turned down anyway. So we waited a couple of weeks and we applied again and we got turned down again. So that night, I got a tin of black paint from the stores and I wrote a message, a letter on the ceiling of the mess to the group captain, quite a polite letter, would you kindly pull your finger out and get us posted back on ops. We’re fed up with this instructing so could we please get back in so and so and signed it Connor and Hughes. The following day we were up in front of the old man and he said, ‘Right, you’re both going back, no way you’re going on the same crew or on the same squadron. In fact, you go back first, Hughes. Connor will follow you in about two- or three-weeks’ time.’ And this is what happened.
AS: It’s amazing. So you weren’t actually instructing for very long, were you?
HH: No, from October until July, so I suppose six months.
AS: Okay.
HH: And you’re supposed to have six months, at least six months rest, you know? From operations. Between tours.
AS: Okay. And then, in July having arranged your own posting really, you arrive at 1655 MCU. What’s MCU?
HH: Mosquito conversion unit.
AS: Okay.
HH: At Warboys, yeah, and Weston [?].
AS: I imagine this must have been a completely different sort of navigating. Was it?
HH: Oh, just very quick, but you, you wouldn’t think it now but I was very, very neat and tidy in what I did. I knew exactly, I used to keep my pencils in my flying boots, my dividers as well, [unclear] my Douglas protractor I kept in my hat with my dividers, which was behind me and my Dalton and, and then we used to take as your [unclear] fix, as soon as you got airborne, you got to operational high I’d take fix, fix, fix, every three minutes, then work out a tracking ground speed wind velocity and then another three minutes later another fix, a nine minute tracking ground velocity plus the sixth, the latest sixth one and another one, further on, six, and I can tell you exactly which way the wind was going, how far out the met was on their winds.
AS: And these fixes would be visual fixes or Gee fixes or both?
HH: Gee fixes.
AS: Gee fixes.
HH: So I’d take fix, fix, fix, you worked really hard to get the timing, you know, of the.
AS: Whereabouts was the Gee screen in the aeroplane? You were sitting on the right in the [unclear]
HH: I was sitting on the right and the Gee was behind me and LORAN as well.
AS: Okay. So.
HH: Gee and LORAN which was behind me.
AS: So, could you operate the equipment with your harnesses done up?
HH: Oh yeah.
AS: ‘Cause you just turned your head and⸻
HH: I just turned my head. It was just like there, behind me, there, but I could turn easier then and it was there, you know, just behind about there, about that angle to me.
AS: And it is just, as you say, second nature, three minutes, three minutes.
HH: It didn’t take long to take the fix but it took a long time but we, we had charts with the letters, lines of the Gee chart superimposed on top of it. So, this really worked very well.
AS: So, what came up on the Gee screen? What allowed you to compare the screen to the map?
HH: Pardon?
AS: What was the presentation on the Gee screen? What actually came up? Was it numbers or?
HH: Yeah. Well, you just, you could, you worked out, you knew what, you strobed the whichever signal you wanted to take, you know, and then you, you strobed the two of them and then fix and then you just read it off.
AS: I guess it’s, so you gotta an alphanumerical printout did you virtually.
HH: Yeah.
AS: Wow. So that could be done quickly.
HH: It’s quite, it’s very quick to work it all out, yeah, to work it out to get, to actually calculate the winds on your Dalton.
AS: How did you operate at night, because I imagine you had no lights in the cockpit?
HH: Well, we had enough.
AS: Okay.
HH: We had a red light and then, what’s his name? Anderson, our group navigation officer, he found that red, you couldn’t see the red markings on your chart. So, that was all orange and green.
AS: Which was easier to see.
HH: Yeah.
AS: Okay. So, when you’d done your Mosquito conversion unit or at the Mosquito conversion unit, you must have crewed up with a pilot, how did that go?
HH: Well, I had already wanted to fly with this Australian so, when this New Zealander came along, I thought, he’ll do, I crewed up with him.
AS: As simple as that. And did you do, did the aeroplane Mosquito take some getting used to it, so different from a heavy bomber, with different performance and.
HH: Oh yeah.
AS: What was she like to fly in?
HH: It was nice and reasonably fast. And I don’t think you really noticed it until you were doing some low flying.
AS: Shall we take a pause there? Okay. [recording paused]
HH: The Mosquito was, it was terribly difficult for a navigator to get out of.
AS: Why was that?
HH: Well, you had to, first of all you had to get hold of your chute and you kept that on, then you had to jettison two hatches to get out,
AS: Underneath.
HH: Underneath, yeah. Slightly forward towards the nose, yeah. And but by which time your pilot probably gone out of the top and you were spiralling down and the chance of you getting out was pretty slim.
AS: This hatch underneath must have been very close to the starboard propeller.
HH: Yes, we, yeah. Yes, it was quite close, yeah.
AS: Did you practice this on the ground a lot?
HH: No. I don’t think they thought you were, it was worth the risk. But the, a friend of mine used to fly with a man called Gill and he went down, got killed, Ronnie Knaith went down with his aircraft, and Gill got out and came home and he went to see Ronnie’s parents and they just slammed the door in his face, they wouldn’t talk to him. ‘Cause they had thought that he’d should have stayed onto the controls until Ronnie got out. Which is really what one was supposed to do.
AS: I hadn’t realised that the drill for the pilot was to go out of the top.
HH: Yeah.
AS: Because there’s a tailfin behind.
HH: Yeah, you jettison, you jettison the hood I think, the whole hood went. And theoretically the navigator could’ve gone out after him, I suppose, but.
AS: I think overall the losses were less on the Mosquito.
HH: Oh yeah.
AS: I think you were safer flying in a Mozzie than in a Halifax.
HH: Yes, I mean, there’s somewhere I got the losses in Hamish’s book, in Hamish Mahaddie’s book, all the losses in 8 Group and you will see that 692 do feature quite regularly, you know.
AS: Yeah, so you were posted to 692 Squadron after the conversion unit. You’d had, I suppose, eight months away from ops by then, ten months, had things changed a lot in that time?
HH: I don’t think they’d changed all that much for the heavies, no. And we operated separately and we used to do Window opening for the heavies, we used to do, we used to fly out with the heavies and used to meet up with them at Reading, they’d all congregated there, what’s that? There is something squeaking, did you hear?
AS: I don’t know, let’s pause the tape.[recording paused] Well, Harry, we discovered what the squeak was, it was the smoke alarm. We were talking about Window opening and you meeting the heavies over Reading.
HH: Yeah. We used to fly down with the and meet up with the heavies and then we’d weave in and out of them, stream, you know, and you could see the strength of the stream then because, you know, there was just a whole block of them all over the horizon.
AS: And these are daylights.
HH: Yeah, in daylight, yeah, it would be. And then somebody in one of the heavies would be signalling to us, you lucky bastards or words to that effect. So I was sent back, been there, done that [laughs].
AS: Fair do’s. Because you could fly a lot faster and a lot higher than they could.
HH: Well, we used to be, weave in and out of them, you see. And then, then when you got to the coast, you climbed very rapidly above and you got to your operational height. If we were going to say, if we were Window opening say for Stuttgart, we’d probably do a, you go to Cologne first and drop a few bundles of Window there making them, making them think that was the target, you see. And then we’d go along to wherever, Stuttgart, and where the main force were going, and we’d, we’d do Window opening for the first wave of Pathfinders going in.
AS: Okay. This was the, was this the main role of 692 Squadron?
HH: Pardon?
AS: Was this the main role of 692 Squadron?
HH: Yeah, well, we were the light night striking force, yeah.
AS: Okay.
HH: But our main role was to bomb Berlin every night.
AS: Oh, you were involved in this Berlin shuttle?
HH: Yes. So, we used to drop our cookie, we used to drop Window for the heavies and then we’d go along to Berlin and drop our four thousand pounders, keep them awake.
AS: Ah, so, did you have those special Mosquitos then?
HH: Yeah.
AS: Those with the pregnant bomb bay?
HH: That one there, isn’t it?
AS: Yes. Yeah.
HH: Yeah.
AS: So, who got to drop the bomb? Was it you or the driver?
HH: Me.
AS: You.
HH: Yeah. Unless we were doing low level. And even then it was me up on the front, up in the nose.
AS: How did you, how did you drop Window from a tiny little aeroplane like Mosquito?
HH: We had a chute, little wooden chute which used to go through the two doors and we just dropped bundles of Window through that. Remember to grab the string as it went down, otherwise you’d just drop bundles [laughs].
AS: You don’t want them falling on someone’s head and hurting them, do you?
HH: No [laughs]. So, it’s a nice day now, isn’t it?
AS: It’s wonderful out there. It’s great. So, sometimes you were operating with the main bomber stream and sometimes as 8 Group by yourself or squadron by yourself?
HH: Individually, yeah.
AS: Individually too?
HH: We used to fly, we used to sing, I made up, there was a song going round at that time sung by Hildegard, I walk alone, to tell you the truth I’ll be lonely, I don’t mind being lonely, when my heart tells me you are lonely too. So, I made up the words for our squadron, we fly alone, when all the heavies are grounded and dining, 692 will be climbing, we still press on, it’s every night, though they never will give us a French route, for the honour of 8 Group, we’ll still press on.
AS: That’s fantastic.
HH: It’s always a [unclear] no matter how far, one bomb is slung beneath, it’s twelve degrees east, one engine at least [laughs]. It’s a pretty horrible little song.
AS: it’s brilliant. It sums up what you felt.
HH: Not as good as some of the songs, you see, erks used to make up in India and down in Burma, you know. One they used to sing, rotting in the jungle, on a [unclear] marshy shores, dysentery, malaria and bags of jungle sores, living around in a bloody great heap, our beds are damp, we cannot sleep, we’re going round the corner, we’re going round the bend, two trips to Meiktila, maybe three or four, AOL’s a keen type, he thinks we’re doing more. When we get back as you can guess, we’ll put this effing kite US [laughs] and we’re going round the, and there’s about two more verses to that, I can’t remember, that’s when the mail arrives, and there’s two for you and f.a. for me you know [laughs].
AS: I think we will have to try and get you a recording contract. This could be an excellent CD on the wireless.
HH: I don’t think they’d allow it to be broadcast.
AS: Probably not, probably not. But see, you, it sounds as you had very high morale on the squadron.
HH: Oh yeah. But, yes, this was when I was on ferrying.
AS: And on 692, as you say, opening with Window and then lots and lots of trips to
HH: Berlin.
AS: To Berlin. Did you ever get involved in a double trip, I believe some people, some crews did two trips to Berlin in one night.
HH: Yeah, we did, on one occasion we did. I think we did Duisburg in the morning and Berlin that night. Came back, and refuelled and bombed up again and we were away again.
AS: There must have been, I would expect, a cumulative tiredness at that level of operations. I’ve seen your ops on your second tour are very close together.
HH: Yeah.
AS: First of October, third, fourth, fifth, two on the fifth, very, very very close together and then Berlin followed the next night by Cologne. Did you, were you conscious of getting tired?
HH: Well, no, because when you’re off, you went into town and into Cambridge and I met up with my girlfriend and she was lovely, my girlfriend, I must have a picture of her, I did have a picture. She was beautiful, she was lovely red hair and creamy skin, you know, and green eyes, oh, she was beautiful. I used to walk down the street with her and everybody would stop and stare, at her, not at me [laughs].
AS: I was going to ask that. And you met her when you joined the squadron?
HH: When I joined 692, yeah. Yeah, we were walking, you remember, do you remember the Red Lion in Cambridge?
AS: I don’t know Cambridge well. I know where the airfield is.
HH: There used to be a passage where you could go through, you’d start off in the Baron of Beef, down by the river there and, and then you go from there to the Bun Shop and to get to the Bun Shop you have to walk through the Red Lion right, right the way through there, the foyer, there is a bar, two bars there and when I walked through there one night, there was Red sitting there with two of her friends and as I walked through, I said, ‘Cor’ to who I was with and I caught red hair and no drawers, and I said, ‘I’m in’ [laughs]. And she followed me through to the Bun Shop and that’s how I met up with her [laughs].
AS: Excellent. Probably best not pursue that story too much further, I think. So, you’ve got here on a trip to Berlin, landed Woodbridge. Now⸻
HH: Yeah.
AS: I know that Woodbridge is one of the emergency landing grounds.
HH: Yeah, well we, very often we had to land, when we took S-Sugar, which is a bloody awful aircraft with a terrible fuel consumption, if we took that to Berlin, we would end up, always end up landing short of fuel at Woodbridge. In fact, one night, when Harris was on this station, we were the only squadron operating that night, so he came to our briefing. [phone ringing]
AS: I’ll pause there. So, after the phone call, we were talking about S-Sugar and its ability to drink fuel.
HH: Yeah, on this night Harris was at the and [unclear] Northrop, our CO was reading out the battle order, you know, and he said, came to, flying officer Mormo, S-Sugar, ‘S-Sugar?’ said Roy, ‘What’s wrong with our Robert?’ ‘Well, that’s got a mark drop on the starboard engine, you’re going to have to take the spare.’ ‘But S f for Sugar, sir, that bloody kite flies like a brick shithouse!’ [laughs] and old Harris was standing there, and he was trying his best not to laugh, you know, his moustache had a twitch and [laughs] you could he’s gonna laugh every minute, you know. But he didn’t, he held it in [laughs]
AS: What was Woodbridge like? Is an emergency landing ground very different from a normal airfield?
HH: Oh yeah, you, huts with the roof off, you know, half off and snow would come in, on a snowy night, yeah.
AS: Not finished?
HH: No, they had just blown off. That’s a nuisance that thing, isn’t it?
AS: Your smoke alarm, yeah. As we got to this time or you got to this time in the war, this was late 1944.
HH: Yeah.
AS: Had the scene changed in terms of aids to navigation, things like Sandra lights and Darky and ground organisation, was there a lot to help you?
HH: [unclear] Much on the ground I think, mainly H2S, Oboe, things like that, you know. And G8, wasn’t it? G8.
AS: G-H, yeah. I didn’t, I don’t know how that worked, I never had that but we were quite content with LORAN. In fact, I got a wind over, going down to, I forget where I was going, Berlin I suppose, but yeah, we were going over to Berlin I think and I got a wind just north of the Ruhr, a hundred and ninety five knots.
AS: Wow!
HH: And what we’d done, we hit a jet stream, you see, and but when I came back, I said to the met man, I got a wind of a hundred, impossible, impossible, impossible, and it went to Group and Group said impossible as well, went to Command and Command said impossible well then when everybody started to get them, they suddenly realised there was something in this jet stream. Now they talk about nothing else but the bloody jet stream and it annoys me that because they ignored their existence during the war, the met people did and we kept telling them, look there is something up there and it didn’t last very long, you see, you were in it and then you were out of it, you know. So you couldn’t use it as a general wind to carry on to Berlin, shall we say for example, and nor could you use it when you were coming back. You might hit it again but it’d be in a different place slightly and.
AS: It must have meant that you had to be on your toes with your fixes all the time.
HH: Yeah. Anyway we,
AS: In your logbook, it suddenly goes from duty as nav to duty nav b. What was the significance of?
HH: Well, I stood in as bomb aimer as well.
AS: Ah, okay, that’s what it was. Tremendous number of operations over the winter of ’44-’45.
HH: Yeah.
AS: So I presume you must have flown in most weather with the nav aids that you had.
HH: Oh yeah, I remember one night, I don’t know if I should say this because it’s a bit derogatory to somebody who’s now dead, and that’s to Don Bennett. He was in the control tower on this particular night and we were getting hoarfrost all along the wings of our, as we taxied out we were getting hoarfrost develop all along the wings, so Roy got onto control and he says, ‘Could we have the de-icing bowsers out, please?’ And Bennett said, ‘Never mind about the de-icing bowser, just get off the deck.’ Well, we didn’t go, we said, ‘No, no. It’s too dangerous.’ Anyway, another aircraft came after us and they ploughed into the end of the runway and they were both killed of course when their bomb blew up. And Bennett never said a word to us afterwards, he was, we came back for briefing that night and he’d left the station. We came back and got the de-icing bowser and got cleared of the hoarfrost. He literally left, you see. And then we went to Berlin that night, I think.
AS: I should think, with fuel and a four thousand pounder you must have needed all the runway to get off.
HH: Yeah, well, there is another tale attached to that, the, you see, we started off with four thousand pounders, I think we were the first squadron to have four thousand pounders, and then they put fifty gallon drop tanks on each wing which were increased eventually to seventy five and then a hundred and then, and then we ran out of four thousand pounders and we had to borrow four thousand pounders from the Americans, which were four and a half thousand pounds. So another five hundred pounds to get off the deck. But the old Mozzie just used to take it all in its stride. No bother.
AS: You had no concerns.
HH: No, and I remember one day when I’d finished tour. I was sitting in the crew room minding my own business and the CO, a Canadian called Bob Grant came in and he said, ‘You doing anything Hughes?’ I said, no. He said, ‘Grab yourself a ‘chute would you and I’ll see you out at the aircraft.’ I said, ‘What do you⸻’ ‘Just bring a local Gee chart and local maps, would you?’ So when I got out to the bay, they were loading a four thousand pounder and I said, ‘Well, what fuel have we got?’ ‘You’ve a got full load of fuel and two hundred gallon drop tanks.’ And there’s a wind blowing right the way down the 330 runway which was fourteen hundred feet or something compared with two thousand feet on the main runway. I said, ‘What are we gonna do then?’ He said, ‘We’re gonna see if we can get off with this wind, the scale blowing, see if we can get off on this, on the fifteen hundred runway.’ So, we got to the end of the runway, and he waited until there was a gust of wind blowing, until the airspeed indicator was indicating about fifty or sixty knots. And we went. And I dropped the cookie on the live bomb target in the Wash and then we came back. And he got a report and said it wasn’t possible. I said, ‘Well, thanks for telling me.’ [laughs] it wasn’t possible. And he said, ‘No, no, no,’ he said, ‘I don’t think the crew, you could expect the whole crew to wait’, the whole squadron rather to wait until there was a lull, that’s turned till there was a gust of wind which would get them off the deck.
AS: It’s a good example of leading from the front though, isn’t it?
HH: Yeah.
AS: Doing the test himself.
HH: It was old Bob Grant, he’s dead now, he married a Yorkshire, he was CO of 105 Squadron, amongst other things and he was, when he got back to Canada, of course he was made up to brigadier, I think. He was a group captain here, so he was a brigadier. That was equivalent to air commodore, wasn’t it?
AS: I think so, yeah, yeah.
HH: I don’t know.
AS: And, ah, there it is Group Captain Grant, 19th of March 1945, bombload take off fourteen hundred yards. That was pretty much the end of your operational flying, I think, wasn’t it?
HH: Yeah.
AS: On the Mosquito. Last trip, February, February ’45.
HH: Hanover, wasn’t it? Or Hamburg, Hanover.
AS: Frankfurt, I think, Frankfurt in your log. And did you know that that would be your last trip or you’re just told you’re screened?
HH: Yeah. You knew you had to do fifty on Mosquitos. So.
AS: And what did happened after that? Did you go back instructing or?
HH: No, no, we were sent on leave and when we came back, we’d been posted, several crews had been posted down to Pershore to ferry Canadian built Mosquitos across the Atlantic. And I crewed up with a different, Lloyd had gone back to New Zealand and he used to fly with Air New Zealand after the war. And thanks to me, because someone had put a bottle through his hand and all the tendons had gone. And so he couldn’t, when we were taking off at Whiten once doing a cross country, we got airborne and suddenly the throttle went back and he grabbed hold of them and held it with his hand and because you had to keep the throttle up so loose ‘cause of this weakness in his left hand. So I said, ‘I’ll tell you what we’ll do, Roy, from now on I’ll tighten the throttle knot for you when you’re ready. As soon as you want, you just say, throttle knob and I will reach through and grab the throttle knob and turn it and tighten it for you.’ And we did that every trip. And but I, ‘cause I had to reach over, I couldn’t strap in, so I did all my trips without strapping in [laughs]. I never strapped in again, not with Roy flying. So he’d of never, I mean, he was flying with Air New Zealand afterwards he’d never have passed their medical if he’d of disclosed it, you know.
AS: But eventually, not in a Mosquito, but he’d be flying with throttles on the other hand, wouldn’t he? So the problem,
HH: Yeah.
AS: The problem would go away. So you’d had some leave, you were posted to fly to Pershore to fly Mosquitos.
H: Yeah. And we were sent on indefinite leave, Pershore sent us on indefinite leave. And I thought, oh God, I’ll be grounded for sure. So, I got on a train and went up to Air Ministry and saw a wing commander there and I said, look, there is a war going in in the Far East [unclear] aircraft ferried out there, coming back for maintenance and what have you. And he said, what a good idea, you know, come back in the morning, will you? And I got the whole lot posted out to the Far East. Fifteen or eighteen, I think I told you this before, didn’t I?
AS: I think so but we didn’t get in on the tape, I don’t think, no.
HH: No.
AS: I bet you were popular.
HH: Fifteen, oh God, when I got down to Lyneham they were moaning, ‘I’m just due for demob for God’s sake, why the heck do I have to, due for demob any day now.’
AS: I bet you kept quiet.
HH: And here I am, so I kept very quiet. And so, I mean I wasn’t due for demob for some time.
AS: So here we are, Lyneham in July ’45. A huge trip as a passenger on a deck. Thirty two hours flying.
HH: Yeah, back to Karachi, yeah.
AS: So by going, going East, you, did you, before you went, did you see, did you go on any of these trips over, over Germany to see all the destruction?
HH: No, no.
AS: Okay.
HH: I missed all that.
AS: You’d said earlier that you said a prayer for the people of Hamburg. What, at the end of the war, did you reflect at all on the, or during that, on the bombing? And what were your feelings about being involved in it in the war?
HH: Well, I’ve spoken to our vicar about it, you know, and said, do you think Saint Peter’s gonna let me through the gates? Or not. So she sat and he said a prayer for me. Lady vicar of course. Anyway, but I was invited out to Hanover as a guest of the mayor and the local newspaper to commemorate the 60th anniversary of when we bombed them.
AS: And you went?
HH: So I went over, yeah, well, I was asked to volunteer and I remember, at the Bomber Command meeting they said, did anybody go to Hanover, I said, well, I did. When I got home, I found out I’d been to Hanover about eleven times and [laughs] so I was well qualified.
AS: And are you pleased you went, did it turn out well?
HH: Yes, they were very, very, very nice, I like German people.
AS: So do I.
HH: I got two of them coming over now. Here any day now. I think. They stay up at [unclear] castle, ‘cause he’s paraplegic, he can’t get down my steps.
AS: Yeah.
HH: He’s, he had polio when he was a youngster. But they come over by air this time so he couldn’t bring his invalid scooter with him so I don’t know whether he’s gonna hire one when they’re here or not, I don’t know what they’re gonna do to get around.
AS: That should be possible, I think.
HH: Yeah.
AS: And these are friends you made when you went to Hanover?
HH: Yeah. Well, they were both reporters with the Hamburger Allgemeine. And anyway I was, the last day I was there in Hanover I was there for about three or four days, I had to attend a meeting of all the survivors from the raids and all the students from university there and the colleges and what have you and a little girl gets up and question time you see and she gets up and says, can I please explain what was the duty of the navigator? Well if you ask me a stupid question like that, I’m gonna give you a stupid answer, for sure. So I said, ‘Well, the reason why we carried a navigator, because we had to have someone on board who could read and write’ [laughs] and their mouths fell open, he went like this, everybody, so I said to my interpreter, I said, ‘Tell them, it was a joke, will you?’ ‘Ah, a joke, yeah, we got no sense of humour, we Germans, we’ve got no sense of humour at all.’ [unclear] So then, later on somebody, one of the survivors said, ‘Why did you bomb the city?’ So I said, ‘To be perfectly honest, we couldn’t hit anything smaller but just remember this,’ I said, ‘Right in the centre, almost within half a mile from the centre of Hanover there was the biggest rubber factory in Germany, so it made Hanover a very legitimate target.’ ‘Yes’, this man says, ‘But you didn’t hit it, did you? ‘Cause it’s still there!’ [laughs]. I said, ‘Well, and you tried to tell me that the Germans got no sense of humour?’ [laughs] And then I was on their side from then on.
AS: I’ve lived there for eleven years. I’m with you. I’ve lived there for eleven years.
HH: Have you?
AS: Yeah. They’re great people, great people. I think.
HH: In which part were you?
AS: I was in Munich for five years.
HH: Yeah.
AS: And then in Bonn and Cologne, in the Rhineland for about six altogether. Some of the places you visited by air, in fact. That’s the feelings of the Germans. How, there’s been a lot of controversy about how Bomber Command were treated after the war. Have you got any views on that?
HH: Well, I think, first of all, we should never, never have bombed Dresden, I think that was the biggest mistake we made. And Portal should have stood up and said, no! But he didn’t have the guts to do it, he didn’t have the guts to stand up to Churchill and it was Churchill who, on his way to Yalta, he stopped off at Malta, And they’d agreed to bomb five cities within reach of the Russian lines, you know, and I think Dresden was one and what’s that? And Leipzig and one other I think. Anyway he sent back this signal to Portal saying, from Malta saying, where is my spectacular, get on with it. So, Portal looked at the charts and he consulted the Met people and the only target available that night was Dresden. I didn’t go to Dresden, I went to Magdeburg, Magdeburg that night, you can see it on there, in that book there.
AS: You believe it was, that Dresden was the turning point and that?
HH: Mh?
AS: You believe that Dresden was some sort of turning point?
HH: Yeah.
AS: How Bomber Command were treated?
HH: Yeah.
AS: Did you, do you feel now that it’s changed with the memorials and the clasp?
HH: Yeah, I think so. I think, there was a time just after the war, when the people who were against us were the people who were in the Air Force or in one of the forces and they felt that we were, they didn’t want us to have any publicity, you know.
AS: After the war.
HH: Yeah. And then, and then since then, they’ve suddenly realised that you know, we had the highest losses of any unit in the, our forces, fifty five thousand killed, which is quite a lot, wasn’t it?
AS: Yeah. Fifty five thousand, five hundred and seventy three.
HH: Yeah.
AS: And you’ve seen a, well, or you see a change in attitudes now.
HH: Yes, I think, younger people are much more inclined to want to hear about it and talk about it and understand why we did it and there is no good saying, well, we were under orders to do it, because that’s what the Germans excuses were, you know, for their treatment of the in the concentration camps. We were under orders.
AS: And you did it because it was right?
HH: Well, we did it because we thought we were, ‘cause we were shortening the war and therefore less people would be killed.
AS: Is it, I agree, you say, that now people want to hear about it, is it good for you and other veterans to be able to talk about it after all this time?
HH: It’s getting more and more difficult, there’s so many books have been written on there, now.
AS: And you are actually in one of the books.
HH: Yeah.
AS: Steve Darlow’s book. How did all that come about? Did you get involved with him?
HH: I don’t know. He wanted, I think I was recommended by probably Bomber Command, you know, Dougie Radcliffe.
AS: Oh, the Bomber Command Association.
HH: Yeah.
AS: Have you always played a big part in that?
HH: No, no, I was mainly in the Pathfinders Association.
AS: Oh, okay.
HH: We were separate from, we were separate from the Bomber Command Association, but I’d already joined the Bomber Command Association when we disbanded. I’d already been a member for several years.
AS: And do you belong to your squadron or 102 Squadron association as well?
HH: Yeah. Yes, it’s, I’ve written a letter to, when I went to the VJ-Day celebrations⸻
AS: Yes.
HH: We had to fill out a form travelling expenses and I got three hundred pounds from the Lottery Fund.
AS: Excellent.
HH: And my son Jeremy, who’d driven me up there and then he got three hundred pounds as well. And I don’t, I hope he hasn’t. So I wrote a letter to the Big Lottery and said, thanking them for their, I said, so, twice a year I’ve got to go to, up to Pocklington in Yorkshire, which is rather expensive for me now ‘cause you got to go up Virgin cross country you know, right the way up to York and it’s a long journey that. It’s an interesting journey but there’s no, there was a little old lady pushing the tray along, pushing the trolley along, you know, that’s all that you get to eat with some coffee and a fruitcake or something.
AS: It’s not the same as a full dining car.
HH: I like the dining cars on, I’m going up on the 22nd of October I think, coming back on the 23rd, I always travel back down on the dining car which, on a train with a dining car which leaves at seven o’clock in the evening.
AS: Do you still have wartime comrades that you’ll meet in Pocklington?
HH: Oh yes, yeah. Most of them are dead now but.
AS: So, a lot of reminiscing and’
HH: Yeah. There’s a friend of mine, who was a previous chairman, Tom Wingate, who, he wrote a book called Halifax Down, ‘cause he was shot down on his second tour, and I used to have a copy but I can’t find it now. I don’t know what I have done with it, I lose things all the time now.
AS: I have a copy at home, I can send you one.
HH: Pardon?
AS: I have a copy, I can send you one.
HH: You got a copy of that?
AS: Yeah, I have.
HH: Halifax Down, yes, it’s not a bad book, actually. Except that he joined the squadron the same time as I did, his crew did. And he’s quoted in his book, as if he was there three or four months before me. He’s quoted various trips and he’s got these out of those old war diaries, wish I could find that. I wonder where I put it?
AS: Well, you’ll have to take your logbook the next time you meet him.
HH: Oh no, he’s dead now.
AS: Okay.
HH: That’s why I’ve taken over as chairman.
AS: After you came off ops, you did this trip out to the Far East, did you then get involved in ferrying aeroplanes?
HH: In what?
AS: Did you then get involved in ferrying aeroplanes?
HH: Oh yes, yeah.
AS: Okay.
HH: It’s quite a lot really. My very first trip was down to Akyab, on the Arakan coast. I think I told you, didn’t I?
AS: Yes, but not into the tape. So, what happened on that trip?
HH: I don’t think that particular trip’s in there, actually, I looked for it the other day and I can’t find it. I must have left it out for some reason.
AS: This was the trip with the Japanese.
HH: Yes, all the way around us were Zeros, you know. We could hear them yacketing away and then this Indian crew comes on with their Hurricanes and the Japanese just disappeared.
AS: What was the radio conversation about with these Indian squadrons, red flight?
HH: Pardon?
AS: What was the radio conversation story about the?
HH: Oh, well, the Indian crews? ‘Yes, red leader to yellow leader, how do you read me, over? Yellow leader to green, you are not red, you are green, you know? Red leader to yellow leader, I am not green, I am red. And this Aussie voice comes up by the blue, you are black, you bastard’ [laughs].
AS: So, it’s still a combat area that you’re flying replacement aircraft I suppose in to the squadrons?
HH: Yeah.
AS: Did you get involved in flying damaged aircraft for repair?
HH: Oh, I used to fly back from say Kamila or with two Pratt & Whitney’s engines in the back and a load of ENSA girls as well amongst them [laughs], sitting where they could and trying not to get greasy, ‘cause these, and yeah.
AS: Yeah. Shall we, pause there I think?
HH: Yeah.
AS: And wind it up. Thank you that, It’s been absolutely wonderful to hear.
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 Harry Hughes
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Adam Sutch
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2015-10-21
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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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AHughesWH151021
Format
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02:28:15 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
Harry Hughes volunteered for the Royal Air Force in 1940 and trained in America, where he was washed out as a pilot and then retrained as a navigator in Canada, flying Ansons and Wellingtons. In 1942 he converted to Halifaxes and flew operations with 102 Squadron over Germany, being awarded the Distinguished Flying Medal for flying an operation to Berlin whilst on crutches. He recounts the routines of preparing to go on operations and his use of navigation aids including Gee, LORAN and later, Boozer in Mosquitos. He was bombstruck twice during operations. He completed 26 operations including the bombing of Hamburg which he describes as a firestorm and recalls saying a private prayer for the people of Hamburg below. After his tour finished, he then instructed before applying to go back on operations with 8 Group, flying Mosquitos with 692 Squadron and dropping Window for Pathfinder forces in 1944/45. In 2004 he visited Hanover and discussed the raids with survivors of the war. He was a member of a number of post war service associations and kept in contact with his crewmates.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Peter Schulze
Carolyn Emery
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Canada
Germany
Great Britain
Southeast Asia
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Yorkshire
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Dresden
Germany--Essen
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Hannover
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
United States
Alabama--Montgomery
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1940
1941
1943
1944
1945
102 Squadron
3 Group
6 Group
692 Squadron
8 Group
aircrew
Anson
Bennett, Donald Clifford Tyndall (1910-1986)
bomb struck
bombing
bombing of Dresden (13 - 15 February 1945)
bombing of Hamburg (24-31 July 1943)
briefing
Distinguished Flying Cross
Distinguished Flying Medal
faith
Fw 190
Gee
ground personnel
Halifax
Halifax Mk 1
Halifax Mk 2
Harris, Arthur Travers (1892-1984)
incendiary device
Ju 88
Me 109
Me 110
Me 262
medical officer
meteorological officer
military service conditions
Mosquito
navigator
Operational Training Unit
Pathfinders
perception of bombing war
Portal, Charles (1893-1971)
promotion
RAF Chedburgh
RAF Harwell
RAF Riccall
RAF Wombleton
Stirling
training
Wellington
Window
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/934/36536/MLovattP1821369-190903-75.2.pdf
51c3fbced3b1e3bd9c7237f2cb79c94a
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
Lovatt, Peter
Dr Peter Lovatt
P Lovatt
Description
An account of the resource
117 items. An oral history interview with Peter Lovatt (b.1924, 1821369 Royal Air Force), his log book, documents, and photographs. The collection also contains two photograph albums. He flew 42 operations as an air gunner on 223 Squadron flying B-24s. <br /><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/1338">Album One</a><br /><a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2135">Album Two</a><br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Nina and Peter Lovatt 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
2017-09-27
2019-09-03
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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Lovatt, P
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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A Reminiscence of the Flying Characteristics of Many Old Type Aircraft
Description
An account of the resource
A detailed analysis of very early aircraft and their flying characteristics.
Creator
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Air Marshall Sir Ralph Sorley
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
England--Felixstowe
England--Eastbourne (East Sussex)
England--Calshot
England--Bembridge
Atlantic Ocean--Spithead Channel
England--Cowes
England--Stroud
Scotland--Montrose
England--Sunbury
England--London
Monaco
Egypt--Cairo
Iraq--Baghdad
England--Felixstowe
England--Aldeburgh
Iraq
Middle East--Kurdistan
Middle East--Palestine
Jordan
Iran
Middle East--Euphrates River
Syria
Yemen (Republic)--Aden
Singapore
Australia
Borneo
China--Hong Kong
England--Kent
United States
New York (State)--New York
France--Paris
Nigeria
South Africa--Cape Town
Yugoslavia
Norway
Portugal
Spain
Denmark
Japan
Belgium
Argentina
Austria
Brazil
Canada
Chile
Greece
China
Lithuania
Estonia
England--Weybridge
Scotland--Island of Arran
England--Kingston upon Thames
France--Dunkerque
England--Hatfield (Hertfordshire)
Newfoundland and Labrador
New Brunswick
Maine
Maine--Presque Isle
Washington (D.C.)
Massachusetts--Boston
Pennsylvania--Philadelphia
Maryland--Baltimore
Washington (D.C.)--Anacostia
Tennessee--Nashville
Arkansas--Little Rock
Texas--Dallas
Texas--Fort Worth
Texas--Midland
Arizona--Tucson
California--Burbank (Los Angeles County)
California--Palm Springs
California--Los Angeles
California--Beverly Hills
California--San Diego
Arizona--Winslow
New Mexico--Albuquerque
Kansas--Wichita
Missouri--Saint Louis
Ohio--Dayton
New York (State)--Buffalo
Ontario--Toronto
Québec--Montréal
Newfoundland and Labrador--Gander
Netherlands--Eindhoven
Germany--Rheine
Germany--Osnabrück
India
Switzerland--Zurich
Lebanon--Beirut
Pakistan--Karachi
India--Kolkata
Singapore
Indonesia--Jakarta
Australia
Northern Territory--Darwin
New South Wales--Sydney
South Australia--Woomera
South Australia--Adelaide
Victoria--Melbourne
Sri Lanka--Colombo
Spain--Madrid
South Africa--Johannesburg
Kenya--Nairobi
Sudan--Khartoum
Greece--Athens
Italy--Rome
Zambia--Lusaka
Zambia--Ndola
Zambia--Mbala
Heathrow Airport (London, England)
Turkey--Istanbul
France--Nice
Utah--Salt Lake City
Italy--Genoa
Atlantic Ocean--Firth of Clyde
Italy
France
Arizona
Arkansas
California
Kansas
Maryland
Massachusetts
Missouri
New Mexico
New York (State)
Ohio
Tennessee
Texas
Utah
New South Wales
South Australia
Victoria
Northern Territory
Egypt
Sudan
North Africa
Ontario
Québec
Germany
Indonesia
Iraq
Kenya
Lebanon
Netherlands
South Africa
Switzerland
Pakistan
Sri Lanka
Turkey
Yemen (Republic)
Czech Republic
Slovakia
England--Gloucestershire
England--Hampshire
England--Herefordshire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Suffolk
England--Surrey
England--Sussex
England--Great Yarmouth
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 Navy
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Format
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82 typewritten sheets
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1971-08-16
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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MLovattP1821369-190903-75
Conforms To
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Pending text-based transcription
aircrew
Anson
B-17
B-24
Battle
Blenheim
C-47
Chadwick, Roy (1893-1947)
Defiant
Dominie
Fw 190
ground crew
Halifax
Harvard
Hudson
Hurricane
Lancaster
Lincoln
Lysander
Magister
Manchester
Me 109
Mosquito
Oxford
Photographic Reconnaissance Unit
pilot
Proctor
RAF Boscombe Down
RAF Eastchurch
RAF Hendon
RAF Henlow
RAF Martlesham Heath
RAF North Killingholme
RAF Pembrey
RAF Prestwick
RAF West Freugh
Spitfire
Stirling
Swordfish
Tiger Moth
training
Wallis, Barnes Neville (1887-1979)
York
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1375/23784/MEdgarAG172180-180704-01.1.pdf
36ae9e28a74e85f4be77156522931818
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
Edgar, Alfred George
Edgar, A G
Description
An account of the resource
83 items. The collection concerns Pilot Officer Alfred George 'Allan' Edgar DFC (b. 1922, 172180 Royal Air Force) He flew operations as a pilot with 49 Squadron.
The collection has been licenced to the IBCC Digital Archive by Pip Harrison and Sally Shawcross nee Edgar, and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-07-04
2019-10-01
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Edgar, AG
Transcribed document
A resource consisting primarily of words for reading.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
DADS TRANSCIPT MEMORIES OF CREW AND MISSIONS 1944 TO 1945
RECORDED BY MIKE GARBETT AND BRIAN GOULDING IN 1980 AT A REUNION ON THE CREW HELD AT SUDBROOKE LINCOLN, AUTHORS OF SEVERAL BOOKS LANCASTER AT WAR (UNFORUNATELY SOME OF THE TAPE IS MISSING AND BITS MISSED OUT)
PHOTOS OF FATHER FLYING HIS LANCASTER INTO FISKERTON IS SHOWN IN THEIR BOOK LASCASTER AT WAR NO3.
WE CREWED UP AT 17 OUT AT SILVERSTONE AND IF MY MEMORY SERVES ME CORRECTLY THE FIRST PERSON THAT I GRAVITATED TO WAS THE NAVIGATOR BOB BROOKS AND AUSTRAILIAN I THINK THE MAIN FACT WAS THAT I WAS LOOKING FOR WHAT I THOUGHT WAS A MATURE RELIABLE GOOD NAVIGATOR AND HE SOMEHOW GAVE ME THAT IMPRESSION, SO WE STARTED TALKING AND I REMEMBER OUT OF THIS THAT HE KNEW ALAN MILLARD THE BOMB AIMER SO WE THEN EVENTUALLY GRAVITATED TO HIM AND HE KNOWING BOB FELT IT WOULD BE BETTER TO JOIN US.
AND AFTERWARDS I DID FIND OUT FROM BOB IT WAS SORT OF FIRST HAND IMPRESSION HE RATHER LIKES THE LOOK OF ME, IT WAS ONE OF THOSE THINGS
I AM ALMOST CERTAIN THEN THAT THE NEXT PERSON THAT WE GRABBED, WAS THE WIRELESS OPERATOR AG ALF RIDPATH WHO WITH HIS FAIR SWEPT BACK LOOKED A LITTLE BIT OF A GAY LOTHARIO AND WE FELT IT WAS ANOTHER COMPLETE IDIOT THAT WOULD JOIN AN IDIOT TYPE MOB ANYWAY, AND WE SEEM TO GET ON QUITE WELL. THE NEXT ONE WAS DON HARWOOD THE REAR GUNNER WHO ALTHOUGH HE WAS YOUNG AS US SEEM TO HAVE AN OLD HEAD ON HIS SHOULDERS, A DEEP VOICE AND GAVE AN IMPRESSION OF RELIABILITY, I SOMETIMES WONDER IF THIS WAS EVER TRUE! AND THEN JOHN WATTERS WAS THE MID UPPER GUNNER A LAD FROM BELFAST WHO I AM ALMOST POSITIVE WAS MUCH YOUNGER THAN WHAT HE MAINTAINED HE REALLY WAS, TO THIS DAY I AM CONVINCED THAT HE WAS ONLY ABOUT 16/17 YRS AND HE CLAIMED TO BE MUCH OLDER 18/19 YRS, IT WAS A GREAT PITY REALLY THAT I SUBSEQUENTLY LEARNT AFTER THE WAR THAT HE HAD STEPPED UNDER A TUBE TRAIN ON NEWS YEARS EVE COMMITTING SUICIDE, I LEARNT THIS FROM DON HARWOOD THE REAR GUNNER.
ANYWAY AFTER COMPLETING OUT AT SILVERSTONE WE
[PAGE BREAK]
2
FINALLY ARRIVED AT 1661 CONVERSION UNIT AT WINTHORPE JUST OUTSIDE NEWARK AND TO BE HONEST I CAN’T REMEMBER MUCH ABOUT MY INSTRUCTOR AT ALL – ALL I CAN REMEMBER IS THE BLOODY STERLING!! NOW THE MOST INTERESTING THING WAS THAT ALAN MILLARD THE AUSTRALIAN BOMB AIMER WAS A FAILED PILOT WHO HAD GONE ONTO THE BOMB AIMERS COURSE. SO FROM THE VERY BEGINNING AS A CREW I DIRECTED IF ONE CAN ASSUME THE WORDS DIRECTED THAT EVERYBODY WOULD DOUBLE UP ON EVERYBODY ELSE IN CASE OF ANYTHING HAPPENING AND SO ALAN MILLARD WOULD TAKE OVER IF ANYTHING HAPPENED TO ME BECAUSE AS HE GOT AS NEAR TO GETTING HIS WINGS IT WAS QUITE POSSIBLE INFACT HIGHLY PROBABLE THAT HE COULD FLY THE AIRCRAFT BACK AND MAKE SOME REASONABLE ATTEMPT AT LANDING IT.
THE WIRELESS OPERATOR DOUBLED UP AS A GUNNER, THE NAVIGATOR BOB BROOKS DOUBLED UP AS A BOMB AIMER AS DID THE FLIGHT ENGINEER, AND IN MY MEMORY SERVES ME CORRECTLY AS WELL, ALAN MILLARD THE BOMB AIMER ALSO PARTIALLY DOUBLED UP FOR THE WIRELESS OPERATOR. WE LEFT JOHNNIE WATTERS THE MID UPPER GUNNER TWIT ON HIS OWN AS WE FELT IT BETTER LEAVE HIM UPSTAIRS THAN DOUBLING UP FOR ANYBODY.
I CAN ALSO REMEMBER THE FACT THAT BOB BROOKS THE NAVIGATOR WAS A JUDO EXPERT AND INFACT IT WAS COMMON PRACTISE WITH OUR CREW TO EGG YOUNG WATTERS JOHN TO ATTACK BOB BROOKS WOULD THROW HIM AROUND THE CREW HUT UNTIL FINALLY THE YOUNG IDIOT IRISHMAN LEANT TO PACK IT IN FOR THE NIGHT, WHEN WE WOULD RESUME AGAIN THE NEXT NIGHT.
COMING BACK TO THE STIRLING I THINK THE MOST VIVID IMPRESSION FOR ME INITIALLY WAS TAXING. NOW WITHOUT AS DOUBT WAS PROBABLY THE MOST BARBARIC BASTARDISE BLOODY AIRCRAFT I HAVE EVER MET IN MY LIFE FOR TAXING. IF MY MEMORY SERVES ME CORRECTLY THERE A HUGE YELLOW BRAKE AND YOU OPERATED THE FOUR THROTTLES AND PULLED THIS MASSIVE GREAT LORRY BRAKE BACKWARDS AND FORWARDS SWINGING THE RUDDERS AROUND WHILE THIS, I CAN ONLY DESCRIBE IT AS A TYRANNOSAURUS REX OF A DINOSAUR PROWLED RATHER THAN ROLLED ALL OVER THE PLACE, IN ADDITION THE FLIGHT ENGINEER SAT ON THE MIDDLE OF THE AIRCRAFT IN WHAT WAS LIKE A SUBMARINE WITH ALL HIS FOURTEEN AND IF MY MEMORY SERVES ME CORRECTLY ONCE AGAIN THE FUEL TANKS FOR CROSS FEEDING AND OTHER PURPOSES AND IN ADDITION IT DIDN’T MATTER WHAT ANYBODY DID THIS COW OF AN AIRCRAFT NEVER REACHED ITS CEILING EVER.
LANDING AT WINTHORPE WITH THE RUNWAY THAT RAN PARALLEL WITH THE MAIN NEWARK/LINCOLN ROAD ONCE AGAIN THIS BLOODY HANDBRAKE WAS A DISADVANTAGE RATHER THAN AN ADVANTAGE AS I CAN ONLY SAY FROM THINKING DEEPLY ABOUT IT WHOEVER
[PAGE BREAK]
3
DESIGNED THE BLOODY STERLING SHOULD HAVE BEEN MENTALLY EXAMINED.
ANOTHER THING ABOUT STERLINGS WAS CORRING THIS WAS WHERE, I AM ALMOST SURE ITS AS IF THE OIL TEMPERATURE WENT DOWN THAT YOU DROPPED THE UNDERCARRIAGE OPENED UP FULL THROTTLES WITH PART FLAP AND STAGGERED ALONG WITH WHAT CAN ONLY BE TERMED AS FOUR BLOODY GREAT BIG BULLSEYES FOR THE ENGINES WHICH OF COURSE MEANT FROM AN OPERATIONAL POINT OF VIEW THAT THEY WERE SITTING DUCKS FOR ANYBODY, AND IT WAS 460 OR 490 TOW TURNS ON THE WHEELS TO GET THE UNDERCARRIAGE DOWN IF YOU COULD NOT LOWER IT NORMALLY BECAUSE I REMEMBER THAT HAPPENING TO US ONCE.
IT WAS AT WINTHORPE AS WELL THAT WE HAD TO GET RID OF OUR FIRST ENGINEER BECAUSE UNFORTUNATELY IT WAS TAKE OFF WHEELS UP “BREAKFAST UP” AND THERE WAS JUST NO WAY HE WAS GOING TO MAKE IT.
WE THEN TOOK ON ANOTHER ENGINEER CALLED GEORGE BEDFORD ON WHO OF COURSE FLEW WITH ME DURING MY FIRST TOUR AND GEORGE BEDFORD THE 2ND FLIGHT ENGINEER AS A VERY PROSAIC LAD AND INDEED HE BELIEVED IMPLICITLY THAT HIS JOB AS A FLIGHT ENGINEER WAS TO MAKE CERTAIN THAT WHATEVER AIRCRAFT WE WERE FLYING WAS ABSOLUTELY IN TIP TOP CONDITION – BECAUSE I CAN REMEMBER COMING BACK FROM A TRIP AND I THOUGHT FOR ONCE I AM GOING TO LIGHT UP A CIGARETTE AND HAVE A SMOKE AS WE WERE FLYING BACK ACROSS THE NORTH SEA AND I DISTINCTLY REMEMBER HIM GOING BANANAS OVER ME SMOKING A CIGARETTE.
AFTER A SHORT PERIOD OF ABOUT 14 HRS OF WHICH 7 HRS DAYLIGHT AND 7HRS NIGHT AT LANC FINISHING SCHOOL AT SYSERTON I THEN ARRIVED AT 49 SQUADRON FISKERTON
WHERE FOR MY SINS I WAS GIVEN “A” APPLE TO FLY I CAN REMEMBER THE FIRST TRIP WHICH WAS A 2ND DICKIE TRIP WHICH WAS WITH RUSS EVANS AND THAT WAS TO DANZIG BAY GIDENER, KONISBERG AREA WHICH WAS A 9HRS 15MIN TRIP, I THINK THAT ALL I CAN REMEMBER ABOUT THIS WAS THE FACT THAT IT SEEMED COMPLETELY IDIOTIC TO ME THAT A PILOT SHOULD GO ON A TRIP RISK GETTING SHOT DOWN WITH ANOTHER PILOT AND CREW, WHEREUPON HIS CREW WOULD HAVE TO GO BACK ALL OVER IT AGAIN WITH ANOTHER PILOT! THE THING WAS TO STAND BEHIND THE PILOT AND FLIGHT ENGINEER AND OBSERVE “WHAT I DO NOT KNOW” I SUPPOSE THE IDEA WAS THAT YOU WENT WITH A RELATIVELY EXPERIENCED CREW AND AS IT WERE SHUCK DOWN WITH THEM AND GOT AN IDEA OR IMPRESSION OF WHAT THE WHOLE CAPER WAS ABOUT.
[PAGE BREAK]
4
BUT ALSO AS I SAY I TEND TO THINK THAT BECAUSE YOU AND YOUR CREW WERE DIFFERENT WHATEVER SHAPE OR FORM THERE WAS GOING TO BE A DIFFERENT REACTION ANYWAY BECAUSE YOU WOULD HAVE TO BE TEACHING YOUR CREW ON YOUR VERY FIRST TRIP WHEN YOU HAVE ONLY DONE ONE YOURSELF! WHICH HAD NOT GIVE YOU MUCH EXPERIENCE ANYWAY. AND INFACT RUSS EVANS IS STILL RUNNING AROUND
HE PROBABLY THINKS OF THIS IDIOT, WHO AFTERWARDS WE GREW VERY FRIENDLY TOGETHER.
MY NEXT TRIP WAS ONE WITH MY OWN CREW TO TORS MARSHALLING YARD AT 7,000 FEET AND I THINK THIS WILL ALWAYS LIVE IN MY MEMORY AS FRANKLY IT STARTED OUT AS A COMPLETE SHAMBLES BUT IT HELPED THE CREW INTO A FIGHTING UNIT.
WE STARTED UP AND TAXIED ROUND TOWARDS TAKEOFF AND I THINK I WAS ABOUT 3RD 4TH OR 5TH INLINE COMING UP THE RUNWAY AND ALAN MILLARD THE BOMB AIMER A TYPICALLY AUSTRALIAN IF I MY [SIC] USE THE WORD WAS IN THE BOMB AIMER COMPARTMENT AND PISSING ABOUT AS USUALLY WHEN SUDDENLY IN A TYPICALLY AUSTRALIAN TWANG OVER THE INTERCOM CAME “ I HAVE PULLED MY BLOODY CHUTE AND IT HAS BELLOWED OUT” I IMMEDIATELY SAID “ WELL THERE IS NO WAY WE CAN TURN OFF HERE AND I CAN’T SEE US TURNING ROUND HERE AND TAXING DOWN THE END TO GET ANOTHER CHUTE FOR YOU SO WE SHALL HAVE TO GO AS IS AND I WOULD SUGGEST TO YOU THAT IF WE HAVE TO BAIL OUT YOU HOLD YOUR CHUTE UP TO YOUR CHEST AND WHEN YOU GET CLEAR OF THE AIRCRAFT RELEASE IT BECAUSE ITS ALREADY OPENED ANYWAY” UPON WHICH IF MY MEMORY SERVES ME CORRECTLY HE REPLIED “THAT HE HADN’T COME 12,000 ------ -----!! FOR THIS SORT OF CAPER!! IT JUST SO HAPPENED THAT THE VERY FIRST TRIP I WAS USING A OBSERVE TYPE CHUTE SO IN A FLASH YOU WOULDN’T CALL IT INSPIRATION MORE DESPERATION I SAID ALRIGHT YOU BETTER TAKE MY CHUTE THEN, INCASE ANYTHING HAPPENS, UPON WHICH HE SAID THANKS VERY MUCH SKIP AND PULLED MY CHUTE DOWN INTO THE BOMB AIMERS COMPARTMENT, AND BY THAT TIME I WAS ON THE RUNWAY AND BEGINNING TO TAKE OFF AND IT WAS PROVABLY OR COLLOQUIAL ‘NOT UNTIL AIRBORNE THAT I SHIT A BRICK!! SO OF COURSE THE TRIP COMMENCED WITH ME WITHOUT A CHUTE AND HE THE GREAT ALAN MILLARD WITH TWO, ONE WHICH WAS OPENED WHICH HE HAD STUFFED INTO A CORNER OF THE BOMB AIMERS COMPARTMENT AND AFTERWARDS WHEN WE RETURNED HOME THE REST OF THE CREW SAID SOME HOW OR OTHER THEY ALL FELT THAT THEY MUST NOT LET ME DOWN BECAUSE THERE I WAS FLYING WITHOUT A CHUTE WHEN EVERYBODY ELSE WAS OK AND NO WAY WERE THEY GOING TO LET THE SKIPPER DOWN. SO HAVING SET OFF AS IT WERE AT A SLIGHT DISADVANTAGE AND THINGS OF WAFTING MY WAY GENERALLY DOWN THROUGH THE AIR SHOULD WE BE SHOT UP ON NOTHING.
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5
WE GET TOWARDS THE TARGET AND STARTED THE RUN IN, DURING OUR TRAINING IT HAD BEEN EMPHASISED WE WERE NOT GOING OVER THE OTHER SIDE TO CHUCK OR THROW BOMBS AROUND AND THAT BASICALLY YOU SHOULD PUT THEM DOWN IN THE RIGHT SPOT SO WHEN WE CAME UP TO THE TARGET AND ALAN WAS SAYING “ STEADY RIGHT, STEADY OH I HAVE MISSED IT GO ROUND AGAIN” I LIKE THE IDIOT I WAS WENT ROUND AGAIN. NOT THINKING GET RID OF THE BLOODY THINGS. SO OF COURSE I WENT ROUND AGAIN AND RAN IN AND THIS TIME WE PUT THEM DOWN AND IF MY MEMORY SERVES ME CORRECTLY IT WAS A AIMING POINT. IT WAS NOT TILL WE GOT BACK THAT WE REALISED THAT UNDER NORMAL CONDITIONS CREWS DIDN’T NORMALLY DO THIS SORT OF THING. SO REALLY OF WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN A DISASTER TURNED OUT TO BE A EXCELLENT THINKS FROM THE CREWS POINT OF VIEW BECAUSE WE BECAME WEILLED AS A FIGHTING UNIT. IT ALSO BECAME APPARENT ON THIS TRIP BECAUSE WE REALISED EARLIER ON THERE WERE THREE ALANS OR ALS IN THE CREW THAT WAS THE BOMB AIMER, WIRELESS OP AND MYSELF, SO THE REAR GUNNER AND MID UPPER GUNNER WOULD CALL ME SKIP AND THE REST OF THE CREW WOULD CALL ME PILOT, THE IDEA BEING THAT IF SOMEBODY CALLED ME SKIP I STARTED WEAVING STRAIGHT AWAY ON THE GROUNDS THAT A GUNNER WAS COMING UP ON THE INTERCOM.
I THINK THE MAIN THING ABOUT MAILLY LE COMP WAS THE ENORMOUS COCKUP OF THIS OPERATION IN WHICH 1 GROUP CAME WITH US ON THE TRIP BECAUSE OF THE SHAMBLES AT THE TARGET INCLUDING VIRTUALLY ALL THE BLINDED ILLUMINATORS BEING KNOCKED OFF THERE WERE “T.I.S” PUT DOWN IN TWO DIFFERENT PLACES ONE FOR 1 GROUP AND ONE FOR US AWAY FROM THE TARGET UPON WHICH EVERYBODY WAS TO CIRCLE THEIR RESPECTIVE “T.I” BY THIS TIME I HAD LEARNT ENOUGH NOT TO GO NEAR ANY “T.I”. WE WERE A LITTLE AWAY FROM OUR ONE QUIETLY CIRCLING IF YOU CAN POINT THAT OUT, WE KNOW THAT 1 GROUP IF MY MEMORY SERVES ME CORRECTLY WERE CIRCLING A YELLOW “T.I” AS IF THEY WERE ON A RACE TRACK WITH A RESULT THAT THE FIGHTER BOYS WERE HAVING A FIELD DAY WITH THAT LOT
COS WHEN THE TIME CAME FOR US TO COME IN I CAN REMEMBER TWO INCIDENTS, ONE WITH OUR RUN IN WITH THE BOMB DOORS OPEN A LANC WENT PAST US LIKE A BAT OUT HELL WITH HIS BOMB DOORS OPEN AND THEN A FOKWOLF 190 WENT OVER THE TOP OF OUR COCKPIT BECAUSE THE REAR GUNNER HAD CALLED UP “FIGHTER” AND OF COURSE I WAS ON THE BOMBING RUN AND HE COULDN’T HAVE BEEN MORE THAN 20 OR 30FT OFF THE TOP IF US WHERE HE WAS GOING FOR THE LANC THAT HAS JUST PASSED US AND HE FIRED HOT THIS LANC AND KNOCKED IT OFF “IT JUST BLEW UP” ITS RATHER IRONIC AS WELL BECAUSE DURING THIS TRIP WE HAD THREE COMBATS AS WELL IT WAS A PRETTY HAIRY DO. THERE WAS SO MANY FIGHTERS AROUND US IT WAS TO BE
[PAGE BREAK]
6
UNBELIEVABLE, THEIR DAY FIGHTERS WERE UP AS WELL AS IT WAS SUCH A BRIGHT MOONLIGHT NIGHT.
IF MY MEMORY SERVES ME CORRECTLY THAT THIS TRIP WAS ALSO WHERE WE SPOTTED A WHITEL HINEKELL111 AND MY REAR GUNNER SAID LETS GO DOWN AND KNOCK IT OFF AND I SAID WAIT A MINUTE WHEN SUDDENLY IT TURNED TOWARDS AND WE WERE ATTACKED BY TWO FIGHTERS THAT WERE WITH IT, THEY WERE WORKING I AM ALMOST CERTAIN IN CONJUNCTION WITH THIS HINEKELL, SO THAT AS ONE FIGHTER CAME IN AND YOU CORKSCREWED INTO HIM THE OTHER FIGHTER CAME IN AND YOU CORKSCREWED INTO HIM WITH OTHER FIGHTER WOULD THEN BE ON THE OUTSIDE TO NAIL YOU WHICH OF COURSE WOULD FORCE YOU TOWTRDS THE HINEKELL WHICH ALSO WOULD LET FLY AT YOU SO INFACT IN REALITY YOU WERE BEING ATTACKED BY ALL THREE. I DO’NT[SIC] KNOW PERHAPS HE WAS A TRAINEE AIRCRAFT OR WHATEVER IT WAS WE SEEM TO THINK IT WAS A BLOODY GOOD PLOY, BECAUSE WE MENTIONED IT WHEN WE GOT BACK FROM THE TRIP THAT IT SEEMED LIKE A NEW SYSTEM OPERATING BY THEM. ALL WE KNEW THAT WE WERE ATTACKED BY TWO FIGHTERS WHICH APPARENTLY WERE WORKING IN CONJUNCTON WITH IT.
THE ONLY THING I CAN REMEMBER ABOUT THE NEXT TRIP TO SALSBREE ARSENAL WAS THAT ONE WE WERE HIT BY LIGHT FLAK WHICH NECESSITATED US HAVING TO CRASH LAND AT WITTERING THE OTHER THING WAS WE SPOTTED A TRAIN WITH WHITE STEAM COMING UP FROM IT SO WE ATTACKED IT RACED UP AND DOWN IT WITH THE GUNNERS FIRING AT THE TRAIN. IT SEEMS IRONIC TO ME THAT ALL I CAN REMEMBER IS NOT SO MUCH LANDING AT WITTERING ALTHOUGH I DO KNOW NOT HAVING ANY BRAKES OR FLAPS JUST SHOOTING UP THIS TRAIN WHICH WE THOUGHT WAS HILARIOUS EPISODE NOT REALISING OF COURSE THAT WE COULD OF EASILY BEEN BROUGHT DOWN EITHER BY GUNS ON THE TRAIN OR BY A FIGTER FOR UST GOING DOWN AND LARKING ABOUT I MEAN AFTER ALL WHY SHOULD FIGHTERS JUST ATTACK TRAINS WHY CANT LANCASTERS!!
AFTER THE NEXT TRIP IN WHICH WE HAD THREE COMBATS AGAIN WITH NO CLAIMS, CAME THE ONE TO BELGIUM
BOURG LEOPOLD WHICH I WON THE D.F.C.
I REMEMBER ON THIS THAT WE WERE ATTACKED WITHOUT EITHER OF MY GUNNERS SPOTTING THIS BOY HE JUST CAME IN FROM BELOW IN THE DARK AND THE NEXT THINGS THAT WE KNEW THAT HE WAS KNOCKING SIX OUT OF US BECAUSE LET ME RECAP – ONE CANNON SHELL KNOCKED OUT THE WIRELESS SET – WE HAD A FIRE IN THE BOMB BAY FROM THE ATTACK AND WHATS MORE THE FLYING CONTROL SYSTEM WAS HEAVILY DAMAGED BECAUSE SHE REARED LIKE A STRICKEN HORSE AND WENT OVER ONTO HER BACK THEN WE DROPPED ABOUT 12,000 FEET BEFORE I PULLED HER OUT
THE MAIN THING WAS THAT HE HAD GOT VIRTUALLY ALL HIS ATTACK IN BEFORE WE RIPPED UP AND WENT – AS WE HAD NOT DROPPED OUR
[PAGE BREAK]
7
BOMBS WE WERE IN A DIVE AND THE FIRE I OPENED THE BOMB DOORS AND SAID JETTISON THE BOMBS AND SEE IF WE CAN BLOW THE FIRE OUT THE NEXT MINUTE WELL REALLY IT WASN’T THE NEXT MINUITE BECAUSE WE MUST HAVE LOST 10,000-12,000 FEET
IN THE DIVE BY HINT OF PULLING AND MANOEUVRING THE LANC CAME OUT AND SHOT STRAIGHT UP AGAIN WITH A VIOLENT TENDANCY TO GO OVER ONTO ITS BACK – TRYING TO CONTROL HER (IT SEEMS RATHER FUNNY TO CALL A LANC A HER) TRYING TO CONTROL HER I HAD TO CROSS MY RIGHT LEG OVER MY LEFT LEG AND HOLD THE CONTROL COLUMN FORWARD WITH MY RIGHT KNEECAP THEN I HAD TO HOLD FULL LEFT AILERON DOWN AND THIS BROUGHT HER STRAIGHT AND LEVEL AND KEPT HER STRIAGHT AND LEVEL FOR A MOMENT. I CALLED THE BOMB AIMER UP AND THE FLIGHT ENINGEER TO GET INTO THE BOMB AIMERS COMPARTMENT AND I HAD WITH MY LEFT LEG FULL LEFT RUDDER THE IDEA BEING THAT ALAN MILLARD WOULD COME UP AND CONTROL THE THROTTLE TO ASSIST ME BECAUSE WE HAD TO HAVE THE ENGINES OUT OF SYNCHRONISATION IN ORDER TO KEEP HER STRAIGHT AND LEVEL AND GEORGE THE FLIGHT ENGINEER TIED A PIECE OF ROPE ROUND THE LEFT RUDDER AND WAS HOLDING ON TO IT TO HELP – IT WAS DURING THIS PART AS WELL ONE THINKS OF THE HILARIOUS EPISODE OF THE NAVIGATOR SAYING “ I HAVE BEEN HIT AND I WILL GIVE YOU A COURSE FOR HOME” WHICH HE DID OF COURSE THIS TOOK ME AGES TO TURN ONTO THE COURSE WITH THE LANC CRIPPLED AS IT WAS THEN HE FELT INSIDE HIS SHIRT UNDER HIS MAE WEST AND SUBSEQUENTELY SAID “CHRIST ITS SWEAT”
WE AND I SAY WE BECAUSE THERE WAS THREE OF US DOING THE JOB FLEW BACK TO ENGLAND AND WAS DIVERTED TO WOODBRIDGE WHERE I WAS TOLD TO BRING IT IN - SO AS I CAME ACROSS THE AIRFIELD FOR THE FIRST TIME I TOLD ALL MY CREW TO GO FORWARD AND BAIL OUT BECAUSE I DID NOT THINK I COULD BRING IT IN SAFELY THERE WAS THE PROVERBIAL RHUBARDS WE STAYING WITH YOU RATHER THAN BAILING OUT – SO THEY WENT INTO THE CRASH POSITIONS EXCEPT FOR ALAN MILLARD AND MYSELF AND I BROUGHT IT IN AND CRASHED LANDED WHERE AFTERWARDS IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A MASTERLY LANDING ACCORDING TO THE CITATION
ALL I CAN REMEMBER WAS THAT TWO THINGS
ONE WHERE THE CREW SUBSEQUENTLY COUNTED 200 HOLES IN THE AIRCRAFT FROM THE FIGHTERS ATTACK AND THE QUESTION OF THE LITTLE RUM BOTTLES FROM WHICH WE ALL GOT STONED OUT OF MINDS AFTER HAVING SURVIVED
BECAUSE ALSO HALF THE PORT RUDDER WAS MISSING AS WELL. BUT MOST OF THE ATTACK WAS CANNON SHELL BECAUSE APPROXIMATELY 2 WEEKS AFTER THIS EPISODE I FOUND OUT THAT I HAD BEEN AWARDED THE D.F.C.
WELL IF YOU MEAN A CELEBRATION ALL I KNOW IS THAT AT WOODBRIDGE WE GOT STONED OUT OF OUR MINDS WIPING ALL THE
[PAGE BREAK]
8
RUM BOTTLES PRESUMABLY THEY WERE MEANT FOR THE OTHER CREWS WHO CRASH LANDED THERE AS WELL ALTHOUGH WE SAT OUTSIDE THE HUT AND THEY COLLOQUIAL PUT, PISSED OUT OF OUR MINDS - YES THERE WAS A DO IN THE OFFICERS MESS BUT AS THE REST OF MY CREW WERE N.C.OS. WE HAD A LITTLE ONE ON OUR OWN BUT THE OTHER THING WAS THAT OF COURSE MY WIFE SHE WAS NOT THEN SEWED MY D.F.C. ONTO MY TUNIC.
ANOTHER TRIP WAS TO A PLACE CALLED MAISY I STILL CANT PRONOUNCE THE NAME OF IT IN FRENCH AND WE HAD BEEN ATTACKED WE COULD NOT OPEN THE BOMB DOORS AND WE HAD 13,000 LBS BOMBS ABOARD INCIDENTALLY THE WHOLE OF THE HYDRAULIC SYSTEM HAD GONE AS WELL – AFTERWARDS ON THE WAY HOME WE WERE DIVERTED TO SILVERSTONE OUR OLD OTU WHERE WE HAD FIRST CREWED UP ON WELLINGTONS COMING INTO LAND I HAD TO USE THE EMERGENCY AIR SYSYTEM TO BRING DOWN THE UNDERCARRIAGE AND FLAPS WHEN ALOAD OF REDS WERE FIRED AT THE BEGINNING OF THE RUNWAY AND I WAS TOLD TO OVERSHOOT THIS MEANT THAT I INSTICITIVELY PUSHED THE THROTTLE OPEN APPARENTLY THERE WAS STILL ANOTHER AIRCRAFT ON THE RUNWAY SOMEWHERE SO WE STARTED TO STAGGER ALONG ON AT ABOUT 200 FEET WITH A FULL BOMB LOAD UNDERCARRIDGE AND FLAPS DOWN WITHOUT ANY CHANCE OF GETTING THE UNDERCARRIDGE AND FLAPS UP AND I WAS DIVERTED TO TURWESTON – I CAN REMEMBER LETTING A FLOOD OF LANGUAGE COME OUT OVER THE RT (RADIO TRANSMITTOR) TO THE CONTROL TOWER AND PUTTING ME IN THIS STUPID POSITION – SO WE STAGGERED TOWARDS TURWESTON IN THIS CONDITION WHERE I BROUGHT IT STRAIGHT IN AFTER USING THE INTERCOM VITROUILIC TO ALL AND SUNDRY WITRH SOME WORKDS I WOULD THINK ARE ANOT MENTIONED IN BOOKS ANYMORE – WE LANDED ONTO THE RUNWAY AND RAN OFF ONTO THE GRASS AND I REMEMBERED A TRUCK COMING OUT TO US AND SAYING THEY THOUGHT WE HAD SOME PRACTISE BOMBS ABOARD AND WHEN THEY WERE TOLD IT WAS A FULL BOMB LOADS THEY ALL LEPT BACK INTO THE TRUCK AND DISPPEARED OVER THE HORIZON AT HIGH SPEED
SO WE LEFT THE LANC WERE IT WAS AND STARTED TO TRUDGE ACROSS THE AIRFIELD AND BY DAYLIGHT I REMEMEBER DISTINCTIVELY SOME TWIT AS A WING COMMANDER GIVING ME A ROASTING OVER MY USE OF FOUL LANGUAGE OVER THE INTERCOM – IT DID NOT APPEAR TO HIM THAT THERE HAS BEEN ANYTHING WRONG WITH OVERSHOOTING ME WITH A FULL BOMB LOAD WITH UNDERCARRIDGE AND FLAPS DOWN AND ONCE AGAIN I AM CERTAIN THAT AT THE SAME TIME A HALIFAX HAD OVERSHOT AND GONE INTO THE CLOTHING STORE AND BLOWN UP
THE THING ABOUT THIS INCIDENT IS THAT I WILL NOT RELATE ANYMORE BECAUSE IT WAS FAR BETTER TO DRAW A CURTAIN ACROSS
[PAGE BREAK]
9
WHEN ONE CONSIDERS THAT AT THESE TWO AIRFIELDS WERE EX OPERATIONAL PEOPLE WHO WERE NOW INSTRUCTING WHO APPEARED TO HAVE LOST ALL SEMBLANCE OF REALITY.
I THINK IT WOULD BE OF INTEREST TO RELATE ONE SMALL HUMOROUS INCIDENT AND THAT WAS THAT THERE WAS A LEADER NAVIGATION CHAP “PATCHEET” WHO ALWAYS SWORE BLIND THAT HE WOULD NEVER FLY WITH ME BECAUSE I WAS THE HAIRIEST ARSE PILOT ON THE SQUARDON
COS I WAS NOTORIOUS FOR LOW FLYING AND FOR GETTING BACK FIRST
WELL WE HAD BEEN UP TO THE OPS ROOM TO PREPARE FOR THE NIGHTS TRIP AND BOB BROOKS THE NAVIGATOR HAD A BICYCLE AND ON THE REAR WHEEL ON ONE SIDE WAS FREEWHEEL AND THE OTHER SIDE WAS FIXED – HE ALWAYS USED THE FREEWHEEL SIDE AND RIDING BACK FROM THE OPS ROOM WOULD GO ROUND THIS BEND AND PUT HIS FOOT DOWN AND DIRT TRACK LIKE A SPEEDWAY RIDER WHILE HE WAS IN THE OPS ROOM PREPARING THE NAVIGATION ASPECT WE TURNED THE REAR WHEEL ROUND SO THAT HE WAS ON FIXED AND SO HE RODE ALONG PUT HIS RIGHT FOOT DOWN AND HIS LEFT ONE OUT TO DO A SPEEDWAY RIDERS BROADSIDE AND QUITE NATURALLY CAME OFF HIS BIKE HEADLONG INTO THE HEDGE AND DITCH!!
IMMEDIATELY THE DOC WAS INFORMED AND HE WAS CARRIED TO THE SICK BAY WHERE HE WAS TOLD HE COULD NOT GO THAT NIGHT SO PATCHETT WAS NOMINATED TO COME WITH ME AND MY CREW AND DID NOT LIKE THIS ONE AT ALL!
AND THE FUND THING ABOUT THIS TRIP WAS THAT WE WERE ATTACKED TWICE – WITH PATCHETT SITTING THERE AND ALL OF SUDDEN OVER THE INTERCOM AFTER THE SECOND ATTACK HE SAID “I THINK IN FUTURE ANYTIME YOU WANT ME I WILL COME WITH YOU BECAUSE I DID NOT REALISE THAT YOU AND YOUR CREW WERE SO EFFICIENT OVER THE ENEMY TERRITORY”
I KNOW THAT IT BECAME A BYE WORD THAT I WAS INVARIABLY FIRST BACK THERE WAS VARIOUS NAMES APPLIED TO ME INCLUDING CHAMPION JOCKEY AND IT BECAME ALMOST A MATTER OF PROUD WITH ME
A. TO BE FIRST BACK AND
B. B. FOR ANOTHER CREW ON THE SQUADRON TO BEAR ME BACK WHICH FROM MY MEMORY NEVER DID HAPPEN
THE MAIN ASPECT APPEARED TO BE HOW WAS IT I GOT FIRST BACK AND YET MY FUEL LOGS ALWAYS SHOWED THAT WE DID QUITE WELL REGARDS TO FUEL CONSUMPTION
THE ANSWER WAS SIMPLE AND IT WAS KEPT A CLOSELY REGARDED SECRET WITH MY CREW
THAT WHEN WE WERE TOLD TO START DESCENDING AT CERTAIN POINT I STILL KEPT ALTITUDE AND WOULD COME DOWN IN VERY
[PAGE BREAK]
10
SIMPLE SMALL STEPS STILL WITH THE SAME REVS THE RESULT WAS THAT THE TIME EVERYBODY WAS AT CIRCUIT HEIGHT AND FLYING STRAIGHT AND LEVEL TOWARDS BASE I WAS STILL SOME 1000S FEET ABOVE THEM AND VIRTUALLY AT A SIMILAR POINT RELATIVE TO THE EARTHS SURFACE IN RELATION TO THEM THEN THROTTLING BACK AND PUTTING MY NOSE DOWN I WOULD REACH WHAT ONE MIGHT CALL FANTASTIC SPEEDS FOR THE LANCASTER AND RACE PASS EVERYBODY REACHING BASE FIRST AND NOBODY COULD UNDERSTAND HOW THIS KEPT HAPPENING TIME AND TIME AGAIN
ITS INTERESTING BECAUSE AFTER THE WAR WHEN I WENT BACK TO 83 SQUADRON ON LINCOLN’S I APPLIED THE SAME TECHNIQUE AND WAS INVARIABLE FIRST BACK AGAIN AND NOBODY COULD UNDERSTAND EITHER HOW IT HAPPENED.
ANOTHER THING I WAS NOTORIOUS FOR I SAY NOTORIOUS IN APOSTROPHES AND ITALICS WAS COMING INTO THE AIRFIELD INLINE WITH THE RUNWAY AT NOUGHT FEET CLEAN AS A WHISTLE AND A THIRD OR HALFWAY DOWN THE RUNWAY PULLING UP VERY VERY STEEPLY AND GOING INTO A VERY VERY TIGHT LEFT TURN AND WHEN I WAS IN AN ALMOST UPSIDE DOWN POSITION UNDER CARRIAGE AND FLAPS DOWN AND THROTTLE BACK TEMPORARILY STICK WELL BACK IN MY STOMACH AND A SPLIT ARSE TURN ONTO THE RUNWAY LIKE A SPITFIRE OR HURRICANE. I HAD A FEW ROCKETS OVER THIS BUT NOBODY SEEMED REALLY TO OBJECT TO THIS ONE !!
I THINK INFACT THIS COULD REALLY BE MENTIONED IN THE BOOK IF HE GOT ROUND TO IT
THERE WAS A DRIVER A WAAFF ON 49 SQUADRON AND ALL WE KNEW HER WAS SWISS ROLL SAL AND SHE WAS EXTREMELY KEEN ON MY WIRELESS OP ALF WITH A RESULT WAS WHEN WE LANDED WHOEVER WAS CLOSE BEHIND US SHE WOULD INVARIABLY COME TO OUR DISPERSAL FIRST TO COLLECT US AND GET US BACK TO DE-BRIEFING IT WAS A MATTER OF PRINCIPLE WITH HER! AND I REMEMBER WE HAD BEEN TO LINCOLN THE CREW AND I AND WE HAD GOT BACK TO FISKERTON FIVE MILE HOLT AND YOU CROSSED THE RIVER BY A LITTLE FERRY BOAT IN THE DARK AND SWISS ROLL SAL WAS WITH MY WIRELESS OP AG WITH SOME OTHER WAAFS AND A COUPLE OF OTHER CREWS AND THERE WAS A HILARIOUS MIX UP IN THE BOAT WHEN HALF OF THEM WENT ONTO THE WATER! AND I THINK THAT’S ITS JUST THE FACT AS I SAY EVERYBODY KNEW SWISS ROLL SAL
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
Transcript of interview with Allan Edgar
Dad's Transcript Memories of Crew and Missions 1944 to 1945
Description
An account of the resource
The memoirs were recorded in 1980 at a reunion at Sudbrooke. He starts by describing crewing up at Silverstone. His opinion of the Stirling was that it was awful on the ground and in the air. His first operation was a second 'dickie' (an observer) to Konisberg. On his third trip his bomb aimer opened his chute on the ground so Alan gave him his. Fortunately the trip was uneventful. They took part on an operation to Mailly le Camp which turned into a disaster because the bombing points were obscured. On the next operation they machine gunned a train without appreciating how dangerous it was. Then an operation to Bour Leopold, Belgium led to their Lancaster being heavily damaged. They crash landed at Woodbridge and Alan was awarded the DFC. After the landing they drank all the rum they found in a hut. On the next trip to France they were attacked and the hydraulics were damaged resulting in not being able to open the bomb doors. They returned to the UK with the bombs and successfully landed at Turweston. He was always first back because he maintained height until close to the airfield then dived at top speed for the airfield. The other crews could not understand how he achieved this.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Alan Edgar
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
1980
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
10 typewritten sheets
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
MEdgarAG172180-180704-01
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Australian Air Force
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Belgium
France
Great Britain
Poland
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Lincolnshire
England--Nottinghamshire
France--Tours
France--Mailly-le-Camp
Belgium--Leopoldsburg
Poland--Gdańsk
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.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Claire Monk
1 Group
49 Squadron
83 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
bomb aimer
bombing
Bombing of Mailly-le-Camp (3/4 May 1944)
crash
crewing up
Distinguished Flying Cross
flight engineer
Fw 190
ground personnel
He 111
Heavy Conversion Unit
Hurricane
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Lincoln
mess
navigator
Operational Training Unit
pilot
RAF Fiskerton
RAF Silverstone
RAF Syerston
RAF Turweston
RAF Winthorpe
RAF Wittering
RAF Woodbridge
Spitfire
Stirling
target indicator
training
Wellington
wireless operator / air gunner
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/2198/40172/BMcInnesAMcInnesAv1.2.pdf
039409582741300cd52a4251b3dd8e46
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Royal Air Force ex-Prisoner of War Association
Description
An account of the resource
97 items. The collection concerns Royal Air Force ex-Prisoner of War Association and contains items including drawings by the artist Ley Kenyon.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Robert Ankerson and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-01-29
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
RAF ex POW As Collection
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
Alan McInnes memoir
A German Holiday 1944-45
Description
An account of the resource
An autobiography by Alan of his time as a prisoner of war. He describes the night they were shot down over Germany. Also his training with his mainly Australian crew. Then he goes into more detail regarding the operation when he was shot down.
He describes their capture, mistreatment and interrogations at various locations. After interrogations at Dulag Luft they were sent to a transit camp in Frankfurt then on by train to Heydekrug, Stalag Luft VI. Although their camp section was new it was cramped and basic. He describes camp life in detail. As the Russians got closer they were sent by train to an Army camp at Thorn. He read a copy of NCO education in the camp. These courses were extremely popular and supported by text books sent from the UK. Exams were sat and papers sent to the UK for marking. At Thorn they marched to Stammlager 357 but not for long. They then marched back to the railway and were sent to Fallingbostel. He describes the rail journey in detail, then in greater detail he describes camp life.
Later he was moved to an officer's camp at Eichstadt. This turned out to be an Army camp which refused them and they were sent to Sagan. He stayed there for a short time then was moved to Stalag Luft 3, then 111A. As the Russians neared they moved again. After a couple of days waiting in trucks they returned to their camp. The railway system was breaking down as the end of the war neared.
After the Russians reached them they were allowed out of the camp but still remained billeted there. He writes about his impressions of the Russians.
His journey home was delayed by rain that did not allow aircraft to fly.
His story ends with his retelling of the night his aircraft was shot down, his night in Brussels and his return to England.
Creator
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Alan McInnes
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Magdeburg
Australia
Great Britain
England--Lichfield
Poland--Szczecin
Germany--Bremen
Germany--Stendal
Switzerland
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Lithuania--Šilutė
Poland
Italy
Canada
United States
Poland--Szczecin
Poland--Toruń
Greece
Greece--Crete
Poland--Vistula River
England--Staverton (Northamptonshire)
Germany--Bad Fallingbostel
Poland--Żagań
Poland--Bydgoszcz
Poland--Poznań
Germany--Pasewalk
Germany--Neubrandenburg
Germany--Stavenhagen
Germany--Malchin (Landkreis)
Germany--Güstrow
Germany--Hamburg
Germany--Lübeck
Germany--Eichstätt
Germany--Munich
Germany--Kassel
Germany--Eisenach
Germany--Fürth (Bavaria)
Germany--Treuchtlingen
Germany--Ingolstadt
Germany--Regensburg
Germany--Leipzig
Germany--Plauen
Poland--Wrocław
New South Wales--Sydney
Victoria--Melbourne
New South Wales
India--Jammu and Kashmir
China
England--London
Germany--Elbe
Germany--Potsdam
Germany--Jüterbog
Ukraine--Odesa
Germany--Dresden
Germany--Halle an der Saale
Belgium--Brussels
England--Brighton
Germany--Nuremberg
Germany--Hannover
Ukraine
Germany--Luckenwalde
Poland--Poznań
Germany
Germany--Hof (Hof)
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
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Format
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85 printed sheets
Identifier
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BMcInnesAMcInnesAv1
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
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-01-21
Conforms To
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Pending text-based transcription
83 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
bale out
bomb aimer
C-47
Churchill, Winston (1874-1965)
crewing up
Dulag Luft
entertainment
final resting place
flight engineer
Fw 190
Goering, Hermann (1893-1946)
ground personnel
H2S
Hitler, Adolf (1889-1945)
incendiary device
Lancaster
Mosquito
navigator
Operation Exodus (1945)
Operational Training Unit
Pathfinders
pilot
prisoner of war
radar
RAF Bicester
RAF Lichfield
RAF Wigsley
RAF Wyton
Red Cross
shot down
sport
Stalag 3A
Stalag Luft 3
Stalag Luft 6
target indicator
the long march
training
wireless operator
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/543/8784/PHildrethJ1502.1.jpg
8ed4834a7c5568e0404e563b1c55b83c
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/543/8784/AHildrethJ150805.2.mp3
a049e0a8e3147d0060b1b9c4e9b78690
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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Hildreth, Jeff
J Hildreth
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Hildreth
Description
An account of the resource
Two oral history interviews with Warrant Officer Jeff Hildreth (1924 - 2017, Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a wireless operator with 170 Squadron.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-06-02
2015-08-05
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.
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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GR: It doesn’t look bad.
JH: It’s just nice to know somebody’s doing as they like. You carry on.
AM: Yeah. Off you go. Ok. So, this then this interview is being conducted for the International Bomber Command Centre. The interviewer is Annie Moody and the interviewee is Jeff Hildreth and the interview is taking place at Jeff’s home in Sutton in Ashfield on the 5th of August 2015. So, tell me a little bit, let’s start off if you just tell me a little bit about your family, where you were born, where you went to school and what your family background was.
JH: Born — Holmewood Derbyshire. But I think I was only one when we left there and thinking about it, it was a time of expansion of colliery villages in North Nottinghamshire. And it was Langold we went to and one of the reasons for that I think was that the NCB, which was expanding like the clappers was not only sinking pits but was also building a village to go with it. Which they had to do to get the men to come and stay there. So [pause] and I can, let me, it’s alright, some words flowed.
AM: Oh, don’t you worry.
JH: And some did not.
AM: So, what did your parents, what did your dad do?
JH: Oh, my dad was down the pit. He was a deputy down the pit. And, oh, during the First World War he was a sergeant in the army and he gave me a lot of advice, ‘Don’t go in the army Jeff. Trenches are muddy.’ [laughs] And in actual fact the thing was the war had started and, but you’d got to be in something of an organization to contribute to the war effort. But as a young lad I joined the ATC and so when my time to, to be actually called up automatically I went into the air force.
AM: To the air force. What did you do between? What, how old were you when you left school?
JH: Oh. Oh, I went to a grammar school. And switch it off and [laughs] I mean, and I went to when it came to getting a job I was out at sixteen and my mother said, ‘Well, it’s time you got a job,’ because she wanted an increase in, you know. Naturally. But oh dear me [pause] I suddenly go and then I stop, don’t I?
AM: And then forget. No. That’s ok. What did you do when you left school then?
JH: Ah, yes. I had to have a job so what job could I get? I think I wanted one in engineering. But having said that I don’t think I knew much about engineering and eventually the only job I could get was working in Montague Burton’s and yes —
AM: Selling suits.
JH: Pardon?
AM: Selling suits.
JH: More than selling them. Wearing them. Because Montague Burton’s was quite, quite a good place in a way in that to work I wore a black coat and striped trousers. And nothing fitted me worse I think. I was not doomed for that. Thank heaven I didn’t. And, in fact, eventually I was called up into the air force and I did, I remember showing it to the manager of the Montague Burton’s. I said, ‘That’s me. I’m going.’ And they always used to talk about, ‘We’ll have your job for you when you come back,’ and I said, ‘I shall not be coming back.’ There were no question. I don’t know what I was going to do but I was not going to come back to selling suits. I mean, I ask you. And I’m still a bit of a mess now, I think. But —
AM: So, when you were called, when you got your call up what happened next?
JH: Oh, well I went — yes, I made another big mistake in my life. You had to go for a medical which was a half day medical. But then, and if that was ok then you were accepted for the air force which then became a three day medical. And so I had to travel away. First time in my life I’d had a travel warrant and you know and so yes, I had a three day medical. And that was ok. So, there was a catch here somewhere. But oh —
AM: You said, you said it was another big mistake.
JH: Yes. I, oh I qualified and they divide you up into, well, what your situation was. I qualified for the PNB system. Pilot, navigator, bomb aimer. And, and so therefore I was in to aircrew. And that was fine except that [pause] let me think just a little bit. I do apologise.
AM: No, you’re ok.
JH: Somethings working. Half of its working faster than the other half you see. But [pause] oh, no I, I qualified on this PNB system and I could have been a pilot. And I don’t know why I did, for some reason or other, I did not, at that point [pause] and as far as air crew was concerned — oh they were, sorry — little bits coming back. The training for a pilot and a navigator and a bomb aimer, and the bomb aimer was usually pilots and navigators who had failed the course. But their course was something like a two year course I think. And even then, I think this was about ’43. Even then they were foreseeing the end of the war and that to start somebody on a two year training programme was just not on. So therefore, what could I have? And there were a gunnery course which took six months to, or six weeks to train an air gunner which didn’t suit me particularly. Other than that the only other thing was wireless operator. So yes, I’m a wireless operator and I’ve got to Morse code. And I never felt less secure in my life. I mean I learned the Morse code, you know. A is a de dar and B is a da de de dit and the all the rest.
AM: [Imitating Morse code sound]
JH: Yes. But, I don’t know, I didn’t feel, in fact when they asked me would I be alright as a wireless operator I think I said yes because the only time I’d be needed was to send an SOS and you didn’t need to send it. You just put a special switch on because we had a lovely radio set. I mean a Marconi, Marconi 1155. Good heavens above. And it was. You could pick up signals anywhere you like all over the world. So, [pause] but then of course at the end of your course then you’ve got to crew up. Now, I’m not the greatest person in the world at suddenly making contacts with people. And there were, I think something like seventeen wireless operators had just qualified but they only wanted sixteen to make the crews up. And so I was, I was the odd one. I volunteered to wait for the next course. I mean that was anything rather than go, you know. But then one person who should be nameless became ill and came off his course and so the crew that he was with got me. And that’s how I became a wireless operator on a Lancaster, and yes I can remember to some slight degree a sort [pause] yeah. He’s gone hasn’t he?
AM: Gary? He’ll come back in a bit.
JH: Yes. But he’s also got my flying logbook.
AM: Oh right.
JH: Which tells me all my operations.
AM: Ok.
JH: And everything else. And the, but — [laughs]
AM: He’s come back to haunt us. Don’t worry because what we’ll do is look at that afterwards.
JH: Alright. Yes, so I wish I’d never let you take it.
GR: What —?
AM: Have you —
JH: My logbook.
GR: I haven’t got your logbook. Last time I came around —
[recording paused]
JH: I’m sure.
AM: So, panic over. We just found Jeff’s logbook and he’s just looking up his first operation. Where was it to Jeff?
JH: Aschaffenburg, I think. Ops one. Oh no. That’s three. I did three dodge trips. It was, of course, at the beginning when I was — joined the squadron I did a lot of training. All in in Yorkshire and Lincolnshire, quite naturally. So, very often I was cycling home.
AM: Right.
JH: I’d got a pushbike. I used to come home at weekends. No trouble at all. But I was fairly [pause] eventually, oh I went to, eventually of course you have to get through to Lancasters and you go on a Lancaster finishing course but —
AM: So, you do your normal training. Then you do your heavy conversion training.
JH: Yes. When you’ve crewed up.
AM: After you’ve crewed up. Yeah.
JH: You’ve got a crew. It was a Canadian navigator or, as he would put it, he came from, “God’s own country, boy.” But there was [pause] I was, I think my pilot, Flight Lieutenant John Baxter. He was, he’d been a pilot instructor. Both gunners, the mid-upper and the rear gunner, were flight lieutenant gunnery instructors. This all helps to, to help me along, you know. And in fact, I felt like the rawest recruit amongst my crew. But eventually, oh yes Dunholme Lodge. It was a lovely place. And first operation — Aschaffenburg, on some marshalling yard. Slight heavy flak. Etcetera. Etcetera.
AM: What did it feel like going on that first operation? Can you remember how you felt?
JH: Well, it was all new because I’d never done anything like that before and you were, you had to go to briefing. And in actual fact, the briefing, a wireless operator doesn’t need briefing. He’s got no real duties unless there’s an emergency. But the people who do need briefing are the navigators because all of us are going to be given the course and the navigator then has got a nice little zigzag. And they start off. When you take off you’ve got a starting time and from then on, according to those distances, the navigator can put at each turning point what time we should be there and so he could turn around and tell the pilot, you know, speed it up.
AM: On course.
JH: Whatever it was. But thinking about it it was a night trip. In fact, I think my first thirteen or fourteen or something were night trips. And you get up and you’re flying and it’s dark and you can’t see any other aircraft except suddenly one comes straight up through the front of your nose. Or the pilot’s, you know. And it was somebody whose navigator was not quite on the same course as ourselves. I mean, and so you suddenly realized that there were, I’m trying to think [pause] was it about four hundred? They used to send about four hundred aircraft at a time. And all you knew is that, now Reading has just walked in. Reading — we flew and we had to take off from Hemswell, excuse me, and we flew south to Reading and what you were doing all the way down to Reading, all the other aerodromes aircraft were all coming to that until you were in a bomber stream. And, and then of course you, you followed the pattern and eventually of course you suddenly could see a target because there was activity up there. Yes. And, you know, there were things bursting and flashing. All sorts. But it was dark so, you know that was alright [laughs] I mean you don’t want to see it. But there were one or two aircraft suddenly close by and you realised that there must be a lot of people. A lot of aircraft crashing on to other aircraft. In fact, they did I’m sure. So, but, you know, eventually we went and we could see the Pathfinders had gone out in front so when you were actually on the bombing run so to speak — that’s the last leg towards the target. Way, way ahead you could see some Wanganui. I’m sorry. Coloured flares. That’s all they were. But that was your target. And also you suddenly, so you know and there was a lot of activity. There were shells flashing and such like as that. But I think we did as we were told. You’d got to do a certain speed through the bombing run but then once you were through it the skipper just put his foot down so to speak and we went home.
AM: What about taking the photograph?
JH: That would be automatic. It might have been the bomb aimer’s job probably. I think. Yes, it would be. It was the bomb aimer. He was the only bloke who was doing nothing apart from me [laughs] And, and that, oh yes and of course you landed eventually and yes there was a piece of metal about that big which one of the ground staff gave to the pilot afterwards. He took it out of our wing. But that was all the, all that we got on that first trip.
AM: And we’re talking about something about four inches square there.
JH: Yes. And about an inch thick. It was a chunk of metal which was shrapnel as such, sort of thing. But the main thing was that you got out and of course you’d got your harness on and so you were, and you didn’t have to carry a parachute. You could clip them on so that was just somewhere down in the aircraft. But when we landed and then you’d taxi around to your dispersal point [unclear] and eventually out. You get out of the aircraft. Yes. And there’s a small ladder. It’s about this high.
AM: Right.
JH: Small metal ladder.
AM: So about four foot high.
JH: Yes. Which the back door is opened. Everybody goes out the back door except the, no — the pilot, he drops out of a, a flap at the front. And there’s a much longer ladder for him. But for ground staff, for us we, our ground staff came and we opened the door and they put this little ladder. And I think I did step out and fall on the floor. I don’t know and it didn’t, I mean it didn’t hurt me or ought like that. It just woke me up a bit [laughs] I think. And I suppose it was getting my balance back on terra firma sort of thing, you know. But, but the main thing was then, of course, you, you, there was a bus. A very old fashioned bus going around and whenever he saw a crew ready to be picked up so he picked them up and eventually, of course, you’re back. Back home. And you get your flying kit off and the flying kit was nice of course. If I said a pair of brown overalls which was rather like a quilt. And then another grey waterproof overall on top and I think and before you got those on — with respect that’s flying kit, before you got those on you had a big blue, dark blue, sweater. And, and of course you got your flying boots. In actual fact I think after the first trip the only thing I ever wore and one or two other people were flying boots and this long jersey. That’s all. The flying kit, it just too hot to wear.
AM: Even when you were actually flying?
JH: Ah yes, because imagine your aircraft and you’ve got four engines. Two on each side and being engines they’ve got exhausts. And so the heating effect of them was the air from the cockpit, from wireless operation — oh yeah, that was, the wireless operator where I sat like that, just here was the main spar that went right through the wing. And it was —
AM: Ok. So just to your right.
JH: It was about that high. It was an H type aluminium girder made out of aluminium about that thick.
AM: About an inch thick.
JH: The strongest bit of the aircraft. I was quite pleased [laughs] They were only daft little things but they registered in my mind. But eventually of course you’re picked up with this bus that’s going around picking you up. You go in to de-briefing then which amounts to telling anything unusual which, you know didn’t or not much. And then of course you went to, and got a meal. Yes. Which was inevitably egg and bacon. It was lovely. And then of course, you, as soon as you’d gone through that lot you went back to your digs and you went to bed. Went to sleep. And that was it. That was quite.
AM: That was it.
JH: And, and then of course when you wake up the next morning. Yes. I’ve done my first trip. It was, you know and, well it was easy. You let that thought come in but then you know it’s got to go out quickly. And, well —
AM: How many operations did you do?
JH: I think it was twenty eight.
AM: Was it twenty eight? And what sort of place? Can you remember different places that you went to?
JH: Aschaffenburg, Duisburg, Cologne. Yeah. They’re all in —
AM: They’re all in the logbook.
JH: Yeah. Sorry. If its red its night time.
AM: Ok.
JH: And there’s ops one. Aschaffenburg. And it tells you how long we were flying. It was six hours forty minutes at night. As I say if its red. And I apologise if I’m saying, repeating myself but [pause] where was it? Karlsruhe. Of course, Karlsruhe. And, well, it’s just Merseburg. Somewhere. Oh yeah. On our second trip we were attacked by a Focke Wulf 190 and, we believed, shot it down. That’s as much, oh believe shot down because someone else referred to a Focke Wulf 190 about that time and about that place.
AM: What did that feel like then? Did you actually see it? The Focke Wulf.
JH: Me? No. Because what I’d got and I’m blowed if I can remember the name of it. It’s radar. And the only contribution I could make was that in, set in to my desk was a radar screen about that big.
AM: Ok. About six inches square. Something like that.
JH: Round.
AM: Round. Sorry.
JH: The early tubes were all round. Wait a minute. And oh, what I could say they told me it was a radar but it only showed the area below the aircraft. If you see a picture of the aircraft there’s a bulge underneath. And inside there is the aerial that’s spinning around all the time, it’s just a small thing and so I got that. But on that occasion when that aircraft came at us, the Focke Wulf 190, I could pick it up because it got close. And I don’t [pause] I seem to recall the words, ‘He’s coming around again,’ and I know that I called up on the microphone. Oh yeah, yes I was able to say on the microphone, ‘He’s coming around again. He’s on a bearing of 7 o’clock.’ And that, I was conscious, I thought there should be a better way of telling people where another aircraft is coming but I thought coming in at 7 o’clock was quite a good one. And I think, yes the rear gunner, as far as we were concerned the rear gunner got him. And in actual fact at, I think the next briefing, for the next operation was the briefing this was referred to and so it was the squadron through Flight Lieutenant Gordon could claim its first kill. And I thought to myself, yeah but that was my kill. They wouldn’t, they wouldn’t know anything about that. I told them, you know. But, but that was it. We, that was the first one. Then there was a second. And some, and of course the worse thing of course was that when you went to a briefing you usually were told about previous occasions. Previous flights. You were also told about anybody in the, in the squadron who did not come back. You got that and so, as you had come back you were beginning to feel a bit lucky. And you were also, as time went on became a senior crew. And in fact, my skipper, he became a flight, flight commander. They broke a squadron up into two flights and he was a flight commander. But —
AM: Did you stick with the same crew all the way through?
JH: Oh yes. Yeah.
AM: What was your pilot called?
JH: John Baxter, came from Sheffield. The navigator was [pause] Stan. Stan from God’s own country. And I don’t know where the others all came. Oh the flight engineer because with it being four engines the pilot needed another engineer to pull throttles up or whatever. And he, I think, I never got on with him very well, but he’d been a, what do you call them, I don’t know, a naughty boy’s school. He was in charge of them so he was I would call a tough cookie, you know. And you didn’t argue with him. And I didn’t get on with him and I didn’t have much to do with him [laughs] so I don’t know. It’s [pause] but of course as you comment on you became more operations, more operations, more operations and when somebody had done their thirty then they got a weeks’, no [pause] I think you got six weeks leave. You got a weeks’ leave every, about every three months. Something like. Sorry, I do apologise. Anybody in the army and anybody in the air force or navy. Well not navy. You would get a weeks’ leave every three months. Until you were flying crew and flying crew we got a weeks’ leave every six weeks. So, you know, I mean I was coming home quite regularly you know. Walking. I mean I was coming back to a colliery village where any other, any lads in the village did not get called up.
AM: Because they were down the mine.
JH: When they said they were working on the tubs or any sort of little job for a lad down the pit that’s it. They were not called up. Only me who was in a tailor’s shop. I got called up. So, I mean, but I don’t know we carried on. Oh and I got, as I say according to that I did twenty eight actual operations. But —
AM: Were there any more hairy ones. You had the Focke Wulf one. Were there any more?
JH: We had that one and something about the tenth I think [pause] Yeah. Ops ten. Stuttgart. Later one kill credited to Flying Officer Gordon. But that’s all about it. And we’d be, we would be told that at the briefing for the next operation. So, it was just Mannheim, Bottrop, Dortmund. Oh crikey. Chemnitz. Some of them were long trips. I think the longest was about thirteen hours. Something like that. From take-off to landing again. So —
AM: You needed your bacon and eggs at the end of it.
JH: But oh it was, you know, you got your egg. It was egg, chips. Egg and bacon and chips. Yeah. You know. And incidentally I didn’t like eggs before I went into the air force but you soon learned to like them when you were flying because it was all you could have. But —
AM: What happened then? After, after you’d done your tour of operations.
JH: Oh well I didn’t quite finish it. Thirty was a full tour. I’d done twenty eight and my navigator at that point, he was Canadian, he went. He could go home. And he did go home straight away, quite naturally. But I think I didn’t want to stop flying. I was quite happy. Oh and we went to — yes did a few trips to [pause] I don’t know where the Manna trips, they were somewhere in Germany I think.
AM: To Holland. On Operation Manna.
JH: Yes. It was Holland. Yes. Because the Germans as they were being pushed out they were stripping the country of anything and naturally any food they took. And that was it. So, yes, we were dropping bags of food to Holland and you went in at low level. About a hundred feet or something like that. And you could see all the people on the side of the dykes waving to you, you know, as you, as they were ready to go and collect the bags. Excuse me. We did so many of those. But then, oh I know — yes. Then we started fetching troops home. The army that had been in the Middle East and the, the battle in the Middle East. The, we’d come on to Italy and started pushing our way up Italy. And they, they were taking a lot of prisoners and of course they needed to get rid of them so we were bringing them home.
AM: So you were flying to Italy to bring them.
JH: Yeah.
AM: Bring them back.
JH: Yeah. Which was, which was very nice. I mean I —
AM: How many could you fit in?
JH: Pardon?
AM: How many could you fit into a Lancaster?
JH: Twenty. And all that we got was that as they entered the aircraft they were given a blanket and then on the next trip we got twenty blankets we could take to the Italians and flog them [laughs] Well, not quite twenty. Some. But we did a bit of that. We, there was a little bit. But Pomigliano was Italy. Yes. It was Naples. Near Naples. Napoli. And, and there was old Vesuvius not far away. So, I mean, that was quite a nice thing. That’s the furthest away I’d been from home I suppose was Napoli. But, and oh —
AM: How many of those trips did you do?
JH: Oh, only about a couple. Yes. And oh, then eventually [pause] I could have left but I stayed with, I went to another squadron. I was with 170 normally. I went to squadron 12 I think because the new aircraft, the Avro Lincoln had come in which were flipping great things and they were a bit like them. So, I got on to Avro Lincolns. Did a bit of flying in those. Cross country’s. All over. You’d have to go and do cross country’s just to get some hours in but —
AM: How long were you still in for? When were you de-mobbed? Can you remember?
JH: No.
AM: No.
JH: I apologise.
AM: Oh no, it doesn’t matter. It’s just that some people stayed, stayed in quite a long time depending how long you’d been in and different people have told me all sorts of different stories about what they did before they were de-mobbed.
JH: I’ll tell you what. I can remember when it came to being de-mobbed. A huge, if you can think of a huge building. Three or four gardens big. And there were civilian people with all your civvy wear and you went in and you’d got people, a bloke fitting you up with a suit. Slap a tape around you, you know. But I knew what it was all about but at the same time you got a suit of clothes and underwear. Yeah. Shoes. And out you went. And then the next day you had to hand your uniform in.
AM: November 19 —
GR: ‘46.
AM: ’46 you were finally de-mobbed. Just had a look in your logbook.
JH: And the war finished in ’45 didn’t it? If I remember right.
AM: So, about a year.
JH: Yeah.
AM: About a year before you were de-mobbed.
JH: Yeah. Yeah. Well, of course I’d only be called up halfway through in a sense. And you’ve got to realise that the country’s got to absorb all these people haven’t they? So, yes it was according to how long you’d been in. Now wait a minute. But you didn’t do anything. You know. I went down, somewhere down south [pause] and it was one winter and there were a few people there and you was to — during winter, yes. And you could go out into the forest, get some logs suchlike and take them back to this mess and you got a log fire going and somebody had got a Monopoly game. And I learned to play Monopoly [laughs] But [pause] I don’t know. I can’t remember.
AM: What did you do after the war?
JH: I think I went back to that tailor’s shop and told him I wasn’t going to, I didn’t want to join, didn’t want to come back in to it. Oh [pause] I went to night school at the technical college. Now, let me think [pause] Yeah. I had to go three nights a week. I lived in Langold and the technical college was in Worksop. And so three nights a week I was going down to do college at Worksop to study my electrical engineering. And [pause] I hope I’m getting it right.
AM: Of course you are. It’s your life.
JH: It’s alright duck. I’m not bothered. Whatever it is. But no I, yeah and I passed. Passed alright the first year. After that I got a day off a week to go to college one day a week.
AM: Where were you working though?
JH: Ah, I worked for the East Midlands Electricity Board. And initially, oh yeah [pause] I had a pick and shovel because what we were doing was you’d go to a, we’d have a job card. You’d go to this house. They were going on to electricity and so we had to put a service in and there was a main, a main, there was a cable in the pavement if you like. Or near there. And I came, we had to lay a small cable in to the house and do the make off so that somebody later on could come and put a meter in and so on and so forth. But the bloke I was with, he was a linesman who could, and so therefore I was a linesman’s mate. But a linesman would climb the pole and with his sash lines and such like and a service to a bracket on the house. And he would tap it on to the line and then down the house into a meter position. Such like. But I think I disappointed him because he could climb. He could climb a pole. He had climbers on of course. But you know he just, and he could walk up like that. I never liked it. I held on too tight and you have not got to do. When you’re climbing a pole you’ve got to have it out there. Just you’ve got to have faith.
AM: They’ve got those footrests to go up on haven’t they?
JH: On each side.
AM: Yeah.
JH: No. They’re, they put one or two of them at the top. No. You had climbers on which was a steel rod strapped on with a little spike.
AM: Oh. So you literally went up, spiked your way up.
JH: Yeah. Yeah. I think it’s only the Post Office who have those nice steps further up. So, it wasn’t, it wasn’t the greatest job but then one day they suddenly said you’re an engineer. And I know the engineer was Vic Smith from Worksop. He was an engineer and I think I was, I was with him but, and in actual fact I — yeah. Sometimes you’d need to find a fault on a cable because some of the joints were not put on very well so the valves weren’t. I mean, I’m talking, if you imagine a cable. There were five cores like that. And you’ve got to, you’re going to only use two and so what you do you push a little wooden wedge in to lift it up from, and then you put linen tape. Yes. I had to have them ready and they were in linen oil. Linen tapes in resin oil and thoroughly soaked and you put those on and you just left a little space. And the paper, you ripped the paper off and then the cable you were connecting you just pulled some strands around, poured some, oh and a little bit of cardboard and poured some hot metal on and soldered it on. And then you take that bit up and eventually you put a box on and put compound in. Bitumen.
AM: And that was that. So you ended up as an engineer after all.
JH: Eventually.
AM: Which is what you said right at the beginning.
JH: Yeah.
AM: That you wanted to do.
JH: Yeah.
AM: That’s wonderful.
JH: Yeah.
AM: I’m going to switch the tape off now.
JH: Thank goodness for that.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Interview with Jeff Hildreth
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Annie Moody
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2015-08-05
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AHildrethJ150805
Conforms To
An established standard to which the described resource conforms.
Pending review
Pending revision of OH transcription
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Format
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
00:44:35 audio recording
Description
An account of the resource
Jeff Hildreth grew up in a colliery village where his father was a miner. When he left school he started working at a tailor’s shop. He didn’t enjoy working in the shop and was happy to volunteer for the RAF and was accepted for to train as a pilot, navigator or bomb aimer. He considered the length of time for training and decided that being a wireless operator would get him operational quickly and would suit him best. When he crewed up he was happy that his pilot and two gunners were all instructors and so he admits happily that this increased his confidence. On one operation they were attacked by a Fokke Wulf 190 which they shot down. He recalls that during briefing they were told of the crews that had not returned and as they had returned they began to have a false sense of being lucky. After the war Jeff became an engineer with the East Midlands Electricity Board.
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Great Britain
Italy
England--Lincolnshire
Italy--Pomigliano d'Arco
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943
Contributor
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Julie Williams
12 Squadron
aircrew
Fw 190
Lincoln
Operation Dodge (1945)
Operation Manna (29 Apr – 8 May 1945)
RAF Dunholme Lodge
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1977/38295/BLanningWPalmerRAMv1.1.pdf
40daddfc2b5ff193ead9c644c8456a05
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
Palmer, Robert Anthony Maurice
R A M Palmer
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
2017-10-30
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
Palmer, RAM
Description
An account of the resource
38 items. The collection concerns Squadron Leader Robert AM Palmer VC, DFC and Bar (115772, Royal Air Force) and contains his log books, photographs, fact sheets, newspaper cuttings, documents, correspondence and a substancial history of his last operation. <br /><br />He flew one hundred and eleven operations as a pilot with 75, 149 and 109 Squadrons and was killed 23 December 1944 when leading a daylight operation as an Oboe marker.<br /><br />The collection also contains 51 items in a <a href="https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/show/2178">Photograph album</a>.<br /><br />The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Penny Palmer and catalogued by Nigel Huckins. <br /><br />Additional information on Robert AM Palmer is available via the <a href="https://losses.internationalbcc.co.uk/loss/221528/">IBCC Losses Database</a>
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
To Cologne - Gremberg by Oboe - tribute to Squadron Leader Robert A.M.Palmer VC, DFC & Bar
Description
An account of the resource
The story of an attack by Pathfinders of 35,105,109 and 582 Squadrons 23 December 1944. Tribute to Robert pPalmer and thirty comrades who died with him. Contains history of Battle of the Bulge. Description of Oboe system. List of aircraft and crews with some results and reports. Detailed hour by hour account of operation with recollections by some crews. Personal memories by Gordon Musgrave. Les Millett, Gordon Baker, Alan Bourne, Roy Shirley (F Freddie's last mission by Alan Roade). Russ Yeulett (Robert Palmer's rear gunner - the only crew member to survive). Continues with extracts from the German records and the RAF Historical branch. Next section headed Walt Reif and Crew. Arndt Walther Reif, Kenneth Harry Austin. Peter Uzelman, George Owen, Jack McClennan, Robert Pierce, John Paterson. Lists nine operations against French targets with 101 Squadron and then list 20 operations with 582 Squadron reported missing from last to Cologne. Telegram and letters sent to members of Walt Reif's crew and letter to Mrs Owen from Jack McClennan relating story of last operation. Next section - immediate interpretation report No K3465 - Cologne Gremberg. Assessment of damage. Quotes from newspapers, extracts from London Gazette citation for award of Victoria Cross to Robert Palmer. The American air offensive 23 December 1955 - list aircraft and losses. Lists losses for 23 December 1944. Includes friendly fire casualties and German fighter losses. Notes on German interceptions and tactics. Routes and timings. Headquarters Pathfinder Force 8 Group Bomber Command operational record book extract on attack on Cologne Gremberg. 105 and 109 Squadron operation record book extracts. Squadron Leader Robert A.M. Palmer VC, DFC and Bar list and numbers of operations on 75, 149 and 109 Squadron and 20 OTU. Biography of Robert Antony Maurice Palmer. Reflections. Photographs and map. Photographs of airmen, aircrew, aircraft, parties, Robert Palmer, 109 Squadron A Flight and other aircrew.
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Bill Lanning
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944-12-23
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Germany
Germany--Cologne
Great Britain
England--Huntingdonshire
England--Kent
Germany--Osnabrück
Germany--Homberg (Kassel)
France
France--Morbecque
France--Le Havre
France--Calais
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
Germany--Duisburg
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Coverage
The spatial or temporal topic of the resource, the spatial applicability of the resource, or the jurisdiction under which the resource is relevant
Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Canadian Air Force
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Text
Photograph
Text. Memoir
Text. Personal research
Format
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Sixty-five page printed document with photographs
Identifier
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BLanningWPalmerRAMv1
Conforms To
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Pending text-based transcription
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.
109 Squadron
20 OTU
582 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
B-17
B-24
B-26
bale out
bomb aimer
bombing
C-47
crash
Dulag Luft
flight engineer
Fw 190
killed in action
Lancaster
Me 109
missing in action
Mosquito
navigator
Oboe
Operational Training Unit
P-47
P-51
Pathfinders
pilot
prisoner of war
RAF Graveley
RAF Little Staughton
RAF Manston
shot down
training
Victoria Cross
wireless operator
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1321/20095/PLatimerJF1903.1.jpg
5c4fa4c3f15f857cd59311650ec10fee
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1321/20095/ALatimerJF190928.1.mp3
00322638009f1409521f729c53768fda
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
Latimer, James Ferguson
J F Latimer
Description
An account of the resource
Four items. An oral history interview with Warrant Officer Jim Latimer (1923 - 2020, 1551478 Royal Air Force) his log book, and photographs. He flew operations as a bomb aimer with 102 and 462 Squadrons.
The collection was 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
2019-09-28
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
Latimer, JF
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
BW: Here we go. Right.
GBD: Ok, Jim.
JL: Yeah.
BW: This Is Brian Wright interviewing Warrant Officer Jim Latimer.
JL: Jim’s Ferguson Latimer.
BW: Jim Ferguson Latimer.
JL: Thank you.
BW: On Saturday 28th September 2019 at approximately 4.45 at his home in Salford.
GBD: Prestwich, Manchester.
BW: Prestwich.
GBD: Yeah.
BW: Manchester. Also with me are his friend Gary Bridson-Daley, and World War Two author, and Jim’s wife Joan. And Gary, you wanted to introduce, introduce Jim as well.
GBD: Yeah. Just for a little minute. I’m very privileged to know Jim Latimer and Jean Latimer and they are from the same church as myself. They’re the longest parishioners there. Over seventy years they’ve been there which is quite astounding. I’m Gary Bridson-Daley author of, “A Debt of Gratitude to the Last Heroes.” And as part of my Debt of Gratitude Project going throughout the UK interviewing some of the last World War Two veterans I’ve been blessed to have interviewed over one hundred veterans from all services and backgrounds now of which Jim is one of them and is in that first book.
JFL: A fair amount isn’t it?
GBD: It’s not bad is it, Jim. Eh? Yeah.
JFL: Yeah.
GBD: It’s great.
JFL: You’ve interviewed a lot of guys.
GBD: And ladies too. Yes.
JFL: Yeah.
GBD: And it’s been an absolute honour and privilege to do so. It’s also a great thing to be able to help the IBCC with, with introducing veterans such as I have done today and Jim now, to help with their fantastic work. And anything we can always do to help people that are doing things for our veterans and to capture these precious stories for posterity and for the future and for the country and generations yet to come is a great thing, and I’m very honoured to be a part of it in my project and in helping others with theirs. So I’m going to hand over to Jim Latimer who was Halifax bombers, forty six missions. Bomb aimer. And now handing over for the interview to be done with Brian. And I just wanted to have a little, little part of that. Just —
JFL: Yeah.
GBD: Because it’s so special and they’re such good friends. That’s it. Well, thank you. Brian, over to you. Jim, enjoy the interview.
JFL: Yeah. Ok, Brian.
BW: Ok, Jim. Just to start off for us could you give us your full name, date of birth and service number please?
JFL: Yeah. It’s James Ferguson Latimer. What’s the next one?
BW: Date of birth.
JFL: Oh yeah. 21 12 ’23.
BW: And do you recall your service number at all?
JFL: Yeah. 1551478.
BW: Great. Thank you. And where were you born Jim?
JFL: I was actually born in Scotland.
JL: Edinburgh.
BW: And how many people were in your family? I mean obviously mum and dad?
JFL: Yeah.
BW: But any brothers and sisters?
JFL: There was two brothers. One came, another brother came later but one.
JL: Who are you talking about?
JFL: We emigrated. Well, I was only a tot of four or five years old and my parents emigrated to Toronto in Canada. Ontario. My dad had a good job over there.
BW: What did he do?
JFL: He worked on tall buildings. I don’t know what, exactly what was, I don’t know what his trade or profession was or anything like that.
JL: Sheet metal.
JFL: It was what?
JL: Sheet metal worker.
JFL: Yeah. That’s what he was originally. Sheet metal worker but there was a lot of building. Skyscrapers going up in Toronto at the time which was way back in the 20s. And he had a good job out there. That was the reason for emigration. There wasn’t much in Scotland where they originally came from. So they wanted to emigrate which is what they did.
BW: So there was you and two brothers.
JFL: Yeah.
BW: Any sisters? Or did they come later?
JFL: No sisters. No.
BW: And where did you go to school out there?
JFL: In the York township which is just north of Toronto.
BW: And when did you leave school? It was common in the UK for people to leave school at fourteen but what happened with you?
JFL: I think I was fifteen when I left High School and when the [pause] when the war started, or it was just before the war started it was obvious there was going to be a war with, with what was going on with Hitler and our Prime Minister here. My parents decided to come back to, well they came back to England. So the war had just started I think when we came back to Great Britain.
BW: And did you look for work or were you working at that, at that time when you came back? Or did you continue in education or anything?
JFL: I was still at, still going to school then at that time. I can’t remember how old I was.
BW: Do you recall whereabout you moved to?
JFL: I was —
BW: Did you, did you come to the north west of the UK at all or were you elsewhere in the country? Where did your dad and the family settle?
JFL: Came from Edinburgh because my parents originally came from Edinburgh, and then went over to Canada and my dad had a job at Toronto. I was at school. My brothers were at school, and I was, I went to High School. I did five years in high school which is like, I don’t know the equivalent in England. Grammar School. Something like that. And then the war, the war with Hitler you can, it was on the cards there was going to be a war. So for some reason or other, I don’t know why, my parents wanted to come back to Scotland and I wasn’t, I wasn’t very old then, and I had to had two brothers at the time. And the war started and we came back with the war being on. German subs were having a ball out there. Torpedoed a lot, an awful lot of merchant, merchant ships. I always remember I was only, I can’t remember, nine or ten on the ship on my way back to the British Isles, and I went up on the deck with my brother just looking at the Atlantic Ocean if you like and this, this ship passed on its way to either the States or Canada and they only got as far as the horizon. We were stood watching it. It was torpedoed. It just blew up. So all the poor guys on it they never had a chance. A U-boat obviously torpedoed it. And then —
BW: Was it a civilian ship?
JFL: I don’t really know at the time. It was, it could have been a passenger ship that passed us but it might just have been a merchant ship. Difficult to know. But it just got to the sky line. The next thing the sun, the sun had gone down and it just lit up the sky with being torpedoed. Poor guys.
BW: And from living in Edinburgh what prompted you to join the RAF? Were you minded to join any other service or was it specifically the RAF you wanted?
JFL: I’m just trying to think now. Yeah. I joined, I joined the Air Force here in Manchester. I was at Heaton Park. That’s where [pause] young guys from all over the world came to Heaton Park. If they were in bomber, if they were going to be in Bomber Command, you know. They came from South Africa, Australia, New Zealand. They all came to Heaton Park. So I was at Heaton Park there for a while waiting to be sent out to whatever flying base was available. And —
BW: And was that for your basic training?
JFL: Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I did quite a bit of basic training.
BW: And when did you move to your sort of trade training to become a bomb aimer?
JFL: A bit vague. A bit vague on it. I was aircrew for a start so I don’t know why or, why or how I became an air bomber but that’s what I did.
BW: I believe you trained initially on Wellington bombers.
JFL: Yeah. Originally. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. We went even, the Germans had occupied France so we were, we flew. Started off with Wellingtons. We used to fly over France. And when we were bombing armament factories in France because the Germans had taken over. That’s how I started with flying. And then later on went on to Halifaxes. Big planes. And —
BW: What do you recall of the Wellingtons? What were they, what were they like?
JFL: Well, they were alright. Two engines. They were a bit, eventually a bit obsolete. It was all four engines. So that’s where, where we got to. So the, it was four engined going over Germany.
BW: And your first mission. Your first operation was as you say over occupied France but —
JFL: Yeah.
BW: I wanted to ask a bit about your time while you were at the base in Yorkshire. At Pocklington.
JFL: Yeah.
BW: Because you joined 102 Squadron.
JFL: That’s right. Yeah.
BW: Now, there’s, you said you were starting on Halifaxes at this time.
JFL: That’s right yeah because of the —
BW: Can you recall the names of the other members of the crew? The pilot and —
JFL: I can’t remember them now offhand.
BW: Your pilot was Flight Sergeant Mitchell.
JFL: Yeah. I remember that. Yeah. Yeah. But the, the two gunners. The two gunners I can’t remember. One was Scottish. The other guy was, I think he was from South Africa. A lot of them came over from different parts of the world to join up.
BW: If I read some of the names of the crew would you recognise or know anything about them? William McCorkindale.
JFL: Yeah. He was the engineer I think. Little Scottish guy.
BW: And RW Scott.
JFL: I’m sorry?
BW: RW Scott. Flight Sergeant Scott.
JFL: No. I can’t.
BW: No.
JFL: Oh, Scott. I vaguely remember him but I’m not sure. No.
BW: Mitchell was your pilot.
JFL: That’s right. Yeah.
BW: Maguire.
JFL: Yeah.
BW: Who, where was Maguire in the aircraft?
JFL: Sorry?
BW: Where was Maguire in the aircraft?
JFL: I think he was the rear gunner I think.
BW: And Flight Sergeant Thornton?
JFL: What was that again?
BW: Flight Sergeant Thornton. AF Thornton.
JFL: I’m not quite sure now.
BW: And the other was Kellard. Sergeant Kellard.
JFL: Yeah. I can’t remember the names now.
BW: Ok. Do you recall how you met each other? Normally you’d be left alone to sort of crew up they called it. Do you remember how you met your other crewmates?
JFL: I’m a bit vague on it. [pause] We were stationed at Heaton Park. That’s where, from the British Empire they all, they all came to Heaton Park from South Africa, Australia, New Zealand. This is where they ended up. And from, from there then they were sent to different airfields eventually. And the airfield I was sent to was, I can’t remember the name of it now. It was in the Midlands. England. And we were on Wellingtons. The two engine Wellingtons. And we did quite a few ops there. Mainly over France. Germany had occupied France then and there was a lot of munitions workers in the south east of France and that, that was our target. So that’s what I was on to start off with. And then from there we graduated to [pause] that was, those were Wellingtons. Yeah. Then I was on Halifaxes then. Four engine bomber.
BW: What were they like to fly in as crew? How did you find it? Was it, was it pretty cramped?
JFL: Cramped? No. No. No, there was plenty of room. It was alright. Yeah. Yeah.
BW: I’m going to show you a couple of pictures. One is of a Halifax, and the other is of crew positions inside.
JFL: Yeah.
BW: And just see if these prompt any recollections for you.
JFL: Yeah.
BW: The one you’ve got in your left hand of the crew position. That’s the flight engineer.
JFL: Oh.
BW: And then underneath that will be the bomb aimer’s position in the front of the aircraft.
JFL: Yeah. Which is —
BW: Does that —
JFL: Which is the front? I can’t make it out [pause] Well, when we, when we got to within a mile of the target I had to go down to the nose of the aircraft, lie down flat and the bombsight had a few figures in it. We had to adjust the bomb sight and then when we got within a mile going near into the city we had to fly straight and level and it would probably sorry [noise] very slow. The speed, the speed was slowed right down in order to get to the target to make sure the bombs were in the right position. So when we got to within so many, a mile perhaps from the target the bomb, the bomb aimer or the air bomber he was called, the bomb aimer he took over. Guiding. He was guiding the plane then so he was telling the pilot, ‘Left. Left. Right. Right.’ whatever, to get, get the bomb, the bombsight so that it was directly in front of the target. And then when you got the bombsight steady at all you could visualise it. You could see that from the nose of the plane and once you got just before, just before the target you dropped your bombs. So as they were going down they were going that way as well and they hit the target hopefully. And then I always said, ‘Bombs gone. Let’s go.’ The pilot turned around and off we went back.
BW: You had to keep the aircraft straight and level.
JFL: Oh, very straight. Yeah. For a mile or so.
BW: Yeah. After you’d dropped the bombs.
JFL: Going on to the target. Yeah. Yeah. A Lot of anti-aircraft coming up as well. An awful lot. We were peppered with anti-aircraft. And I saw two or three of our own bombers, Fokke Wolf 190s, you know the German fighter planes, they were swarming around and I saw, I always remember two or three of our bombers were shot down. I saw them going down, and in one of them I think, a guy, a guy I was very friendly with and I saw him going down to be killed. Crashed. I always remember that. I knew it was. I could see which plane it was. It was a Halifax and he was in it. That was the end of him.
BW: Did you see any parachutes at all?
JFL: Oh yeah. The odd one or two. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
BW: That particular raid would have been detailed. That particular raid was to Braunschweig and that was in August.
JFL: Where was it?
BW: Braunschweig [pause] It was in August 1944.
JFL: Yeah.
BW: And it was a night raid.
JFL: Yeah. Well, most, most of them were night raids. Yeah. Of course —
BW: The, there were two sergeants in the aircraft you described who were killed. One whose name was Craig and the other Curphey. Do you know which of those two might have been your mate?
JFL: I’m not sure now. Very vague about it.
BW: Ok. I’m going to show you a diagram of the bomb aimer’s position in a Halifax. Does that bring back any memories?
[pause]
BW: It shows the position that you would have been in in the aircraft.
JFL: Yeah.
BW: You say laid down and looking out the Perspex nose.
JFL: Is the Perspex still here?
BW: Yes.
JFL: Yeah.
BW: And your control panel was on the left.
JFL: That’s right. Yeah. Yeah. So you used to lie down there actually ‘til a mile or so from the target. The air bomber more or less took over the plane. Guiding, guiding the pilot with, ‘Left. Left. Right. Left.’ Whatever. To make sure he was right on the target.
BW: Did you ever feel particularly vulnerable in that sort of position because you’re laid down, head practically out of the aircraft apart from the Perspex canopy in front? How, how did it feel to be in that position over a target?
JFL: Yeah. It did. Actually, it never, it never bothered me. I don’t know why. Used to be, you were busy guiding. Guiding the plane in to make sure you’re getting it right. ‘Left. Right.’ You just tell, tell the pilot move over to the left a bit or move over to the right a bit until you’re right over the target. And then just before you hit the target it’s bombs away, and you used to follow them right down. And nine times out of ten they hit the target. Mostly coastal targets. There was a lot of coastal targets. And then eventually it became routine.
BW: Did you ever have to tell the pilot to go around again to make a second run? Perhaps because there was smoke over the target or obscuring it. Did you have to make a second run at all?
JFL: No. I don’t think I ever had to do that. No. No. No. By then there was a lot of German fighters trying to get at us. They were all hovering all around. They did get quite a few but some of us were lucky.
BW: And could you see [pause] could you see the fighters around you? Could you make them out?
JFL: The German fighters?
BW: Yeah.
JFL: Yeah.
BW: Or were you just able to see the gunfire?
JFL: No, I could see. Could see the fighters.
BW: And —
JFL: And once we’d dropped the bombs it was a case of turn around, put the nose down and get away. Get as much speed as you could to get away. Then we had, the rear gunner was very good. The mid-upper gunner was also very good. And you could see the German fighters trying to get a bead on us but our own, our own bombers, the machine gunners they kept them, kept the German planes off as much as they could. I did see one or two of our own boys going down. One, one bomber plane that went down, one of the guys in it was a friend. A good friend of mine. And I could see him, I couldn’t see him but he was in it and that was the end of him.
BW: Could you see the searchlights at all? Were you, were you ever actually what they called coned in searchlights? Were you picked out at all and locked on?
JFL: Yeah, you could. There were, there were plenty of searchlights from the Germans. They had encampments with machine guns and bomber guns and anti-aircraft guns and they were usually lit up. They didn’t do a lot of damage but they sent up enough to catch, used to be a lot of holes in the plane. Fortunately, didn’t get to the right place for them.
BW: And the searchlights were coloured differently. Did you see any blue searchlights at all?
JFL: Any — ?
BW: Blue searchlights.
JFL: Blue?
BW: Yeah.
JFL: I can’t remember to tell you the truth. I remember lots of searchlights but I don’t know about blue searchlights.
BW: The gunners would occasionally if they saw a light coming towards them or a fighter coming towards them would instruct the pilot to take evasive action or corkscrew. Did that ever happen with you?
JFL: I’ve no recollection of that. No. Not really.
BW: So you were quite lucky that you never got properly bounced by fighters.
JFL: Yeah. I could see fighters. Not, most, most of the, it was mostly night flying. We did go on to daylight flying again when the invasion took place with the Yanks invading the French coast to get the, to make a start on getting the Germans out. And we did a lot of, we used to go low flying over the, over the Channel but then zoom up and bomb the German army. It was all daylight because the Yanks, the Yanks and the Canadians and the British were all on their way over the English Channel to get rid of the Germans. They suffered. They suffered a lot of damage then too. Our job was to bomb the German guns. The big guns up on the cliffs which is what we did.
BW: And when you were low flying over France on the way in to the target during the daylight. Do you recall much of what you could see? Whether there were any vehicles or movements on the ground or anything like that?
JFL: On the Channel?
BW: On the French mainland.
JFL: Oh, the French coast.
BW: On the French mainland when you approached the target what kind of things could you see?
JFL: Well, the Germans were, they were retreating. You could see that, and you could see the, the Yanks and the Canadians coming over on small, small boats to attack the Germans on, on the beaches. We could see all that. Then of course we had to, we got so far we used to climb right up because they had a lot of big heavy guns at the top of the hills and they were causing damage so we went up quite high. Came down to bomb them to knock their guns out. And that’s how it was.
BW: You were also as a air bomber or bomb aimer as they called them.
JFL: Yeah.
BW: To and from the target you’d also be manning the front guns wouldn’t you?
JFL: I’m sorry?
BW: You would also be manning the front gun wouldn’t you? The nose gun.
JFL: Yeah. I could. Yeah, they did that too. Yeah. Used to use that. Yeah.
BW: And did you ever have cause to use it on the way in? Keep a fighter away or anything like that?
JFL: Not, not so much because we had a mid-upper gunner and a rear gunner of course so they did most of the shooting against the enemy.
BW: So most of your ops were over occupied France, and there were a number into Germany.
JFL: Yeah.
BW: Would you say there was a noticeable difference between your targets in France and those in Germany?
[pause]
JFL: Well, the ones in France they were very, very military but when we went, when we flew to Germany there was a different sections of cities we had to bomb. A lot along the North Sea and mainly military targets. But that’s how it was.
BW: And were they quite long missions for you?
JFL: The night missions were very long. They were very long. And of course then it all changed when the Yanks came over. We did all daylight missions. And we, as the Germans were retreating we were flying during the day, bombing the Germans as, as they tried to get back to their own country. And there was pockets of British soldiers and Yankee soldiers that, they got cut off by the Germans. They were in big trouble and we were, had to go out to help them. I remember that. So —
BW: And were you bombing enemy troops?
JFL: Yeah.
BW: Fairly close to where the Allied lines were or —
JFL: That’s right. Yeah. Not far off. Yeah.
BW: And did, were you able to see the bombs land accurately?
JFL: Oh yes. We were quite low. Yeah.
BW: What sort of height would you think you were at?
JFL: Oh dear [pause] A thousand feet [pause] Over. Quite, quite low we were because we were. Yeah.
BW: And were there a lot of aircraft on those sorts of raids or was it just like a small number of aircraft from the squadron?
JFL: Yeah. There wasn’t a lot of raids. Not a lot of raids flying in it but as the Germans retreated we kept going in and, to try and stop them from getting back to their own Maginot, not the Maginot, that’s a French line, getting back to their own line. So we had to keep intercepting them and they had heavy guns all the way around everywhere they were and they did a bit of damage with those. But we got rid of a lot of the guns that the Germans were using, because the Yanks and the British Army and Canadian Army they were all coming in now to fight their way to the Maginot Line. And we helped out on that.
BW: So, on those sorts of raids I believe you flew on a couple of times in larger raids with Americans. A combined sort of RAF and American type raid. Did you see any difference in the way the Americans flew?
JFL: Oh, definitely. Yeah. Yeah. Sitting ducks. That’s how you can describe them. Sitting ducks. They flew in a straight line and they didn’t, they didn’t do any manoeuvring. Just kept flying straight. And the German fighters they had a, took a lot of, took a lot of the Americans down with the [pause] We flew individually. We didn’t fly as a squadron. We flew in between different heights. But the Americans came in perfect they were but they never, never altered their position and the German fighters really tore in to them. An awful lot of Yanks shot down.
BW: So the looser formation that the RAF used allowed them greater manoeuvrability if you were attacked, whereas the Americans —
JFL: Yeah.
BW: Didn’t do that.
JFL: They didn’t have that. Yeah. Of course when we flew at night we didn’t fly as, we flew individually in the dark. The British Air Force. The Americans when they, when they started night flying they flew as a squadron and they were easy targets for the German fighters.
BW: And when you got back to base what kind of things happened then? What sort of things would happen on the way back from the targets and then landing?
JFL: Well, you got, you’ve still got the German fighters chasing you, trying to get a bead on to you. I remember the very first op we were on. We were up and down all the way back so this particular German fighter he chased us all the way back to the Channel, the English Channel. And we had to manoeuvre up and down just to keep him, so that he couldn’t get a sight on us and as we got within half a mile of the Channel he gave up on it and turned around and went back to Germany, thank goodness. But —
BW: So you were chased all the way home.
JFL: Yeah. I was. Yeah. Yeah. We were quite, this was what we were doing all the way back so he couldn’t get a sight on us.
BW: And when you eventually did land what kind of things would happen then?
JFL: When we landed, when we got out the plane and came over to, the CO was there and there would be, we were interviewed for, they wanted to know what happened and the medical officer was on site in case anybody was, anybody was hurt. And the —
BW: And what were the debriefings like? Did they give you a good interrogation about what you’d seen?
JFL: Yeah. A debriefing. Yeah. Yeah. Yes. They wanted to know various things. How it went and what happened. And the man with a collar. He was always there for, we had to, we had to have a prayer for safe landing. He gave us a prayer. We were very, very lucky I think. Very lucky.
BW: When you got back to your billets were you accommodated as crews altogether, or were you kept as say bomb aimers in one hut and flight engineers in another hut or did you all stay together as a crew?
JFL: We were more or less as a crew. Yeah. Yeah. Well, most, most of the, most of the flights up until the invasion when the Yanks came it was all night flying and we used to get back about 2 or 3 o’clock in the morning. And by then of course we were very tired. So after being interviewed by [pause] whoever we went to bed.
BW: Did you ever get a chance to socialise much as a crew? Were there events on at the base and dances and things?
JFL: Yeah. There was the odd one or two dances. Yeah. But unfortunately I had two left feet. At the time. My wife was a very good dancer so eventually when I became a civilian I picked up on the dancing and I did alright but during the war we used to, there was always dances going on and we used to go and mainly just stood there looking at them and watching it. That’s all.
BW: And you flew a few raids with 102 Squadron, and then you were transferred to 462 Squadron.
JFL: Yeah. That sounds about, yeah 462.
BW: And there was one of those where, one of those sorties or ops where you came back and the aircraft went off the runway.
JFL: Yes. It left. It left the runway [laughs]
BW: Was this on, was this on landing?
JFL: The brakes. I think the brakes must have gone. The brakes went on it so we left the runway at, we were doing almost a hundred miles an hour when we left the runway and we went over quite a few fields bumpety bumpety bumpety. And eventually when the pilot, he was, he’d given up. It was too much for him. So I was sat beside him. I just kept the plane straight and then —
BW: So the pilot bottled it and you took over the controls.
JFL: Yeah. Well, just I was steering it. Yeah. Yeah. And then when we got to, over two or three fields I turned the plane around and it stopped dead because we didn’t know what was going to happen otherwise because it was still moving at a good pace. Anyway, I pulled the wheel around and it stopped. And that was it. And then the fire, the fire people came over to make sure the plane wasn’t on fire.
BW: I mean if it’s gone over two or three fields.
JFL: Yeah.
BW: Off the end of the runway. That’s some fair distance.
JFL: Yeah. It was a fair distance. Yeah. Yeah.
BW: Did you still have any bombs on board or anything like that?
JFL: No. We had, I don’t think we had anything on board. I think we got rid of everything. Yeah.
BW: Because there was an instance in your logbook where you noted that you were loaded with the bombs on board. Landed with the bomb load. But obviously not on that occasion.
JFL: Yeah. I’m trying to remember. I know [pause] One. We were over Germany but we’d bombed the target, but one of the bombs was, was hung up. It hadn’t dropped and it was on the plane with us and of course you daren’t land with it. It would have blown us all up. So Joe, I climbed, I climbed down and got outside the plane, turned the trap door and I was outside. I managed to release the bomb and it went down and it landed. I could see where it landed. I was outside the plane and I could see where the bomb landed. Right in a German village. That wasn’t very nice. We couldn’t have landed with the bomb because it would have exploded, exploded on landing. We had to get rid of it. And the engineer, our engineer he wouldn’t go and do it. He should have done it really. It was his job. But he wasn’t going outside the plane to do it. I was at a high field so I never gave it a thought. I said, ‘I’ll go down.’ I went down, got through the trap door, I was outside and —
BW: This was in the bomb bay though wasn’t it with the bomb bay open?
JFL: Yeah. Yeah.
BW: Yeah.
JFL: Yeah. I managed to release the bomb. I can’t remember the details now and I followed it down and it, there was like a German village. It must have blown an awful lot of houses up. It was quite a big bomb. So I climbed back up again.
BW: And that’s, that must have been, I’m assuming that, that was after the target and this particular bomb had not released. So you’re still over Germany heading on the way home.
JFL: That’s right.
BW: That’s when you had to go down into the bomb bay.
JFL: Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
BW: To sort this out.
JFL: Yeah. There was just this one bomb. I can’t remember how we knew. But we all knew we had to get rid of it. We couldn’t, we couldn’t land.
BW: And from moving from 462 Squadron you then went up to Leuchars in Scotland.
JFL: That’s right. Yeah.
BW: To join [pause] the Air Sea Rescue Unit there. Is that right?
JFL: That’s right. Just for a short period. Yeah. Yeah.
BW: And what do you, what do you recall of that? That period.
JFL: Not a lot really because it was very peaceful.
BW: It would be quite a change from where you had been before.
JFL: We went, there was two or three of us. We went out with the Air Sea Rescue Teams, and we were flying around, not flying, moving around the North Sea. And we didn’t have any incidents that I can recall.
BW: So how did you then come to leave the RAF?
JFL: Leave?
BW: Yeah. You left in 1946.
JFL: Yeah. That’s right.
BW: Were you just demobbed or were you offered the chance to stay in?
JFL: I think we may have been but there was also demobbing, so I think I’d had enough for four or five years. I can’t remember how. So I was very fortunate.
BW: So when, do you recall how you met Jean? Your wife. Was that during the war or was it after?
JFL: No. It was during the war. All aircrew from all over the world — Australia, everywhere, south, South Africa. They all came to Heaton, Heaton Park. Aircrew. Potential aircrew. And that’s where of course I was. Heaton Park. And this friend I had made, he was, he was just walking down to what they called Sedgley Park. That’s not far from here. He was billeted in this particular house. They’d taken over a lot of houses and they had to let [pause] let them, give them up, they had to give them a bedroom. They’d no choice. The house keeper. I just said I’d walk, walk down with him for a walk and the, when we got to the house which wasn’t, not that far, there’s the daughter of the person from the house she came out. She was speaking. She had already met him because he was, he was billeted in their house. And the next thing I know this other girl came along and she was a friend of this first girl. And it was Jean. Do you remember Jean?
BW: And so —
JFL: She doesn’t remember.
BW: You married I believe in, I believe you married in 1948.
JFL: I think so. Yeah.
BW: And what, what other occupations did you have after, after the war?
JFL: Well, I wasn’t, I wasn’t trained for anything. I bought the, there was a [pause] it was a shop and it sold magazines, books, cigarettes, that type of shop it was.
JL: Yeah. Like [unclear]
JFL: Sorry
JL: Do you remember?
JFL: What?
JL: The newspaper. The wholesaler.
JFL: Jean. Jean’s father, who was a business man he, he bought the good will of the shop for me. Which was very very nice. He was a [pause] he had a biscuit factory.
BW: And he had a biscuit factory in —
JFL: He did. Yeah. In Manchester.
BW: Yeah.
JFL: He was a very clever guy. Yeah. He built all his own machinery for making biscuits. He did. He did it all. And he did, he was quite wealthy. And he got me started on the retail shop and I had that type of business ever since.
BW: And how long were you in the retail trade for?
JFL: I’ve got a, it must have been, I was in my seventies when I gave it up. I never had a trade.
BW: And now that we’re looking at commemorations for aircrew of Bomber Command how do you think that’s been. Is it something you welcome?
JFL: What was that?
BW: Now that we’re having the commemorations for Bomber Command and such like and there are now Memorials and such like being built to them how do you, how do you feel about that?
JFL: Yeah. I think I quite like that. Yeah. Yeah.
BW: I suppose it’s about time really isn’t it?
JFL: Sorry?
BW: I suppose it’s about time.
JFL: It’s —?
BW: It’s about time.
JFL: Oh yeah. Yeah. Yeah. That’s my logbook over there is it?
BW: Yeah.
JFL: Yeah. I thought I’d brought it in for you.
BW: Well, what I’ll do is I’ll end the interview there and I’ll look to photograph your logbook as well.
JFL: Right.
BW: But I just want to say that, you know on behalf of the Bomber Command Centre to thank you very much for your time and for your recollections. It’s been great to interview you.
JFL: Yeah.
BW: And very helpful for the Centre so thank you.
JFL: Oh, you’re welcome. Yeah.
[recording paused]
JFL: Ontario. About fifty miles from Toronto. That’s right. I come from Toronto.
GBD: Ok. Yeah.
JFL: And that’s where we did the flying.
JL: You went to Jasper Park.
JFL: Sorry?
JL: That’s where you trained. That’s where you trained [unclear] carry on.
GBD: You trained at Jasper Park.
JFL: Oh, yeah. Yeah. Yeah.
GBD: You won a special award for accurate bomb aiming. You were given an award for accurate bomb aiming.
JFL: Yeah. I got something for bombing. Yeah. I tried, I tried to go solo to be a pilot but yeah, they were very fussy about it.
BW: So you originally wanted to be a pilot.
JFL: Yeah. That’s what I asked for. So what I’d be, while I was being trained I didn’t quite make the grade for being a pilot. I went solo once. That was very brave of me [laughs] going solo. I managed to land a Tiger Moth.
GBD: Right. That’s good.
JFL: Yeah.
GBD: Which places do you remember on your bombing missions over Europe by name? Which, off the top of your head which bases can you remember flying to on operations?
JFL: Oh. The German city on the [pause] it’s, it was a coastal town.
BW: Kiel.
JFL: Kiel. You got it in one. Yeah. I think so. Did a lot of bombs there. A lot of bombing.
GBD: And I remember you told me as well that you were bombing in the Villers-Bocage in France.
JFL: Pardon?
GBD: The Villers-Bocage in France.
JFL: Yeah.
GBD: When the, when the allied troops were pinned down by the Germans in the battle of the hedgerows around there.
JFL: Oh yeah. That’s right.
GBD: You guys were sent to bomb Villers-Bocage as well.
JFL: Yeah. Yeah. Then we had to stop the, when the German army was in retreat, when the allies, the Yanks and the Canadians invaded across the Channel they eventually pushed the Germans back so it was our job to stop them. Stop the German army from getting to the bridge before they could all go over. Then they would have blown the bridge up and we couldn’t have got at them so we had to stop them doing that. Which we did do.
GBD: Because you were active around Falaise as well I think I remember you saying. Around Falaise Gap as the German armies are trying to escape out there.
JFL: Yeah.
GBD: You hit them very heavily there as well.
JFL: Yeah. A bit vague.
BW: Can you remember any other places at all where you saw action? Anywhere by name that might be of interest to anyone listening.
JFL: Well, I did a lot of night bombing of course. That’s what I did that for two or three years. Night bombing.
JL: Do you know, Guy —
GBD: Hmmn?
JL: We ended up with five shops.
BW: I’m going to show you this picture of a bomb aimer. Does that look like the sort of position and place in the aircraft you’d be? Does anything about that jog your memory?
JFL: Is it, is it the nose of the aircraft and he’s lying down?
GBD: Do you want to borrow these?
JFL: No [laughs] it’s alright.
GBD: Are you sure?
JFL: Yeah. Yeah.
BW: You’ve got your instrument panel, your control panel to one side, and the bomb release button in the other.
JFL: Yeah. Well, the release button was there. When we got, when I got in the nose of the plane and it was all set up. It was quite sophisticated as well. Very accurate. I remember something about this. I’m not sure what it was now.
GBD: Does that look like the position you were in though when you were — does that look similar to the position you were in?
JFL: Yeah. It was lying flat.
GBD: Right.
JFL: Yeah.
BW: Because it was said that the bombing was often inaccurate. But from your recollections and what you’re saying is that the equipment you had and from what you could see the bombing was accurate.
JFL: Oh, I think so. Yeah. Yeah. Because just had to, well once you got down you got down a mile or so from the target. You got on to your stomach and you were lying flat and you were just telling, telling the pilot to go, ‘Left. Right.’ Whatever. Port. Starboard. Steady. And you’d just got to go steady until you got the what do you call it?
BW: The cross hairs?
JFL: They bombsight. Yeah. God. It was the very latest one and it was very accurate and you were looking through the bombsight and telling the pilot to do what he has to do. Left. Right. Whatever. And then when you get to the target the right position you pressed the button, the bombs go down and theoretically you should hit the target straight on which most of them did. But —
BW: Did you get any feedback or instructions say from a Master Bomber who might have been a Pathfinder aircraft or were they instructing you to bomb say on flares?
JFL: Daylight flying there was a Pathfinder. There was a, one in charge and you followed him but we didn’t do that. That’s what the Yanks did. Most of my bombing was night bombing and it was individual. The planes were all individuals. We were going to the same target but there was no formation or anything. But then we did some, went on to daylight flying with the, as it got well into the war we used to fly, fly with the Yanks. They —
[pause]
GBD: Did you not use any Pathfinders for your night time bombing? Was there not any kind of help from them on certain targets?
JFL: Yeah. There was, the Pathfinders. They went in first. They dropped their bombs which lit up the target and as you got close to it you could see the target then because there was a lot of fire going on. And the Pathfinders did a good job because they were, they had to circle around the city you know and the German fighters were there waiting for them and they still had to sit, circle round. They couldn’t do much else. So it was dangerous. A very dangerous job they had. The Pathfinders.
GBD: Absolutely.
JFL: Yeah. They lit up the towns or city for us so we had a target to see.
GBD: Got you.
JFL: Yeah.
GBD: And do you have any other specific recollections of anything quite significant that happened? Certain incidents or certain strong memories about a particular thing that happened during any of your missions that you can share with us?
JFL: I can’t. I’d have to think about it now. It’s long ago.
GBD: Does anything stand out? Any particular memory of anything that happened?
JFL: Well, each, each bombing trip was much the same as the previous one. You were still very alert all the time. Couldn’t relax. You were watching for German fighters. There was always German fighters about.
GBD: Right. And you were saying your aircraft was peppered with holes. A lot of it.
JFL: Yeah.
GBD: So you must have come under direct attack.
JFL: Yeah. Yeah. They came in sideways and underneath you, and over the top of you.
GBD: So that must have been very frightening.
JFL: Yeah.
GBD: For someone young. Of your age. All aircrews obviously. To experience that.
JFL: Yeah.
GBD: What was that like when you were under attack from German aircraft?
JFL: The two, two machine gunners in our plane, Halifax they, they did their best to keep them off. So the Germans fighters couldn’t get too close because we had two [pause] two gunners on the plane, the tail end and the mid-upper gunner. And they did good work keeping the German fighters at a distance. They couldn’t come too close. They’d get machine gunned.
GBD: They must have done a very good job because you’re still sat with us here all these years later.
JFL: Yeah. Yeah.
GBD: How do you feel to have actually survived forty six missions because that’s quite something? Forty six ops.
JFL: Well —
GBD: Some didn’t survive more than five. Many didn’t survive more than ten.
JFL: I think when you’re a youngster it doesn’t bother you too much.
GBD: But looking back now.
JFL: Sorry?
GBD: Looking back now how does that, any thoughts about that? How do you feel of all those operations and you saw your friends going down?
JFL: Yeah.
GBD: But you were very lucky.
JFL: Yeah.
GBD: Because I know Remembrance means a lot to you.
JFL: Yeah. I saw a good friend of mine. He was, he went down. That was, that was very upsetting but you seemed to take it in your stride. I don’t know. There were some, a lot of, a lot of aircrew refused to fly. Quite a lot of aircrew.
BW: Why did they, why did they refuse to fly?
JFL: When they saw the targets they wouldn’t go. And they were, they were put in the, in the station prison if they didn’t fly. I don’t remember what happened to them but they were locked up in the prison if they, if they, if they refused to fly. When they’d seen where the target was they wouldn’t go.
BW: So if you’re in the briefing room and the popular view of the briefing room is a large hall with a lot of young aircrew.
JFL: Yeah.
BW: Sat there waiting for the CO to brief for the target for tonight, if you like. And the curtain goes back. How did the guys make it known that they didn’t want to fly? I’m assuming they didn’t just get up and walk out but what?
JFL: Well, they probably waited until, until it was finished with. Then instead of going back to their bedroom or whatever you’d like to call it they went to the guardroom and gave themselves up to be locked up. And that took some doing as well. There was always three or four of them, but they just wouldn’t fly. So —
BW: So not necessarily the whole crew. Just maybe three or four from a crew.
JFL: Oh yeah. It could be, not necessarily the same crew.
BW: Ok.
JFL: Just very nervous. It was unfortunate.
BW: And was anything ever said about what would happen? Did for example the CO make any, or give any orders about guys who didn’t want to fly.
JFL: Do you know I’m a bit vague on that now. I always remember two or three guys which I knew they, they gave themselves up. They went to the guardhouse and asked to be locked up there. They wouldn’t fly. That took, that took some doing.
BW: But none of your guys. None of the guys in your crew.
JFL: No.
BW: Ever did that.
JFL: Not in our lot. No. No. I got in the line up to volunteer to go over to India.
GBD: Oh yeah.
JFL: To fly over there to bomb the Japs.
GBD: Ok.
BW: I think that was called Tiger Force wasn’t it?
JFL: That sounds familiar. Yeah. But I was, there must have been about ten or twelve of us in a line up just waiting to give our name and whatever and halfway, halfway through the line-up it came over the radio. The Japs had surrendered.
GBD: Ah yes.
JFL: So —
GBD: That was that.
JFL: No point. Didn’t have to go.
GBD: Right. Lucky you.
JFL: Yeah. Well, I volunteered to go because I was still in the Air Force but it, it never happened. Fortunately the Japs surrendered. Singapore.
GBD: And you ended up as a warrant officer.
JFL: Sorry?
GBD: You ended up as a warrant officer.
JFL: Yeah. Yeah.
GBD: So that’s good. You did quite well there. Yeah.
JFL: Yeah. I was certainly glad they surrendered.
GBD: So you didn’t have to —
[recording paused]
JFL: We were still in Germany. The next thing I know the nose of the plane, a shell had come right through it and I was stood halfway down the plane on the right hand starboard side. This German shell came through and just caught my ear and then hit the, hit the side of the plane. I’ve still got, I’ve got the marks here.
GBD: Wow. You were very lucky then.
JFL: Yeah. It just cut my ear off a little on one side. Yeah. It’s still, it’s still there to remind me.
Dublin Core
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Title
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Interview with James Ferguson Latimer
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Brian Wright
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2019-09-28
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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ALatimerJF190928, PLatimerJF1903
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01:21:46 audio recording
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eng
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Canada
France
Great Britain
England--Yorkshire
England--Manchester
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
Germany
Germany--Braunschweig
England--Lancashire
Description
An account of the resource
James Ferguson Latimer was born in Edinburgh. His family emigrated to Canada when he was young but moved back to Scotland in 1939. He recalls witnessing a German U-boat torpedo a ship as they sailed back home. Latimer joined the air force and completed basic training at RAF Heaton Park, initially hoping to be a pilot, but qualified as a bomb aimer. He trained on Wellingtons, before converting to Halifax. Latimer was stationed with 102 squadron, based at RAF Pocklington, and 462 squadron, completing 46 operations in total. He details his duty as the bomb aimer during operations, the differing flying tactics of British and American forces, and recollects a night-time operation in August 1944, where he observed a close friend’s plane crash over Braunschweig. He also describes low flying over the English Channel and bombing the German army to support D-Day. Latimer recollects a number of eventful operations including, taking control of the steering when the aircraft left the runway and the pilot lost his nerve, and volunteering to climb out of the aircraft while flying over Germany to release a bomb that had not dropped properly. After completing his operations, he recalls a posting at an Air Sea Rescue Unit in Scotland. Latimer left the RAF in 1946 as a warrant officer, married his wife in 1948, and opened a shop.
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Tilly Foster
Julie Williams
Temporal Coverage
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1939
1944-08
1946
1948
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Conforms To
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Pending revision of OH transcription
102 Squadron
462 Squadron
air sea rescue
aircrew
bomb aimer
bombing
Fw 190
Halifax
military service conditions
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
RAF Pocklington
shot down
submarine
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/843/10837/AGrayG160223.1.mp3
6e92d75aba3a539003690416ab8919c3
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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Gray, Gilbert
Gilbert A Gray
G A Gray
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with GIlbert Gray (- 2023, 1823011 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a flight engineer with 106 Squadron.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-02-12
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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Gray, G
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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GG: Up in Dunfermline, and that was within a stone’s throw, roughly three miles of ‘Bristle which is now the site of Dalgety Bay in the east.
Unknown: [Muffled speech]
BB: OK.
GG: And there was a constant stream of aircraft, and of course one. There was Hurricanes, Wellingtons, Martlets and so on. So I, In 1939 I entered, but War was declared on September the third, a few days. Nothing terribly much had been happening in the War, so the school reopened on October the 16th that day we heard strange noises in the sky and this was, in fact, the first raid on the mainland of Britain by Heinkels. At school I joined the Air Training Corps and had my very first flight at Donibristle, in a Swordfish, the open cockpit of a Swordfish. And after I left school I joined the Royal Observer Corps and served in the centre in Dunfermline. And we plotted all kinds of aircraft, from all sorts of aerodromes that existed in central Scotland. And we used to watch the track of what we called ‘Weather Willy’ over the North Sea. A German aircraft I presume collecting weather information. At eighteen and a half of course I enlisted. I was determined to be a pilot but I was told ‘We have too many pilots, they’re training all over the world, but if you want to go in right away you can go as an air gunner or a flight engineer.’ I chose flight engineer and in the middle of March I was off to Aircrew Recruiting Centre in London, the first time I had ever been away from home by myself. And there we were. We had our first introduction to discipline and that sort of thing, although I had been well served in the Air Training Corps because much of it I already knew. From ACRC we were soon sent up to Bridlington, to Initial Training Wing where we learned more of marching and aircraft recognition and weather, meteorology and that sort of thing. From there we were sent to flight engineers’ training at No 4 School of Technical Training at St Athan in South Wales. A course which last roughly six months or so in the course of which, well first part given over to instruction and various things mechanical, until the time came for us to be allocated to particular aircraft training. And I was fortunate enough to be selected to go on Lancasters and completed the training. And we marched past when we graduated with our sparkling new sergeant’s stripes. We got rid of our white cadets’ outfits and our caps and we had, of course, a flight engineer brevet to sew on so the needles were flying that night before the graduation. From there it was I think November 1943 or thereabouts, we were then sent to aircrew commanders school, so called at Scampton, the aerodrome from which the Dambusters flew on their great attack on the dams. Incidentally, I seem to remember as a boy, it must have been in 1942 when I was interested in aircraft, I heard a strange noise approaching from roughly the south, and lo and behold over the treetops came a vic of three Lancasters. And they rode over our house, virtually treetop height, and I can only believe that that was the Dambusters in one of their training flights before the Dambusters raid. Aircrew Commanders’ School, we had various physical training. We were kitted out there too, but at Christmas 1943 we were sent home for a short leave, after which I was posted to 1654 Heavy Conversion Unit at Wigsley, just outside Lincoln. And after some ground training there I flew for the first time in a Stirling which was a training aircraft there, dual controlled Stirlings. First flight February 23rd 1944. I was now in Bomber County. Well first flights in the Stirling were not all that exciting because I was very airsick. I had been crewed up with a Flying Officer Walters but I required medication so I was removed from that crew and had medical treatment and when I was deemed fit enough I joined Sergeant Brown’s crew. It was unusual for a pilot at that stage, to be simply a sergeant. However, Peter was an excellent pilot. I flew first with him on March the 3rd in 1944. And at this conversion unit we completed our eighteen exercises day and night, cross country’s, bombing practice and so on. Our bombing practice of course took place at Wainfleet on the Wash. No 5 Lanc finishing school came next where we met the Lancaster. And of course we were just amazed at its versatility after the fairly clumsy Stirling. And the thing I remember was that, I rather think our pilot, our instructor pilot was showing off a bit because we flew solo over the Wash, so we were leaving a wash literally behind us. And lifted the wing over Skegness pier, that sort of thing. But it was only a very short course only a few days really. I think about four days and of course we had been trained in three engine flying and that sort of thing because there was always a danger of losing an engine. Our short stay at Syerston led us to 106 Squadron based at Metheringham and one of the crews in No 54 base which as one then learned later was a rather, what one might call a crack [unclear] base which had Pathfinder squadrons. It had 617 Squadron and Mosquito as well. Unknown to us, we had been posted there five days after a rather disastrous attack as far as the squadron was concerned on I think it was, Schweinfurt, when five crews had been lost. And as we now know on one, in one of the aircraft was Warrant Officer Jackson, and we all know of his remarkable exploit resulting in the awarding of the Victoria Cross. Well we were one of the five crews moved to the squadron to replace the five crews that were lost on that night. A few days later having been acclimatised to the Lanc on the squadron and the various squadron procedures we were sent across to Coningsby to the 54 Base headquarters to pick up a brand new Lancaster straight from the factory. LL953 which was labelled with the squadron letters ZNC-Charlie. And that was on May the 4th in 1944. After a few exercises of getting used to, again squadron procedures and so on we were sent on our first operation on the 7th of May, a few days later. We were sent to a huge ammunition factory cum ammunition dump in the middle of France. Twelve of us were part of an attack of, I think fifty seven aircraft all together, but 106 sent twelve. Eight of us came back. We didn’t really realise it but very much in hindsight one realises that this was now really the beginning of the softening up process for the invasion that was due in June. We were beginning to take out targets which would cripple the enemy and protect the Normandy landing areas. As I say we lost four aircraft that night. Well in May 1997, fifty three years later I attended a memorial celebration at a tiny village called [?] the village where one of our crews had crashed that night. And this village wanted to remember these airmen, the seven airmen, by raising or by raising a memorial in their cemetery and by holding really a day long celebration. Fifty three years later in France the people wished to remember those lads. Those seven lads who were killed. Well two nights later and we begin to realise that we’re in a pretty hectic period we were sent to [?] which was on the outskirts of Paris and which was a big mechanical factory of, mainly of I believe of tanks and that sort of thing. This was a time when the authorities began to say ‘Well, these are easy trips to France compared with those who went to Berlin and other hotspots and so they decided that each operation now would be worth one third of an operation. Which meant that crews normally restricted to about thirty four would now be asked to do three times as many operations. However, about this time there was an attack on a military camp in Belgium at Burg airport and there was a very heavy loss of aircraft. I think if I remember correctly over forty aircraft where shot down in that attack. So, the authorities quickly changed their minds and realised this was a different situation because we were now operating within the fighter belts which were just as dangerous as the anti-aircraft resorts. We were sent, as I say we were really now in the, the leading up to the invasion, although we didn’t know it, so we were attacking railways as well. We were sent to Tours unfortunately our receiver went u/s and we had to be, had to turn back. But again on the 31st of May connected with the invasion we were sent to attack coastal batteries at Messe. But again we had trouble with our hydraulics and after attacking we were diverted to another aerodrome, to Chipping Warden, where we could land safely. But along came then D-Day. Just another operation as far as we were concerned. And we attacked the batteries at [?], which were on the American sector, where the Americans rangers had a dreadful time. But we, I remember, took off at two in the morning so we were there something like two hours before the attack on the ground took place. And we were flying on, it was a very cloudy morning, we were really flying between two layers of cloud we were at about ten thousand feet but we got a glimpse of their markers marking the aiming point and we attacked, I think successfully. But we soon went into cloud again. However, there we were out of the cloud at one point and four Fokker Wolf’s appeared. Fokker Wolf’s which was the German hotshot fighter.
BB: The 190’s?
GG: The 190 and two of them attacked and we saw their red tracers.
BB: Tracers.
GG: Coming towards us seemingly very, very slowly and when they reached us, [whooshing sound], past they went, luckily they missed us and our rear gunner was yelling ‘Get into the cloud, get into the cloud.’ And that we did and we got away safely. The next night on that, indeed on that very night, we were sent back to Caen where we were attacking the bridges, really quite low, about three thousand feet or so when we attacked, a lot of fighters about, and indeed we were attacked again by a Junkers 188 and we got some slight damage, the Perspex on the [unclear] above our heads in the cabin splintered and we got little cuts but nothing very much. So, we lost two aircraft that night, including our flight commander, Squadron Leader Sprawson, I remember. Anyway, that was really the invasion hotting up. The next few nights were very busy. 8th, 10th, 12th, 14th, 15th all evening attacks. Railways in Renne, railway junctions, Orleans. Ten of us from our squadron were sent to attack the railways south of Orleans, attack it, we attacked it for about thirty miles from one thousand feet and some of us, some of the crews were a bit more audacious, and went down to seven hundred. So, there was always a danger of being damaged by your own bombs. However, we did it and we tore up this railway line for about, as I say, thirty miles or so. Next night the same at Poitiers, more railways, Aunay-sur-Odon. On the 14th the armies were held up and there was a big concentration of troops gathered at this particular place, Aunay-sur-Odon, and we, it was a very heavy attack and we bombed I think from about seven thousand feet and the place was obliterated. This was part of the job of helping the armies to get through. Chateauroux fuel dumps, lots of fighters were out that night. And so it went on. We had done how many ops? About ten or so and it was time to be checked out by the wing commander. So, he took us up for an air test to see that we were behaving and performing well. And the aircraft we flew was AJG-George, held on our squadron. Which was the aircraft, that was, these were the letters of the aircraft which Wing Commander Gibson used in the bombing of the dams. He, of course, had been in the previous year, commander of 106 Squadron. However, at this time flying bombs came on the scene and London was being attacked and the South East of England was being attacked so some of our attacks now were switched to them.
BB: The V1 sites?
GG: The V1 sites [unclear] on the 18th of June. It was really quite difficult. The weather at this particular time was a hindrance I remember. But for these attacks, some which were to be made in daylight, our aircraft had their markings changed. The aircraft marking on the side of the aircraft, on 106 at any rate, was done in white. White letters, and on the tail fin it was repainted white with a green stripe, I presume so that different squadrons could be recognised. 21st of June, we’re back to the city. To the attacking of German industry, particularly the oil industry in Gelsenkirchen or a place called [unclear]. It was a terrifying night, because as we approached the target, I think I said in a letter back home I describe it as a red carpet set out for us. But it was a funny red carpet because it was a very dangerous one. This was the anti-aircraft fire over the target. But we had to turn towards it and go into it. Luckily, we got through it unharmed although our bomb aimer that spotted something had seemed ominous because he had noticed in front of us three successive anti-aircraft fire shells bursting in front of us in line with us. And he told the pilot ‘Look I think we’re being predicted here.’ The Germans could do that by fixing onto you and predicting your track. He says ‘I think we should turn a little bit to port.’ A few minutes later Wally at the back reported anti-aircraft explosion just where we probably had been. So, in that respect I suppose we were lucky, but on the way home, and as I now know, dead on track having done their attack. As we crossed the [unclear] Sea on the way home two of our aircraft were shot down by a night fighter. Of course, you or I back home you don’t know what’s happened to them. But many, many years, forty or fifty years later, I now know what happened to them because of links with a friend in the Netherlands. All that time later, from 1944 to 19, 2014 there came to be a message from the Netherlands from one, a gentleman called Beyard, who is an aircraft researcher. And he sent me an email containing a photograph of an electric motor. And it had come from a school who were doing a project because obviously the aircraft which had crashed nearby, in fact the two aircraft crashed very close to each other. The aircraft had been excavated, and the school now had possession of an electric motor. Where was it placed on the machine, on the aircraft? Now, I had to think now where would it be? But I was able to say well it had probably served various lighting, for example, in the aircraft and various bits and pieces of apparatus. And this developed into a real project, in fact a real memorial celebration in this village of [?] I think it was called. The school arranged this. I was invited by Herr Beyard to be connected with it because he had, in his research, tried to track down relatives of the crew but he couldn’t find anyone and the only one he could find who took part in that attack on that night was myself. And so, to cut a long story short I sent an article to them to be used in the ceremony and it was translated into Dutch and Mr Beyard recited it at the ceremony which was a very large, turned out to be a very large ceremony I think. And at the end of it the school children released balloons, and each had a tag with the name of a crew member. And as he said in his message to me, ‘We had an easterly wind that day and we do hope that some of these balloons reached Britain.’
BB: Did they?
GG: Oh, I really don’t know. By coincidence, not far away at the military ceremony at [?] the pilot, this particular pilot who was remembered by the school was Bellingham and his crew. Not far away the other crew that were shot down, pilot Jim Brodie who came from Paisley actually, he had a similar ceremony at [?] ceremony on the 1st of May I understand. All that time later and the crews are still remembered because the Dutch have a, seem to have an affinity with Bomber Command because they had such a wretched time. And rather than shout at the aeroplanes they were cheering the aeroplanes as they, as they passed over. Well, soon after we were back to flying bomb sites. And then in the middle of June we started formation flying. On three days we were formation flying, now that was really scary because we weren’t used to flying in formation and so close, flying in a vic you were turning to port for example the aircraft above you would start to slide in towards you. And we just weren’t.
BB: The risk was high then?
GG: We just were not used to this. And it transpires and Bomber Harris relates it in his book, that it was deemed by Dolittle of the Americans and himself that the time had come for a massive air attack by the Americans and ourselves on Berlin. Yes, on Berlin. And everything was set up and ready to go until Harris said ‘Now are all our fighters in place?’ Because we had to depend on fighter cover from the Americans. Our particular armament was pea shooters by comparison with the enemy fighters. And he discovered that there weren’t sufficient fighters to protect us. So, the effort was called off. So, I think that was a lucky escape because we had already been given our position under the main formation we were to lead a vic of three underneath the main formation.
BB: So the bomb risk must have been quite high?
GG: Maybe. So that was a relief to be relieved of that, although our neighbouring squadron 97 Squadron were on the same training, and two of their aircraft actually collided on formation flying and carried with them very senior members of the squadron. 29 of June we went on our very first daylight raid. Now that was very scary. But it was encouraging because I think we were flying quite high but this was a flying bomb area that we going to attack but we could see the Spitfires gliding above. Could see the sunlight sparkling off their canopies and so on which was a little cheering. We had a week’s leave after that. We shared, normally shared a Nissen hut with another crew. When we returned from leave their beds were empty, their cupboards were empty, because they had been shot down. While we had been on leave in two attacks on [?] which was a very large base for V weapons, we had lost from the squadron no fewer than seven aircraft. Two in the first attack, and five in the second, all by fighters. So ,it was quite a gloomy squadron that we returned to. It’s funny, many, many years later through squadron records and correspondence we discovered what happened to the crews. And I was particularly friendly with one in particular because he came, was a Scots lad, he was an engineer and came from Dysart, Kirkcaldy. And by coincidence my Father who was the local newspaper correspondent for the People’s Journal interviewed him because he had escaped. He had been protected by the French, and had finally got home and was back home and my Father interviewed him in Kirkcaldy. And I got in correspondence with his wife. Finally tracked her down. And she mentioned that on that particular night, Chick as she called him, Chick Swindley, had been on leave and was going back to the squadron. And he’d walked down the street from the house, he had turned and come back to her. And he said ‘Look don’t worry, because I’m going to be shot down but I’ll be OK.’ Now how’s that for premonition? And he was shot down, but he escaped. [?] was a very expensive thing. Back to railways, now there that was a long seven and a half hour trip. Now people tend to think we’re under attack all the time but in my letter home after that trip I described it as the most boring trip because nothing happened. We just flew there, dropped our bombs and flew back again. On the 17th we were, the Army had been held up at Caen, had difficulty in breaking through. So we were called upon, the air forces were called upon, to mount a huge attack on the Caen area to see if we could help the Army get through. We were given a particular target on the [?] , on the outskirts of Caen. And in fact I think we were, as I said in my letter home, we were supposed to bomb that particular morning but on that exercise there was something like four thousand five hundred aircraft involved. Huge heavy bombers and other areas roundabout Caen were attacked and well it was a pretty dreadful night, or day, for troops on the ground, imagine the German troops. On the target a few days later, to Kiel, to attack the naval establishments there. That meant a long trip to, well not a terribly long trip, about five hours probably. Low first of all over the North Sea, and then climb to bombing height and then we attacked Kiel. Two nights later, the 24th, we went to Stuttgart. Now it was one of the German industrial cities which had been difficult to attack because it lies in a valley on the River Neckar but we were tasked there and this was the first of a series of three raids I understand on the city. That night the flak, heavy anti-aircraft fire met us but we carried out our attack, seven and a half hours, nearly eight hours in the air. The following day we were operating in daylight, Sancerre, again helping the Army it was an airfield and signals centre. The following night [?], now that was a really long trip. Right across France, [?] being just south of Lyon. And apparently the Marquis were active in that area and we were sent to try and do something for them and we attacked the railway establishments there. We took off in a thunderstorm, we flew in a thunderstorm all the way there, thunderstorms, in heavy rain, the electricity was sparking between the guns on the aircraft.
BB: St Elmo’s fire?
GG: St Elmo’s fire. Because of the rain, and we had windscreen wipers, the electricity was dancing there and the pilot therefore we were, we were all being blinded by the flashes of lightning. And the pilot had to fly with his head below the screen so that he could see his instruments. That was a tough, a tough flight, a tiring flight, a very long flight. The following night we were out again, this time back to Stuttgart, and that night was a bad night, because thirty-nine Lancs were shot down that night and we came within an ace of being one of them because just after we dropped our bombs our rear gunner, who had a little instrument called ‘fish pond’, miniature television, little screen, and he noticed something that shouldn’t have been there, a little spot and he of course told us and not only that but our navigator, having heard us talk about the heavy flak the last time we were there had come out of his seat and was in the astrodome above looking out saying ‘Where, where, where’s all this heavy flak you were talking about?’ We said ‘Oh, that’s because the fighters are about.’ And sure enough, he apparently told me in a message later. He looked out of the port side of the aircraft and there was a fighter flying beside us. And [makes whooshing sound] just with that, a noise like that. Another aircraft that had come down from above us and had given us a burst. The fuselage behind me was like a pepper pot. The, as we discover later, as we were flying home and as daylight began to appear great shards of metal and we were very lucky, not one of us was hurt. But had it been a yard further forward on the aircraft I wouldn’t be here today. So that was Stuttgart. We got, we managed to get home. The pilot let me take over for a little while, as a flight engineer was able to do. And as daylight broke we saw the mess that the wings were in. But as we came home and were coming into land it was my job to check the under carriage, make sure it was down, it was locked, the tyres looked OK, and they certainly looked OK to me. But when we touched down, they must have, the one on the starboard side must have deflated and we swung off the runway. We had FIDO at Metheringham, which was fuel laden pipes along each side. Luckily we didn’t get involved with them, but that was a scary night. Then after I think many of our trips were concerned with flying bomb bases and we were then flying more frequently in daylight. I am listing, August the 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 5th were all daylight, day after day. And then we switched later on in August, 6th of August we went to U boat pens at Lorient, and there again I think one or two aircraft where shot down in daylight, but we were flying with 617, they carried the very heavy bombs and we supported them on the U boat pens, but U boat pens were so well protected by many feet of concrete that it’s doubtful much damage was done.
BB: Were they using tall boys or grand slam?
GG: Now I couldn’t tell you.
BB: Big bombs?
GG: It would be the big ones, yes, yes. Again, oil storage tanks. We were coming to near the end of our tour we were getting a bit shaky, wondering if we were going to make it. We’d done what thirty-three? And we came to number thirty-four which was to be our last one. And it was a glorious autumn day, August the 11th and we were sent to Bordeaux, again to U boat pens. Four of us from our squadron wer sent ahead, about ten minutes ahead to calculate the winds and the altitude because the winds that the navigator, what the bomb aimer would be given at the start of our operation, might have changed and especially at that height so it had to be accurate so that the bomb aimers of the aircraft that were behind us could set their instruments properly. So, we then, we did that job and we came back and joined the main force and attacked the U boat pens. We carried that day the biggest bombs I think. No not the, they were rather different from the usual bombs we carried which were normally about five and a half tonnes. But these were, I think if I remember right, four armoured piercing thousand pound bombs in the most beautiful shapes. For this raid they attached ribbons to the ends so they could be watched as they were going down but I gather it wasn’t much of a success. Anyway we bombed these, did our job and got home safely. We were of course circling over the German airbase down below us wondering if a Messerschmidt was going to come up and visit us or not. But no, we were left alone and we got home safely and was the end of our, of our tour. Strangely enough a few years ago I was looking at the leisure section in the Sunday Times and there was an article on holidays in Bordeaux. And the visitors were advised to visit the Sous-Marine Bas, submarine base, which is now a leisure complex. [laughter] So we obviously didn’t do terribly much damage. So, there were are. That’s us finished on the squadron. A few days later we were dispersed. Now I had been with that crew only since February, February to August the 11th, but we had become so closely knit that these are the most important, some of the most important months of my life, and memory as many will know and conversation [laughs]. However, I was posted then to 1660 Heavy Conversion Unit back to Stirlings at Swinderby. Eventually we did the normal exercises, cross countries and all sorts of things, circuits and bumps. And eventually on the 2nd of March the Stirling was taken out of commission and they were stripped and, flown down, as we discover later to Woburn. We flew in a vic of three. The first one had its own equipment available of course, the other two were stripped down to the bare necessities and we landed in a clearing, as I remember, in a wood at Woburn which was quite near to another establishment where the aircraft were dismantled, destroyed. So, on that particular, on the 2nd of March 1945 the Lancasters appeared again to be used for the training. And we of course were delighted to see the first one arrive. It landed, taxied across, stopped outside the office and out popped a young lady. One of the Air Transport Auxiliaries had flown the Lancaster in and so until the end of the War we flew Lancasters. The War of course ended in August, was it?
BB: Yes.
GG: August ‘45. A month later on September the 15th it was decided to open military establishments to the public. Swinderby was one of them and it was decided to put on a show by the Lancaster which consisted of a sort of circuit of the aerodrome and a mock bombing run, and Squadron Leader Scorer took me as his flight engineer off in a vic of three. Imagine what we felt like all the crowd of people there and us in our flying gear. Anyway, we took off. But before we took off the pilot and I changed seats so that he could control the trio of us. And we took off with me in the pilot’s seat and him in my seat because we had dual controls on these instructional aircraft. So, we took off and we did a nice leisurely round of the airfield and then we did the mock bombing run you see down low over the airfield and then a coloured Very light was fired and we went up like the Red Arrows and as we went up we changed over again so that he could land in his proper seat. Now I think that that was the predecessor of what we now call Battle of Britain Day.
BB: Yes.
AG: The very first Battle of Britain Day. At that time too it was just, there were a number of trips to take ground crew on trips over Germany.
BB: Cooks tours?
GG: To see the kind of things that we had been doing and we called them as you say ‘Cooks Tours’ and it consisted of taking them down over the River Moselle, very low flying of course over the twists of the River Moselle, up to the Rhine, Cologne and so on and that way. And I can remember the first time we were there, I suppose we had about four ground crew in various parts of the aircraft but as we passed over the Hohenzollen Bridge in Cologne there was an explosion in the river which I presume was them trying to clear the mess that had been made during the War. So, we did a couple of these which were very pleasant. And that was really the end of my flying, I only flew I think once in the Lancaster after that and then we were then declared redundant. Air crew became redundant. I was sent to, first of all to Burn, and then up to Catterick where we were re-mustered, offered different jobs. And I chose equipment accounts which sounded quite a useful thing to do. So, I was sent over to Lancashire for a few weeks training and then I was to be posted overseas, and it was to be India. So we were sent down to Orpington to await our flight in one of the coldest November periods I have ever known. In a Nissen hut where the, where the fire wouldn’t work, [chuckles] chimney was blocked or something but it was a terrible time. But eventually we flew from there in a Liberator, stripped down Liberator. I was lucky. By that time I was a warrant officer so I got a privileged seat up at the back where there were two large windows of the Liberator where as the ‘odds and sods’ the other airman were in the old bomb bay in sort of canvas seats. Pretty uncomfortable. First stop was Castle Benito in North Africa. Onto Cairo West where the aircraft broke down so we were beside the pyramids for about a week, which was quite interesting. On to Shiba in Iraq and from there an overnight stop where I met a Glasgow lady in the canteen I remember. [chuckles] She was one of the WS ladies and onto Manipur in India. And there again we were, it was decided where we were to be posted to. And I was to be taken to [Habadi?] which is down near Madras, now Chennai and we converted to a Dakota. And we flapped our wings, crossed to Phuna first stop and then across to [?] which is not far from Madras. I spent a year working with accounts in an office, great opportunities of course we had so much spare time and I played a lot of football. And I played for the area team, played cricket with the station team, that sort of thing. Lot of swimming. It was a huge military establishment with the army, the Royal Works were with us and the navy and ourselves. So, it was a very interesting period in many, many ways. And served me in good stead later on as a teacher of geography.
BB: That’s excellent.
GG: Yes. However, in. Yes, I was there for about a year. I was brought back, we came back in the Britannic, twenty six thousand tons, back through the Red Sea, Suez Canal, Mediterranean in a terrible storm. We picked up a band at the Canal Zone, a military band, and they played on the after deck and we came up the Bay of Biscay watching the gannets and the flying fish and that sort of thing. Great experience but when we got to Liverpool we couldn’t see the side of the river because it was foggy in early November. Funnily enough, well I had a leave of course when I got home, but I was posted back for a few months before my demob back to Swinderby of all places. But we had become very aware of a change. I suppose a reversion to the old ways of the regular air force, petty discipline. I can remember I noticed airman are not allowed to walk past the Officers’ Mess at such and such a time. Things like that. And in the office there was an elderly flight sergeant who was in charge where I was working. And he was a grumpy old guy [chuckles] and by that time, oh I forgot to mention while I was in India, and by that time I was a warrant officer, the Labour government had come into power after the War in 1946, and they introduced a new pay code for the services. And while I was a warrant officer the new pay code designated me as Aircrew 2 and I had to divest myself of the warrant officer’s badge and substitute sergeant’s stripes.
BB: The gratitude of a grateful nation.
GG: Exactly, exactly. Not only that but our pay for various reasons was reduced slightly, so I was a bit annoyed. It was very degrading, literally. Anyway, yes I was in this office with the grumpy old flight sergeant and my time for demob came. February the 7th 1947. And in the office where I worked there was a German prisoner of war, with this big circle, coloured circle on the back. And as I was leaving, the very last person to wish me good luck was Wolfgang. And I thought well doesn’t that tell a story? The futility of war?
BB: Yes, it does yes.
GG: Yes. So, it was a good way to end.
BB: Yes.
GG: And after a little leave I managed to get into university. I wanted to do a normal degree but I was told ‘Your qualifications from school are too good.’ [laughs] so I had to, I was offered an honours degree in English, Mathematics or Geography.
BB: Good choice.
GG: To my delight. So, that’s my story.
BB: Thank you very much. A very interesting and lovely story to hear. More importantly you survived the War to be with us today.
G: That’s right.
BB: Today, that’s wonderful. Thank you very much indeed, thank you.
GG: A privilege to do it and I’ve enjoyed doing it because it has taken me back to various documents, some that I have written myself just to refresh my mind and perhaps get a new flavour of the thing altogether and when I add to that the career that I’ve had and the family that I’ve got, well, I’ve been richly blessed.
BB: You managed to avoid the Grim Reaper and that’s the main thing.
GG: Yes, yes.
BB: And you’ve published some of your accounts in your books. The Saltire Aircrew Association also has your stories up.
GG: Oh yes, yes.
BB: Jack was, I’m very pleased that Jack put me in touch.
GG: Yes.
BB: Thank you very much indeed.
GG: And I’ve met you, it’s been a real pleasure.
BB: Thank you very much, I’m honoured, thank you very much.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Gilbert Gray
Creator
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Bruce Blanche
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-02-12
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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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AGrayG160223
Format
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00:57:10 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
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Germany
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
France
Netherlands
India
France--Aunay-sur-Odon
Temporal Coverage
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1942
1943
1944-02-23
1944-03-03
1944-05-04
1944-06-14
1944-06-15
Description
An account of the resource
Gilbert Gray grew up in Dunfermline, joining the Air Training Corps before enlisting in the Royal Air Force as a flight engineer in 1940, aged 18 years. He trained at RAF St Athan in Wales, graduated as a sergeant and was posted onto Lancasters. He completed his training on 1654 Heavy Conversion Unit at RAF Wigsley and No. 5 Lancaster Finishing School at RAF Syerston before arriving at 106 Squadron, RAF Metheringham, in May 1944. He describes his first operation, to an ammunition factory in France and then the hectic pre and post D-Day activity in June 1944. He talks about surviving attacks by Fw 190s, predicted Flak, the phenomena of St. Elmo’s Fire, and landing with a burst mainwheel tyre. He also speaks about coming back off leave to find empty beds and of a friend’s premonition of survival after being shot down. Gilbert tells of the crew’s nerves as they approached the last operation of their tour and the wrench of splitting up the closely-knit crew afterwards. Posted to 1660 HCU he saw the Lancasters replace Stirlings for training and took part in the first post-war air show at RAF Swinderby. Remustering to an administration role, Gilbert was posted to India and spent a leisurely year playing lots of sport before returning to Britain to work with a ‘grumpy’ flight sergeant until his demobilsation in February 1947. He also recounts how, in 2014, he helped a Dutch school identify a part from a crashed Lancaster and wrote a speech for a Lancaster crew memorial service, held in Holland.
Contributor
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Andy Fitter
Conforms To
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Pending revision of OH transcription
106 Squadron
1654 HCU
1660 HCU
617 Squadron
Air Transport Auxiliary
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
bombing
Cook’s tour
crash
fear
FIDO
flight engineer
Fw 190
Heavy Conversion Unit
Ju 88
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
memorial
military discipline
military ethos
military service conditions
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
RAF Metheringham
RAF Scampton
RAF St Athan
RAF Swinderby
RAF Syerston
RAF Wigsley
sport
Stirling
superstition
tactical support for Normandy troops
training
V-1
V-weapon
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/368/6092/ADeytrikhA160426.1.mp3
4a435123e44f4a9c72d4bc7278abb6ba
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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Deytrikh, Andrew
Description
An account of the resource
Six items. An oral history interview with Wing Commander Andrew Deytrikh (1921-2016, 1381508, 111248 Royal Air Force), his log books and three photographs. After training as a pilot in 1941, Andrew Deytrikh flew Spitfires on 66 Squadron at a number of locations until July 1944 when he joined Vickers Armstrong as a production test pilot. After the war he served on 604 Squadron Auxiliary Air Force flying Spitfires, Vampires and Meteors. He finished his air force career as a wing commander air attache in Finland.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Andrew Deytrikh and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-04-26
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. Some items have not been published in order to protect the privacy of third parties, to comply with intellectual property regulations, or have been assessed as medium or low priority according to the IBCC Digital Archive collection policy and will therefore be published at a later stage. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collection-policy.
Identifier
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Deytrikh, A
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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CB: My name is Chris Brockbank and today is 26th April 2016 and we are in Crowthorne with Andrew Dektesh and we are going to talk about his experiences, I mean’t to say Deytrikh, I beg your pardon, and we’re going to talk about his experiences in the RAF from the earliest days that you remember Andrew.
AD: Very well, ah we start now do we?
CB: Yes please. So where were you born?
AD: Ventnor, Isle of Wight.
CB: And tell us about the family and schooling and things like that?
AD: Well the family came over from Russia in Nineteen Nineteen, and they came over with the whole family on a British destroyer in the Black Sea from the Black Sea and they were allowed to leave the ship at Malta when the grandfather went all the way to London via trains and to to get a visa for the entire family to come and live in England, this he did and er as far as I can remember we have no further journey by sea except by train through er through Italy and north north of Malta, my sister was already born her name was Natalie and the parents then relied on the grandfather’s funds to be able to either purchase or to rent a big enough house into which they could share with the entire family and er as far as I can remember the the number in the family was quite con considerable and er the family was really quite large and they did have a young man called Serge and he after not too long in England he left to get educated in America how he got there or which ship he used I’ve no idea but anyhow he went there and he settled there well away from us and of course he er he did really very well indeed elec in the electrical system, he used to come and visit the family which then had settled or rented a house in Earls Court and there we remained for quite a considerable number of years until in fact the war broke out as far as I can remember we didn’t and the various families either got married here and then they went there way but not necessarily abroad. Can we have a few minutes.
CB: Right now we’re just now talking about your parents and what they did so starting with your mother and then your father, so what did your mother do?
AD: My mother took up sewing and she started a workshop in Knightsbridge where she could also employ English people to teach her how to sew and this she did remarkably successfully because she didn’t require any more teachers for quite a long time she cottoned on to doing all kinds of dresses for all kinds of people and eventually she was really doing too much, because my father was unable to find a job and he learnt how to be a taxi driver in London and for this purpose he required the knowledge that all taxi drivers in London know they know where all the streets are and of course he didn’t he used to go round on a bicycle in London to try and learn where all the streets were and where they went and what he could use and the way they actually did it and he did become a a taxi driver to bring in some money of some sort not very much but he used to drive the taxi at night because he didn’t want to be seen as a taxi driver amongst all his his gentle gentlemen friends [laughs] well he didn’t know [unclear] so he drove the taxi at night.
Other: [unclear]
CB: So Andrew when Dad wasn’t out taxi driving what was he doing?
AD: Well there was very little he could by which to earn some money so I think he must have spent a little while playing tennis at the Anglo Russian Sports Club in Chiswick and er that’s where I think he spent quite a lot of time because he didn’t like driving in in the daylight virtually he liked to do it at night for reasons that er are probably embarrassed then if if some of his friends saw him driving a taxi.
CB: Okay.
AD: And that’s that’s where I think he he started like that and then he was able to learn how to make ladies handbags because then they could sell handbags in the sewing in the sewing department where mother was in in Knightsbridge and it was a very nice place she’d she where she found the money was grandfather but grandfather he overstepped the mark with his money and they all lost the money with the with the er.
CB: The crash?
AD: With the crash let’s see Nineteen Twenty Four that’s when the family had to somehow fall apart and find different things to live in.
CB: And where were you at school during this time?
AD: Needless to say you would always find somebody who wants to make a name for themselves and this headmaster he took a liking to all the Russians emigres who came and they all had to find schools for their Russian born born children so he used to make it especially cheap for the poor Russians who had no money at all so how my moth how my parents managed to send me to the school and it was a lovely school we were beaten quite frequently because we er either I had no money no manner no manners at all or something like that but anyhow we found one headmaster and we were very sorry to leave the school in the end I was beaten three times I think but this was this was proper beating this wasn’t the cane the cane like at the main schools in Lon in England this was on your bare bottom with a rubber er shim shoe[?] so in other words every time we played sport which was very nearly every day we all had to get under under the shower so everybody could see thTB who’d been flogged today and all the markings were on on the bottoms of course [laughs] but anyhow it didn’t do me any harm I think I was beaten twice for lying or something like that I’ve never lied since even through all my life through my [laughs] with er in my in my adult adulthood I’ve never lied really it hasn’t been necessary to lie.
CB: So Prep School was run to age thirteen so where did you go?
AD: Polytechnic Regent Street
CB: Okay.
AD: But the headmaster wanted to send me to one of the expensive schools which we couldn’t afford and er I think they knew the person who ran ran that school they were in the Polytechnic Regent Street and whether I got into there at a reduced fee or whatever it was I don’t know but all I know is that my mother and my father they owed money for my schooling for quite a number of years later and she and she paid it if all off in the end she paid it all off in the end.
CB: So what did you do at the Poly at Polytechnic?
AD: I learnt how to speak English and how to behave myself [laughs] and this is where they taught us properly they put on the gowns and they wore the, what do you call those things?
CB: Mortarboards.
AD: Mortarboards that’s it I miss out words now.
CB: That’s all right okay.
AD: Mortarboards that’s right and we had to say [unclear] there was no none of this coming over without a tie and all this carry on but now they don’t know how to respect their teachers at all or the teachers don’t want to be respected.
CB: So what age did you leave there and what did you do?
AD: I was one year late I had to spend another year in the fifth form because I missed a year I had to have two glands removed I think that was it, and my two friends they both were in the higher form and when they left one joined the Air Force and the other joined the Navy the Fleet Air the Fleet Air Arm and that’s what I went for I’d thought I’d go and learn how to fly on those bi-planes what do you call them?
CB: Swordfish.
AD: Swordfishes that’s it and they turned me down despite the fact they were short of pilots they turned me down do you know why? Come on guess.
CB: Because you didn’t have a British name?
AD: That’s right well it was more than that I didn’t have British parents didn’t have they were foreign ‘oh we don’t take foreigners’ so I immediately joined the Air Force they took you straight away.
CB: Yes.
AD: They didn’t bother to interview you at all they wanted you [laughs] so I was very happy there I think I would have had a watery grave if I’d joined the Fleet Air Arm.
CB: So what age did you leave school?
AD: It was either seventeen or eighteen.
CB: Did you go straight in the RAF or did you have to go somewhere else first?
AD: No I got a job and I liked liked chem chem chemistry I loved doing at a chemistry shop and it was a firm in Langley Bucks not very far and I got a job in the laboratory that did test testing of the metal that was melted in in this firm and they used to produce en en engines or something to do with the Fleet Air Arm exactly what they did produce I don’t know but it was all ra secret so I believe something to do with submarines and then I stayed there I remained there for about a year or a year and a half and er that brought me up to November Four November Forty I think that’s what it was and that’s when the name of an airfield gone again where they built the –
CB: Oh Cardington.
AD: Cardington.
CB: Yes.
AD: Where I where I started with Cardington only to be told that I wasn’t worth the money they paid me [laughs] they said ‘you’re not worth anything as an AC2’ that’s what I was told [laughs] though I didn’t believe them at all I said ‘we must be worth something’ anyhow it all turned out the end.
CB: So what did you do at Cardington?
AD: Inoculations all the time, marching that’s about it.
CB: It was an initial training wing?
AD: Yes it was it was.
CB: And then what?
AD: And then I volunteered for pilot training and luckily I got it they didn’t alter it in the end which they did with some boys anyhow we got we got sent to [unclear] they called it the English Riviera.
CB: What um Tor Torquay?
AD: Torquay that’s it we got to Torquay where we given timber made rifles to do guard duty on certain certain places [unclear] and I waited to go on the first course of the pilot’s course that’s where I waited.
CB: How long did you have to wait?
AD: It seemed an awful long time but it wasn’t.
CB: Right.
AD: Within one year I was already on the squadron.
CB: So.
AD: Already trained and er I could fly straight away.
CB: Really so where did you go from Torquay?
AD: Yes give me time.
CB: So this next thing was your elementary flying training wasn’t it?
AD: Yes Cam Cambridge I think that’s right we were billeted in where all the students were billeted.
CB: University students yes?
AD: Yes but we didn’t do any flying there I was still able to do do my maths and I was really glad because I came top at maths [laughs] but you see none none of the other chaps who were volunteering to go they they hadn’t done they hadn’t done anything but they didn’t do very well at school I’m afraid.
CB: So from Cambridge didn’t you get any flying in Cambridge?
AD: No then I think I went to Hull Brough that’s it.
CB: Okay.
AD: That’s it Brough Tiger Moths.
CB: Okay yes.
AD: And that was the bit change it was lovely and once you’d um finished with Brough with the Tiger Moths it was that next next aeroplane which was [unclear].
CB: The Harvard next was it?
AD: Similar to the Harvard.
CB: Manchester.
AD: No no better than that no it was a big one forgot a single engine big one.
CB: Okay.
AD: I’ve got it in the log book.
CB: Well we’ll have a look in a minute.
AD: I’ve got it in there.
CB: But where did you go for that?
AD: From there?
CB: Yes to do that flying training? So you went to Brough and did your initial training?
AD: Yes I did.
CB: So there then you had to go to the advanced training?
AD: Yes that’s right.
CB: So where was that?
AD: Ah that’s gone too.
CB: Okay we’ll get to that.
AD: Does everybody have this trouble?
CB: Some do.
AD: Oh obviously not everybody [laughs].
CB: It’s a big variety but er in practical terms the fighter group was different from heavies so you didn’t do twin engine so?
AD: No I didn’t.
CB: So after you were on this other one
AD: It’s a well known its a well known light aeroplane brilliant.
CB: It’ll come to us in a minute okay.
AD: Yes.
CB: So when you’d done that at what stage did you get your wings then or later on?
AD: No it was later on Scotland
CB: Yes
AD: On the starboard side [laughs].
CB: Oh er
AD: Actually
CB: Montrose?
AD: Sorry.
CB: Montrose?
AD: Yes yes it was Montrose it was Montrose oh that’s where I think I got my wings.
CB: Yes okay, and what were you flying in Montrose?
AD: I think we’d got some clapped out old Spitfires that had been worn out with during the Battle of Britain [laughs].
CB: Yes I can believe it.
AD: I think well my log book will tell me.
CB: Yes, shall we pause for a mo, is your log book handy?
AD: Oh yes it is.
CB: So we’ve talked about you being we’ve talked about you being at Brough for the elementary flying school.
AD: Yes
CB: Er where you’re on Tiger Moths, we’ve talked about where you were at Montrose where you were on the Milesmaster [?] that we were struggling for earlier.
AD: Yes
CB: Then you went to the OTU the Operational Training Unit at Grangemouth so what happened then?
AD: It’s a complete blank I can’t really remember very much.
CB: What were you flying ‘cos now you’re on the advanced aeroplanes? So you are on the Hurricane and Spitfires now at the OTU?
AD: Yes yes could be, now I remember the first flight in the Spitfire it terrified me [laughs].
CB: Did it in what way?
AD: Well I I never had anything ahead of me for so long it was over six foot and I couldn’t see how am I going to and they’d keep on telling me ‘oh you’ve got to apply rudder on take off because it’ll its going to wind round to the left or to the right’ and I couldn’t get all that but I did.
CB: You did.
AD: But I did in the end.
CB: So because you couldn’t see over the nose you had to weave when you were taxiing?
AD: Oh yes that that.
CB: And so that was the first challenge wasn’t it?
AD: [Laughs] It was and of course what happens [coughs] you find your so slow that you’re boiling before you get to the end of the runway to take off so you had to shut it down and cool it down and then start starting it up all over again.
CB: So what was there an electric starter or did they have to bring the triac k [?]
AD: Oh trolleyack [?] yes.
CB: Yes
AD: [Laughs] Everything was with the trolleyack [?] [laughs].
CB: So what was the reaction of the ground crew let alone the aircrew when you overheated?
AD: Well they well there fed up with all these students though who are coming here.
CB: Messing up their aeroplanes?
AD: Well that’s it, then they’ve got to take the trolleyack[?] up to the aeroplanes we couldn’t tow it because there was nothing to tow it on to.
CB: On the aeroplane? How did they get the trolleyack[?] out there did they have to push it or?
AD: Pull pull it.
CB: They did.
AD: Oh yes.
CB: Basically on foot?
AD: I think so.
CB: Which is why they didn’t like it?
AD: They said ‘well you could quite easily take off in this as long as you go quickly’ we didn’t want to go quickly anyway [laughs].
CB: So you’ve done your taxiing and you’re not boiling so what’s the next part of the procedure?
AD: Well to keep it straight down the runway.
CB: So you progressively apply left rudder do you or right rudder?
AD: I I can’t remember I think yes it could have been.
CB: Well one rudder or the other.
AD: It could have been right rudder [laughs] I can’t remember which way it swung [laughs].
CB: Right but the point of the question is thT opening throttle you were encouraged to do gently and then correct with pressure on the rudder is that right?
AD: Yes.
CB: And then you’d get the tail up fairly quickly would you?
AD: Yes not not too far.
CB: Right.
AD: Otherwise you’d lose your propeller [laughs].
CB: Any incidents of that?
AD: No.
CB: Not you but the others?
AD: Not me I don’t think I ever had a any terrible incidents.
CB: So now you are taking off at what point do you retract the undercarriage?
AD: Once once you are airborne.
CB: Immediately?
AD: Yes because you are going to get too hot you want to cool you all down [laughs].
CB: Okay so the significance of that is the speed or the fact that the undercarriage itself is blanking?
AD: Yes it’s blanking it all.
CB: The radiator?
AD: Yes.
CB: Right so now you are climbing what are you climbing at roughly?
AD: I should think about a hundred and thirty or a hundred and forty.
CB: Oh quite slow?
AD: Yes.
CB: So you’re not on full throttle because you don’t want to overheat immediately?
AD: I I don’t want to run out of fuel either [laughs].
CB: Right so we’re at the OTU still so you can’t so there are no dual Spitfires so?
AD: No.
CB: So how did the instruction go?
AD: Well it went very well and there there were no difficulties on that first flight really nothing that frightened me.
CB: Okay so did you ever have a situation where the instructor flies beside you in another Spitfire?
AD: No they didn’t have the spare ones I don’t think they were running out of numbers of Spitfires.
CB: Were they?
AD: I think so.
CB: So how long would your flight be when you were at the OTU?
AD: I think the first one was only half an hour I think that was enough I think for me.
CB: That was just general handling what did you do just do did you do any aerobatics?
AD: I did only what the instructor told me I did I don’t want to do anything I I hadn’t been told what to do and I stuck rigidly to that.
CB: Right.
AD: And I’ve never had any difficulties really.
CB: So on you’re you’re doing er what did you do left hand circuits?
AD: Yes.
CB: So you are coming in go down downwind and then you go crosswind?
AD: Yes.
CB: And when you are turning what’s the main concern there to get right?
AD: Not to go down too quickly.
CB: Because?
AD: Because your you’ve still got flaps to do.
CB: Right so when do you put the flaps down?
AD: Once you are in in a straight line.
CB: On final.
AD: Yes.
CB: And when you are coming in what speed are you coming in on final?
AD: It had to be over well over seventy.
CB: Right, what’s the stalling speed of a Spitfire?
AD: Er I think it was about sixty five or something like that you didn’t want to lose seventy.
CB: No, so at the OTU there’s no dual so do they alternate between flying a Spitfire and flying a Manchester or what did they do or Master rather did they check you out regularly in a Master?
AD: Yes they used to dual a Spitfire circuit in the in the other one.
CB: In the Master.
AD: Yes.
CB: So did your hours at the OTU then you are ready for squadron?
AD: Yes you were ver very ready to go to Cornwall I didn’t even know where Cornwall was [laughs].
CB: So your first you joined 66 Squadron at Portreath.
AD: I did.
CB: How did that work?
AD: I had to wait a rather long time to get to get I wanted to hurry up and get on with it they didn’t want you to go too too quickly they didn’t want to take any risks with damaging an aeroplane because we were very short of aeroplanes.
CB: Because we are talking about Nineteen Forty Two here aren’t we early Forty Two that’s why they were worried about aeroplanes?
AD: Yes yes it was yes.
CB: So the characteristic from your log book of um er your time there is that you moved stations regularly why was that?
AD: It was er constantly rumoured that we were moving.
CB: Do you know why?
AD: Not really whether it’s because they were just having a general er exception or the number of hour days you could have at one station I don’t know.
CB: So going back to first station Portreath?
AD: Yes.
CB: When you arrived what happened the CO said?
AD: The C I’m trying to think who the CO was now I think he’s probably signed here [looking through log book].
CB: What I mean’t was what did he actually tell you because you arrive having come from the OTU?
AD: ‘Some somebody will take care of you and tell you all all about the Spitfire now you’d better get out and go and go find out what he wants you to do’ I think he’d [unclear].
CB: That would be a flight commander would it?
AD: That would be the flight commander yes.
CB: And how many flights in a squadron?
AD: Er [sighs] flights in a squadron there are only ttwo.
CB: Right.
AD: Although we are separated three times but there are it is only two two squadrons no what am I talking about two flights normally makes up a squadron.
CB: So the reason I am asking this is because the OTU had no dual and so?
AD: No.
CB: No dual control aircraft because the Spitfire in the war didn’t have a dual control arrangement.
AD: No we didn’t.
CB: So I am just wondering how you were effectively inducted into the squadron which was a front line operation?
AD: I don’t think they paid too much attention to that all I know is I had to wait a long time.
CB: Yes.
AD: Till I was allowed to go on flying and join the people who do the er –
CB: The circuits?
AD: No not the circuits no the patrols over the over the ships coming coming into England.
CB: Right so that was really my next point which was on your operation what was your first operation?
AD: That was follow me for the next hour and a half.
CB: So its shipping protection is it?
AD: Yes.
CB: Patrols?
AD: It was the convoys.
CB: Convoys?
AD: Yes we had to do the convoys.
CB: And this is all in the ?
AD: And this is all everyday everyday the convoys.
CB: Right so what sort of numbers of convoys were there many of them?
AD: Well they all took such a long time that you you only had one hour above them so they just move along like that.
CB: The merchants ships in those days were lucky to do seven knots.
AD: Well it did take a long time and of course the Germans sometimes used to bur to come bur burst in and hope to catch you unawares.
CB: What sort of height would you be flying at for convoy protection?
AD: It was only not very high about two thousand feet or a thousand feet because they all came in er low level.
CB: Oh the Germans all came in low level did they?
AD: They did yes.
CB: Where were they coming from?
AD: They were coming from either Cherbourg or that’s a what’s that piece of France that juts out?
CB: Any part of Normandy, Brittany?
AD: Yes Brittany that’s it.
CB: So which aircraft were they using?
AD: They were using 109’s and some of them had the pleasure of flying their 190’s and the 190’s were really quite an effect effective machine.
CB: So when you joined the squadron which model of Spitfire did you have?
AD: I had the 5 I think it was the 5 or could have been the one before it.
CB: The 4?
AD: Well I’m not so [unclear] that I ever flown the 4.
CB: So mainly 5’s and then you were flying over the convoys?
AD: Yes.
CB: And relatively low who was giving cover to you high up?
AD: The good lord.
CB: Right, so did you get jumped by the Germans?
AD: No but if there was a panic we were too late for it because we would have found out at home and by the time you get to the convoy they’ve gone.
CB: Yes, so apart from convoy patrols what else were you doing from in the early days?
AD: We used to be on readiness at the er runways edge every so often.
CB: Quick reaction?
AD: That’s it and when you spent an hour at the end of the runway you were hoping you can go home [laughs] and have a coffee or something like that [laughs].
CB: ‘Cos in the summer time it would be getting quite hot?
AD: It was well it did.
CB: What about in the winter oh well this was summer time.
AD: Well no.
CB: Oh no this is winter you were at Portreath. When you went to Italy what did you do there that was only short?
AD: Well we
CB: In Hampshire.
AD: Well we were always very busy.
CB: Were you?
AD: Because it’s very near the coast and it didn’t take long to go to go to get on onto a convoy that had been attacked.
CB: Right so now you are over the convoy what opportunities did you have to have a go at shooting at the Germans yourself?
AD: Very little because they didn’t come over in hordes as they did during the Battle of Britain they there wasn’t anybody to shoot at unless they were going to come over low fast and get in and get out.
CB: So how often did they get caught?
AD: Not well they didn’t do that all that often because I think even they were afraid to be caught.
CB: So moving on from there then you went up to the Orkneys so apart from the fact that what was the locals attitude to you?
AD: Well the local attitude was ‘why do you have to make such a lot of noise we don’t want all this we don’t want your aeroplanes’ so they were sad to see us so we were trying to be polite in the end.
CB: Did you have special briefings on how not to react?
AD: No no we didn’t but I don’t think it had a lot of them had twigged that they didn’t like us.
CB: Right.
AD: I don’t think many of them understood that.
CB: Just their temperament was it?
AD: We did have I did have a friend of two that I did know and I think I got the message from him that that ‘don’t you realise that you’re are a nuisance here’ well that.
CB: Well that was the basis of the hostility was it?
AD: It was.
CB: Not that you were English but because
AD: No not nothing to do with being English.
CB: Because you made a lot of noise?
AD: No.
CB: And what were you there to do?
AD: To catch the high fliers air er German aeroplanes that used to fly nice and high and we couldn’t get at them because they were too too high so what did they do they dismantled all the armour-plating that the pilot had round his seat and made the aircraft lighter so you could get up [laughs].
CB: How successful was that?
AD: It wasn’t very successful because we didn’t like it [laughs] we didn’t like it.
CB: So how high could you get?
AD: I think er the ones that we flew there they we were locked in remember we couldn’t get out without pulling something and we didn’t believe that the hood would open if we had pulled it I don’t know there are things I will never know.
CB: No.
AD: I can never understand why the engineering officer could couldn’t very well pull the thing for us to tell us and say ‘now this is the way it’ll work’ and it [unclear]
CB: You were screwed in because it was pressurised is that what it was why were they screwing you into the plane?
AD: A As well we didn’t we never liked the noise it made so we used to leave it off we didn’t use it.
CB: Leave what off?
AD: The high pressure thing.
CB: Ah right, so what was the seal like when you were up in the aeroplane then?
AD: Well it we didn’t care so long as we could breathe it was the oxygen we didn’t really care.
CB: Because you were young and it didn’t matter.
AD: Yes it always helped somebody else or it might well so you didn’t just worry too much about it.
CB: No, where were the German planes coming from?
AD: Norway.
CB: And what were they?
AD: Sorry.
CB: What German aeroplanes were they?
AD: They were the big weather weather ones wwith four engines the ones that would be easy to shoot down.
CB: The Condors?
AD: Yes.
CB: And you couldn’t get up there?
AD: We couldn’t get up there [laughs].
JS: How high could you fly Andrew?
AD: Well there I think thirty five thousand miles oh um feet was about the maximum we could make.
CB: And these people were above that?
AD: But towards the end we er we could mmmake for forty odd thousand.
CB: Could you?
AD: Yes but it was still falling out of the sky.
CB: Of course, so after you were in Scotland then you came down to the south so what were you doing in the south you were at Church Stanton then it was Redhill, Kenley?
AD: Yes Kenley and that’s all virtually in the Lon London area so we weren’t very far away from London.
CB: No, did you have any business coming towards you?
AD: Sorry.
CB: Did you have much coming in?
AD: No we were never if they were warning us they were always either late getting us airborne.
CB: Right.
AD: And when they got you airborne the controller would come on and say ‘sorry you’re too late dark they’ve gone’.
CB: Changing the subject slightly how much of bomber escort did you do?
AD: Quite a lot.
CB: And what was your role in bomber escort how did that work?
AD: To make certain you were both sides of the air of the er squadron of bombers er you could have a flight each on each side or if you if you were lucky you could be appointed the on the tail of at the tail of the bomber crew to make certain you could actually spot them coming coming for coming to chase them we er needed somebody at the end.
CB: Right, and er so you are escorting the bombers are you above them marginally or the same height or what?
AD: Not not well you are slightly above them so to give you a little bit of speed speed if you are attacked if they are attacking the bombers.
CB: So er what sort of bombers were you escorting in your experience did they tend to be the same?
AD: I’ve forgotten the names I’ve forgotten the names now.
CB: No, but did they tend to be medium bombers or bigger ones or?
AD: Medium ones.
CB: Always British RAF or were they American what were they?
AD: They could have been American too but the poor Americans they never knew where they were half the time [laughs].
CB: What navigationally?
AD: Yes [laughs].
CB: Right.
AD: I think only one chap er er the leader knew where where he was going.
CB: Yes.
AD: All the others didn’t seem to care they just followed him.
CB: Yes well they worked on the bomb leader principle didn’t they the bombing leader?
AD: Well we don’t know what principle really [laughs] so far they didn’t learn off our principles.
CB: So flying close to the bombers is a variation of what we talked about earlier is that actually quite a dangerous position to be in or was there always top cover when you were doing that in other words other squadrons flying high up?
AD: Well if you’re flying close and they want you close you’ll know that there’ll be others there.
CB: Above?
AD: Above or below we sometimes used to fly below them.
CB: On what basis to stop them coming up?
AD: Yes because.
CB: Because they’ve got to climb up?
AD: Because they’ve got their guns and shoot upwards.
CB: Oh right okay yes.
AD: So I suppose.
CB: Were you briefed about the upward firing?
AD: No we weren’t.
CB: Guns?
AD: No we weren’t I’m afraid I didn’t know about it.
CB: Right so I’m just trying to establish why you mentioned them firing up do you mean that they were flying upwards and shooting or that they were guns mounted to fire upwards?
AD: No whether the upward firing ones were night fighters possibly they could have been night fighters I don’t know whether they um but we never came across them.
CB: And you didn’t in daylight?
AD: We didn’t no.
CB: How often did you have to do night sorties?
AD: Not very often but when you did you had to go and do it.
CB: Yes.
AD: But you see the Spitfire was such a poor aeroplane to have as a night fighter you had these these big exhaust pipes either side of the of the aircraft so whichever side you looked at you had to blink your eyes.
CB: Because?
AD: Well because of the light.
CB: From the exhaust?
AD: They are very very bright at night they shone they really shone very well.
CB: And so how often did you engage in air to air combat with German aircraft yourself?
AD: Myself very seldom because when you could see that there were squadrons or they er or two squadrons as the case may be they would probably disappear very shortly and you either had to know to do something quickly and unless unless you did they would go away very quickly.
CB: What were their tactics really?
AD: Not to excite the Spitfire in anyway I think [laughs].
CB: So you’re escorting the bombers the Germans are coming in what are they doing exactly?
AD: Yes and then when they when you see the Germans coming in your squadron commander will say ‘turn turn about you’ve got to turn about you’ve all got to do a very tight turn’ and then what happened you lost the bombers all of a sudden come out where are all the aeroplanes and you are on your own that’s what hap that’s what does happen.
CB: So did the Germans have a technique for dealing with that to take advantage of it?
AD: Well you see since you can’t join you can’t join up again because you didn’t know where they are you come out of the your tight turn and there’s nothing there.
CB: Because you’ve missed the Germans in the first place is that what you mean?
AD: Well yes you have missed them or they have stop or they have stopped going at going at the er British bomb bombers or Americans as the case may be.
CB: Now in Bomber Command one of the important parts of their training particularly at the Heavy Conversion Unit and afterwards was well and at the OTU was fighter affiliation.
AD: Yes.
CB: So that’s when the fighters are making mock attacks on the bombers.
AD: Yes.
CB: How often did you have to do that?
AD: Occasionally but it was very occasional er it wasn’t a permanent thing or a weekly thing or a monthly thing.
CB: And how were you briefed about how to deal with it?
AD: Well I think they did have the occasional person from either from a bomber squadron or a friendly bomber squadron who could send somebody over to er to talk about it.
CB: Ah.
AD: I think that did happen but it didn’t happen very often.
CB: But I’m talking about where you’re flying and pretending to attack the bombers.
AD: Oh I see.
CB: That’s the fighter affiliation.
AD: Yes, no I don’t you know I can’t remember very much bomber affiliation with us.
CB: By the look of it you weren’t stationed in areas where there wouldn’t be much of that to do anyway.
AD: They’d only be there when we have to escort meet meet er two squadrons or three squadrons of bombers at a specific time they weren’t really good with the time.
CB: No who weren’t?
AD: No they weren’t.
CB: The bombers?
AD: Yes.
CB: And what do you mean by that?
AD: They were always late and we were always short of fuel.
CB: Right.
AD: Well we can’t very well give up escorting them once there over the target you can’t do that you’ve got to ssstay on and then have less fuel to go and land with but anyhow it did work out in the end.
CB: When you were flying bomber escorts what communication was possible between the bombers and the fighters?
AD: None I don’t think the squadrons commanders were ever given the frequency so they can get so they can talk to them.
CB: No. Again changing the subject er how many there were dogfights taking place on and off sometimes there was no dogfight but people got shot down how many people do you know or did you know of who were shot down?
AD: I think I can only assume that they were shot down I can’t because they just didn’t arrive back for tea or er lunch or whatever it was.
CB: So if they weren’t shot down what else could have happened to them?
AD: They could have run out of oxygen which is and then they fly into the sea and they don’t know that they are anywhere near the sea it was just terribly sad when they run out of oxygen and he doesn’t know he’s run out of oxygen.
CB: Can they not tell that they’re short of oxygen there’s no gauge for it?
AD: I think you probably reach a certain amount of hope possibility of thinking that way what’s going what’s going to stop you from flying into the sea.
CB: Right.
AD: Well that’d be one thing.
CB: Okay so.
AD: And we did have one case where the poor the poor boy he just flew straight into the sea.
CB: And being shot down how many people did you know who were shot down?
AD: Well my squadron commander was.
CB: What happened to him?
AD: Ah but he was still our squadron commander he was he managed to land somewhere near England.
CB: Did you ever get shot down?
AD: No.
CB: Did you ever get damage to your aircraft?
AD: I was frightened at one stage just when we had to do a tight turn because the bombers were being attacked well I when you find that you forgotten where all the aeroplanes are where why have they disappeared and they do disappear and you don’t know which direction they’ve disappeared and I was being followed by somebody who was trying to shoot me down in fact three of them they were I had three people on my tail and luckily I was on my way home and I was above them and I could see I could see the shots going passed me on either side and I could see in my mirror three of them having a happy time shooting at me so I thought I’d put put a finish to that all and I turned round and opened up all my guns everyone that would fire I would fire now and I’ll get somebody or one of them and all of a sudden they disappeared all three of them I couldn’t find them they ww when I looked for them.
CB: And its interesting in that circumstance you’re higher than them?
AD: Yes.
CB: How did you turn round?
AD: As quickly as I could.
CB: Yes but up, down, sideways or what?
AD: On the straight straight at them I was going as I aimed myself straight at them.
CB: Yes.
AD: So at least er something will be damaged but you don’t know but you’ll never know.
CB: No.
AD: You’ll never know.
CB: But you wouldn’t do a loop up or go down?
AD: Oh no.
CB: You’d come round hard?
AD: No nnot not in the turn I was keeping that for my down my downward thrust because that’s where I where I wanted the speed and they just vanished all three of them so with any luck I frightened them.
CB: Yes. So what guns did you have on the plane in those at that time?
AD: Well two were canons yes and er and four machine guns.
CB: Right, so that’s the Spitfire the earlier Spitfire that’s a 5 is it?
AD: I think that was a 6.
CB: 6.
AD: It could no the 6 was up in The Orkneys.
CB: What was different about the 6 then?
AD: Well I think it had four blades.
CB: Ahh
AD: I think I had four blades at that time.
CB: Right, so what so you had Spitfire 5 as time moved on what was the different ranges of Spitfires you moved to models?
AD: It was all to do with the len the length of the nose which seemed to be increasing all the time.
CB: So after the 5 did you go to a 9 a Spitfire 9?
AD: Yes we did have 9’s in the end.
CB: And they had four 20mm canons?
AD: No not four I think four was too much for the for the er Spitfire the whole thing shakes a bit but it was very nice to have the canons there but you don’t have all that amount of ammunition to fire.
CB: No, so what did they um what was the reason given for having so few canons just two?
AD: One er one on each wing.
CB: Yes, but why didn’t they put four on did they explain why they didn’t?
AD: I think they had had difficulty in fit fitting them to start off with to have two too close together two close together I don’t think the aeroplane would have liked it too much.
CB: Right, so you kept with the same squadron throughout the war?
AD: Yes.
CB: And er your log book your first log book runs out before I can see beyond Nineteen Forty Three where did you go in Forty Four and Forty Five you were in Hornchurch in Forty Three?
AD: Yes
CB: But you stayed on fighters flying all the time didn’t you?
AD: No well yes I did fly but not operationally.
CB: Okay.
AD: I got taken taken off operations flying just before D Day.
CB: Oh.
AD: I said ‘I’ve been waiting for this day and I’m not going anywhere I want to stay stay for the big day ’ and I did stay for the big day and after the er after that that’s when I went I I left the squadron.
CB: To do what?
AD: To fly with the people who actually make the Spitfire what’s the name of it?
CB: What Vickers Supermarine?
AD: What?
CB: Vickers yes.
AD: I went to work for Supermarines as one of the test pilots.
CB: In the south?
AD: Yes.
CB: Yes.
AD: Oh yes just er just very near Salisbury.
CB: Right they also had a plant at Marston at Swindon.
AD: Yes well they did yes but we used to go on on certain airfields where they were producing Spitfires and they needed testing.
CB: Yes and that’s what you did?
AD: I was I was able to do that mark you they didn’t want me to go to go there they wanted to have me in training command and nobody ever wants to go to training command [laughs] and I certainly didn’t because that would have been one way to get killed very quickly because er that’s where all the deaths happened at er in the training command.
CB: Right
AD: Or that’s that’s where we thought it all happened.
CB: Yes
AD: [Unclear] I thought Kyle was coming for you?
CB: So you worked as a test pilot how long did you do that for?
AD: I think about nearly two years.
CB: Oh did you.
AD: Yes but then I got sent to Germany.
CB: After the war this is?
AD: That was after the war this was after the war yes it was called no it’s gone.
CB: What the airfield?
AD: No not the airfield what the whole thing was called.
CB: Oh I see right.
AD: What we called it a certain thing.
CB: Well the occupation forces?
AD: The occup it was part of the occupation.
CB: Yes.
AD: Yes.
CB: Right so where were you based there this was with the squadron again was it?
AD: No no oh no this was completely different this was completely different.
CB: So let’s go back a step so you’re still a test pilot when the war finishes were you when the war in Europe finished?
AD: WWhen I when I finished it was.
CB: As a test pilot?
AD: The war the war was still on.
CB: As a test pilot?
AD: Yes.
CB: Oh right okay.
AD: Yes it was.
CB: Okay so where did you have a ground job next or what?
AD: Well it was a ground job but er it was er a pppeculiar ground job they took me on as part of the occupation forces as a Russian interpreter which I could manage.
CB: Because you kept up your Russian?
AD: Oh yes.
CB: Throughout.
AD: Well I had to pass exams and everything yes.
CB: Right.
AD: They didn’t do anything without.
CB: No no.
AD: Something you just [unclear] no.
CB: So you were a part of the occupying forces?
AD: Yes I was part of part of the occupying.
CB: Well how were you employed as an interpreter?
AD: On the borders with the Russians.
CB: Right so you’re in your full uniform?
AD: Yes.
CB: Acting for whom it was part of the administration was it it wasn’t the RAF you were working for at that moment is that right?
AD: Well well the RAF paid me.
CB: Yes.
AD: But who who the money come from this I don’t I didn’t didn’t know.
CB: No, so the war is finished let’s go back a bit though but um because your wife you met in the RAF where did you meet her?
AD: Hornchurch.
CB: Okay and what was she doing there?
AD: She was er a plotter.
CB: Right on the airfield or nearby?
AD: Nearby.
CB: And er how did you keep in touch with her throughout the war?
AD: Very poorly [laughs] because we weren’t allowed to be too ffriendly with the WAFS [laughs] and you probably know we weren’t allowed to get closer than about one or two feet or something like whatever it was [laughter] [unclear] but it didn’t make any difference to me I paid no attention to that when I did bring her back after the dance it was the station dance that I went to I dropped her outside the guard room and what did I do I kissed her which is def which is absolutely verboten [laughs] and it was outside the guard room but they weren’t on duty [laughs] and that was at Hornchurch.
CB: So you got away with that one?
AD: Yes but there was nobody there to say ‘oh you shouldn’t have done this or you couldn’t do that’ or whatever it is.
JS: What rank was she Andrew?
AD: Sorry
JS: What was her rank?
CB: What rank was she?
AD: Oh she was a leading aircraftswoman.
JS: Oh right.
AD: She didn’t want a commission she was very happy as she was.
CB: Why did she not want a commission because we’ve come across this before wife’s not wanting a commission why was that?
AD: They probably I don’t know I can’t think why not I said ‘anybody can get a commission whose reasonably intelligent’ and I’ve been in as a plotter and you’ve got very good remarks about your situation why don’t you want to be no she didn’t want to command anybody and er tell them to march properly or left foot or right foot or whatever it is she didn’t want any of that.
CB: Now the plotting of aircraft is what she was doing?
AD: Yes.
CB: It didn’t take place on the airfield did it it took?
AD: Near nearby.
CB: Was it?
AD: It was nearby it wasn’t on the airfield.
CB: So how did you come to meet her then if she didn’t actually work at the airfield?
AD: I met her at the dance.
CB: Oh at the dance.
AD: Yes I met her at the dance whether I had met her before the dance I don’t know but all but all I know is I was very glad that I had met her.
CB: Gosh.
JS: Can I interrupt?
CB: Yes.
JS: Andrew she was an LACW1 and you were an officer?
AD: Yes.
JS: Was it an officers mess dance or a sergeants mess dance?
AD: No it was the station dance.
JS: The station dance oh yes.
AD: The station dance.
JS: Did you know the protocol of officers taking WAF’s out WAFS that were LACW1, 2’s or whatever ?
AD: Well I did but I still would but I still used to take her out I did I did.
CB: But you weren’t supposed to?
AD: But I wasn’t going to be told.
JS: That’s it.
AD: [Laughs].
JS: We did have station dances where all ranks were included.
AD: Yes they were.
JS: That’s right yes.
AD: They were included all ranks.
JS: They were very few and far between weren’t they very infrequent should I say?
AD: Yes or there was an er occasion of some sort on the station or something like that.
CB: And um how did you you didn’t get married until Forty Five was that after hostilities finished or wqs the war still on?
AD: The war was still on.
JS: In Japan.
CB: No in Europe?
AD: In Japa.
CB: Was the war in Europe still on?
AD: No no it wasn’t no when I got to Germany the war was all over and I made use of my German language the way I learnt it at school anyhow it was, you’re a lovely boy.
CB: So I am just trying to establish how you came to be married when and what what made you decide to do it then?
AD: Because I was off off off operations.
CB: Right.
AD: I wasn’t flying over Deutschland anymore.
CB: And why didn’t you get married before then?
AD: Because I was on operations.
CB: Right and
AD: I had no intention of getting married while I was on operations.
CB: Because yes but why?
AD: Well [sighs] because I wouldn’t have wanted to leave her er a wife alone virtually I suppose.
CB: Right now you did your stint in Germany then what happened as part of the occupying forces what happened next?
AD: Oh I’ve got to think this I think when I got back from Germany I think we handed in our our things and that was it.
CB: You were demobbed?
AD: Yes.
CB: Do you remember where you were demobbed?
AD: No I don’t.
CB: Okay, so now out of the airforce what did you do next?
AD: I suppose I was off looking for a job to do but also [coughs] I I did join the Royal Aux Auxiliary Air Force because I obviously hadn’t had enough.
CB: That happened immediately did it they took you on?
AD: Yes straight away.
CB: And er where were you living and where did you fly from?
AD: I was living in a very posh place that was for rich people and it was North Kensington and it was a we had to share a flat in those days we shared a flat with somebody else and it was it was a lovely flat and that’s where we were living.
CB: As a family or just you and your wife?
AD: Er I think we’d had Catherine by then.
CB: Right, so what job did you do when you left the RAF what’s your first job when you left the RAF what was that?
AD: I’m trying to think.
CB: Oh you are.
AD: Yes I it [laughs] it is working but
CB: I’ll stop
AD: It’s not working very it’s not working very
CB: I’ll stop for a bit
AD: For a short period of time.
CB: So what did you do?
AD: I analysed metals in a laboratory that’s what it was and it was a very nice interesting job going to be paid very much more than five pounds a week and I think because of that I decided to think of something else and I couldn’t think of what to do but the Auxiliary Air Force was a godsend because they paid us they paid us not not normal kind of money that you’d expect but they paid sufficient to make it possible to buy a loaf of bread or whatever it is.
CB: So how much commitment was there in a month being in the Auxiliary Airforce did you have to do something every week or how did it work?
AD: Oh I used to go every week this was money to go to the airfield and fly [laughs] it was extra money but exactly how much I can’t I can’t remember it was whatever they were prepared to pay.
CB: So you started with Spitfires how did that progress over the years in aircraft?
AD: It progressed very nicely I was going through a second period of I wonder if I really want to fly that Spitfire anymore but anyhow it didn’t last very long then we had Vampires and um Meteors
CB: How did you find those after flying the piston engine?
AD: Lovely.
CB: What about the Vampires?
AD: There was no difficulties there.
CB: Right, the Vampire compared with the Meteor what was that like?
AD: The Meteor was better ‘cos there were two engines and it was a oohh a stronger aeroplane and it had two engines and it was nice.
CB: Were you always stationed at the same place for the Auxiliary Air Force or did you have other a variety?
AD: No we moved from Hendon we moved to er I’ll get it in a minute.
CB: Yes it’s okay.
AD: North Weald North Weald it’s just across the way virtually.
CB: Yes yes.
AD: And then I think I moved into my first house so I think I had to borrow money from my my bits of my family who were prepared to lend us the money to bor to bor to borrow the necessary amount.
CB: What um what was the rank what was your promotion like how did that work?
AD: Well I was still a flight lieutenant but I was a senior flight lieutenant I was in charge of all the other other boys that had been taken on because the CO of my 66 Squadron took over from John Cunningham who was the first CO Auxiliary CO had given up because he was doing too much test flying in in er his company and er this chap he took he took over now why have I said that he did take over there that’s right and he and he became the six the 66 Squadron although the squadron itself was 604.
CB: Right Auxiliary Air Force?
AD: That was that was the big change I ever had was 604.
CB: So when did you get promoted to squadron leader or did you jump that and go straight to wing commander?
AD: No I didn’t jump anything I had to pass the exams at [laughs] and in the end I hadn’t passed the exams for squadron leader that’s right and then it all all altered slightly because they were short of er of all these people would get taken on as er in the Foreign Office you’re taken on by the Foreign Office virtually.
CB: Oh.
AD: As and air attaché that’s it I became an air attaché.
CB: Did you really?
AD: Yes I became an air attaché because of my Russian know knowledge and Finland is only round the corner there.
CB: So you went to Finland?
AD: I went to Finland.
CB: How long did that last?
AD: Three years.
CB: As a wing commander?
AD: Yes.
CB: So they re-engaged you effectively as a did they or were you an auxiliary did you have auxiliary on here?
AD: No because they’d given up the auxiliaries when I when I left unfortunately.
CB: So this is the mid fifties is it?
AD: Yes Fifty Three to Fifty Six I think I was in Finland.
CB: Right
AD: Yes.
CB: A nd that’s the origin of the name of your house?
AD: That is quite correct oh you’ve guessed that have you [laughs].
CB: So what did you do there?
AD: I became a spy as all attachés are spies except undercover you didn’t you didn’t behave like a spy you attended all the necessary meetings that all these chaps had and er the Russians were the big spymasters I’ve got a photograph of all the spies that I did work with if you’d like to see them
CB: Fascinating.
AD: Would you?
CB: Yes.
AD: They were they were from Norway from er from er I can’t [unclear] I’ll show you the photograph yes.
CB: Right so you were working as an air attaché from Fifty Three to Fifty Six what did you do after that you returned to England what did you do?
AD: I worked for the Government in the Government Office.
CB: Right the books on there.
AD: It could it could well be it could well be.
CB: [Laughs] And then when did you retire from work altogether?
AD: I don’t know.
CB: Was it sixty or sixty five or?
AD: Yes I must have been sixty five I should think.
CB: Thank you very much that was really interesting.
AD: And here’s a photograph of the first squadron I went in Portreath as a young man and I must have been twenty.
CB: Really
Dublin Core
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Title
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Interview with Andrew Deytrikh
Creator
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Chris Brockbank
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-04-26
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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01:29:22 audio recording
Language
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eng
Type
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Sound
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ADeytrikhA160426
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Pending review
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Fighter Command
Description
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Andrew Deytrikh’s family emigrated from Russia in 1919 and he was born in the Isle of Wight. He grew up in London before being employed in a laboratory testing metals. He joined the Royal Air Force in 1940 and after training as a pilot he joined 66 Squadron at RAF Portreath protecting merchant convoys, and then went on bomber escort duty. Towards the end of the war he became a test pilot and was then selected as part of the Occupation Forces as a Russian interpreter. He met his wife who was a plotter in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force and married in 1945. Post war he worked testing metals at a laboratory and became an air attaché at the Foreign Office in Finland for three years. On his return he worked for the Government Office. He retired at the age of sixty five.
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Finland
Great Britain
Atlantic Ocean--Bay of Biscay
Atlantic Ocean--English Channel
England--Cornwall (County)
Contributor
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Jackie Simpson
66 Squadron
aircrew
Fw 190
ground personnel
love and romance
Me 109
pilot
Spitfire
Tiger Moth
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/722/10118/ABradfordS161031.2.mp3
18e10be05e692061bdfe7a521b7d2770
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Title
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Bradford, Stanley
S Bradford
Description
An account of the resource
Nine items. An oral history interview with Stan Bradford DFM (1923 - 2017, 2216040 Royal Air Force) also includes his flying log book, service and release document, investiture ticket, newspaper cuttings and squadron photograph. He flew operations as a mid-upper gunner from RAF Scampton.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Stanley Bradford and Matt Ashamall and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-10-31
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
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Bradford, S
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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CB: My name is Chris Brockbank and today I’m in Abingdon with Stan Bradford DFM and we’ve just been to the Remembrance celebration in the centre of the town. And Stan was a mid-upper gunner and we’re going to talk about some extra items that have come out of the earlier part of the interview done by Matt Ashamall. So the first one that was intriguing I thought Stan was how you came to join the RAF. Because of when you were going in your truck.
SB: Yeah.
CB: To Blackpool. You thought you’d —
SB: Yes.
CB: Go into the Recruiting Office. So just talk us through that could you?
SB: Well, from what I remember it my foreman where I was an apprentice his name was Ervyn Jagger. And since the war I’ve been in management myself and one of the big things I felt I had to look at was his style of man management. And his man management was absolutely deploring. Now, our job. We were in a Reserved Occupation and our job was to repair fighting vehicles such as coaches that transported troops from station to station. If they had been involved in an accident we had to repair them and then deliver them to the old, back to the owners. And one particular day I was with a guy and he was an Irishman, his name was Mick Jagger. That was a good for you. Now, Mick was wonderful. But Ervyn Jagger, the foreman he came up to Mick. He said, ‘Mick. I’m going to take your lad off you.’ Which was me. And he said, ‘He’s big enough. And now the restrictions are lifted where you don’t need a driving test anymore,’ he said, ‘And I want him to take a Seagull coaches to Blackpool. Having repaired it now we’ll take it to Blackpool.’ And it annoyed me in so much that I was with Mick as a lad and I was doing pretty good. And it seemed to me that he was determined to stop me being so good because he had his favourites in the department. However, I got in the bus and we had to go through, I mean you will all have heard of Wigan Pier. And close to Wigan Pier we went through with this bus. And I thought, ‘Bugger. I’m going to go in the forces.’ My mates are in there that was in the village. It was a small village called Astley that had about a couple of hundred people and the local industry was a coal mine. However, I thought I’m going to have a go. So I went to the army guy and I said, ‘Can I recruit? Join the army.’ ‘Oh come in,’ you know, ‘We’ll take you on.’ Of course once he knew I was an apprentice he said, ‘No chance.’ He said, ‘You’re an apprentice in a Reserved Occupation. So,’ he said, ‘No chance.’ Well, for reasons best known to the service people there were three in a line. The army, the navy, the air force. So I’m now with the navy. So I went to the navy. And the navy bloke said, ‘Yeah. Come in.’ Once he started, Reserved Occupation, out you go. They wouldn’t have me. I thought well I’ll just as well fix the three up. I’ll go to the air force. And the sergeant in there said, ‘Yeah. We’ll have you. But,’ he said, ‘There’s only one place you’re going to be,’ he said, ‘Because I heard you talking about the guy down the street that you’ve been in a Reserved Occupation.’ I said, ‘Exactly.’ ‘Well,’ he said, ‘The only chance you’ve got of coming in to the air force,’ he said, ‘Is you go in aircrew.’ I said, ‘That’s alright. Put me down for aircrew.’ So off I went quite happily. Signed. And delivered the coach and then come back to my works where I was apprentice. Went home in the evening. I said, ‘Mum and dad, I’ve been and joined the services.’ My dad said, ‘What you done?’ I said, ‘I’ve joined the air force. In aircrew.’ He said, ‘What?’ he said, ‘Bloody nancy boys.’ [laughs] I said, ‘I’m afraid so, dad.’ Of course he had his say and it wasn’t very pleasant because he was a regimental sergeant major in the army in the First World War. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘You’ve done it. There’s nothing we can do.’ Within five days I had to go to a place which wasn’t too far from home called RAF Padgate. And there they did an attestation. So we had to sit an exam. Did we have a brain? We had an examination. Then we had a medical examination. A colour test. Make sure that we weren’t colour blinded because to get in aircrew you had to be spot on. Your hearing. And when they’d finished with you you could guarantee that you are a fit man. And from there within, we went home, and within less than a week I was in and back to Padgate. And I’ll always remember a funny story at Padgate. I said to the corporal who was in charge, we went to a wrestling match which they put on for the troops and this corporal, I said to this corporal, ‘Is there any chance of me going home?’ I said, ‘I only live just up the road.’ ‘Just the bloke we’re looking for. So what would I ended up? I was an usher ushering people to their seats. So, I didn’t get my chance to go home. And from there we went off to Lords Cricket Ground. So that was —
CB: Yeah.
SB: When I, why I joined.
CB: Fantastic. Thank you very much. Now, in the process of your flying you were very successful in engaging aircraft. So, I wondered if we could just take a sequence out of the overall sequence of your kills and because yours is a very unusual situation and it would be really useful to be able to hear how this progressed because some of the people I’ve interviewed never even shot at an aircraft let alone shot it down. So your first engagement was what?
SB: We were on the way to Nuremberg. And sitting up in the mid-upper turret you’d got a damned good view of proceedings and I happened to spot, when I was traversing the mid-upper turret [pause] a Lancaster blown up. And I thought Christ. I kept my eye on him. It was a 109. I kept my eye on him and I thought he appears to be swooping around towards us. And I thought extra alert on to him. So, I said to my pilot, told him there was enemy aircraft on our starboard beam. And astern and starboard beam is back of us. And lo and behold yes he was coming towards us. Well, one of the things in our training we had to know the aircraft that was we were engaging. We had to know it’s wing span. We had to know its speed. We had to know everything there was to know about who was coming so we could line him up in our sights and this 109 was coming towards us. And I thought right. I put my sights on him. Frightened to death. I watched him until he got within shooting range and then I gave him a burst. And hey presto I was lucky. I hit him and caught him straight in the engine and down he went. And I watched him go. I shouldn’t have done it but I did it. I watched him go down. We’re not supposed to look down at all. So, I watched him going down. And in between this what I told the pilot to, ‘Dive to port. Go.’ Now, a pilot never moved until the gunner said to him, Prepare to dive to port.’ And he always waited for the word, ‘Go.’ And you can imagine the suspense between the two of us. Him waiting for me and me waiting for him to [laughs] It was a little bit frightening but I did it. I did it.
CB: So you shot it down. So the idea of then going the opposite way. In other words to port, to the left was to get out of the way.
SB: Dive away from him coming in. Yeah.
CB: Yeah. Because he might have got you himself even.
SB: Yeah. Yeah.
CB: Right. Ok. So which operation was that? Was that one of your early —
SB: That was the very first.
CB: Very first. Right.
SB: Very first. From Scampton.
CB: Right.
SB: Yeah. Yeah.
CB: And the second kill. What was that?
SB: The second kill. Our rear gunner, he reported enemy aircraft astern of us and again he gave the pilot order what he wanted. I believe it was again dive starboard. And naturally it drew my attention to that situation. And Chick hit him. He fired at him. He hit him but he didn’t put him down. And I looked over as he went underneath us. I looked over and I thought well I’ve got to help him on his way. So, I belted him and he went down.
CB: What was that?
SB: I believe it was a Focke Wulf 190. And that was very close to the target. Nuremberg. Now, during this time obviously they the Focke Wulf in particular he shot at us and wounded us and he destroyed our navigational equipment. So, basically we come out the target the other end and we were lost. Ron, our pilot, he never kept anything from us. He always informed us of what was happening and he said, ‘Well, lads,’ he said, ‘You’ve done a good job getting rid of that lot. Now,’ he said, ‘We’ve got a problem. We’re bloody lost.’ However, this, what this did this brought in our navigator. He had what they called in those days a sextant. And this sextant it was taken from what they called the astrodome where the spare man, in this case it was our wireless operator in the target area looking for enemy aircraft to inform us if there was one about. But he relinquished the role and let the navigator go in there firing the sextant at the stars to get a fix. Where were we and whatever. And Tony got, Tony West his name was, he got a fix alright. And he seemed to get us somewhere near but we were all alone. By this time one of the engines had gone. We had three. And later on in the trip after probably maybe an hour, two hours we came out and Tony. He said, ‘I’ve got a feeling now, Skipper,’ he said, ‘We’re over the sea.’ He said, ‘I’m sure I see the enemy, the coast.’ So, he said, ‘Ron,’ he said, ‘If you’re looking for help,’ he said, ‘I would issue an SOS. Call up Darkie and say we’re lost.’ What are we going to do? So Ron did. He thought that was not a bad idea. He called out Darkie and SOSs and one thing and another. And before you could say jack’s a lad bump. Bang. We were over the Channel Islands and as is well known that the Germans invaded the Channel Islands and occupied it and the Germans were firing at us. We thought, Christ. It wasn’t very pleasant. But Ron stuck the nose down from what height we had and got well away as quick as he could. And after a little while an aircraft appeared and flashed his navigation lights. You know, the green and the red. And we picked him up by, well I picked him up. I said, ‘It’s a Typhoon bomber.’ I said to Ron, ‘It’s a Typhoon bomber.’ And he took a position. He was a little out of range of our guns. We only had a four hundred yards accuracy. And I said, ‘We aint going to have a go at him.’ However, I did identify him. He was a Typhoon. And he kept well out on [pause] of our range and he escorted us back. He was based at RAF Exeter. He guided us in. Wished us all the best. Did chatter. Got us on the runway. And we got to the end of the runway and the bloody engines packed in. Course the aircraft was knocked about like a colander. Well what they said to us when they got us out the aeroplane very quickly in case something blew up or whatever and debriefed us and then they took us for a meal. The old traditional egg and bacon. And the flight sergeant in the sergeant’s mess there was only two of us. Three of us, I beg your pardon. He took us into the mess and unfortunately the flight sergeant in the mess he’d just been informed that his son who was an air gunner had just been missing on operations. So he made a real special effort looking after us three. Two of us were gunners. And he said, ‘What about a drink lads?’ We were all dressed for flying so it was, thinking it was winter see keep warm so we kept the aircrew unit on and they took us into Exeter. We’d barely got out the van that he’d laid on for us into Exeter when the SPs got hold of us and whipped us back to base which didn’t please the flight sergeant. I think he doubted their parentage if I’m honest because of what they’d done and he told them what we’d gone through. And they said, ‘We’re doing our job.’ So it was all messed up. And the next day we flew back to Scampton where we picked our kit up and then off to East Kirkby.
CB: When —
SB: And then we had to wait a little while before 57 Squadron confirmed that we were credited with the two and they gave them to me.
CB: Brilliant. On a slightly different note what was the relationship you had with the ground crew?
SB: Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
CB: So, when you brought a colander back how did they express their feelings about that?
SB: I don’t think I’d like to come out with the language but can I just said Jesus Christ [laughs]
CB: Over the Channel Islands that was flak that hit you was it?
SB: The big guns.
CB: Yeah.
SB: Yeah. The big guns. Yeah. Yeah. And in point of fact some years later I said to my wife, we went on holiday into Weymouth and I said to my wife I spotted this sign, “day trip.” I said [unclear] ‘We’re going.’ And I went to see the old hospital and things like that.
CB: Yeah. The underground hospital.
SB: Just to bring back memories.
CB: Yes.
SB: Yeah.
CB: And those coastal guns.
SB: Yeah.
CB: Yeah.
SB: Yeah.
CB: Fantastic.
SB: Yeah.
CB: Right. So that’s your first operation and you shot down two aircraft.
SB: Yes.
CB: So, we’re on the topic of the kills. What was the third victory that you had?
SB: I think the Dornier 217. That was a fighter bomber. And I’ve got a feeling. I’m not certain where that, where he was. [pause] He was, all I can tell you he was persistent. He had a go at us two or three times and we, between us we dodged him with our tactics. Again, which was a lot of the training.
CB: Yeah.
SB: And our tactics beat him.
CB: So, how did you actually get him in the end? In the fuselage? In the engines? Or what?
SB: Straight in the pilot’s cabin. Yeah. I thought, well the bugger had got to go hadn’t he? It’s him or me.
CB: Yeah.
SB: Either kill or be killed.
CB: What, what raid were you on then? What op?
SB: I’ve got a feeling we were Berlin.
CB: Right.
SB: I’m sure. Berlin.
CB: Yeah. So that’s number three. What happened with the next one?
SB: I think again it was an ME 109. We was just approaching. Again Berlin. We were going in there. We hadn’t had a very pleasant trip in there and Munday decided well we’ve come this far. We’re going to go and we’re going to go in there and we’re going to do what we’re paid to do. And we did it. And just as we were coming out the other end he was waiting for us. So I thought well he’s got to go and all [laughs] So, yes. I did him.
CB: So, we’re in the night and these are single-engine aircraft. They’re being directed by radar to you.
SB: Yes. Yes.
CB: Right.
SB: Yes. Yes.
CB: So how did you see him first?
SB: I think I looked. I’m pretty sure I looked up and he was just hovering above. Obviously out of the way of the flak. And I identified him pretty quick and said that’s what he was. And I’m pretty positive in saying that as was the case with the last one he didn’t see us.
CB: So effectively you got him —
SB: I hit him. I hit him in the engine. And the last one I — he was flying on the beam and Dennis was in the, as I said earlier he, Dennis was in the astrodome looking. Helping the gunners. Looking for enemy aircraft. And he said, ‘Look on the starboard beam, Stan.’ I said, ‘Funnily enough I just got, I’ve just seen him.’ And with that I had him. I’d time to tell him to tell Ron what tactics were involved so a bit too late so, however, I had him. I shot the pilot. I could, I could even see it now. I had him. Full. No bother.
CB: And at what distance are we talking about?
SB: I’m talking of what two, three hundred yards.
CB: Right. And in, I didn’t ask you but in the mid-upper turret how many guns have you got?
SB: Two.
CB: Right.
SB: Two.
CB: And they’re zeroed at what range?
SB: The maximum we had was four hundred. Maximum.
CB: Right. So, we’ve done three and four. How did you feel about it once you’d dealt with them?
SB: Could you say elated in one sense.
CB: Yeah.
SB: And thanking my lucky stars in the other.
CB: Sure.
SB: Yeah. Yes.
CB: Number five.
SB: I’m not. Do you know I’m not certain. I’m not. I’m not a hundred percent certain so I don’t know if you don’t mind if I don’t comment on the one. I’m not. I’m not — it’s misty. No.
CB: At what happened you mean?
SB: Sorry?
CB: You mean when it was and what happened.
SB: Yeah. I’m a little bit foggy.
CB: Yes.
SB: I’m not a hundred percent certain.
CB: But roughly. Just roughly.
SB: Roughly. Roughly again —
CB: Because they were all at night these things.
SB: They had a go at us.
CB: Yeah.
SB: I’ve got a feeling one was on the way [pause] they had a clue from the — see being it was early this one. They were waiting on the borders. Before Sweden. And I think again it was a 109. Pretty sure it was. And —
CB: Is this over Denmark is it?
SB: Sorry?
CB: Is this over Denmark?
SB: Yeah. On the way in.
CB: Yeah. To Berlin.
SB: In to Sweden.
CB: Yeah.
SB: Because we flew over Sweden which unfortunately Winston Churchill denied that we were briefed to go that way. Again, strange enough it was one of the most frightening we did. Not being used to seeing streetlights and things like this. And also they had, the Swedish air force were equipped with Focke Wulf 190s —
CB: Right.
SB: As their front line aircraft. Fighters. And they kept just outside the four hundred yard mark at which are guns weren’t effective and your sitting there, ‘Is that bugger going to shoot at us?’ And you didn’t, just didn’t comprehend what, what was going to happen. Were they going, were they going to have a go at us or not? But fortunately they escorted us straight through Sweden to the other end and believe it or believe it not there was a searchlight pointing at to sea. Straight over our track.
CB: This is on the return trip.
SB: Yeah.
CB: Yeah.
SB: We’d done the bombing. Then we were coming home.
CB: Yeah.
SB: And it was unbelievable to think that —
CB: They would do that. Yeah.
SB: They was identifying the track. That’s the way you’ve got to go lads.
CB: Fantastic.
SB: And our man went.
CB: Yeah. But your engagement with the fighter was before then.
SB: Oh yeah. That was on the, coming into, into Sweden.
CB: Yes. Oh you went over —
SB: The had an idea from the —
CB: You went over Sweden both ways did you?
SB: No. No.
CB: No.
SB: No. No. Coming home.
CB: Right.
SB: Coming home. I’ve got a feeling one of them, because of the following wind it took us an hour and a half to get from take-off to bombing.
CB: Really.
SB: Yeah.
CB: Gee.
SB: And it took us six and a half to come back against the wind [laughs]
CB: Blimey. Yeah.
SB: I can always remember that you know.
CB: Yeah.
SB: Yeah.
CB: So that was a very memorable experience
SB: Yes.
CB: Because of the lack of knowledge.
SB: Yeah.
CB: Of whether the Swedes would attack or not.
SB: Yes. Yes. My very, very worst one was the one before the end.
CB: Right.
SB: We knew. We knew we were very very close to finishing. And we called it, it was christened the night of the high winds. And the wind blew us off track. And Tony West, he always put it down. He kept contact with Ron’s instruction. He kept contacting base about the winds. He said. ‘They’re not what you said they were going to be.’ And he kept on. On and on to them. And base kept saying to him there’s nothing wrong with the winds. And they wouldn’t accept there was anything wrong at all. However, it blew us off course and it blew us a hell of a long way off course and it blew us over the Ruhr. Now, in anybody’s language the Ruhr was naughty.
CB: Happy Valley.
SB: Yeah. Called, it was called Happy Valley. Yes. Now, what happened it was some pilots dream. An aircraft which we were the unfortunate ones. The aircraft were coned in searchlights. In total we were coned for thirty five minutes. Now, if you’re coned even for a few minutes you’re belted out, almost belted out the sky which they hammered us good and proper. We were shot. I think we had two engines in the end. And when I said about it being a pilot’s dream — if an aircraft was coned this was a signal for following aircraft to dive through. When they were coning you they couldn’t cone two of you together and it allowed the other one to shoot through. So they probably clapped their hands Christ thanked their lucky stars. Unlucky stars. But bless him, Ron my old skipper he threw that aircraft all over the sky and he got us out. Now, ‘Now, we’re free from that lot lads but,’ he said, ‘We’ve got another bloody problem.’ Fred Simmons, our engineer he said, ‘Ron,’ he said, ‘Unfortunately that little bit of a detour we had to have and all that you throwing it about the sky it’s affected our fuel consumption. So,’ he said, ‘We’ve got a decision to make as a crew,’ he said, ‘I always said and I always will stick to a decision that the whole crew make the risk. The decision whether we’re going to go back to try and get back to our original place on track or we come back over the sea.’ So, we said, well [laughs] we had different views but the vote was we came back by sea. And I believe we couldn’t make base because of we were short about I think we had two engines and I think we landed at Coltishall.
CB: In Norfolk. Yeah.
SB: Then a couple of days and fixed us up. Back to East Kirkby and Wing Commander Miller was our commanding officer and he said, ‘Because of the hairy situation you’ve just been in over the Ruhr,’ he said, ‘The trip that’s just coming up,’ he said, ‘Which I’m not going to put you on so you’re confined to camp.’ So we couldn’t go blabbing about where main force were going. He said, ‘I’m not going to put you on the Ruhr.’ He said, ‘I’m going to save you for a bit easier.’ Which wasn’t a bad idea really. In theory. So we attended the briefing for our last one. Lo and behold where was it? We looked at each other and said, ‘Jesus Christ.’ It was Nuremberg. Which was the infamous one that Bomber Command lost ninety odd aircraft. But between this I had been awarded my Distinguished Flying Medal. And we were briefed to go to Emden. And for some unknown reason, weather or whatever, they called it off. So, we were in our flying gear. I had a black and white silk scarf my mum gave me as a lucky mascot and buoyancy suits. We did look darlings. All grease all over the face where the buckles on your mask so you didn’t get frostbite. And so we were allowed in the mess because the trip had been cancelled so we were allowed in the mess in flying gear so we went in the mess for a jug or two. And I’d barely got a jug in my hand for a pint and the phone went in the mess and the page, paged me on the phone and it was my skipper. He said, ‘What the hell have you been doing?’ I said, ‘I don’t know. I’m just having a pint.’ He said, ‘Well,’ he said, ‘You’ve been doing summat,’ he said, ‘Because I’ve got to get you into Wing Commander Miller’s officer straight away.’ He said, ‘Now, I’m coming outside the mess to pick you up.’ He said, ‘I’m only just over the road at the officer’s mess,’ he said, ‘I’m, like yourself, having one.’ He said, ‘I’m going to pick you up. Down the flights we go.’ So he marched me in. After a little while he called me in. He marched me into Wing Commander Miller’s office and Wing Commander Miller looked at me. He said, ‘You sergeant are improperly dressed.’ I said, ‘I’ve got a tie. A scarf.’ He said, ‘You’re improperly dressed,’ he said, ‘Coming in my office.’ He tore me a strip off. Then he said, ‘I’m pleased to tell you, Sergeant Bradford you’ve just been the immediate award of the Distinguished Flying Medal. Now,’ he said, ‘Get in to Boston and have some bloody beer.’ So, Boston was our nearest place and he said I’ve reserved a couple of seats on the coach for you. So,’ he said, ‘In to Boston. You go and have some beer.’ And that was it. So that was the finish.
CB: Fantastic. On the sequence we were talking about you shot down six didn’t you?
SB: Yeah.
CB: So, we’ve got to number five which was when you went on the trip that went via Sweden.
SB: Yes.
CB: What about the sixth one? What was that?
SB: I can, yes. Well, yes he was. It was a Dornier 217. And whether you, the Germans allowed them to sleep or not I don’t know but there was two of them in there. And again we were coming out of the target a little bit higher than usual and he was up there and looking out for us as we were looking out for him. And I engaged him. He saw us at the last minute. I engaged him and, well the rest is history. He had to go.
CB: Where was him in, where was he in relation to the aircraft?
SB: Again, he was, he was —
CB: High up.
SB: Starboard up. Higher. Yes.
CB: So, in the circumstances what would be the aiming point of that, on that aircraft?
SB: I just shot at the aeroplane.
CB: Right.
SB: I just shot at the aeroplane.
CB: So effectively it raked —
SB: It blew up.
CB: It raked the underside.
SB: It blew up.
CB: Did it? Right.
SB: Yes. He did.
CB: Yeah.
SB: Yes, he did. Yes. He did.
CB: So —
SB: And then there was all this, ‘Well done, Stan.’ And in point of fact I got a book on the Battle of Berlin.
CB: Yeah.
SB: And my pilot, bless him he wrote in there, “A present to Stan.” Martin Middlebrook’s book. It was, “A present to Stan who saved our lives on many occasions.”
CB: Brilliant. Yes. The planes you were, you shot down were a combination of twin engine and single engine.
SB: Yes. Yes.
CB: So the fifth one. Was that also a single engine?
SB: Yes. A Focke Wulf 190.
CB: That was a 190 as well?
SB: Yes.
CB: That was —
SB: Yes.
CB: Yeah. Ok.
SB: Yes.
CB: On the way to the target was it?
SB: Yes.
CB: Yeah. Ok.
SB: Yes. They were over the target and on the approach as well.
CB: Yeah.
SB: Fighter planes. Get away quicker see.
CB: Yeah. Yeah.
SB: The big stuff like the Dorniers were outside the target waiting for us.
CB: What sort of — when they saw you in advance what sort of range did they start shooting?
SB: They was around the four hundred yards. They had — they, obviously they could. They had a bigger range than us. See, four hundred yards was the, a Browning 303.
CB: Yeah.
SB: Yeah.
CB: Whereas what were they armed with?
SB: Yeah.
CB: What were they armed with? What guns did they have?
SB: I don’t honestly know.
CB: So they had 30 mill err 20 millimetre cannon.
SB: I’ve no idea.
CB: Right. As well as machine guns.
SB: I’ve no idea at all.
CB: Yeah. Ok. Good. Thank you. We’ll take a pause there for a mo.
[recording paused]
CB: So, Stan with six aircraft shot down.
SB: Yeah.
CB: In RAF parlance that made you an ace.
SB: Yes.
CB: How did they recognise that?
SB: It was announced at briefing at East Kirkby that, ‘Gentlemen, we’ve got an ace in our midst.’ Miller. Wing Commander Miller. And I believe that there was another officer who was commanding officer of the whole of the group was Group Captain Taff. I don’t know whether you’ve ever heard of him at all.
CB: No.
SB: He was —
CB: Obviously Welsh.
SB: I believe, again that [pause] I used to get on pretty, well he did with most aircrew. He was a damned good drinker [laughs] But he announced that it was his pleasure to shake my hand. And he said to everybody, ‘Here we’ve got him. He’s an ace.’ That. And it was as quick as that.
CB: So, at Kirkby as everywhere else there was a gunner leader was there?
SB: Yes. Yes.
CB: And how did he react to that?
SB: I’d like to use a word but I don’t dare. Can we call —
[recording paused]
CB: So, there was a gunnery leader.
SB: Yeah. It was, it was the practice that the leader of each section, and I can only speak of 57 Squadron that the gunnery leader in my case, he said, ‘I’m going to rest you on the next trip,’ he said, ‘You won’t be going on the trip. I’ll be taking your place.’ Which rather dejected me and I went to my skipper and I said, ‘Ron, I’m not happy at all. My gunnery leader’s taking me off the trip and he’s going in my place.’ And Ron’s reaction was, ‘He bloody well aint.’ And he didn’t.
CB: What rank would gunnery —
SB: Flight lieutenant.
CB: Right.
SB: He had a thing about him. I can only again speak for my personal self and my other gunner, Chick who was a Canadian. I can only speak for the two of us. We never ever missed the opportunity to go out on the gunnery range and practice. Clay pigeon shooting and shooting from a, from a turret. From one like me I was in a two and he was in a four. We never ever, ever missed a session. Chick, he was the champion clay pigeon shooter and I was his deputy.
CB: Very good.
SB: Yeah. We never missed.
CB: Right.
SB: Now, so that gunnery leader should have talked to us and used us an example.
CB: Exactly. So my next question was what the reaction?
SB: He didn’t.
CB: Of the other gunners.
SB: He didn’t. Whether it registered. It must have registered mustn’t it? But he didn’t seem to take it on board.
CB: Ok [pause] Thank you. Now, a couple of other things. One is that when you were at Scampton you met Guy Gibson.
SB: Yes. I did.
CB: Just, what was the, he was 617 but —
SB: Yes. I was on my way. I can, again that’s one. Things like this never leave you. I was on my way into the sergeant’s mess. Right. And I think it was at mealtime and he was walking his dog. Naturally I had to throw him one up. Salute. And he called me over. And he had a thing. Gibson. About NCOs. He just [pause] he didn’t like them as much as he did officers. End of story really. I can honestly say that the aircrew — sergeants and flight sergeants, they weren’t his favourite people.
CB: Was that related to the role they did? So, did air gunners come off worst?
SB: I don’t know. I really don’t know. But he didn’t. He was against aircrew. Sergeants.
CB: Yeah.
SB: And flight sergeants.
CB: What about his dog?
SB: Friendly enough. Friendly enough. Them days the billets were just inside the gate and we were in one of those billets. There were two crews in the house. And he’d obviously been somewhere and come through the gates on the way to the mess when I met him.
CB: But the dog was called?
SB: I can’t remember it’s bloody name. Not Ricky. No. No. I forget.
CB: And the dog was called N*****.
SB: N*****. I went and looked at his grave this last year.
CB: Did you?
SB: When they called us up for our reunion. Yeah.
CB: And was the dog allowed to wander around? Or what happened?
SB: Yes. He did.
CB: With the dog.
SB: Yes. He did.
CB: That mess up your shoes?
SB: After I’d gone he was, he died.
CB: Did it mess up your shoes a bit?
SB: No.
CB: Ok. Thank you. The other one is a contentious one and its one that nowadays is used to, is described a different way but in war there are all sorts of sanctions that are imposed.
SB: [unclear]
CB: In war there are all sort of sanctions imposed.
SB: Sanctions.
CB: According to circumstances. So you had a certain situation where one of the crew on one of the trips lost his bottle. What was the circumstances of that?
SB: Ginger.
CB: What happened there?
SB: Well, that again was a Berlin. It was custom [pause] I would reckon that all pilots did it. When you were just before, well it was just before actually your bombing run you knew you were coming up shortly to your bombing run and pilots always lifted the nose of the aircraft slightly upwards. So that when the word, ‘Bombs gone,’ it automatically gave a lurch up and with it pointing upwards you took one hell of a lift up. And it was also custom that when the bombs had gone the pilot used to scream out, and it was a scream, ‘Full power.’ Now, the practice was that the engineer, the pilot had enough on his plate to steer the aircraft. So the engineer put his hand on the four throttles and pushed them forward and locked them. So they were screaming their guts out.
CB: So they’re through the gate.
SB: Through the gate.
CB: Yeah.
SB: And naturally the crew knew. We just took it as that was it. All glued to our seats. And when we got back Ron said to the crew, by which time Ginger had been left with intelligence but with the crew he got us all together and he said, ‘Well, lads,’ he said, ‘We’ve got a problem. We’ve got a problem. And,’ he said, ‘It’s not a pleasant problem. Ginger [pause] has gone LMF.’ He said, ‘You know from experience that it’s my job always to call for full power through the gate when we are coming out of the target to get us away as quick as we can and it’s unfortunate Ginger was hiding behind my seat. He couldn’t face up to it.’ So, he said, ‘There. You’ve got it.’ He said, ‘We’ve got no option but to report it to the commanding officer,’ he said. And well that was the end. He’d gone. Whether it was a stroke of luck. Fate. Is that what they call it? But we picked up another engineer within days because we, in them days it was essential we got as many bombers up there as they could and we picked up a bloke called Fred Simmons. And Fred, I always called him, he was point of fact we palled up. He was one of, my best friend. And what he didn’t know about an engine wasn’t worth knowing. He was absolutely brilliant. Now, Fred, he was with another aircraft and the crew he was with — Fred went sick [pause] And naturally if you had a sneeze in aircrew you were took off. So Fred was took off the trip and unfortunately the crew he was with didn’t come back. So we inherited Fred after a few days. We inherited Fred as our engineer. The replacement for Ginger. And he was brilliant. He was the kind of bloke that because I came from just outside of Manchester it was much too far for me to go home on a forty eight hour leave and [pause] he said, ‘You’re not going to stop on the station. That’s a certain fact,’ he said, ‘You’re going to come home with me. I live in Wisbech.’ Well, he was married. Unfortunately they couldn’t have children. And he lived with his mum and they kept the Railway Inn at Wisbech. So he and I used to go when we had a forty eight he used to take me and I used to help his mum. She was a widow by then. Incidentally Matthew took me to see the hotel. It’s still there.
Other: It’s a house now isn’t it? It was a house now, I think. Someone lived in it. It was still there. Yeah.
SB: Yeah. Yeah. Somebody lived in the house. What more can I say about Fred? We were absolutely — we lived in each other’s pockets.
CB: Did you, did you keep up with him after the war?
SB: No. I didn’t.
CB: Who did —
SB: Regrettably.
CB: Yeah. Just come back to that but what happened? What? What rank was Ginger?
SB: My rank. Sergeant.
CB: Right.
SB: Then, well naturally we progressed after a year.
CB: Flight sergeant.
SB: Flight sergeant.
CB: And what happened to him after he was arrested?
SB: I did contact him once. Something went wrong. He went to St Athan. South Wales. I believe it was an engineering.
CB: It was an engineering school.
SB: I believe. I don’t know.
CB: It was the School of Engineering. Yes.
SB: I don’t know.
CB: Yeah.
SB: I don’t.
CB: Ok. I think just one other thing. Who did you keep in contact with in the crew after the war?
SB: Only one. Ron. Ron Munday. I think that old Fred went. That’s all.
CB: So immediately after the war you had no contact with anybody.
SB: Market Harborough I went to.
CB: Yeah. Right. We’ll stop there for a break. Thank you.
[recording paused]
SB: Gave me an order see.
CB: Right. So what, we’ve talked about the dangers of what you were doing and clearly there was some amazing escapes, but the care, the aircraft was a colander on some occasions. The crew sometimes got wounded. In your case were you ever hit? And on what was the trip on which it happened?
SB: Yes. I was. I was wounded. We’d been instructed to bomb Stettin. Which was quite close to the place where they was building doodlebugs.
CB: Peenemunde.
SB: And I was wounded in a rather delicate position. And I won’t say any more about that.
CB: But in your role as a mid-upper gunner where were you in relation to the dangerous parts of the aeroplane?
SB: Well, I was just forward — backward. Sorry. Backward it would be wouldn’t it? Backward of the bomb bay. You could say within feet. Within feet. I knew probably first one they dropped when they went up in the air the aeroplane went.
CB: So of all the crew when the bombs went you were the one most relieved.
SB: Yes. Yes. I was.
CB: Yeah.
SB: Yeah. On many occasions. Yeah.
CB: Ok. And how many hours did you have to endure your discomfort after being hit on the way back?
SB: Five or six. There was blood all in my flying boot.
CB: There was a first aid kit in the aircraft. There was a first aid kit in the aircraft.
SB: Yeah. You couldn’t get at it. Your parachute, you couldn’t get at that.
CB: Right.
SB: As a mid-upper gunner you know.
CB: You sat on your parachute.
SB: No.
CB: Oh you didn’t.
SB: No. That was the position. Just close to the rear door.
CB: Right. But you couldn’t use the first aid kit.
SB: No. No.
CB: Ok.
SB: I can well remember when I was wounded. They got me out the turret. My bomb aimer was one Taffy. Taffy Evans. I could hear him say to Ron, I was conscious enough at the time, and ‘We got him out.’
CB: So, they lifted you out of the turret.
SB: Yeah.
CB: Then what happened?
SB: They took me to the — we had a bed.
CB: Right.
SB: Just by the main spar. And they just whacked me on the bed.
CB: Right.
SB: That was it. And then I went to sleep.
CB: So nobody then went into the turret in your place.
SB: No.
CB: No.
SB: There was nobody available.
CB: When you got back to East Kirkby what happened then? What was the sequence of events?
SB: I haven’t got a clue. When I say I aint got a clue I know because of what I was told.
CB: Which was?
SB: Our ground crew were there with the ambulance, well they didn’t drive the ambulance but they were there to assist getting me out of the aeroplane into the ambulance. There was no standing on ceremony. They whipped me off to RAF Rauceby.
CB: Which is the hospital near Sleaford.
SB: Yeah.
CB: Yeah.
SB: Yeah.
CB: Right. And when you were in the hospital what happened there?
SB: I don’t know. Well, when I say I don’t know. I’d been patched up by then. I’d also picked up another. Classed as a wound. I burst an eardrum. Ron came down quite quickly to assist me. So the story went. And in doing so I wasn’t breathing properly and I burst this. Dead as a doornail. And I can always, I always remember what they did it last. Repaired me.
CB: Right.
SB: I can always remember the guy that did it. I thought he was a brute. He drilled a hole through the bridge of the nose and put a tube in. He said it was a silver tube. Up, connected on the tube. And he put the ball part of it under his white gown and he said, ‘When I raise my finger,’ he said, ‘You raise yours that you acknowledge.’ He said, ‘That’s saying it’s gone around and around the head and blown it back.’ And he were pumping away and I [pause] and he looked at me. He said, ‘Good God man,’ he said, ‘You look as if you’re going to bloody faint. Go and stand in the corner.’ And that was that. A few days later I was back on flying.
CB: Amazing. Thank you. Your dad. Yeah.
SB: It’s not [pause] My dad was in the fire watching. He used to have a, they used to have a bit of string with a box on with a gas mask. And I said to my dad because he was, he worked at the coal mine issuing lamps for the miners. And he used to have to be up about 3 o’clock to get these for the people to start at six. But I used to say to my dad, ‘It’s pointless you being up for the bombing raid. The fire warden in the street. I’ll sit on the wall outside and I’ll do your shift for you.’ [laughs]
Other: Really.
SB: Yeah. I did. Yeah. Yeah.
CB: Because this is the bombing of Manchester and Liverpool.
SB: It was the bombing of Manchester or Liverpool. We were straight between them. I think it was like twenty eight miles to Liverpool.
CB: And they flew near you because of the Manchester Ship Canal.
SB: That’s right. Yeah. They used to be up and down the ship canal a lot. Or the River Mersey. The krauts were always up and down there. Of course, there was, you can well imagine I mean they didn’t get a free flight. They were always been shot at and the bloody shrapnel was around your house and — [laughs] You would get the odd broken window about. Yeah. Yeah. Those were the days Matt.
Other: I suppose coming over from Germany they didn’t have to fly over much land ‘til they got, even over on the west side of the country there wasn’t typically a wide bit of the country to get over was it? That we’d notice.
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 Stanley Bradford
Creator
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Chris Brockbank
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-10-31
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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ABradfordS161031
Conforms To
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Pending review
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01:03:52 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
Stanley Bradford was working in a Reserved Occupation until he volunteered. The three services were represented but as he approached them in turn the army and navy both rejected him because of his work. The RAF said that since he was in Reserved Occupation he could only join as a volunteer for aircrew. He duly volunteered and began training as an air gunner. He went on to shoot down five aircraft and was awarded the DFM. He was injured on one operation and as a result of the pilot’s rapid descent to help him Stan also suffered a burst eardrum. After one operation their flight engineer had a breakdown and was replaced by another engineer whose crew had been shot down. Flying over Sweden they found themselves escorted by the Swedes and also guided by a searchlight beam towards home. On another occasion they came under attack from anti-aircraft fire from the Channel Islands when their navigation equipment was damaged. They were met and escorted home by a Typhoon from RAF Exeter.
Contributor
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Julie Williams
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Germany
Great Britain
Sweden
England--Lincolnshire
Germany--Berlin
57 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
animal
bombing
Distinguished Flying Medal
Do 217
fear
Fw 190
Gibson, Guy Penrose (1918-1944)
lack of moral fibre
Lancaster
Me 109
RAF East Kirkby
RAF hospital Rauceby
RAF Padgate
RAF Scampton
recruitment
searchlight
superstition
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/617/8886/PPackmanDE1601.2.jpg
ba8928c4bf42a6031477dbdbb826e776
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/617/8886/APackmanDE161130.1.mp3
f2b524bbfce27b88bedbdd2f83f4cea3
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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Packman, Doug
Douglas Ernest Packman
D E Packman
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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Packman, DE
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Warrant Officer Doug Packman (1925, 1866208 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a fight engineer with 630, 57 and 44 Squadrons.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
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.
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
CJ: This is Chris Johnson and I’m interviewing Doug Packman today for the International Bomber Command Centre’s digital archive. We’re at Doug’s home in Tankerton in Kent, and it is Wednesday the 30th of November 2016. Thank you, Doug, for agreeing to talk to me today, and also present in the house is Barbara Masters, a friend of Doug’s. So, Doug, perhaps you could tell me first of all please your date and place of birth and your family background?
DP: Yes Chris. My date of birth was January the 10th 1925. My parents Lucy and Ernest Packman had their one and only child, that of course was me. If my parents could have shown me the beautiful night sky due south at nine fifty-five pm, we would have observed the most wonderful sight. I refer to the Orion [emphasis] nebula. The first star to pass by this, in this constellation was Rigel. Standing at approximately 30, 25’ due south, approximately 188 magnetic. I of course, just newly born, would know nothing [emphasis] of this. My only interest would have been in the warm arms of my loving mother. We, that is mum, dad and I, lived with my grandparents at Coxett Farm, Hansletts Lane, near Ospringe, Faversham. I will give you its actual [laughs] location [emphasis]. North 51 18’, east 000, 51.116’. I very often pass by this lovely old farmhouse on my way to church at Stalisfield. I look on this as my place of birth and where my life and adventures began. When a few months old, my parents decided I must be christened. One fine Saturday, Sunday [emphasis] afternoon, my mother, grandmother and an aunt were all prepared for the short journey to the church of St Peter and St Paul at Ospringe. They looked around for my dad and found him clearing, cleaning his motorcycle [emphasis]. ‘Come on Ernest’ said my mother, ‘have you not yet thought of another name to give our lad besides Ernest?’ ‘Oh yes,’ he said, ‘call him Douglas.’ ‘Why Douglas?’ asked mum and grandma. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘this is the best motorcycle I have ever had’ [CJ laughs] ‘so why not?’ I was so grateful in later years to my old dad, but I am very glad he did not own a Rudge, B.S.A. or Matchless at that time [CJ laughing]. My parents and I very often laughed about this. We move. Some two years after my birth in nineteen, in 1927, we moved to St Marys in the Isle of Grain. I always remembered it as remote and desolate, but I suppose it did have a certain beauty. And I must say during my childhood, my father taught me to ride horses at an early age, for I have loved horses all my life. He also taught me how to handle guns and shoot in a responsible manner. When I was ten [emphasis] I could drive a car around the farm, also help repair stationary engines. I have a photo of me driving a Standard Fordson tractor at the age of thirteen [CJ laughs]. World War Two. As we all know, World War Two started in 1939. When I was fourteen I worked as a boy messenger for the GPO, both at Ashford and Chatham, and by the time I was fifteen my parents had both decided that I should work at home on the farm. I was just over fifteen when I decided to join the LDV, or home guard. I will be honest, this was not, certainly [emphasis] for patriotic reasons. I wanted a stout pair of boots for farm work [CJ laughs] so what better than British Army boots? On my sixteenth birthday, I was, I was given my first driving licence. I, it covered all groups, so now I could drive a five ton Bedford lorry, and just about everything else. I might add I have never passed a driving test [CJ laughs], it was not needed in wartime. I led a busy life. I studied for two evenings a week under the guidance of Oscar George, our rector. He was a brilliant man, he had patience with me and I soaked up all [emphasis] that he gave me to do, maths, science, history etcetera. I owe him a great deal, for without his guidance I would never have passed my aircrew exams. Long distance running was also taken up, along with boxing and unarmed combat. Being in the Home Guard meant guard duty at times. Looking back, I suppose I was very lucky for as you might know, there was a complete blackout during that time. The sky could be observed without the distraction of streetlights etcetera. I think it might have got me interested on the beauty of the night sky, and it’s always been there for me. Those times, times can never come back. When I reached my seventeenth birthday, I went into the recruiting office above Burtons’ buildings at Chatham and asked to join RAF aircrew. A few weeks later I went to Cardington and passed my medical A1 and two or three days of examinations. I knew I might have difficulties for I was a farm boy and in a reserved occupation, however after almost a year I finally wore them down. I suppose they got fed up with me, and at eighteen walked into Lords cricket ground and so started what was for me the great adventure of my life.
Watching the stars again. I suppose it was around August 1944 that we visited some part of northern Germany. I remember we delivered our presents and, there being rather a lot of flak, Alec told me to put on climbing power. I adjusted my engines to twenty-eight thousand, two-thousand eight-hundred and fifty rpm and boost pressure to +9lbs/sq. in. We entered dense cloud and about ten minutes later, emerged from this dense cloud at about ten thousand feet. The effect was truly amazing for the night sky was just brilliant [emphasis]. It was a moon and just about every star at its best. I can only describe it as like entering from a complete darkness into a brilliant theatre full of light. It has forever stuck in my mind. I well remember Claude, our navigator, coming out of his small office behind me and pointing at the Plough and Pole Star. I have, if I’d had my planisphere with me at that time I could have told the time by the star Dubhe or the Plough, pointing to the star. It was all so [emphasis] exciting. It was the wrong time of the year to see Orion in the northern hemisphere, but many years later, after Pegs and I got married, I purchased a 4½” Newtonian reflector telescope, so that we could both enjoy many evenings of watching that beautiful night sky. But of course, one could not enjoy the full beauty, for there are so many lights from our towns and cities throughout the world and it does [emphasis] affect the viewing. But I will ask the reader not to be put off. Sometimes maybe around January the 10th next year, if you are fed up of watching the box, and some silly parlour game, get up [emphasis], go to your south aspect door and just look up [emphasis] and with a bit of luck you will be rewarded with the Orion Nebula. You can always [emphasis] make the excuse that you are putting the empty milk bottles or the cat out [CJ laughs]. God bless you all.
CJ: Well thank you Doug, that was great. Could you perhaps tell me now – you said you’d been to the recruiting office and joined up and that you went through the medical, so perhaps you could tell us about your time during training and going up to joining an operational squadron?
DP: Yes. I, I was very anxious to join up, simply because we just wanted to give Hitler a bloody nose [emphasis] [CJ laughs], and, er, I, I arrived at Lords cricket ground on the, sometime in March 1943, and there I met up with a wonderful fellow who I would like to tell you about. His name is John Mannion, and John was one of those who did not [emphasis] come back. So I would like to say, to tell you about him now. Is it there? [Pause whilst shuffling paper.] I first met John at Lords cricket ground one sunny morning in March 1943. ‘Good morning, my name’s John Mannion, what’s yours?’ ‘Doug,’ I replied, and we shook hands heartily. We attended lectures and training sessions at St John’s Wood, Torquay and St. Athan’s engineering school in Wales, until the Christmas of that year when we passed our final examination and emerged as sergeant flight engineers to fly in the mighty Lancaster. John was posted to No. 1 Group. I was sent to 5 Group Bomber Command. We would sometimes meet up in Lincoln, go to dances, chase the girls, for we were young [emphasis] and the world was our oyster. No two young men enjoyed life more. Full of enthusiasm, we went to war in order to give, as I say, Hitler a bloody nose. By June 27th, 1944, I had completed about eight operations when I had one of my letters to John returned to me. John had been killed on the 25th of June 1944, somewhere over Europe, whilst flying a Lancaster with 576 Squadron. John was never to reach his twentieth birthday. My first wife Alice Ida and I went to RAF Bomber Command War Memorial at Runnymede to see his name carved in stone. It all seems like a dream now, but I shall always remember the great adventures we had in that short time together. I shed a tear. Who knows, John and I might meet up again when I depart this life, then we can resume our chatter and thoughts. Rest in peace John.
CJ: Aw that’s lovely.
DP: That is my dedication to all of those, and John, who died and never made it back.
CJ: Mhm. Thank you. So could you tell me please, which was your first squadron and how many operations you did, and the sort of operations you were doing?
DP: Yes Chris, I did thirty-four operations in total, and that was on 630 Squadron at East Kirkby in Lincolnshire. There was another squadron there, 57 Squadron was out sister squadron. Erm, we took, I suppose, about five to six months to complete that tour of operations and then we were rested and went to, I went to the Lancaster finishing school at Syerston as an instructor. I served at Syerston and flew many operations training people and then my pilot and I, the late flight lieutenant John Chatterton DFC we returned to 630 Squadron again as squadron engineers. Squadron instructors [emphasis] rather. And the war ended in Europe. We were all destined to go to Japan, or fight the Japanese, but the bombing of Hiroshima settled all of that and our squadron was disbanded [emphasis] and then John and I were transferred to 57 again as squadron instructors, and we took the place of Mike Beetham and Ernest Scott who was his flight engineer. Incidentally, Mike Beetham became Marshal of the Royal Air Force, Sir Michael Beetham and he died two years ago. But then we moved from East Kirkby to Mildenhall in Suffolk where we joined John’s old squadron, 44 Squadron, and from there we flew operations out to Italy bringing back prisoners of war, so that was, that was it.
CJ: So when did you actually leave the RAF?
DP: Er, I left the RAF in around about March 1946 and then I was told to go to the Adjutant and said ‘go home and if you can get a job I will secure your release under Class B.’ I didn’t know much about what Class B was but I was looking forward to going home and getting married, but under Class B I was restricted to farm work until 1953/54, which wasn’t a very good move [laughs].
CJ: And looking back on your operational missions, were there any that you remember for the right or wrong reasons, when you, you thought you’d done a particularly good job or you had any close shaves?
DP: Well there was one close shave I had, and I think this piece of the aeroplane peller, propeller – [paper shuffling] I’ll show you – it might be of interest. It was at Revigny and it was on the 18th or 19th of July I think. I’m not sure I’ll have to check about that. Anyway, that night we went to Revigny and it had been bombed [emphasis] four times previously and I think [emphasis] we all thought it was an easy run for we went in, there was very little flak, we dropped our bombs and then there was just setting course for home when all hell let loose. Er, the mid upper gunner screamed out that the plane was alight [emphasis]. There was holes that appeared all over the place and I rushed back to see if I could be of assistance but he was enveloped, or rather that part of the aircraft was enveloped in fire, sizzed my eyebrows a bit and I reported to Alec, our pilot, that she was well [emphasis] alight. He then gave us instructions to bale out, and by the time I got back the navigator and bomb aimer had taken the escape hatch out of the bomb aimers compartment and we had a routine of getting out. I went, was going to be first, the bomb aimer, navigator, pilot, wireless operator would follow, the other two if they were lucky would get out the back, the two gunners. I, I’d dropped through the hatch as I thought, but the aircraft was in a spin and I was promptly, promptly dumped back [emphasis] in it again [laughs]. And there was no escape, all three of us were penned in that small area. I obviously was not on the intercom but the navigator or bomb aimer was still in contact, and Alec said ‘get him back up here to help me pull her, see if we can save her.’ I got up those two steps with their assistance – it was like climbing a mountain [CJ laughs]. So I got hold of the control column with Alec and we tugged and tugged [emphasis], and eventually she came up, but I remember seeing the top of Alec’s head, because I was laying on top of the canopy looking down onto him, or up at him, whichever the case may have been, and the next moment I was on the floor by his side. Alec got the aircraft under control, but he said afterwards that he looked at the speedometer and we must have touched four-hundred miles an hour in that dive, and it was pretty horrendous [emphasis]. Anyway, we got back, how we got back we never knew, but we got back and we were only ten minutes behind time, so it was – we were very [emphasis] lucky. But as we got out of the aircraft at East Kirkby I picked up a bit of the propeller which had hit my right leg and that’s it there. I’ve kept it ever since. I must say, as we got out the aircraft there was really no need to go to the rear door, we could have all walked out the side of it. It was just shattered [emphasis]. No tail planes, very little of the fuselage and yet we all [emphasis] got out of there, we were all [emphasis] extremely quiet, and there was not much laughter. But we went on operations the following night. But the aircraft I thought at the time was a write-off, but afterwards I found out that it had been patched [emphasis] up and it got lost I think on Stuttgart a few months later. But that was quite a hairy situation.
CJ: So the piece of propeller that you showed me – that was from your own aircraft?
DP: Yes, it came from starboard inner propeller. I feathered the engine, I had to stop the engine afterwards but we came back on three and, the Lancaster being the brilliant aircraft that it was came back no trouble whatsoever. So that was it.
CJ: Wow. And did you have any other missions that were memorable for good –
DP: Well –
CJ: Or not so good reasons?
DP: Well, at St Nazaire, the submarine pens at St Nazaire springs to mind. The Pathfinders had gone in and marked the target. It was brilliant [emphasis]. The sky – I was able to write [emphasis] my log and my engineer’s log without any assistance, just from the reflection of the, of the searchlights, it was enough, and as we were going in, we could see that they’d – that Alec our pilot said, ‘there’ll be fighters, so when we get straight and level over the target that will be the danger point.’ He instructed me to get in the front turret, so I stood in the front turret with Walter, the bomb aimer with his head between my feet, sighting up the target, and Alec gave the two gunners and myself instructions – ‘do not [emphasis] shoot unless you know that they’re coming for us.’ I think that was good, but all of a sudden I saw a dot [emphasis] in, on the horizon, and it quickly got – as it got closer I could see that it was a Focke-Wulf 190, and it was coming straight [emphasis] at us, point blank. And at the last moment it veered off over our port wing. It was so close that with the lights from the searchlights, I could see the shape of the pilot and also the oil streaks under its belly showed up. And I never want to see a Focke-Wulf or any other aeroplane quite that close again. It was a narrow, narrow day. And just recently, I’ve read in the “Daily Telegraph” obituary column of a German colonel, a friend of Hermann Goering, who ran the Wild Boar Squadron, so called, and he gave instructions to his men that if they ran out of ammunition and they couldn’t bring them down, just ram [emphasis] them. All I can say, I think that man was very kind. He either lost his nerve and we lived another day, so that was it. But that was very, very hairy that one. But apart from that we had the usual. Sometimes it was not easy, but we always [emphasis] lived to see another day, yes. But there we are. I think we were very, very lucky and out of thirty-four operations, there was no-one [emphasis] suffered at all. We weren’t hit, so God was with us [laughs] and, you know, it was marvellous. I would like to add this, that when we used to go to, down to take off from East Kirkby, each night or sometimes in the day, we would stand at the end of the runway ready for the green light and I would open up the engines, taking over from Alec, to give it full power and when I’d got full power on I’d always say, or murmur to myself a silent prayer. And that was to, to ask God to look after my parents and Jean my girlfriend and above all, would he let me see the sun rise in the east in the morning. And I used to say that every day, and I must say that it was good because my parents lived to a ripe old age and Jean, and I, are now almost ninety-two years of age. So, thank you God [both laugh].
CJ: Hmm. And did you go on to marry Jean later?
DP: Er, no. I married Alice Ida, partner and, in 1946, and we had eleven years of marriage and then, one Christmas she was, she went to hospital and she was diagnosed with leukaemia and they told me she’d got eleven, no, eight months to live, and she did indeed die on 8th of August 1958. So that was indeed hard, and er, it was hard in many ways because I lived in a very nice council house, an agriculture council house, but she died on the Saturday and on the Monday the rent collector informed me that, having no children, I would be required to vacate the house in a fortnight. So, I lost my wife [emphasis], my house and my job all in that fortnight, which wasn’t good.
CJ: And what did you go on to do after that? Did you carry on farming?
DP: Well I, I stopped on the farm, and I started keeping a few sheep and pigs myself, and I did that for a little while but I, I became ill and I was told to go on sea cruise and I did something that I never thought I’d do. I signed on the P&O liner Himalaya, and she was about to do a world cruise. And so I went away for six months, and in that time I saw Australia, New Zealand, the States, Canada, er Japan, New Zealand, and we did forty-four thousand miles, and I came back and Peggy, Patricia Penfold, who I’d known for many years, and although she was twelve years older than me she, we were in love and we married on that, when I came back. And we had forty-one [emphasis] years of lovely marriage. She died Christmas 2000, and that was it.
CJ: And you said that you were lucky that you and your crew survived the war. Were you able to keep in touch with them and attend reunions?
DP: Well yes [emphasis], I was able to keep in touch with my last pilot John Chatterton, he was a farmer in Lincolnshire, and also my pilot Alec Swain, he was a big industrialist in Manchester, and we kept in contact right up until Alec died [emphasis] and I was able to meet also the bomb aimer and the wireless operator, and Walter is still alive now and he lives in Kettering, and he’s indeed full, full, no he’s one year older than me, so he’s ninety-three. But it’s, so he’s the only one left now, yes.
CJ: And how, how did you feel that Bomber Command were treated after the war?
DP: Well I, I think it was a bit rough. We got criticised and I think it was quite unnecessary because at that [emphasis] time I think we were the only – it was the only defence we’d got was the Air Force flying, but we got shouted at and abused for Dresden and all that sort of thing. But I always thought that, you know, the Germans were bombing Coventry and the docks of London and all [emphasis] these other places, and I thought it was a bit unjustified. But yes, I suppose we didn’t get a medal, a campaign medal, but I’ve never been, I’ve never been, never been very interested in medals anyway so it doesn’t make much difference to me. I met, I never had any brothers or sisters, but being in an RAF aircrew, in a Lancaster, member of a Lancaster crew I had six wonderful brothers, and that [emphasis] to me was worth every, every operation I did. They were lovely men, marvellous people.
CJ: And have you been inside a Lancaster since you left the RAF?
DP: Yes [emphasis]. I was lucky enough to – when I was seventy years of age, John Chatterton my pilot had a son, Mike Chatterton, and he was flying the Lancaster at Coningsby and they were doing a flight from Coningsby to Wittering and he said that I could join them, and so we, we all assembled at Coningsby, John Chatterton, Dennis Ringham our gunner, Bill Draycott the bomb aimer and myself [emphasis], and we all took off with an escort of two fighters for Wittering [emphasis]. But the big surprise that Mike spread, sprung on us was that at briefing he said to the two pilots of the fighters, ‘when we leave Wittering, I will be handing over the controls to Doug Packman, and so give him a bit of airspace please.’ I was dumbfounded [emphasis], I thought he must have been speaking of somebody else but no, it was me, and it was [emphasis], I was so [emphasis] – I was over [emphasis] the moon. Anyway, true to his word, when we left Wittering, he allowed me to take over controls because it was dual control in that Lancaster, and I must have had a smile like the cat’s got the cream [emphasis], [CJ laughs], ‘cause as we flew on I thought of all the operations, I thought of my other crews and the boys, and I was really [emphasis] very happy, and after a few minutes Mike took over to do a beautiful landing back at East Kirkby. And a few years, a couple or three years later he allowed me to start up at the J-Jane at, which is at East Kirkby, it belongs to the Panton brothers, and I was able to start that up and, without any instructions, so indeed, I had my lessons learnt during the RAF had not left me, and that was it. So I’ve been very happy.
CJ: Well thank you very much for talking to us today Doug, that was excellent –
DP: Well it’s –
CJ: Thank you very much indeed.
DP: Okay Chris, thank you [emphasis] very much.
[Tape paused and restarted.]
CJ: Doug, could you just explain please how you came to have this bit of propeller with you?
DP: Yes. The, as the, this explosion, this terrific [emphasis] explosion came, I found out later it was from the Schrage Musik from possibly a JU88 had fired straight up, and they used to aim at the mid-section, which was the petrol tanks, and in this case what they did explode was the ammunition drums, and everything. That’s what caused the, the fire. But the propeller I – the starboard engine which I had to feather because it was running rough, had made a hole the size I would imagine from memory, much [emphasis] larger than that, it was about, ooh it was about a six inch square hole, this small piece had made, and it had been – it hit my leg as it came in but my well cushioned flying boot and thick socks, it didn’t hurt me at all I just felt [emphasis] it, and there it was, laying beside this hole. And looking at it, one can tell that it is [emphasis] propeller, or bits of a propeller because there was holes literally everywhere [emphasis]. Not large holes, the one, this one I’ve described was probably the biggest, but that’s it. And I’ve shown it to many people and they all say, you know, that’s it, the starboard propeller.
CJ: And the JU88 that attacked you, that was, that had special armament?
DP: Yes, they had upward facing guns which they could – that was one of the weak parts of a Lancaster, they didn’t have a downward firing gun or no way of observing, and they could come up underneath [emphasis] you, slightly come up underneath you, and then the pilot of the JU88, he could focus his guns right underneath you and it’s well known and documented that they used to aim for the mid-section, i.e. to get the fuel tanks really and, of course, the ammunition. And this is just what it did, but very [emphasis] lucky for us, it was just the ammunition drums that exploded and I suppose the incendiary bullets on that would have caused, you know, caused all this fire. And in fact, in that area it was just devastated [emphasis]. We didn’t stop to look at it, we just wanted to get out of it when we landed. But it was just naked framework if you understand.
CJ: Okay, thank you for clarifying that Doug.
DP: Yes.
Dublin Core
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Title
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Interview with Doug Packman
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Chris Johnson
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IBCC Digital Archive
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2016-11-30
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Sound
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APackmanDE161130
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Pending review
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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00:38:48 audio recording
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Civilian
Spatial Coverage
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Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
France
France--Revigny-sur-Ornain
France--Saint-Nazaire
Temporal Coverage
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1943
1944
1946-03
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Chris Johnson
Sally Coulter
Description
An account of the resource
Doug grew up in Kent. He joined the Royal Air Force at 18, as a flight engineer for 630 Squadron at RAF East Kirkby in 5 Group Bomber Command, flying Lancasters. He carried out 34 operations, followed by time as an instructor at RAF Syerston, returning to 630 Squadron. He describes two hairy situations over France with their ammunition tanks being hit by an upward-firing Schräge Musik from a Ju-88 over Revigny, and a very close encounter with a Fw 190 at Saint-Nazaire. They survived both situations. A move to 44 Squadron followed and he flew operations to Italy, bringing back prisoners of war. He left the RAF in March 1946. Doug describes his love of the night sky.
44 Squadron
57 Squadron
630 Squadron
aircrew
bomb aimer
bombing
civil defence
faith
flight engineer
Fw 190
Home Guard
Ju 88
Lancaster
memorial
Operation Dodge (1945)
RAF East Kirkby
RAF Mildenhall
RAF Syerston
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/664/10068/PAbrahams.1.jpg
5ca2f683b76f7fd1b5a8ca2fca3e7ad4
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/664/10068/AAbrahamsGJ170617.1.mp3
cef749f37d6d36193023692dcf3c2847
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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Abrahams, Gerald Joseph
G J Abrahams
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Gerald Joseph Abrahams (1923 - 2023, 1850566). He few operations as a wireless operator with 75 Squadron.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-06-17
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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Abrahams, GJ
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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CJ: This is Chris Johnson and I’m interviewing Gerry Abrahams today for the International Bomber Command Centre’s Digital Archive. We’re at the Spitfire Museum at Manston and it is Saturday 17th of June 2017. Thank you for agreeing to talk to me today, Gerry. So, first of all perhaps you could tell us please where and when you were born and your family’s background?
GA: I was born in London in 1923. And my father was in textiles, and I suppose we were a lower middle-class family.
CJ: And did you go to school in that area?
GA: I went to school in London. Yes.
CJ: And so did you have any part time jobs or — ?
GA: No.
CJ: You were helping father or —
GA: No. Nothing at all. No.
CJ: Ok.
GA: No.
CJ: And so when did you — how and, did you come to volunteer for the RAF and when was that?
GA: Well, when I was sixteen the war was declared, and I decided I had to leave school and do something for the war effort. So, I got — I joined Vickers Armstrong and I was based at Newbury which was a specialist Spitfire experimental factory. It was, we were working on the contra-rotating prop which later came on the Griffon engine, and the retractable tail wheel which gave you a knot or two extra. It was hard work. It was twelve hours a day or twelve hours a night six days or six nights a week. But one morning the air raid siren went which was very unusual for a sleepy country town and we all trooped to what they laughingly called an air raid shelter. And I looked out and I saw the Heinkels coming very low to get rid of this very important Spitfire factory. But they missed for some reason, I don’t know how and they bombed a school nearby and killed a lot of children. So next day I went to Newbury Recruiting Centre and said I was an engineer and I wanted to join the RAF as an engineer. And he said, ‘Where do you want to? Where do you work?’, and I said , ‘Vickers Armstrong’. He said, ‘We can’t take you then,’ he said, ‘You’re a reserved occupation.’ And I said, ‘Is there no way I can get into the air force?’ He said, ‘Well, there’s two things you can do. You become an artificer on a submarine or aircrew.’ Well, it took me about a microsecond deciding I wasn’t going on submarines but I quite liked the idea of aircrew. I hadn’t thought about it before, but I said, ‘Yes. I’ll become aircrew’, and that was how I joined up.
CJ: And so did you go — so that was at age sixteen. So —
GA: No. This was, I was seventeen and a half by this stage.
CJ: Right. So you actually went straight into the RAF or you had to wait until eighteen?
GA: No. I had to wait a few months. About three months I waited. Yeah.
CJ: And where did you start your training?
GA: I went, well, we started at aircrew, ACRC London, St Johns Wood. And then I went to Bridgnorth for ITW.
CJ: Sorry. ITW?
GA: That’s your square bashing thing. Initial Training Wing I think it means. Yeah. And then I went to Madley in Hertfordshire.
CJ: And what was the training you were carrying out there?
GA: Oh. I trained as a wireless operator. Yeah.
CJ: And how long was that training then before you went to an operational squadron?
GA: About a year. Yeah. And then after that I went to AFU which is another training thing, and then to OTU where you all crewed up. And this, I crewed up and was sent to a New Zealand squadron.
CJ: And how were the crews made up?
GA: There was one, two — four New Zealanders and three English.
CJ: So , how come the English were in a New Zealand squadron?
GA: The New Zealanders just didn’t have enough to fill the posts. And they had the gunners and a lot of the pilots but the rest they couldn’t fill.
CJ: And how was the, your crew made up? Did you choose each other or were you allocated to a crew?
GA: Well, it’s, it’s hard to tell. It’s — OTUs are very strange places. There’s one mess, one bar. You talk to people. You judge people and in my case I got into a very big poker game and after the poker game we decided that we ought to stay together.
CJ: And so did you train together as a crew before you went on operations?
GA: Oh yes. Yes. Quite a crew. Then we went to — we trained on Wellingtons first of all. Then we changed to Stirlings. And fortunately we didn’t do any damage in Stirlings because they changed us to Lancasters at the last minute. And I did thirty one operations. I did one extra you see.
CJ: So, the operations started when? Was it the beginning of —
GA: ’44.
CJ: ’44. Right.
GA: Yeah.
CJ: Ok.
GA: Yeah.
CJ: So the — and when you were going on operations how, how were you told and how did you prepare for it and what was the routine?
GA: Well, there was a thing called a Battle Order which was a sheet of paper. You got up in the morning. You looked at the Battle Order to see if you were on it. You could either — because there were a lot of daylights in 3 Group I was in, so it was either a daylight that day or one that night.
CJ: And how did you — how did the crew prepare the aircraft, and how did you get your information about the target and the route and so on?
GA: Well, you had a briefing. We were all in one room and the, all the various people — the met people, the bombing people and all the rest of them told you where the target was. What the ack-ack’s likely to be, what the fighters are likely to be, and the navigators got their winds and the wireless operators got their secret codes, and everybody got their information they needed. Then if it was a daylight you usually had lunch or you may have gone off an hour later. If it was a night one you tried to get some rest and then you always had the, the egg and bacon before you flew and away you went.
CJ: So, you say you did thirty-one operations.
GA: I did.
CJ: But a tour was usually thirty.
GA: Thirty. Yeah. I had to go with another crew and they were brand new. The target was Munich which they never found, and they killed themselves on the next op.
CJ: And how did the crews pass time between operations?
GA: Well, if we were free at a weekend we’d go to a pub and then go to a dance. Or if you were in the mess I suppose you had a drink and it [pause] you needed a lot of rest. That was the thing. Yeah.
CJ: And what was the feeling amongst the crew when you were going on an operation? Did you have to put worries aside and concentrate on the job?
GA: Yeah. I can’t say that [pause] — you hear so much about strain and worry and all the rest of it. I can’t say we experienced that. I think that we knew there was a job to be done and the sooner we got it over the better. We knew the odds. Four to one that we wouldn’t come back. We were aware of that and we got on with the job.
CJ: And what were the typical targets that you were on operations against?
GA: Oh, German.
CJ: And bombloads?
GA: Oh, we usually, I looked the other day and there was a lot of marshalling yards but I — we went on the famous Dresden raid and Chemnitz the following night. We did our last op which was, the last op’s always frightening and we thought it was going to be a doddle because it was gardening which means mine laying. But we were caught two flak ships, and when we got back we had thirty eight holes in the fuselage.
CJ: So, did the aircraft systems suffer any damage?
GA: No. No.
CJ: The hydraulics. No?
GA: No. We didn’t. We had another incident on a daylight when we were hit and we lost an engine. And of course we were in formation but all the formation went because they were faster than us and there were American fighters overhead that were supposed to protect us but they didn’t. They went too. So, we were all alone in daylight over Germany but we got away with that as well.
CJ: And are there any other raids you particularly remember? Any operations?
GA: We went to Wesel when they were crossing the Rhine and we used to bomb on a specialist radar called GH which was very accurate. And we got a letter from the Guards. We didn’t see the ground at all. We bombed on the GH. And we got a letter from a Guards officer thanking us for our accurate bombing and that. And another one was Saarbrücken. We saw lots of motor boats leaving the island as we bombed. We didn’t, but some of them went down and strafed them.
CJ: And I think — sorry, on operations what was the procedure then if you were attacked by a fighter?
GA: Well, you corkscrewed. We actually shot a Focke Wulf down. You dived and rolled and then you climbed and rolled the other way. I picked up the — they had a thing called Fishpond which was a radar which worked off the H2S and you could see any fighters on there. And I picked up a fighter and the gunners shot it down.
CJ: And I think your last raid was shortly before VE-Day. Do you remember what happened on VE-Day? What everybody’s feelings were?
GA: I was on leave, and I sent a telegram to the squadrons saying that, no I wasn’t on the squadron then, I was on Bomber Command Instructor School. I sent a telegram saying I wouldn’t be returning that day [laughs] Received a telegram back saying, ‘Fine.’
CJ: So, lots of celebrations.
GA: Oh yeah. Yeah.
CJ: And where were you posted after VE day? Did you continue with the squadron?
GA: No. No. I went, first of all I went to Bomber Command Instructor’s School and then I was made Commanding Officer of a signaller’s unit. And while I was there we received a notice saying that BOAC was starting up and they wanted crews to be seconded. And they said only those with a first class CO’s reference would get it. So, I applied and I hoped they didn’t notice the applicant and the CO had [laughs] had the same signature. And I was accepted so I joined BOAC for a while. Didn’t like it, and when I was demobbed I left BOAC and I joined a firm called Airwork Limited.
CJ: At BOAC what aircraft were you flying?
GA: Yorks.
CJ: And what routes?
GA: Yorks. From Hurn to Africa. Yeah.
CJ: Wow.
GA: And then I started training, pilot training then and I got my commercial pilot’s licence. And after that I flew right for many many years as a pilot.
CJ: And, again what aircraft were you flying and what routes were you on?
GA: Well, I flew Ambassadors. I flew Britannias. I flew Viscounts. I had about twenty different aircraft I flew and the very Ambassador that I flew is on show at Duxford. The very one. And then I came down here and flew DC4s for Invicta Airways.
CJ: And did you have a favourite amongst all those aircraft types?
GA: Oh yes. I loved the Britannia. Yeah. A beautiful aeroplane. Yes. Yeah.
CJ: So, why particularly the Britannia?
GA: It’s hard to tell. It was, it was a big prop jet and it was very responsive. Lovely to fly. And you could go at thirty thousand feet for twelve hours, you know and, you know with two hundred people on board, and it was a beautiful aeroplane.
CJ: Right. And when did you stop flying?
GA: Well, in about — I can’t remember. About ’70 I suppose I had a routine medical and they found that I had type 2 diabetes so I lost my licence. If I’d have got it now I wouldn’t have lost it because it’s not a failure anymore but it was then, and so I had to stop flying.
CJ: Oh.
GA: Yeah.
CJ: I’m going to step back a bit because I believe we’ve missed 622 Squadron.
GA: Well, 622. When I flew for Airwork the RAF couldn’t cope with trooping and all the rest of it, so they asked Airwork to form an auxiliary squadron which was 622. And we had Valettas and we took part in the Suez Campaign. That was 622.
CJ: Ok. Thank you. And after the war were you able to keep in touch with any of your crew? Did you have any reunions or —
GA: Yes. Yes. I, the navigator and I were very close. The engineer went to America. All the rest of them went home but they’ve all died except Buzz Spillman. But I kept in touch with him up ‘til last year. But he’s getting dementia now so we’ve stopped.
CJ: And did you have, were there any squadron reunions organised?
GA: Well, they were all in New Zealand. What — it was strange. The navigator and I did a caravan holiday because we wanted to visit the old Mepal where we were based. And we went there and they said, ‘Are you coming down for the reunion next week?’ And we said, ‘What reunion?’ They said, ‘75.’ That was a hell of a coincidence but unfortunately neither of us could do it, you see. So —
CJ: And do you have any feelings about the way Bomber Command was treated after the war?
GA: I’m disgusted the way it was treated after the war. Yeah. To get [pause] recent I was very fortunate. When they gave out the clasp, I was one of the twenty that was invited to Downing Street to be given it to by the Prime Minister. And that was nice but to have that nasty little clasp instead of a medal all those years later was, was very, very upsetting. Yeah.
CJ: And have you been to the Memorial at Green Park?
GA: Yeah. I have. Several times. Yeah. Yeah.
CJ: Were you, were you invited to the opening?
GA: I was there.
CJ: The unveiling.
GA: I was there. Yes.
CJ: So did you manage to meet any dignitaries?
GA: No. I met a couple of New Zealanders that came over for it. But yeah it was a lovely day.
CJ: Ok. Well, we’re holding this interview at the Spitfire Memorial Museum at Manston where I think you’re a volunteer. Would you like to tell us how you became involved with that?
GA: Well, some years ago I wanted something to do and I’d always been interested in the museum. I’d visited it for years. And I said I’d like to become a volunteer and so recently I’ve been made a trustee and my job is to get the money together because we want a Spitfire simulator. And my job is to get the money together and to date I’ve got, within a few weeks this, I’ve got five thousand three hundred pounds. It’s not enough but it’s a big start for it, and we visited other simulators to see what they were like and what we should get. And the cockpit’s arriving on Monday so we’re getting there.
CJ: And what’s the, what sort of questions and comments do you get when you have school trips here?
GA: Oh, they ask all sorts of things. ‘What was it like?’ is the one which you can never answer [laughs] You know, you get asked everything and I like the school kids coming. I had, I had the party of Dutch and English last Saturday come which I took around, and I go out to schools and they come here.
CJ: Well, thank you very much for talking to us today and for giving us this interview.
GA: That’s a pleasure.
CJ: That’s a great insight. Thank you very much.
GA: Ok.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Gerald Joseph Abrahams
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Chris Johnson
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-06-17
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
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AAbrahamsGJ170617
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Pending review
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00:19:02 audio recording
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eng
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Description
An account of the resource
Gerald Abrahams was sixteen when war was declared. He volunteered for the RAF the day after the Armstrong Vickers factory where he worked was targeted by the Luftwaffe who bombed the local school resulting in the deaths of many children. He trained as a wireless operator and was posted to 75 Squadron at RAF Mepal. He and his crewmates were very aware of the poor odds of survival. On their last operation they came under fire from an anti-aircraft fire ship and found on return to base that there were thirty-eight holes in the fuselage. Gerald continued flying after the war and ultimately became a commercial pilot. He flew about twenty different aircraft including Yorks, Britannias, Viscounts and DC4s.
Contributor
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Julie Williams
Chris Johnson
622 Squadron
75 Squadron
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
bombing
bombing of Dresden (13 - 15 February 1945)
crewing up
Fw 190
Gee
Lancaster
mine laying
Operational Training Unit
RAF Mepal
Spitfire
training
wireless operator
York
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/751/10750/PCookJH1701.1.jpg
81323cdafc31bb66e836e5b0ba2201ff
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/751/10750/ACookJH170118.2.mp3
85280a29406287aa006ef455c66449b1
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
Cook, Joseph Henry
J H Cook
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Warrant Officer (1925 - 2018, 1894875 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a n air gunner with 630 Squadron.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Joseph Cook and catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-01-18
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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Cook, JH
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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CJ: We’re on. Ok. This is Chris Johnson and I’m interviewing Joe Cook today for the International Bomber Command Centre’s Digital Archive. We’re at Joe’s home in Kent and it’s Wednesday 18th of January 2017. Thank you, Joe for agreeing to talk to me today. Also present at the interview are Vi Jarmin, Joe’s partner. Joe’s daughter Beverley Maltby and her husband Michael. So Joe, thanks very much for talking to us today. Perhaps you could start by telling us about your early life and where and when you were born and your family background.
JC: Very, very simple. I was born in Sidcup in Kent on the 2nd of June 1925. I’m, I’m living with my grandparents for a little while and my mother and father and then we moved. And we moved to Brockley and more or less orientated around Brockley. My early life. I went to school at Blackfen. And then of course I went to the, what do they call it? Basic school. Elementary school. And, and then I got a scholarship for going to Brockley Central School. Brockley Central School was a marvellous school because we took the Oxford General School Certificate and we took the London Chamber of Commerce Certificate of which I’m proud to say I got the Oxford Certificate and I got the forces of it with the London Chamber of Commerce with a Book Keeping Distinction. That was my basic education. Because of the background I was able to go straight into a job. And I went to, oh [pause] I went in to a solicitors I think it was. Something like that. I was only there a couple of days and it fizzled out. Something went wrong. I then ended up in Twentieth Century Fox Films. I found my own job because it paid twice the money that the others did. So, at Twentieth Century Fox Films I was working in the assistant, whatever, I forget what they call it now. Anyway, it was logging films and how much they would produce and etcetera. I was there until I went in the services. I met my first wife, my wife there and we were married obviously in 1945. I wouldn’t marry her until I finished flying because I said, ‘You can’t get married to a cinder.’ Because all aircrew got terribly burned. So therefore I married in 1945. 20th of October. And I produced eventually [laughs] a long time my daughter who is over there. And that is all I’ve produced because my wife had trouble with TB etcetera. So I wouldn’t let her have another child. My fault. I wouldn’t let her have another child. And I was married for forty six years. My partner over there God bless her heart. I’ve been with her for twenty five years. I’m sorry. And I’m still with her.
[recording paused]
CJ: So, Joe. You were working at Twentieth Century Fox after leaving school. So how did you come to join the RAF and when was that?
JC: Well, after leaving school I was conned into the war because I was a fire watcher etcetera. And every night I had to sit up all night fire watching. And then, and what did I do then? How did I, you said how did I come to get in the Air Force? Well, it’s quite simple really. I didn’t want to go in the Army. Quite simple. But I always fancied flying. I wanted to fly. But I, at that time there was no vehicle to take me flying so I joined the RAF. Now, I had to volunteer for aircrew. As you know they were all volunteers. I volunteered and they accepted me straightaway because of my education. And I had no problem with that. My three days medical at Euston House went through ok. Fine. No problem. So there I am. I am sent to St John’s Wood, in the recently completed flats as, as a base. And I did my three weeks square bashing and knocking me into making me. They knocked you down so that you [pause] sort of thing was you’d clean your shoes. By the way aircrew always wore shoes. You’d clean your shoes and they were, oh you know you’d bone them and all the rest of it. And then the corporal would come in in the morning and inspect. ‘They’re bloody filthy your shoes. Get them cleaned.’ They, it was there to break you. Right. Then you want me to carry on now? From St John’s Wood I went up to Bridgnorth. Initial training. Which was square bashing and all sorts of funny things. From Bridgnorth I went to Bridlington where I did such things as Morse Code. I had to send and receive Morse Code at ten words a minute. Then Bridlington was a learning base for the, as I said Morse Code and other attributes for the Air Force. I then went from Bridlington. Remember that? Where did I go from Bridlington? Oh, I know. Bridgnorth. Not Bridgnorth. I can’t quite get it.
CJ: Was it Evanton?
JC: Huh?
CJ: Evanton in Scotland. Was that it?
JC: No. No. I went to Scotland for my AGS. I’m just trying to think where I went.
[recording paused]
CJ: So you did your basic training in Bridgnorth, Joe.
JC: Yeah.
CJ: And then Bridlington.
JC: Yes.
CJ: So, how did the training go from there and how were you picked for a particular role?
JC: Well, I wasn’t, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. But what I wanted to do was kick Jerry up the rear. And the only way to do it was get in the Air Force and get flying. Well, as I say I went to 8 AGS near Evanton. I was trained as an AG. I was flying in Ansons and then, I always remember flying in the Anson. The first flight I ever made they lined us up. Sprogs. Right. There’s a few of us. Eight of us, I think. We were going to fly that morning. ‘Right. You. You. You and you,’ and then it came, ‘You.’ Me. They gave me a handle. And I looked at it and I said, ‘What’s it?’ He said, ‘Up on the wing.’ I had to get up on the wing. Put this handle in the socket and turn it around to start the engine [laughs] Oh dear. And of course once you got one going on an Anson you can get the other one going. But I was sliding about on the wing because it was frosty that morning. You know what Scotland’s like early morning.
CJ: So how did you come to be selected as an air gunner rather than any other role?
JC: Ah. That was at Euston House.
CJ: Ok.
JC: You were in front of a load of gold braid and he, he said to me, ‘Right. We’ve assessed you. You’ve got everything. We have decided that you will be pilot, navigator or bomb aimer.’ And I said to him, ‘I don’t want it.’ He looked at me. He said, ‘What?’ I said, ‘I don’t want it. I want to kick Jerry up the rear,’ as I said. So, he said, ‘Well, we’re losing so many AGs.’ I said, ‘I’ll have it.’ So that’s how I became an air gunner. I had all the qualifications to be a pilot but I didn’t want it. And I said, ‘It will take at least nearly a year to train me as a pilot. It’s too late. The war will be over.’ That was the reason. And he looked at me, the groupie and he said, ‘You silly little sod,’ because at that rate they were losing them, losing them so rapid. Anyway, I decided that I would do that.
CJ: So you were training on Ansons in Scotland. And how long was the training for?
JC: Oh. I got up there in [pause] oh around about Christmas time. And then I was trained at D-Day. Now, I’ve got a little story I can tell you about that. I got my AG brevet. Very proud of it. Parade. Get your brevet. And then we were posted to Operational Training Unit, Silverstone. We got on the train but we didn’t go to Silverstone. The bloody thing kept, sorry it kept going and going and we ended up at Tarrant Rushton in Devon. When we got there they said, ‘You are not allowed to go outside the camp. You are confined to camp. You cannot write any letters. You cannot use the telephone. You cannot do anything.’ Everything hush hush. Of course, we didn’t know. We didn’t realise what was going on. They didn’t tell you, did they? They didn’t tell you anything. Why I was sitting on the train suddenly, oh stay on the train because you’re carrying on. And so therefore what we didn’t know was this, that it was about oh a few days, quite a few days before D-Day. Why were we sent to Tarrant Rushton? It was quite simple. This. They gathered together all the people who had just been, got their wings. Pilots and all the rest of it and they’d sent us to Tarrant Rushton and they sent us to fly clapped out bloody Stirlings. And they were clapped. And when we got there we said, ‘What’s all this? Why are we doing this?’ They said, ‘You’ll find out.’ Wouldn’t say a thing. They found, we found out alright because we had to load these Stirlings up with leaflets. Fly over to Calais. Drop them on Calais and Boulogne etcetera and we were chucking these bales of leaflets out and one bloke said to me, ‘What’s all this about? What are these leaflets saying?’ He said, ‘It’s in French.’ I said, ‘That’s alright. I’ll read it to you.’ And what it was saying, “Get out of Calais. Get out of Boulogne because we are invading and we are going to bomb like hell.” So please, Froggies get out. ‘Get out of Calais,’ etcetera. That’s what it was all about because you know as well as I do it was a spoof. Well, we were chucking these leaflets out and it counted as an op because we were going over, over enemy territory really. That was the first four. And chucking these leaflets out and on the way back of course this bloody old Stirling packed up. One engine packed up. And then we thought well blow this. Nursed it back over the peninsula. The Devon Peninsula. And then another one went. And on a Stirling no chance. Got to get out of it. Got to jump. Which I had to do. So I jumped out of it and come down on a tree. With a Land Girl with a pitch fork at the base of the tree to ram it in me. Wouldn’t believe that I was English. Got the, they sent, a lorry came around and there was the rest of the bods in it. And they took us to the farmhouse and obviously then to the station. But that, that was my initiation. That’s what D-Day was to me. Dropping leaflets for four days on Calais, Boulogne, Liege etcetera. So I had only just been trained. And it was so daft that when D-Day had been going for about a week or two we were posted and we were posted to the Operational Training Unit to be trained [laughs] You know. And went there and went on to Wellingtons. The old Wimpy. God bless her. And I did my training on that. We did cross countries. We did ten hour trips. Not ten hour trips. Eight hour trips etcetera. And I finished my OTU and how did we get crewed up? Easy. Big hangar. Type 2 hangar. Right. A hundred engineers. A hundred AGs, a hundred pilots all in this hangar and then the group captain gets up, gives a little speech and then says, ‘Right. Form yourselves into crews.’ He said, ‘Mingle amongst each other, walk around, pick who you think would be a good one.’ So I, I had a friend with me and I said to him, ‘It seems to me that the tall ones, the pilots, are bloody good. They seem to survive.’ So we looked for a tall pilot. And it happened to be a Canadian. And Mac, so we looked up at him and said, ‘Oi. You got two gunners?’ So he said, ‘No.’ ‘Do you want two?’ He said, ‘How good are you?’ ‘Well,’ I said, ‘I got eighty four percent on my passing out.’ He said, ‘Oh. I’ll have you.’ So, that’s how it was done. In this big hangar. Then you walked out of there and you were a crew and you were brothers together and just went through it all. You were so close. I can’t explain it. Closer than brothers. The sort of thing was we were booked for ops and then all of a sudden our engineer went sick and he went, turned around to the flight commander and said, ‘I’m not flying.’ He said, ‘No?’ ‘No. Mitch has gone sick. Won’t fly without him.’ ‘Oh. Alright,’ He said, ‘We’ll put a spare crew on.’ That’s how it was.
[recording paused]
CJ: So Joe, you tell me how you were all in a hangar together and sorted yourselves out as a six man crew. So where did you go from there?
JC: Well, this was done at Silverstone. Silverstone in [pause] where was it? I’ve forgotten the name of the county. Anyway, it was at Silverstone. The race track then as it was. And we were flying Wellingtons. As I said a six man crew because it didn’t have a mid-upper turret so you just, you carried the other bloke but you were the one in the turret. Then we, we did all the usual things. Training. Long trips. High level bombing. Gunnery. Etcetera etcetera. And finally you were posted to a squadron and — no. Sorry. Missed a bit. From Silverstone you went to Wigsley. Wigsley was a Conversion Unit. You went from two engines to four. To Wigsley, flying Stirlings. I hate the things. And then from Wigsley you went to a Lancaster Finishing School. And then and at that point we knew we were going on Lancasters. We dreaded the thought of going on Stirlings or Halifax. Halifaxes. So we went to Number 5 Lancaster Finishing School at Syerston. All around Lincolnshire. And then from there we were posted to the squadron. And that’s when I went to East Kirkby. I did all my operations, well twenty six of them. I think, I don’t know. I think it was twenty six from East Kirkby. But I’d already done four from Tarrant Rushton so I’d done my thirty. We were now a fully-fledged crew on a squadron. And on my first trip we’re getting on to this are we? My first trip was the Dortmund Ems Canal. The dear old Dortmund Ems Canal. We used to come up time and time. As fast as they built it up we knocked it down. That was my first trip. You’ll find it in my diary that I wrote. Every time I came back from a trip I sat with pen and ink. Where is it? I sat with pen and ink and wrote down how I felt and all the rest of it. I can’t see it. Oh.
[pause]
JC: There it is. One diary. Now, there’s I’ve lost the other book so there’s only twenty trips in here. I don’t know where it went to. It’s the last one. Last twenty. As I said, Dortmund Ems Canal was five and a half hours. “I felt nervous but got on ok. Saw a Lanc go down and burst into flames in the ground. We did not get coned by tracer or searchlights. I felt pretty fatigued when we got back.” Now, I won’t go right through this because there is too much of it. Now, people say to me, ‘What were the fascinating ones that I did?’ Well, there weren’t really. There was only one target that I personally thought I’d got my lot and that was Politz. Now, Politz is an oil manufacturing conversion place near the Russian border. I went to Politz twice. The second time, and it was a long trip. Ten hours. The second time on the run up to bomb we were running up, steady, steady and all the rest of it and all of a sudden out, a bloody ME Messerschmitt 262 jet came for us and he was putting shells through the top of my turret. He didn’t, he missed us because I had already given Mac evasive action. And as you probably know once you’re attacked the tail gunner takes control of the aircraft and he has to do what he was told. And I gave him a corkscrew and we were lucky there. He went over the top. I’m watching this bloke and it was fifty nine degrees below zero that night. So I’m watching him and let him come in and then I went to open fire and all my four guns were frozen. The oil on the breech blocks, very thin bit of oil had frozen and not one breech block went forward so the guns didn’t fire. And I yelled out to Mac, I said, ‘I can’t fire. I can’t fire. The gun’s useless.’ And he said, ‘Oh. Oh. What’s he doing?’ I said, ‘He’s wheeling around. Wheeling around. He’s coming in for the kill now because he knows that we’re defenceless. My turret has no defensive fire.’ So, I said, ‘That’s it.’ And Mac said, ‘Right. Prepare to abandon aircraft.’ I can remember his words today. So I went to open my turret doors and they’d jammed. I thought. That’s it. This is it. I’m stuck in here. I’ve got an ME262 wheeling around, coming in for the kill. It’s my lot. This is death. This is what death is all about. And then all of a sudden there was a bloody great explosion. We were splattered with bits. What had happened the rear gunner and I didn’t even know the Lanc was there. He got him in his fuel tanks and up he went. And we were splattered with debris. And I yelled out to Mac, ‘Enemy aircraft destroyed. Enemy aircraft destroyed.’ These are my actual words because I can remember them as if it was yesterday. And he said. ‘Right. Resume stations.’ Thank Christ for that otherwise I’d still be up there. And that’s my worst trip. Politz. I had others. Now, in, in here you will see that Heimbach Dam. Even, we went to a dam to blow it up which we were a success at blowing up. In my diary I say, “ME109 sighted just before target. Focke Wulf 190 passed underneath at two hundred feet. Attacked another aircraft to starboard.” Then as we, once again we used bombs on this. Not the bouncing bomb. Heimbach Dam. We ran up to the dam and there was a bloke, well a kite further down. We were on the run up. And they’d got two blooming great guns on the ramparts and they were pointing at a set point of our, where would go in for a run up. So that bloke I said was ahead of us. They got him. Blew him to bits. I thought ooh. But they couldn’t reload the guns quick enough because they were a heavy gun. We went over the top. We dropped our bombs and I saw the dam go. I saw it break and go. We, we got a direct hit fortunately and it was well worth it to see that dam go. But then people would say, ‘Oh, you were a Dambuster.’ No. I was not. I was not a Dambuster. Yes, I went and blew a dam up yeah but that doesn’t make me a Dambuster. When you think of a Dambuster you think of 617 squadron and nothing else.
CJ: So what was it like on the station for — perhaps you can take us through when you knew when you were going on ops. What was the atmosphere like? And what sort of preparation did you do before you went out on a trip?
JC: Before you went out on a trip if you were billed for ops that night then you went to the crew room and your flight commander of each section like gunnery, like engineering, like w/ops etcetera. You were all [pause] what’s the word? You were, you were given all the, all the gen and all the griff and the big map on the wall and that was the first time that you knew where you were going. There’s a sequel to that because we never knew where we were going. Blooming ground staff did. Because we used to go up to the ground staff and say, ‘Oi. What’s the petrol load?’ And he’d turn around and he’d say, ‘Sixteen eighty.’ Oh, got a short trip tonight. Oh, lovely. But if he turned around and he said, ‘Twenty one fifty four.’ That’s two thousand one hundred and fifty four gallons of fuel. That is a long trip. You’re going to be up there just over ten hours. And in the cold, I mean I below zero all the time virtually. Thirty below zero. But you wore an electrically heated suit. The trouble was typical of a lot of equipment your right hand would burn, your left hand would freeze. Your right foot would be [laughs] the same conditions sort of thing. And in the end you used to switch if off. But you had another suit under it. And under that you had silk underwear etcetera. And a naval white sweater. So it was just about tolerable. I never got frostbite fortunately but I had five pairs of gloves on. You’d wonder how I pulled the triggers but I did. It was the cold that used to get you. Now, when you look at the turret the one I used to fly in anyway, you will see that all the Perspex has been taken out. There’s nothing there. It’s to open air. Completely. Now, why did we do that? Simple. If you got a tiny mark on that Perspex, just a little mark or whatever you’d be there. So took all the Perspex out for clear vision and you were to open air.
CJ: And this was the mid-upper turret you were in.
JC: No. The rear gunner.
CJ: The rear. I beg your pardon.
JC: I had four Browning machine guns. Just to sequel that I had four Browning machine guns. I had five thousand rounds per gun. I had twenty thousand rounds of ammunition and I could only fire a few seconds. Otherwise they get red hot.
CJ: So you were saying about the briefings and when the curtain was pulled back —
JC: Yeah.
CJ: You knew where you were going.
JC: Yeah.
CJ: Do I assume that some places were considered easier targets than others?
JC: Oh yes. Yeah. Because you sort of think the tape, the red tape would be going across the map and it would end at Chemnitz. And you’d hear the blokes go ahh. Or Berlin again. Because this friend of mine, Johnny Chatterton, he went to Berlin so many times that they gave him a season ticket. Oh dear.
CJ: So that, are there any other notable raids that you remember? Any notable trips?
JC: Any notable trips?
CJ: Trips that you went on that stood out there.
JC: Yes. There’s another one in here. I went to Rositz. Synthetic oil. I went to Politz. I went to a lot of them. Now, at Politz where I nearly copped my lot and I really did. Now, I’m saying there if I may just briefly read this, “Target Politz oil installation. Flak fairly heavy. Red cannon fire continuous over Sweden. Searchlights. Some in target area and over Denmark. Fighters. Two JU88s seen over target. JU88 shot down and destroyed by us.” What really happened was that the JU88, he came up and I said to the skipper, ‘Whatever he does, you do.’ And if he, in other words if he dives you dive with him and keep him in the sights all the time. So mid-upper gunner and myself I raked the canopy. Killed the crew instantly. And that was it. Down she went.
CJ: Ok.
JC: That was a JU88, and that was at Politz.
CJ: So then you, you said you finished your thirtieth op with that squadron because you’d already done four before.
JC: Yeah.
CJ: So, how did it feel when you’d all done your thirtieth?
JC: Well, I can’t explain it because you see we were so used to expecting to die. You didn’t expect to come back. You didn’t expect to do thirty. You were elated. Yeah. Obviously you went in the mess and got a few sherbets down [laughs] Oh, what was I going to say? [pause] There’s little incidents that happened all the time. Such as crew bus. Two crews in the bus. The old crew bus. And it just started going around the perimeter track and one crew their bomb aimer more or less, I don’t know what he was doing. Ah. So he ran after the bus and tried to jump on it. He didn’t. He missed. Cracked his skull. That was it. And of course you’d the sequel of the egg. You know about the egg. Of course you do. When you came back from an op you got an egg. You didn’t get bacon. You got an egg. And it was looked forward to. ‘Cor, crikey I’ve got an egg tonight [laughs] you know, when you got back. But the jokey, jokey thing is that this actually happened. The bloke next to you and he says, ‘Eh mate,’ he said, ‘If you don’t get back tonight can I have your egg?’ And then another thing that happened which aircrew were very boisterous. One bloke went round the back of the servery and he pulled the string of the WAAF’s overall. Well, it was so hot in the mess the overall opened, didn’t it? And she’s leaning forward putting an egg with a slice. You can imagine can’t you. Plop. Now, the other thing concerning WAAFs was we were always playing tricks. One bloke had the brilliant idea he got a bit of wood square and in every hut there was an iron, oh what do you call it? Fire.
CJ: Stove.
JC: Stove. Yeah. So what does he do? He climbs up on to the roof. It was a flat roof for the WAAF quarters. He climbs up on the roof. He gets this bit of wood and puts it on the chimney and holds it down. Then he [laughs] after a few minutes the doors fly open and all the WAAFs come charging out in their underwear. And it was, it was funny you know because they’d got their civvy underwear on.
CJ: How did you feel Joe when you had, when you came back and there were empty tables?
JC: Well —
BM: He didn’t think about it.
JC: I didn’t think about it. I’ll give you an instance of it. Two crews to a hut virtually. Then two crews to a hut. You come back after an op. You’re dead tired. You’d had your egg. You’d gone up the road to the hut, get in the hut, get in the pit as we used to call bed and put your head down and you’d sleep. And then all of a sudden there’s a noise. Clank bang bang bong. You put your head up and there’s a whole bunch of SPs. You could always tell because of the arm bands. You’d look up and you’d say, ‘What the bloody hell are you doing?’ ‘Oh, won’t be long. Won’t be long, chiefy.’ That’s what a flight sergeant was called. ‘Won’t be long chiefy. Just taking the other crew’s gear out.’ This is 3 o’clock in the morning. ‘Well, what’s happened?’ ‘Oh. Well, they got the chop last night.’ Put your head down and go to sleep again.
CJ: So, you finished your thirty ops. And what did you do after that? After you’d over your sherbets.
JC: Well, I wanted a job obviously. I applied to Cossor to Lissen, all, all the old radio manufacturers because of, that’s another thing you didn’t know. I was a radio amateur as well and I had a radio amateur’s licence. So I applied and I thought I’d be in there. Didn’t want to know. ‘Sorry. Can’t give you the job.’ Well, what’s wrong?’ You know, ‘I’ve got City and Guilds in radio.’ ‘What’s — ’ ‘Sorry can’t give you. The reason being. You’re ex-aircrew.’ That was the reason. You were a bloody pariah. You’d been killing people sort of thing. Of course, they’d been over here killing us. I mean I used to say to them, ‘Exeter, Plymouth, Hull,’ etcetera. Shall I go on?’ But of course that [pause] funny us English.
CJ: So after your thirty ops you were demobbed then, were you?
JC: Yeah. Yeah.
CJ: Ok. And then you were looking for a job.
JC: Yeah. And I couldn’t get one. So there was, friends of mine had come out of the Army. A couple of them. They were in to radio and whatnot and we discovered that radiograms as we used to call them or if you could get a radiogram so we said there’s a market here. We’re in. What we did we got hold of all the old turntables. Plenty of them about. And then we built the radio part and the amplifier and we had, knew a bloke who made cabinets. So wooden cabinets to house the radiogram and we were making a damned good business out of it. And then what happened then? Oh yeah. [pause] Because of the radio business a firm down in Barking, Essex they’d heard of me because a, once again a friend of a friend and they said, ‘Well, would you come and set up our radio equipment?’ Which I did. Then I thought to myself well I don’t know. I can do better than this really. Because I’d got the, what do you call it the [pause] the knowledge as well as being able to make the radios and all the rest of it. I got all that so we, I decided I could do better. And I just put a word around and before I knew it Vidor at Vidor at Erith came after me and said, we want you sort of thing. And I went to Erith, Vidor as a buyer. Because of my knowledge and because of my mechanical aptitude I became a technical buyer at Vidor when they were making the little portables. And then while I was there I was head hunted by Decca. And Decca came after me and said, ‘We’ve heard all about you. We know what you do and you know, makes you tick,’ and I became the, in the Decca radio and television side I became the chief buyer for the bits and pieces. And then to finish the story I, I was there, oh quite got a long time. And then once again a friend of mine I worked with at Vidor he wanted to come and see me. He did and he stayed until about midnight and I wondered what the hell was going on. And then I said, ‘Hey Jim, what are you up to?’ So he said, ‘I’m offering you a job ain’t I?’ And I said, ‘But you can’t match what Decca’s giving me at the moment.’ He said, ‘Try me.’ And I did. And he said, ‘Right. I want you. I want you to set up a company with departments and all the rest of it because we have a device which we — ’ A device which they’d patented. How to measure or weigh by means of air pressure. Not electric but air pressure. Now, this was a good thing. I saw the potential because all the big manufacturers of, that were using, making things which were explosive. That was the answer. So we got going into a very good business and it, it really went well until, until twenty years later. The electronic boys found out how to do it. Make it spark. Spark positive. Whatever you’d like to call it. In other words if there was a spark there wouldn’t be an explosion. So they were beating us then at our own game and unfortunately we went down this pan. Or the company did. By that time I was a director of that company. I was also a director of five others. So I took their little engraving, well part it we owned was an engraving company. So I took that and I went up to Leicester. That’s where it was based. There was only two people. I made the third. And I worked away and I got contracts for BBC. People like that. Big contracts. And once again I was doing all right. So I worked away there and sort of set myself up for a pension by an annuity which I’ve still got today. And then of course time to retire. There you have it.
CJ: There you go. And I think you said earlier that you, you didn’t marry until the war was over. Was that right?
JC: That’s right. I said to my late wife, ‘I will not marry you. Not until I finish flying because I don’t want you to be left with a cinder.’ Because aircrew used to get horribly burned and I wasn’t going to have that. That’s why I didn’t. So October ’45 we were married. And that’s the bit. Married. The vicar was available. Just got hold of him. It was the big church in Brixton. Acre Lane where the big church was and we were married in that church. Now, we managed to get the vicar but we didn’t have a choir, we didn’t have anything like that. We didn’t, we didn’t even have a car to take us. We had a car but halfway there because of the war and bald tyres it got a puncture and we had to walk the rest of the way to the church. And we got married the 20th of October 1945. And I was married for forty six years. Forty seven years. Then you know this. I’ve told you the story about Vi and I and the motorbikes.
CJ: So I think you said you had a common love of motorbikes.
JC: Yeah.
CJ: And Vi lost her husband as well.
JC: Yeah. What I did, when we said oh well we’ll get together we did. But to get married was such a mishmash I can’t, I don’t, I won’t explain it now but it caused a lot of problems or would have done. So we became partners. And I said to Vi, ‘We’re going to have a look at the world.’ And she’d not, so she’d been to Israel. Where else did you go love? You went to Israel. Where else?
VJ: Everywhere that we could.
JC: Eh?
VJ: Everywhere that we possibly could get.
JC: Well, yeah that’s when I said to her, ‘Right. Well, we’re going to see as much of the world as we can,’ and we did. And we went, that’s why we’ve been to Canada, the states. You name it.
CJ: And did you carry on biking on after the war?
JC: Oh yeah, yeah. Carried on biking. After the war. You see because my friend Stanley was Vi’s husband.
CJ: So what was your favourite bike?
JC: Hmmn?
CJ: What was your favourite bike?
JC: Well, my favourite bike was a Vinny. A Vincent. But my wife wouldn’t let me. They had them. They had one. They had a Vincent. Look. There’s one on the wall up there. They had them. But my wife said, ‘No. No. It’s too fast. No. No,’ she said, ‘I’ll leave you if you get one of those.’ No. I didn’t have one. I had a Triumph. A Triumph 650. Which wasn’t bad. I used to get a fair old speed out of it.
CJ: And coming back to the RAF did you keep in touch with the rest of the crew after the war?
JC: Oh yeah. Yes. I did. But gradually, unfortunately the engineer died of [pause] Oh dear. Cancer. It was cancer, wasn’t it?
VJ: Yeah.
JC: He died. And then I lost touch because well a lot of them disappeared. I’ve since discovered that I’m the only one alive. The rest have gone.
MM: When did Mac die?
JC: Eh?
MM: When did Mac die?
JC: I can’t remember.
VJ: About three or four years.
JC: When was it?
VJ: About four years ago.
JC: Eh?
VJ: Four. Four years.
CJ: Four years ago.
JC: Four years ago. Yeah.
CJ: So I gather you went up to East Kirkby for Mac. Is that correct?
CJ: Yes.
CJ: What was that all about?
JC: Well, his daughter was scattering his ashes in the little field of Remembrance up there. That’s why I went up there. We all went up there. There was a gang of us. Of course, scattered his ashes. I simply broke down.
CJ: And were you in a Squadron Association?
JC: Oh yes. It’s in this. Plenty of them. I’m in the Squadron Association and I still get a newsletter every year. I used to go up to the dinner and dance and whatnot. I used to. Now, I couldn’t. So —
MM: You tell him about Johnny Chatterton and Mike Chatterton.
JC: Well, Johnny Chatterton was the test pilot 630 Squadron. He’d just finished his second tour. He was looking for a crew. We’d finished ours and he said, ‘I’m going to take you over pro tem.’ And he did. He took us over for [pause] oh, I don’t know. About a year. Something like that. And finished our time at 630. Disbanded in July. July ’45. So when we disbanded that was it. Johnny tried to get the rest of the crew to go with him but they wouldn’t have it. They wouldn’t have it.
MM: But his son flew the Memorial Flight, didn’t he?
JC: Oh yeah. Mike Chatterton was, was also in the flying game if you like and he, he used to fly the Lanc. Not fly it. Well, he did but —
CJ: This was the BBMF Lancaster.
JC: Yeah. He flew that but the one at East Kirkby when they first got it running, the four engines and he did the first taxi run. When he finished the taxi run he said, ‘I had a bloody hard job to hold it down,’ he said, ‘It wanted to get in the air. Wanted to take off. I had to hold it down.’ Now, Mike Chatterton, he became a wing commander I think. He’s retired now, of course. The Chattertons own the farm which is near East Kirkby actually. Now, that’s a funny thing you see because Johnny Chatterton was born in a little house which is in, was in the middle of East Kirkby.
CJ: What a coincidence.
JC: Yeah.
CJ: Now, have you anything else you’d like to tell us, Joe?
JC: I’m just having a think. What I’m me and my, my beloved partner are carrying on. We’re still together and we don’t know how long because she’s eighty seven. Aren’t you?
VJ: Six.
JC: Eighty six.
MM: She’ll kill you if you don’t know.
JC: And of course I’m ninety one. You had to be that age to do what we’d done because it was at the end of the war. I can add, people say, ‘Well, were you frightened?’ Etcetera. No. Not a bit.
MM: Would you do it again, Joe?
JC: Oh, of course not. I’ve got more sense.
CJ: Well, thanks very much for talking to us today, Joe. That was brilliant. Thank you very much indeed.
JC: Yeah. Right.
[recording paused]
CJ: So, tell me Joe did you ever get wounded when you were flying on ops?
JC: Very slightly. I wouldn’t say I really got wounded. What happened was that the flak that came up, came through the turret and caught my right outer gun. In doing so it knocked the back plate off which has the return spring etcetera. And it’s the buffer plate for the [pause] oh dear. I’ve forgotten the name of the —
CJ: The breech.
JC: Eh?
CJ: The breech.
JC: No. It goes backwards and forwards.
CJ: The bolt.
JC: At a fast rate.
CJ: Ok. The firing pin.
JC: Eh?
CJ: The firing pin.
JC: No. No. No. It’s the breech block.
CJ: Ok.
JC: And the breach block came back and came straight out and landed in my lap actually after it had hit the side of my head. Taken my helmet. It took, you know the helmet round bit. The telephones, if you like. Took that off and creased the side of my head and when we went to get debriefed chappy there said, ‘Oh, come on,’ he said, ‘Debrief quick,’ he said, ‘You’ve got to, better go up sick quarters because you’re bleeding.’ I went up sick quarters and the, I don’t know who it was in charge. I can’t remember. But they cleaned up the, where the wound if you like. Cleaned it up and then looked at it and he put an adhesive plaster or a tape on it. Took one step back and said, ‘Yeah. Yeah. Fit for flying tomorrow.’
CJ: Well, thank you for that Joe.
[recording paused]
CJ: So, Joe would you like to tell us about any incident when you actually shot an aircraft down?
JC: Yes. I can because I have my diary which I wrote in. Every time I came back I wrote what it was like. So I can tell you that on the 8th and 9th of February ’45 the target was Politz which was an oil installation north of Stettin. And I go on to say, “The flak was fairly heavy. Red cannon fire continuous over Sweden. Searchlights, some in target area and over Denmark. Two Junkers 88s seen over target. Then Junkers 88 shot down and destroyed by the mid-upper gunner and myself and the bomb aimer two minutes before bombs gone. This was a very tiring trip being airborne for nine hours forty five minutes. Flown over for, eighteen hundred miles. Crossing Sweden and Denmark and the Baltic. The Swedish AA fire was very accurate and a lot of ‘dive ports’ had to be given to avoid it. That was two minutes from the run up to the bombing run. Then the mid-upper sighted a Junkers 88 on port beam level. The mid-upper and bomb aimer opened fire. The 88 tried to drop behind. I yelled out to the skipper, ‘Throttle back. Whatever he does you do. Don’t let don’t let him go up or down or sideways or anything.’ And then at approximately range is seventy five yards I fired in to the canopy and killed the crew. Both the gunners, the other two other than myself kept firing and strikes observed on both engines and it eventually broke away and the bomb aimer saw it crash in the target area. And it was reported also by other crews. Numerous explosions and thick black smoke with flames intermingled came up from the target. Visibility was very good. No cloud. And marking was bang on. No doubt Politz was well and truly pranged this time. It seemed ages in the air. Especially on the return across the North Sea. There was not much AA fire over Denmark but Swedish gunners were very active. No fighters were, were observed after the 88. This provided enjoyment of aerial warfare.”
Well, thanks very much Joe.
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 Joseph Henry Cook
Creator
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Chris Johnson
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2017-01-18
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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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ACookJH170118, PCookJH1701
Conforms To
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Pending review
Pending revision of OH transcription
Format
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01:04:02 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
Completing school and moving on to work at 20th Century Fox Films, he worked as a fire watcher at the beginning of the war before joining the Royal Air Force. He states that he did that because he always wanted to fly and didn’t want to join the Army. He was sent to St. John’s Woods, for square bashing, which he thought was to ‘break’ the aircrews, before completing his initial training at RAF Bridgnorth and then onto RAF Bridlington to learn Morse code. He turned down being a bomb aimer in Anson and trained as an air gunner instead, after being told that they had the highest loss rate. He eventually travelled to RAF Tarrant Rushton just before the D-Day landings, being sent to drop leaflets over France in old Stirlings. Upon completing one of his first four operations, he baled out and landed in a tree. Joe was transferred to Wellingtons, flying training eight-hour trips. Joe also recounts several experiences on operations, including two near misses and flying at low temperatures. He didn’t think about losses, purely as they were so tired. Decommissioned in July 1945, Joe struggled to find work following the war, with people not hiring him as they believed he had killed people. He remained in touch with his crew and he also joined the squadron association. He states that he was never frightened throughout the war, but that he wouldn’t do it again, as he has more sense now.
Contributor
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Sam Harper-Coulson
Julie Williams
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
France
Great Britain
Germany
Poland
England--Shropshire
England--Yorkshire
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Urft Dam
Poland--Police (Województwo Zachodniopomorskie)
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1945-07
630 Squadron
air gunner
Air Gunnery School
aircrew
bale out
bombing
crewing up
fear
Fw 190
Initial Training Wing
Lancaster
Lancaster Finishing School
Me 109
Me 262
military ethos
military service conditions
Morse-keyed wireless telegraphy
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Operational Training Unit
perception of bombing war
propaganda
RAF Bridgnorth
RAF Bridlington
RAF East Kirkby
RAF Silverstone
RAF Syerston
RAF Tarrant Rushton
RAF Wigsley
Stirling
training
Wellington
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https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/608/10282/AMcDonaldEA150918.2.mp3
0f2d6ecf3f91adbe56622e816552729a
Dublin Core
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Title
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McDonald, Edward Allan
E A McDonald
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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McDonald, EA
Description
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Ten items. Two oral history interviews with Edward Allan McDonald (1922 - 2020, 1076170, Royal Air Force), a memoir, his log book, documents and photographs. He flew 28 operations as a rear gunner with 50 Squadron from RAF Skellingthorpe.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Edward Allan McDonald and catalogued by Barry Hunter.
Date
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2015-07-13
2015-09-18
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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DE: Right. This is an interview with Edward Alan McDonald or Alan McDonald, by Dan Ellin. We’re in Riseholme Hall. It is the 18th of September 2015. So, Mr McDonald could you tell me a little bit about your early life, your childhood and how you came about to be in the RAF?
AM: Yes. I think I can. I was, unfortunately it’s a bit of a miserable story this. My father was killed when I was four and so of course my mother had to bring us up. But anyway after that misfortune my mother looked after us very well as best she could. And I always fancied —my uncle he used to take me to Hedon Aerodrome which was just outside of Hull. And it was a landing field. It wasn’t, no runways on it. And it was where Sir Alan Cobham used to visit and give his displays. And I used to go there on my uncles crossbar and we used to come on the outside of Hedon Aerodrome and watch the various displays that Sir Alan Cobham went through which fascinated me. And from there onwards I wanted to be a pilot. And it’s a long story this because with me wanting to be a pilot I went to the recruiting office at what I thought was the right age. The war was on now. And they sa said ys, ‘What do you want to be?’ I said, ‘I want to be a pilot.’ ‘Have you got a secondary education?’ ‘No.’ ‘No. You haven’t. Well you can’t be a pilot so forget about aircrew. You can’t be aircrew. You’ll have to be ground staff.’ So I said, ‘Is there any way I can get —?. ‘No. There’s no way around it. You either have or haven’t passed in to a secondary education. You’ve not. You can’t be aircrew.’ So, anyroads I went on now to a place in Ireland to a place called Nutts Corner which was a Coastal Command station. And it was Fortresses and Liberators flown by the RAF and I enjoyed being there. I enjoyed being connected with the aircraft and getting trips home in any aircraft which was empty. And I worked on flying control at the station and I was putting the angle of glide out. What they called the glims out. Which were small three legged lights down the runway and down the perimeter tracks. Sorry, I’ll correct myself there. It wasn’t on the runway we put them in. It was on the perimeter track.
DE: Right.
AM: Back to the dispersals with these small lights that were battery driven. And then down the runways we had like the old type watering can.
DE: Yes.
AM: Full of paraffin and a very thick wick down the spout and we put them one every hundred yards at each side of the runway. And then we had, at the beginning of the runway, a chance light which could be used. And we also had an angle of glide which was for the oncoming pilot to see if he was in the right position for descending on the runway. Anyway, that episode passed very nicely but the next thing was they asked me to work with control. In control. So I did. I worked in there and I was in there one day and they said to me, ‘You’re going on leave on Monday aren’t you Mac?’ So I said, ‘Yeah. Why?’ They says, ‘Well there’s an aircraft going somewhere near. Near Hull. Do you know, have you ever heard of Leconfield?’ I said, ‘Oh yes. That is. That’s just outside Hull. It’s near Beverley. Oh if I can get a lift there I’m as good as home.’ So the next day we had to be there for 9 o’clock. And I’d taken three of my mates with me and they also were included in the load for this Wellington which was coming there. But anyroads as the day arrived and the time arrived it was cancelled. And so they monitored all the around aerodromes and at Aldergrove, sorry at Langford Lodge there was an American Lockheed Hudson going to the mainland that day and they would take us if we could get there. So we hitchhikes from Nutts Corner to Langford Lodge which was on the banks of Loch Neagh. And having got to Langford lodge the American guard outside with a rifle and a bayonet on said, ‘What do you guys want?’ So, ‘We’ve come to get a lift on a Lockheed Hudson through to the mainland.’ ‘You aint going from here bud.’ So we said, ‘Why?’ They said, ‘Well there’s been an accident and the two pilots have been killed and they’re in the runway.’ And anyway I don’t want to relate the story which I do know about but anyway they said, ‘We’ll ask around the different ‘dromes if anybody’s got aircraft going to the mainland.’ Yes. The station we’d come from — they had. Another Wellington was coming in. So they put a jeep on. And I’m sure the jeep passed any aircraft. He certainly got this clog down did that American. They’re a grand lot to me. I think that we owe a great deal to the Americans. In my opinion they were the best people in the world. Some of the best people in the world. They really helped us a lot. That’s my opinion. But, anyway, regardless of that we got through to Nutts Corner and there was a Wellington just ticking over at the end of the runway. We get on to the Wellington and off we goes. Now, he, the driver of this jeep that brought us, he stopped I’m sure two inches from the side of the Wellington and I mean two, I’m serious when I say two inches. That’s the distance he stopped. But anyroads, we got in to the Wellington. Off we goes and we flies out over Bangor and we goes across the Irish Sea across to Scotland and across the Scotch coast. We head south and we goes along the Scotch coast. Then we go along the English coast. Then we go along the Welsh coast and then we eventually comes to Lands End. And we’re out at sea all the time. Not over land at any time. And now we’re going out in to the South Atlantic as far as Britain is concerned. And then we turns to the east towards France. And going along the coast or to that particular position we had glorious sunshine all the way, and I was stood in the astrodome. The other three were sat on the floor of the Wellington. I should have mentioned this but I’ll mention it now. And I had a good view from the — where I was stood. Anyway, we’re now going along the south coast past Southampton and those places until I estimated, we were in and out of cloud all the way along the south coast, and as we were going along past Southampton I thought well we must be getting somewhere near to the coast — Dover now. And if we are near Dover I should be able to see France with a bit of luck. I’d never ever seen France before then and I was looking forward to seeing it. Anyroads, we gets, comes out of the cloud and lo and behold at the side us, and within about fifteen yards of us, no more, that was the maximum, was an ME109. So I had no means of communicating with the pilot. So I ran to the front of the aircraft, tapped the pilot on the shoulder and this is what I did.
DE: [laughs] the Nazi salute and a Hitler moustache. Yeah.
AM: Yeah. Yeah. I went through all the motions to let the pilot know that there was a fighter there.
DE: Yeah.
AM: And so he stood up and looked through a panel at the back of the Wellington which I didn’t know he could see through, above the top of the fuselage but he could. There was about ten inches or so where he could look through the canopy for anything behind him. I saw his face change and then he dashed back to the controls, put us straight into a dive and we went into a cloud. And then we headed for Dover. And then when we got to Dover we headed then inland and went to a place called Nuneaton and landed. Now, we get out of the aircraft and we’re walking along to exit the ‘drome. Nuneaton drome. And somebody tapped me on the shoulder and said, ‘Thanks lad.’ [laughs] with a smile on his face. So —
DE: I’ll bet.
AM: It was, it was nice to hear him say that. But anyroads, it worked. So we got away from Fritz there. Very –
DE: Yeah. That was lucky.
AM: Very fortunate. Why I turned around there on that particular second to look at France I don’t know. I don’t think we were anywhere near France. But anyroad I had done.
DE: Yeah.
AM: It was a mistake which turned out to be our advantage.
DE: Yeah. Very lucky.
AM: So that was that little story. But anyroads, from there on I had my leave. I went back. I went down to Dublin and I got chased in Dublin. We arrived in Dublin, my girlfriend and I, and I says, ‘Oh,’ we’d just got off the station and there was a big meeting not far from the station. Maybe hundreds of yards or so. And I says, ‘I bet that’s the IRA.’ She says, ‘It will be the IRA. Don’t go near it.’ I says, ‘Well I want to know what they’re saying about us.’ I says, ‘All we get is the newspaper reports about the IRA but I want to hear what they say myself.’ So she says, ‘Don’t go to the meeting. You’ll wish you hadn’t.’ So, anyroads, I says, ‘Are you staying there or are you coming with me?’ She says, I’ll come with you.’ Well when I was at school I used to run in the school sports each year. I liked running. I liked it but I never put my back into it and I should have done. But anyway that’s beside the point now. But anyroads, what happened was [pause] I’ve lost my place now.
DE: The IRA meeting.
AM: IRA meeting. That’s right. Yes. What happened with that was that as I was walking towards the meeting there was several hundred there. The man in the middle pointed straight at me and I couldn’t understand why. Why he’d done it. And the crowd turned around and then they surged. Actually surged. ‘Come on. Run.’ So we ran. She was from Ireland and she says, ‘Run.’ She says, ‘It’s the IRA.’ Anyroads, we did run. I held her hand and we both ran down O’Connell Street in Dublin and I won’t say where we got but we got somewhere where they didn’t find us. And anyroads we evaded them and now it was dusk. And we went along the street, O’Connell Street and there was a cinema at the end of this street. I went into the cinema and, ‘How many seats?’ She says, ‘There’s only two left. They’re on the front row.’ I says, ‘They’ll do.’ So we got the two seats on the front row. And the young lady that I was with was called Myrtle and the picture was an American picture. And there was a man sat in the chair as I’m sat here and a door there and a man comes in, ‘Now then Joe,’ he says, ‘How’s that gal of yours?’ He says, ‘Do you mean Myrtle?’ ‘Myrtle,’ he says, ‘I didn’t know they called her Myrtle,’ he says, ‘If I’d a gun I’d have shot her.’ She’d got a name called Myrtle and there was Myrtle at the side of me. But I thought that was funny that. They were going to shoot her if they called her Myrtle. But that was just one little thing, little episode in Ireland.
DE: Yes.
AM: But there was many others of a similar nature. I was on a bicycle going from a place called [Sleaven Lecloy?] Now [Sleaven Lecloy?] was a dummy aerodrome and I was on that dummy aerodrome. And what happened on that dummy aerodrome was that when we used to come away from the place you had two ways to go. We could either go, come up a long lane which led from the dummy ‘drome to the road, which was only a narrow road in any case and when they got to this road they could turn left and go to the station and then to Belfast. Or you could go to the right towards Lisburn and then go down towards the Falls Road. Well in Belfast there’s two roads. There’s the Falls Road this side and the Shanklin Road that side and they’re both parallel with each other. The Falls Road is a Catholic road. This road here, the —
DE: Shanklin.
AM: Shanklin Road. That there is a Protestant road. And of course the dagger’s drawn. They never should be. They should be good friends.
DN: Yeah.
AM: But unfortunately they’re not and if you were seen in the Falls Road by people in the Falls Road you was liable to be stripped naked of your uniform and everything, tied to lamppost and they’d pour tar over you. A bucket of pitch. And then they would give you a good lashing. And then they’d leave you there for the —that was the Catholics. They would leave you there to be dealt with by the police. They would come along. Well I was going the Falls Road which, from where I was at [Sleaven Lecloy, Sleaven Lecloy] is up here in the mountain and you come down all the way to Falls Road. All the way down in to the centre of the town. It’s all downhill. Every inch of it. Now, I’m going down the Falls Road on a pushbike and on the right hand side I noticed a chap stood outside a cinema with a sten gun. I thought well that would be the IRA. As I got near to him he set the Sten gun on to me. Fortunately for me a tram car came between him and me. And of course I kept pace with this tram car. I didn’t lose the tram car for quite a way. I got full steam up and went downhill with the tram car on the bike. So I escaped from that but this is just some of the little hitches in your stay in Northern Ireland. And in Southern Ireland for that matter. And it’s all silly nonsense to my way of thinking.
DE: Yeah.
AM: Nobody’s doing anything for any good. It’s all a lot of nonsense that they’re encouraging. To kill people that they don’t know. Anyway, I won’t go on that tack but anyway, fortunately I got out of it and fortunately I made many friends there. And I had a great time in Ireland. In Northern Ireland and I did in Southern Ireland. But there was this here, what shall I say? Shadow hanging over all the events. And anyway that was just one of the things that happened. And then whilst I was in Ireland I decided I would have another try at being aircrew.
DE: Yes.
AM: I’d had a lot of dealings with aircraft there. With Fortresses and Liberators at dispersals. Anyway, the warrant officer says to me, ‘Mac,’ he says to me, ‘Don’t you understand what I’m saying?’ ‘Yes,’ I says, ‘I do,’ I says, ‘And I still want to be aircrew.’ So he says, ‘Can’t you think of any other words but you want to be aircrew?’ So I says, ‘Well that’s what I want to be I says. I’ll stop pestering you when I become air crew.’ So he says, ‘Is that a threat?’ You know. I can’t remember his exact words but he implied that I was threatening him by saying this which I probably was. But anyroads, he says, ‘I’ll see what I can do for you.’ Because I’d been so many times he says his hair was falling out. But anyway, a tannoy went, ‘Would E A McDonald report to the station education officer.” So I went and, ‘Anybody know where he is?’ So somebody gave me directions and I found him. And he says, ‘You’ve been plaguing the life out of the station warrant officer. You want to be aircrew. Well,’ he says, ‘If you’re sincere and mean what you say and put your back in to what you’re going to get you’ll become air crew. But otherwise you won’t.’ So, he says, ‘To start with — do you want to be aircrew or don’t you? Let’s get that straight because,’ he says, ‘I don’t want to waste my time with you if you’re not going to put your back into it.’ Words to that effect. Maybe they were not the exact words but they implied that to me. So I says, ‘Well, I do want to be aircrew,’ and I says, ‘And I will put my back into it.’ So anyroads he says, ‘Right.’ He gave me a programme which I had to abide by and I spent quite a bit of time being schooled there. So the day of reckoning came. Well I was trembling. I thought, I bet I’ve failed. I feel sure I’ve failed. And I was saying it over and over to myself and getting worked up. Anyroads, when I went to see him he says, ‘Congratulations.’ So I says, ‘What for?’ So he says, ‘You are McDonald aren’t you?’ I says, ‘Yeah. I am.’ ‘ So he says, ‘Well you’ve matriculated.’ Well the word matriculated. To me I’d never heard the word before and I thought what’s he on about. Matriculated. What does that mean? He said, ‘You’ve matriculated.’ So anyroad when you get back to the billet there was a man in our billet called Fred Hillman and this Fred Hillman you could ask him anything and he’d always — he was like King Solomon. He knew every answer to every question. And he says to me, ‘How have you gone on Mac?’ So I says, ‘I don’t know really. I don’t. Honest. I don’t know.’ He says, ‘Are you meaning that you haven’t passed?’ I says, ‘No. I’m not meaning that at all.’ I said, ‘I hope I have,’ I says, ‘Because he shook hands with me and I thought was a good indication but he also said I’ve matriculated, and I’ve never heard that word before.’ So he says, ‘Well I’ll tell you what it means. It means you’ve qualified to enter a university.’ So I says, Are you joking?’ He said, ‘No. I’m not Mac. That’s what it means.’ So I says, ‘Thank you very much,’ I said, ‘Then I’ve passed.’ He says, ‘Yes. You’ve passed.’ So I went back. What happened was I was there for a fortnight and there’s a part of this story I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you why and it’s not something I’ve done wrong. It’s something that happened to me and I don’t know how it came about. But anyroads it happened and I’ll leave the matter at that. But what it was when I arrived there, at the station at RAF headquarters there was a WVS van outside. And this place was I would say as big as Buckingham palace where I went to RAF headquarters. And the young lady in the WVS van said to me, ‘You’re McDonald aren’t you?’ So I says, ‘How do you know my name?’ She says, ‘Oh I know a little bit about you.’ I says, ‘You know a little bit about me?’ I says, ‘I’ve never been here before,’ I said, ‘You can’t know anything about me.’ ‘Oh but I do,’ she says, ‘And they know about you in there.’ So I says, ‘In where?’ She said, ‘You see those two doors? You go in the right hand door. Don’t go in the left hand door. Go in the right hand door and when you go into that room you’ll be there with seventeen WAAFs and three airmen, and you’re one of the three airmen.’ So I says, ‘What about that then?’ She says, ‘Well you’ll find out when you get in.’ She said, ‘I’m not going to tell you.’ So I says, ‘I don’t get this,’ I says, ‘I’ve never been here before.’ So she says, ‘Well maybe you haven’t but,’ she says, ‘I know about you. And you’ll find out why when you get inside.’ So I says, ‘This is funny this is. I can’t make head nor tail of what’s going on.’ So anyroads I went into the room and nothing was said. Not a word except, ‘Hello.’ That’s all. Anyroad, I thought well this is funny, what’s she on about. They haven’t says anything. So this — I had to for an interview with an officer there and he says, ‘Oh,’ he says, ‘You’ve come here for some exams haven’t you?’ So I said, ‘I understand so.’ So he said, ‘Right, well we’ll deal with that while you’re here but we’ll explain to you that while you’re here what we want you to do maybe wont occupy all your time. So your time that you have surplus to our requirements — it’ll be yours and you’ll not be expected to do anything in that time, but otherwise you’ll be taking documents from office A to office B. And you’ll — I want a signature from office B to take back to office A and maybe to office C and so on. And these documents want signing for.’ Anyroad, I was doing this and then I got a funny comment. ‘Oh it’s you is it Mac?’ I thought, ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Oh it’s you is it Mac?’ And this was a WAAF and I thought, I can’t get this. They seem to know a bit about me. So I says, ‘Have you got the right Mac?’ She says, ‘You’re McDonald aren’t you and you’ve come here for some exams?’ I said, ‘Yes that right.’ I says, ‘How do you know about me? ‘Oh,’ she says, ‘Oh never mind. I do.’ So I thought well this is blooming funny and they made a mystery to me of myself and I didn’t know what was happening. Anyroads, in the end this person came up to me and said, ‘You’re bringing my tea and my cakes and we’ll have a squaring up.’ So I says ok. Thinking that I would I would pay for mine and they would pay for theirs. And this person that I’m talking about, I didn’t know who it was. I hadn’t a clue who she was. And she says, ‘I’ll pay for the tea and the cakes.’ I says, ‘You will not.’ I says, ‘I’m an LAC,’ and I pointed to my arm which was like a little propeller on my arm.
DE: Yes.
AM: I said, ‘I’ll be on a lot more money than you.’ So she says, ‘I’ll pay for you.’ I said, ‘You won’t.’ She says, ‘I will.’ So I said, ‘You’re not paying for my tea and cakes. I’ll pay for yours or we’ll pay for our own. Whichever way you want it but you’re not paying for mine.’ So she says, ‘I’ll pay for yours and don’t argue with me.’ I thought you’re a bit bossy. Who are you? Anyroad, I’ll not go into that. I’ll leave that as a blank, blank cheque as to who she was. Now then, I left there and I started as air crew. Training that is.
DE: Yeah.
AM: And I went to, to St John’s Wood. And whilst I was in St John’s Wood the sergeant came to me. He says, ‘Stores. You.’ I said, ‘Stores? What am I going to the stores for?’ He said ‘you’ll take your uniform off you’ve got with you and you’ll put a brand new uniform on. Brand new shoes, brand new cap. All brand new.’ He said, ‘And then tomorrow you’re going to meet someone.’ So I said, ‘Who?’ So he did tell me who it was. It was the queen. The queen mother. The queen at that time. And we were all lined up and it come to my turn to be introduced to Her Majesty The Queen. And I started speaking and nothing came out. And it had never happened to me ever before but it did then. And I was trying to speak and nothing happened whatsoever. So she passed on to the next one. And so that was a little experience there. And from there I went on to [pause]was it Bridlington or Bridgnorth? Bridgnorth? Bridlington. I think Bridlington we went to. From Bridlington to Bridgnorth. Bridgnorth through to Evaton. They called it, in Scotland Evaton. I called it Evanton. E V A N T O N.
DE: Yes.
AM: But they called it Evaton. I asked on the, the man on the station, the worker there. He says to me,’ Are you lost?’ I says, ‘I think so,’ I says, ‘I don’t know which platform to get on the train for Evanton.’ ‘There’s no such place as that around here.’ So he says, ‘Let’s have a look at your pass. Oh you mean Evaton,’ he says. ‘Oh ok then. Evaton.’ So I went to Evaton and we were flying there with the Polish pilots. Every pilot there as far as I’m aware. I never saw and English pilot there but there may have been one that I hadn’t seen. But any roads I was flying with the Polish pilots. We were machine gunning dummy tanks.
DE: Yes.
AM: And I had quite a good experience there of flying. And on a morning each day as we came out the billets the Polish pilots were coming out their billets which was next to ours or near enough to us and of course the first thing they would say was, ‘Dzien dobry.’
DE: Good Morning. Yes.
AM: And I would say, ‘Dzien dobry,’ And in the afternoon I think it was, ‘dobry wieczor.’ And all because I could say, ‘Dzien dobry,’ only by mimicking them. Could I do it? I didn’t actually — I couldn’t have spelt it.
DE: No.
AM: Or maybe I could but maybe I couldn’t. But anyway they were ever so friendly towards me. And when I went into the aircraft, ‘Oh he’s here.’ You know. You got a nice welcome. And we were doing machine gun practice and all sorts of exercises with them and then we progressed from there and we went to Bridgnorth. And then from Bridgnorth we went to Syertson — not Syerston. Winthorpe. Winthorpe to Syerston. Winthorpe was Stirlings and on the Stirlings we went on leaflet raids over Germany with the bomber stream.
DE: Yes.
AM: Now we could only reach four thousand feet and they were up at ten thousand feet and more sometimes. But with a Stirling it was called the flying coffin. And it was a coffin. It was a coffin. It was a nightmare to fly in.
DE: Yes.
AM: And we came back once with a Stirling and put the undercarriage down. And the starboard wheel went down and the port wheel went up and came out at the top of the wing and it shoved out the dinghy. And as the dinghy floated down to the ground it landed. It just missed a WAAF who was walking across the grass. And it just went, I’m sure, no more than, I doubt if it was six inches from behind her where it landed. And of course it would burst I should think and it would frighten the daylights out of her. I would think anyway. Because there was all the dinghy equipment with it as well. The transmitter and other equipment. So now we had to go to a place called Woodbridge and that was that. But I have missed that the first place we went to when we were flying was a place called a Market Harborough which was an OTU. This was after flying up in Scotland. And when we were flying in the OTU we were on night bombing exercises and we got airborne and I said to the skipper over the intercom, ‘Skipper, there’s a strong smell of petrol in the rear turret.’ So, he says, ‘Well keep me informed.’ So I said, ‘Ok skipper.’ So I rang up a bit later, I says, ‘It’s getting stronger, the smell of petrol.’ So he says, ‘Well it’s still reading ok Mac. I can’t understand what’s going on.’ So I called him a third time. I said, ‘It’s getting even stronger.’ So the fourth time I called him up I was soaked to the skin in petrol. I said, ‘My vest’s soaked in petrol. All my clothes. My flying clothes.’ And I said, ‘The bottom of the turret is full of petrol floating about on the floor.’ So he said, ‘Oh we’d better get back to base.’ This is night time. So we gets back to Market Harborough and coming in, in funnels.
DE: Yes.
AM: And almost about to land when the aircraft did an about turn. The engine cut out. One of the engines caught out. We did an about turn and she skimmed over the top of a building. Anyroad, we come down behind this building and we ran across two or three fields and as we were coming to slowing down I got the turret opened. I thought, well I’m not going to be in this. If it catches fire I don’t want to be about. So I sat on the turret the wrong way around. I’d got my legs dangling outside. And I had my parachute just in case it was needed. But this was before I landed I put it on but I’d still got it on. So anyway as we’re going along it was, it hit some bumps did the aircraft and the turret went up and down and threw me out. And as it threw me out the parachute caught on something. It caught in the wind and I got blown across this here field that I was in. On my back in the field. Anyroads, I managed to, you know just jettison the equipment.
DE: Yeah.
AM: And get up. And I was alright. I hadn’t got damaged in any way. And then I picked up my parachute up and I went to where the crew were congregating and the pilot, the farmer came up and he says — he used a bit of strong language. I won’t repeat that. I’ll leave that unsays. So I can leave that to anybody’s imagination. But what happened was, he says, ‘If you people,’ that’s the skipper he’s referring to, ‘If you people would get on with the war instead of playing about. Look what you’ve done to my corn field.’ He says, ‘You’ve nothing better to do than destroying my cornfield.’ He says, ‘We’re crying out for us to make production.’ And so he went into a blur about how he was being badly done to by aircrew not respecting him as though we’d come down there from choice which we’d not.
DE: Yeah.
AM: And anyroad, it had got quite flattened quite a bit. I would agree with him. But, and it was the middle of the night. It was dark. It wasn’t daylight. It was dark. Anyroad, we waited for transport to come and we went back to, to our place.
DE: Yes.
AM: We had to report it and give an explanation. Anyway, if we remember that. In a future episode of something this comes up again.
DE: Right. Ok.
AM: But it was on over in France where it occurred. We’d been on a raid in Germany and our route took us over Belgium at night time. And as we got crossing Belgium the anti-aircraft gun opened up on us and it hit the nose of the aircraft and blew a strip of aluminium off which was about fifteen to twenty foot long and about three to four foot wide. That was from behind the front turret right back to the where the pilot was. Not the pilot. The flight engineer who was sat next to the pilot. A great piece about that width stripped from the front turret right back to where he was. It had wiped out his controls on his dashboard. The skipper. It had ripped, the shrapnel had ripped through them. It had cut the navigator’s top of his flying boot, cut a big gash in it but didn’t damage his leg. Didn’t scratch his leg. And a piece of shrapnel went through the mid-upper gunner’s pannier of ammunition which was under his arms. One at each side. Went through it and stopped just below his arm. This big lump of shrapnel. And the aircraft, a piece had jammed in the controls when we were in a dive. And it had jammed the controls in such a way that the more he was pulling it to get us out it was getting tighter in the dive. So it wasn’t getting out the dive. It was getting us worse in to the dive.
DE: Sure. Yeah.
AM: So anyway, cut a long story short the skipper decides, ‘Well our time’s up now. Bale out.’ Well he gives the word bale out but I was, I didn’t find out then but I found out later, my intercom wire had been cut with the shrapnel so I didn’t hear the word bale out and I’m still looking for fighters in the rear turret. Getting my turret going from side to side to side to side. Up and down. Looking for fighters and that. We were in the searchlights. And we were going down. I thought we seemed to be going a long way down [laughs] anyway. Anyway, what happened was he decided after he’d told us to bale out he’d put it into a steeper dive and see if that would do any good. Which he did and the piece of shrapnel fell out. Because afterwards when we landed I went and found the piece of shrapnel that had caused the trouble. And I threw it into a field. I thought, you’ve done enough damage. We’re not keeping you anymore. So I threw it into the field. And anyway it got us out the dive and he cancelled the ‘Jump. Jump.’. But before he cancelled the, ‘Jump. Jump,’ Dougie who was at the front nearly got cut in two with this big piece of shrapnel that ripped the sheet of aluminium from the side.
DE: Yeah.
AM: And it just went above his head somehow. I don’t know how but this is what we were told. And Dougie baled out and landed in a wood. Now, Dougie the bomb aimer was a New Zealander. Also the skipper was a New Zealander. Hughie Skilling, the skipper —
DE: Yes.
AM: And Dougie Cruikshanks, the bomb aimer, were both from New Zealand and they both knew each other very well. And we had a crowd which was next to none. There was none, none to equal us. The friendship among us was unbelievable. It was absolute paradise to be in with them. They were a great crowd. The others as well as the skipper and the bomb aimer. The bomb aimer had gone now.
DE: Yeah.
AM: He’d landed in a forest at night time. And he says, I got, a lot of things he told me about what he did but they’d take too long to tell. He buried his stuff, his equipment. What he had. And came out of the wood. He didn’t know which way to go. He says, ‘I just picked and came and I came across a road.’ There was no traffic on the road whatsoever. He says, ‘I started walking and I thought am I walking the right way? I think I am.’ Anyroads, he says, ‘I’m walking west. I think. And arguing with himself. ‘Am I going west. Am I going east?’ And he says, ‘I had quite an argument with myself what I was doing.’ He says, ‘Until I come to a bend in the road. When I turned the bend , lo and behold just round the bend was two Germans there with rifles with fixed bayonets.’ He says, ‘Now what do I do? He says, ‘If I turn around and run away they’ll shoot me in the back.’ He said, so he said, ‘I pulled my shoulders back,’ he says, ‘And I marched past them in military fashion and they never says a word to me. They carried on talking.’ He says after marching past the two German sentries he says, ‘I came to — ’ I think he said it was an American sentry but I could be wrong about this. It might be a British sentry but I understood it to be an American sentry. And he took him in at bayonet point. Took him to his commanding officer. And his commanding officer said, ‘Oh, you’ve got another one have you?’ So Dougie pricked his ears up. Another one? Another one what? And he says, ‘We’ve got two of you Germans tied up outside. We’re going to, you’ll be tied up out there with them and the three of you will all be shot together.’ So he says, ‘You’re going to shoot me? What for?’ So they says, ‘Because you’re only pretending to be a New Zealander.’ He told them he was New Zealand. He says, ‘You’ve only told us you’re New Zealand but we don’t believe you. Not the way you’re talking. You speak better language than that in New Zealand.’ So anyroads they got him outside and were about to tie him up and shoot him with the other two that were supposed to be Germans in RAF uniform. So Dougie come out with some language. And the officer said, ‘Let that man go. The Germans couldn’t know such language. And so, Dougie, as I say, everything’s got a purpose. Well bad language had a purpose there.
DE: Yeah.
AM: And it saved Dougie from being shot. Now, they let him go and he went to Brussels from there, and when he got to Brussels he came to a meeting of squaddies and [pause] what do they call the announcer? Richard Dimbleby.
DE: Yes.
AM: Richard Dimbleby was talking and sending messages back. New Year messages back from the front line. And one of the soldiers says to Richard Dimbleby, ‘We’ve got an airman here why don’t you interview him?’ So he says, ‘Where is he? Put your hand up, the airman.’ So Dougie put his hand up. So he invited him to come to him. So he says, ‘How do you come to be where all these soldiers are? Where’s all your crew?’ So he says, ‘I’ve baled out of a Lancaster and I’ve been in a wood and I’ve walked so many miles on the road and I’ve been taken prisoner by,’ whether it was American or whoever it was, and he says, ‘They’ve let me go because I’ve used such bad language with them.’ So he explained this to Richard Dimbleby and Richard Dimbleby says, he says, ‘Where are you from then?’ He says, ‘I’m from New Zealand. From Christchurch.’ Which he was then. But after the war, since the war, I’ve been to New Zealand. The skipper invited me for a fortnight’s holiday at his place at Christchurch. And then when Dougie knew I was there he wasn’t, we were real good mates Dougie and I, and I met Dougie. We had to go to Dougie’s from Hughie Skilling’s place in Christchurch and it was a fair way. I should say it was twenty miles from where the skipper lived. But Dougie wanted to see me.
DE: Yeah.
AM: And when he saw me he put his arm around my shoulder and he says, oh, ‘Thanks for being our rear gunner.’ So that, that was Dougie. Anyway, we had a nice little natter did Dougie and I, and Hughie Skilling. We had a natter about things. And I think I mentioned about what the Germans said to Hughie. They called us Skilling’s Follies.
DE: Yes.
AM: And they’d sent word back that they would soon be having Skilling. So he said, ‘Before you get me you have to get our two gunners first.’ So he said, ‘You’ve got to get through them and then you might get me.’
DE: Was, was your aircraft painted up with the name on the side?
AM: No.
DE: No.
AM: No. We had. We didn’t have our own aircraft. The commanding officer used to let Hughie fly his aircraft which was VNG-George. But we didn’t always get his aircraft because other people were using it as well.
DE: Right.
AM: So we — sometimes we’d get T. T-Tommy. X-Xray. It could have been any aircraft. It’s in the logbook.
DE: Yeah.
AM: What the aircraft we flew in.
DE: How did the Germans know about Skilling’s Follies then do you think?
AM: Well [pause] well on our drome we had a spy. Not if. We did. Definitely. No matter what anybody says, we did. And what happened was one day I was going into the office block where the people — where we used to have briefings. Part of the building. And this officer came to me. He says, ‘Mac.’ So I thought he knows me. I don’t know him. Who he is. I thought who are you? So he says ‘Are you going in to,’ oh I was going to say Scunthorpe, ‘Are you going in to Lincoln? Are you?’ So, I said, ‘Yeah.’ He says, ‘Would you do a little job for me?’ So I said, ‘What’s that?’ He says, ‘Do you know where the taxidermist is in Lincoln?’ So I said, ‘Yeah.’ So I says, ‘Isn’t it somewhere near the station? Near the railway station isn’t it?’ he said, ‘That’s right. Yes. It is.’ So I says, ‘Oh fair enough.’ I said, ‘I just want to check up.’ He says, ‘Well I want you to take this if your will and leave it at taxidermist.’ I said, ‘What is it?’ He says, ‘It’s a bird.’ And it was in a packet. And he said, ‘I want you to take this to have it dealt with by the taxidermist.’ But I did know what a taxidermist was then but it wasn’t long previous to that before when I didn’t know what it meant. But anyroads I’d got to know what it meant and I took this parcel to this taxidermist. And afterwards I thought to myself [pause] I had a lot of thoughts about this encounter but I’ll not say what they were. And since the war it’s come to my notice several other things. And it was, they tried to find out. In fact, we had a do where Wing Commander Flint gave us a warning about something and he looked at me and I thought are you going to tell everybody I’ve taken a parcel there? I don’t want you to say that because it would look as though I’m working in league with the — whoever might be the, might be the ones. Anyroads, it didn’t work out that way. It was maybe my thoughts and maybe thinking too much of myself.
DE: You were worried there was a message inside the bird.
AM: Yeah. I was.
DE: Yeah.
AM: I thought, oh don’t say I’ve collaborated with the, with the enemy. And anyway it seemed that since then I’ve got to know various other bits of information and I wasn’t alone in my thoughts.
DE: Right.
AM: And apparently other people had been asked by this officer to take things in to the taxidermist. Now where would an officer get things from to take to a taxidermist? Only the same as anybody else. I know. And we were in the country yes.
DE: Yes.
AM: But I never saw any livestock there of any kind. At anyroads that’s another story altogether. But I don’t know what happened with that. Whether anything happened or not but I’ve thought to myself I wished I could get on to that roof and just have a look. See what type of aerials, if any, are still up there. And you could find out what frequency they were on then.
DE: Yeah.
AM: And anyways, that was, it’s just thoughts.
DE: So how did you hear about the message from the Germans about Skilling’s Follies?
AM: Well I’ve met people at meetings. At the reunions. And different people have said about remarks about it. And they said, ‘We know you’ve taken a parcel.’ I said, ‘Yes I have. I can’t deny that.’ I said, ‘But it looked very much, very bad for me,’ I said, ‘Taking this parcel. I don’t know what was in it.’ But they said, ‘Well you shouldn’t have taken it.’ I said, ‘Well I can say that myself now, I says, ‘But at the time it was an officer and it was just a parcel as far as I was concerned and I took it.’ But it maybe wasn’t. I don’t know. But anyroad, that’s the way it went and I heard since that they come to the conclusion that it was that place where the information was being taken to.
DE: Right.
AM: Now whether it was or not I don’t know and I can’t say. I can repeat what I’ve been told but that’s gossip.
DE: Yes. Of course. Yes. So what station was this? Where was this?
AM: Skellingthorpe.
DE: It was Skellingthorpe.
AM: Yeah. And we know when we went on raids they were waiting for us. You don’t wait for somebody on a ‘drome or in a specific area unless you have information to, to confirm what you’re thinking. That they will be coming there and they were literally waiting for us. And this happened several times and you was outnumbered with fighters. So I mean it wasn’t, it wasn’t by accident it was by somebody had got it right. That they were getting information from the station.
DE: Were these daylight operations or at night?
AM: All raids. Night and day. So we certainly got a good clobbering wherever we went. So — they always seemed to be on the ball, the Germans. As though, as though you couldn’t pull the wool over their eyes. But I don’t think that was the truth at all. I think the truth was, as was says on the ‘drome, somebody was passing information back.
DE: I see.
AM: They definitely were. And then when they sent a pilot back. Now, I’ll give you a little example. I was a witness to a crash there. Our site for VNG then was at the long runway which was east to west. At the west end of the runway and on the south side of the runway at the end — say if that’s the runway. Taking off in funnels we were all in a line around here. 61 Squadron around that side. 50 Squadron around this side and we’d be one after the other going. One 50, one 61.
DE: Yeah.
AM: One 50, one 61 ‘til we’d all taken off. And what happened was that [pause] I’m losing myself now. What happened? Oh this memory. Its —
DE: So you’re all taking off and it’s a story of when they were waiting for you.
AM: Yeah. We — oh we were parked here at this end of the runway. That’s it. I’ve got it.
DE: At the dispersal.
AM: We were parked at the exit end of the runway. So by the time they got to where we were parked, just in front of us and that the rear turret was facing the end of the runway and we was getting ready to go on the same raid.
DE: Yes.
AM: And I was doing my drill in the rear turret. Anyway, watching the aircraft take off — one of them, I thought there’s something wrong with him. He kept low. He didn’t climb like the others. The others took off and climbed.
DE: [unclear] Yeah.
AM: Up and up until they got to the height and set on the direction they were going but he didn’t. He went over Skellingthorpe village and I should imagine he very nearly hit some of the chimney tops. But he turned around and came back and when he got over the end of the runway and only just on it he dropped like a stone. And of course it was the whole bomb load went up and he went up and that was the end. There was nothing to be seen after that. And I thought oh they’ve all had that. And unbeknown to me the rear gunner, one of the ground staff saw something gleaming in the — he’d been cycling his bike somewhere. I don’t know where. And he’d seen a light shining in the hedge bottom somewhere. A ditch.
DE: Yeah.
AM: And he’d gone to this and he’d found the rear turret. It had been blasted off the ‘drome in this into this ditch. And when he looked inside the rear gunner was there but he says he was black. He was all black. Which I can understand he would be. Anyroads, I learned a few days ago that he was, he was still alive up to two years ago. And he just died two years ago.
DE: Really.
AM: So, so I’m told. If I’m telling you wrong I’ve been told wrong. But that was unfortunate. The whole event was unfortunate because, and I had to go as a witness to relate what I’d seen and it didn’t end up there. With me things don’t just go from A to B. They go from A to B to C to D to E and it’s like a kangaroo jumping along with information. And what happened was, with me, was this. That when when it was reported everybody knew about it. The man that took off number one was Skillings and I should call him Squadron Leader Skilling.
DE: Yes.
AM: Because that’s what he was and he earned that title. He didn’t get it easy. He got it. He qualified and in my opinion he should have got even higher. He was an absolute wizard. He was out of this world as a pilot. He got us out of many difficulties. And what happened was his pal was the first one off. Now, he’d taken, he was up here when he, this one here was taking off.
DE: Yeah. Yes.
AM: So he hadn’t seen this one at all. And on his way to the target he’d got serious engine trouble and landed in a field in Germany. And they’d landed quite safely and they’d all got out safe.
DE: Yes.
AM: And they were trying to set fire to their aircraft which was the procedure and Fritz come up with machine guns and said, ‘If you go any further with that you’ll all be dead.’ So they had to abandon the setting fire to the, to the aircraft. So they were taken in and they said, ‘Well, you’ll be pleased to know that all the crew are not dead on that aircraft that crashed.’ They’d not seen it. They were up there. Well away from the event happening so they didn’t know a thing about what they were on about. And they thought they were making a yarn about this other aircraft. They said, ‘But you’ll be pleased to know the rear gunner is still alive.’ Now, this is before they’d reached the target. They’d got this information. So surely that would verify that someone on the ‘drome was talking to the Germans in some way. Of course radio obviously. But they had this equipment and I mean, the building, if you look at the place where, If I could back to it, to the what do they call them again? Taxidermist is. There’s tall buildings. I think they’re three stories high. Well you’ve got a good height there above all the surrounding buildings. You’ve got a good clear run to get an aerial from up there to Germany. It would be ideal for a, for a sight to broadcast from. And of course you’d get all mixed signals from that area. From the railway. From other equipment. Bus companies. Various other places. There’d be signals of all kinds buzzing about in that area so they had a good cover.
DE: Yes.
AM: And they wouldn’t dither and dather doing. They’d have a code no doubt.
DE: Yes.
AM: And having a code they would condense their messages and make it as brief as possible. So obviously when one of them came back, was released by the Americans and it was this pilot. The Americans captured the ‘drome where he was.
DE: Yes.
AM: Not the ‘drome. The prison. Or the prison camp. Whatever it was where he was detained. And they told him, when he got back to Skellingthorpe would he tell Skilling that they were after him and that they’d soon have him. And they would have Skilling’s Follies as well. That we were the Follies.
DE: Yeah.
AM: The crew and anyway, they didn’t get us. And they nearly did once or twice but we had an event which was rather unusual. I never heard of it happening to anybody. Only us. And that was this. We were on a raid where, when the tannoy went it said, ‘Will the following nine aircrews please report to briefing room.’ Now nine aircraft. Not nine squadrons. Now usually there were twenty of 50 Squadron and twenty of 61 Squadron. ‘Would the following crew — 50 Squadron and 61 Squadron, report to the briefing room’. That was it, but with us, ‘Would the following pilots report to the briefing room.’ Skilling was one.
DE: Right.
AM: And when we got to the briefing room we thought what was this going to be about. And they says, Wing Commander Flint says, ‘We’ve a very difficult job on. We can only send nine aircraft to the target. And the target is a barge and this barge is in the Mittelland Canal. And its night time and it will be well guarded. And you’ve got to get in and sink it. It must be sunk or you must bust the banks of the canal. Whichever you do it’ll leave him stranded. Now, if this here barge gets through to where they’re hoping to get it to.’ Where ever that want it to be. I don’t know. They says that, ‘We’ve nothing to stop this tank. It’s so good. It’s the most powerful tank the Germans have ever made and if it gets through we haven’t a gun that’ll touch it and we’ve nothing otherwise will deal with it. So get it sunk and come back and tell us you’ve done it.’ So, anyroads we gets off and we goes to the target. And we, we had to start with of the nine. One malfunctioned on take off so it left eight. Enroute to the target there was a big red glow in the sky. The sky all lit up. And on our port side was two Lancasters. The far Lancaster was on fire and there was one between him and us and there was also one behind our tail. Just behind us. So that was three. Anyway, we’d not been going much further. Number two Lancaster now is on fire. So that was that. So we’d gone a bit further. Now it was our turn. The mid-upper screamed, ‘Corkscrew port. Go.’ And we go straight down and all of a sudden there was such a row above the turret and a rocket passed the top of the turret a few inches and it filled the turret with fumes as it went by. It had missed us with Johnny Meadows, our mid-upper giving the word corkscrew. He saved the day did Johnny. But it was a bad way of having to do it because it was one of those nights that’s absolutely, call it black black. It was absolutely so dark you couldn’t see a thing. We couldn’t see the ground. We couldn’t see another aircraft. And yet this Focke - Wulf 190 came head on and attacked us. And he come just above. Just scraping the top of the aircraft with his belly. And I got the guns and I thought, ‘Oh I can’t.’ You’re going to say why.
DE: Why?
AM: Because there was a Lancaster just behind us and if I’d fired at him I would have hit the Lancaster. It was just behind us. And I thought oh dear and I wondered if they’d crashed but they hadn’t. They hadn’t crashed but anyroads this Focke - Wulf come over at night time. Of all the times. I’ve never known of it before. Maybe other aircraft have had it but we’d never had an head-on attack. We’d had attacks from the side, from below and various places but never, never from in front. So that was that. And anyroads we, we had a good time of it because we was coming back from it and over Belgium the anti-aircraft unit opened up on us and that’s where they took the sheet off the side of the nose of the aircraft.
DE: Oh I see. Yeah.
AM: The full length of the nose of the aircraft was minus a sheet of aluminium about two to three feet wide.
DE: Yeah.
AM: Maybe more. I don’t know the exact measurement. But it was, I think, about the width of the this table.
DE: Did you manage to — Dougie baled out. Did you —
AM: Dougie baled out. Yes.
DE: Did you manage to make it back to England then?
AM: Yes, he did. And he came back and when he came back the skipper says to us all, ‘We’re going out. I’ve got permission. We’re going out tonight to celebrate Doug’s survival. And we were taking Dougie in to Lincoln.’ So I says, ‘Good.’ Now I’m ready and everybody’s ready and Dougie’s ready and Dougie hung back. And somehow I get the feeling he wanted to talk to me. I don’t know how I knew but I did. And Dougie hung back and I hung back and he got hold of me and he says, ‘Mac.’ I says, ‘You’re not.’ So he says, ‘What do you mean?’ I says, ‘You know what I mean. You’re going to tell me that you’re yellow.’ He says, ‘I was. I was yellow.’ He says, ‘I was the only one that bailed out.’ I says, ‘Dougie you wasn’t yellow. You carried out what you was instructed to do and did it as you was told to do it. You was on the ball. That’s the only crime you committed. You was on the ball. You got out the aircraft when you should.’ Well underneath, Dougie, the bomb aimer, is a hatch about this square.
DE: Yes.
AM: And it’s easy for him to just jettison that. I mean I would have to find out how to do it but he knew how to do it. And he zipped it out and he was straight out. Followed the instructions and he landed with his parachute in the forest. Yeah. And from there onwards he ended up as a prisoner of war to be shot for being a German spy. That was Dougie.
DE: Yeah.
AM: The New Zealander. The skipper was a New Zealander as well. Hughie Skilling.
DE: Yeah.
AM: And he was pretty well known. Whatever station we went on, ‘Hiya Skilling. That’s the bloke that taught me to fly.’ And this was, wherever we went somebody did this. Every ‘drome we went to.
DE: Wonderful.
AM: Never missed. He taught ever so many people to fly. That was him. He had a marvellous reputation and he had with us.
DE: Yes.
AM: As his crew we couldn’t have picked a better man.
DE: So what was your job in the crew?
AM: What was —?
DE: Your job. You were a rear gunner. What did, what did that entail?
AM: Well I was just in charge. I had four guns there and all I had to do was to keep the tail clear or the side or wherever my guns would face I had to patrol that area visually. And I did do. And I never stopped. I never wore glasses. I never sat down ever. Every minute of my flying was stood up. If you look at my logbook you’ll see how many hours I’ve been on trips. I’d been to Munich and back and never sat down. It was too risky I thought and so I never sat down for that reason. I thought at times it’s proved to be successful. I’ve seen aircraft and the skipper says, ‘Well keep him under view Mac until he comes into range and then see what you can do.’ We had one that followed us for quite some way. I said, ‘Skipper we’re being followed with a JU88,’ and he was on our starboard side. So I thought well I’ll let him know. I said, ‘And I don’t think he’s coming in to attack.’ He said, ‘What do you think he’s doing then?’ I said, ‘He’s finding out where we’re going to and he’s keeping us in view and if he follows us we’ll take him to the target.’ And I said, ‘He’s out of range of my guns.’ So he says, ‘Well when he comes into range give him something.’ I said, ‘Don’t worry. We’re only waiting for him to do that but he’s not. He’s a wise bod. He knows full well if he comes any nearer he’ll get a congratulation.’ But anyroads he didn’t. He just cleared off. I think he’d had enough of us. He’d followed us for a quarter of an hour at least. We did have occasions when we brushed with them but usually we were fortunate. We managed to keep out of their way so to speak.
DE: I see.
AM: Yeah. So we didn’t get any damage from fighters. We got [laughs] we got some awakenings at times when he suddenly spotted one. We wondered what he was going to do but usually they went for other aircraft. And we was fortunate.
DE: Did you open fire at any?
AM: No. No. I never, never fired one bullet. Not on active service.
DE: But you kept your eye open.
AM: I was never in a position where I could fire at one. They came near us and as soon as they saw that you were taking precautions they cleared off and went for somebody else that maybe hadn’t seen them.
DE: So did you call corkscrew and that was enough?
AM: Well yeah but, oh we did corkscrew a few times. We had to do but when you did that — well I’ll tell you what did happen with the two squadrons. They sent, the newspaper sent an article, I don’t know which newspaper it was, could they send some reporters to find out what it was like on a raid? And the squadron, this was before I was on the squadron. I’m repeating what I was told. And we were told that yes they could send some reporters and we’d fix them up. There’s two squadrons. Twenty in each squadron. There’s forty aircraft. How many are you going to send? They sent five. Well four of them went with 61 Squadron. Two in one aircraft and two in another. And one came in one of 50s aircraft. And the two that went in the 61 aircraft they didn’t come back. The one that came in 50 Squadron he came back and he’d got so many bones broken. He’d corkscrewed and he got thrown about the aircraft and he ended up in hospital. So that was [laughs] I don’t like laughing at it but it was unfortunate for them that they couldn’t have been instructed before they went in what to do in a corkscrew.
DE: So what would you have to do to —?
Well you get a firm grip on somewhere otherwise you are going to get thrown about. And if you get thrown about he’s trying to be as vicious as he can with the aircraft. You’re going to get some rough treatment and there’s only one thing to do and that’s hang on. I mean I was stood up in the turret. When we went in to corkscrew I held on to the two supports and of course I could still stand up. Even in a corkscrew. Well they wouldn’t know this.
DE: No.
AM: But I did. I wasn’t there when they did it so I mean so I couldn’t say do it because I didn’t know. I never seen them. But it was unfortunate for them what had happened. I never did find out whether the others were prisoners of war or what happened to them but certainly the one that was on our squadron I did hear about him. And as I’ve, as I just said he got so many bones broken. What they were exactly I don’t know.
DE: No.
AM: I didn’t enquire.
DE: No.
AM: So —
DE: Oh dear.
AM: But it was a vicious thing was a corkscrew and it got you out of trouble.
DE: Yeah.
AM: So that was some of the things. There was other things but —
DE: What sort of other things?
AM: Well what can I think? I’ve not given it much thought really [pause] Well yes we went to a target where it was terrible weather conditions. Really bad. And it was in a mountainous area. If I looked in the logbook I maybe could find where it was because we landed at Tangmere when we come back. We’d no petrol. We were registering empty in the tanks. But anyroad I’ll tell the story from the off.
DE: We’ve got the logbooks scanned so we can look that up later. Yeah.
AM: Well the place that I’m referring to it was a bad trip because it was ice all the way there. And lumps of ice had fallen off the aircraft. We was having a job to keep our altitude. Anyway, we gets to the target area and we goes in and we makes an orbit of the circuit. And enroute to the target, just before we reach the target, what seemed to me to be in an aircraft a few yards but it maybe was miles. There was, on the mountainside, on the same level as us, the mountain at each side of us and on the port side of us looked, on a ledge on this mountain was an area all lit up. And I says, ‘Oh that’s a listening post.’ There was a good array of aerials and that on it. I thought that’s a listening post that. I’ll bear that in mind and mention it if the opportunity crops up. Anyroads, we gets to the target, we goes in to bomb, comes out the run. ‘How many bombs did you drop Doug?’ ‘Not one. They’ve froze up.’ So, ‘Right we’ll go around again.’ So we goes around again. ‘How many bombs did you drop this time Dougie?’ ‘None. They’re all froze up.’ ‘Why? Did you have the heaters on?’ ‘The heaters have been on all the time, skipper. They’ve never been off. They’re on, and they’ve been on all the time.’ ‘And we haven’t dropped a single bomb?’ He says. ‘No. We’ve got the cookie and the five hundred pounders.’ So we goes around again. The third time. No. We haven’t dropped one. So we goes around for the fourth time and they dropped the, I don’t know how many of the thousand pounders dropped but some of them dropped. But not the cookie. That’s the four thousand pounder. So the skipper says, ‘Dougie—’ Oh I haven’t mentioned this part here — this was Dougie’s thorn. This is the thorn in Dougie’s side. I didn’t tell you this part. At briefing Wing Commander Flint said, ‘We’re getting very short of four thousand pounders. And if for any reason you don’t drop your thousand pounder — four thousand pounder, I want to know the reason why you’ve dropped it, where you’ve dropped it and how you’ve dropped it.’ He said, ‘And I want a good explanation if you’ve dropped it.’ And he said, ‘You’re in for it.’ So anyroads we comes out and the skipper says, ‘Right, Dougie. We’ll have to get rid of it somewhere.’ So Dougie says, ‘You can’t.’ So skipper says, ‘Why can’t we?’ He said, ‘Well you heard what Wing Commander Flint says. If we can’t drop any four thousand pounder we’ve to bring it home or he wants an explanation why not.’ So he said, ‘Well we can give him one.’ So Dougie said, ‘What’s that?’ So he says, ‘We won’t reach base if we carry it. We’ve been around four times Dougie,’ he said, ‘And we’re getting a bit short of petrol. As it is we’ll be lucky if we reach the French coast.’ So he says, ‘Oh we will will we?’ So he said, ‘Well, I don’t care what you say. I say drop it.’ So the skipper says, ‘Well we’ve got to drop it before we get to the coast because we call it galloping petrol down.’ So he says, ‘We’ll have a vote on it, Dougie. Mac —rear gunner. What do you say?’ ‘Drop it.’ ‘Mid-upper?’ ‘Drop it.’ ‘Wireless op?’ ‘Drop it.’ ‘Navigator? Drop it.’ ‘Flight engineer?’ ‘ Drop it.’ ‘Pilot? Drop it.’ But I think he said, ‘I think we’ve won.’
DE: Yeah.
AM: So he said, ‘Will that do Dougie?’ So he says, ‘Well I’m voting against it.’ So he said, ‘Dougie if we do,’ he says, ‘I’ll guarantee we won’t reach the French coast if we take it back.’ ‘We won’t?’ He said, ‘We’ll be lucky now if we reach the French coast.’ And as it turned out we, he dropped it on this here, this here sight which I said was the listening post and he got a bullseye on it. And they forgot one thing. They forgot to take the difference in altitude of that from dropping a bomb. It was so many thousand feet up, this.
DE: Yeah.
AM: And that should, that should have been added to the distance between us and the height they dropped the bomb from. But they didn’t do that. They forgot about it. Well the aircraft got such a smack. The skipper says, ‘Mac, are you alright in the tail?’ So I said, ‘Yeah.’ He said, ‘Thank goodness for that.’ He says, ‘Has any damage been done?’ I says, ‘Not that I know of.’ So he said, ‘Are you sure? Wireless op go and have a look down the fuselage. See if there’s any damage. I’m sure we’ve got some damage somewhere.’ But we hadn’t. We’d got no damage. So we heads for the French coast now. And I heard them talking as we were crossing The Channel there, ‘We’ll be lucky if we make the coast. We might have to ditch.’ Anyroad, we landed at Tangmere. And we got, we stayed there the night and got petrolled up and back to base but we wouldn’t have done with a cookie.
DE: No.
AM: It was a good job we got rid of it. So in the report they put down that we’d hit this here listening post. Which they did. They got a bullseye. Because they hadn’t, there wasn’t much difference, there wasn’t much difference in the height between them and us. But these are little side kicks to what made flying interesting. You did get little kicks now and again that boosted you up when you saw it happening to them and not to us.
DE: Yes.
AM: But, but then when you sat down seriously thinking oh aren’t we stupid. We’re bombing their lovely buildings that they’ve taken centuries to build. The pride and joy of Germany. We’re knocking them down.
DE: Yeah.
AM: They’re doing the same here. They’ve come to Coventry. They’ve knocked beautiful buildings down there that’s been up for centuries. And this is the thoughts that go through your mind. We must be mad to instigate such things as killing each other like we do as though it’s the right thing to do. But it’s not. It’s the wrong thing to do. But anyroad that was, that was it. There was other occasions when things happened but you can’t — I couldn’t bring them all to mind at the moment. Maybe when I’m in bed and thinking what I’ve said today. Maybe these things will come to my mind which they do when you’re not in a position to relate them.
DE: That’s always the way. Yeah.
AM: Yeah.
DE: Yeah. The memory does strange things.
AM: Yeah. We had some close dos. But we could rely on the skipper. He was, he was A1. Absolutely A1. And he invited us to their home in New Zealand for a fortnight’s holiday and the wife and I went and we had a marvellous time there. And as I’ve said we went to Dougie’s.
DE: Yes.
AM: Yeah. He says, ‘I’m pleased you was our rear gunner.’ [laughs] I don’t know why but that’s what he says.
DE: That’s good.
AM: So anyroads.
DE: How many operations did you do?
AM: I don’t know. I’ve not counted. It would be about twenty eight I think. Something like that.
DE: So what happened at the end of the war in Europe?
AM: Well what happened to me was we got a direct hit at the tail end of the aircraft and I was stood, in front of me it was open and I was stood there. The next thing I knew I was laid on the floor. And I come to and I could hear on my earphones Hughie shouting through the earphones. Oh I says, ‘Was you shouting me Hughie?’ He said, ‘Yes,’ he says ‘What happened?’ ‘Oh,’ I says, ‘You know that shell that hit us?’ He said, ‘Yeah.’ I said, ‘It pulled my intercom out.’ I said, ‘It come unplugged.’ And he didn’t believe me but I thought I’m not going to tell him I’m laid on the floor. So anyroad, I got up off the floor and felt myself and I thought I’m alright. I says, ‘Everything’s alright at the back end here Hughie, I said, ‘It was just a bit near. That’s all.’ So anyroad, when we landed he says, ‘I want to see you.’ He says, ‘I don’t believe you.’ So I says, ‘Why? What do you mean?’ He said, ‘I don’t think you’re telling me the truth.’ I said, ‘What about?’ He said, ‘You know what about. You told me you were alright, didn’t you? On the intercom.’ I said, ‘Well I am.’ So he said, ‘You’re not.’ He says, ‘If you could see your eyes you would know why.’ So I says, ‘Well what’s wrong with my eyes? He said, ‘They’re all bloodshot. Both of them. They’re in a hell of state,’ He said, ‘You’re going to the medical centre.’ ‘ No,’ I said, ‘I aren’t. I’m alright Hughie.’ He says, ‘Mac we rely too much on you to for you to go up like that. You couldn’t see properly.’ I said, ‘I can see alright.’ And I thought I could. Apparently I was in hospital for a fortnight. But anyroad they kept me in. They wouldn’t let me out.
DE: Which hospital was that?
AM: It wasn’t. It was the army hospital — Air Force hospital. So, and I says, ‘Can I go back to flying?’ And they says, ‘Oh not again.’ I says, ‘Well I don’t want to be here.’ I says, ‘I appreciate what you’re doing but I don’t want to be here. I want to be back with my crew.’ I said, ‘I’ve only two more ops to do. Or one to do. I don’t know how many,’ I says, ‘And then we’ve finished the tour.’
DE: Yes.
AM: He says —
DE: Yes. Did they not fly without you then?
AM: No. They got another gunner.
DE: Right.
AM: I don’t know who he was. But anyroad they got another gunner and he took my place for the last two or the last one. I don’t know if there was one or two we had to do. So —
DE: So were you in hospital at the end of the war in Europe then?
AM: Near enough.
DE: Yeah.
AM: Yeah. Anyway, they doctored me up in there and I think I could have managed without. I think I could anyway. I think they were taking precautions but they’d no need to. I was alright.
DE: Sure.
AM: I thought I was anyway.
DE: Yeah.
They said, ‘No, you’re not. Not again.’ I said, ‘Look,’ I said, ‘Just let me go and,’ I says, ‘I’ll get back with my crew and then that’s it. You’re finished. You’ll not put up with me.’ So they wouldn’t. They said, ‘No. You’re stopping here a bit longer.’ I was there for a fortnight. Anyroad, that was that. So that was the only incident I had. And it wasn’t too bad either. I mean I didn’t know much about it [laughs] I was just laid on the floor. And, oh a young lady in there in one of those photographs. Is she, oh she’s in here. This young lady — we meet her at the meetings. In our reunions.
DE: Yeah.
AM: Where is she? That’s — have you seen them?
DE: I’ve seen those ones. Yeah.
AM: You’ve seen them. And that young lady there in the middle. Yeah. That young lady there her husband was on the same raid as us and he got killed. He got shot down and he was killed. She enquired until she got to us and ever since then she’s, she’s clung to us. She’s from Wales somewhere. And when we go to the meetings she makes a beeline for us on account of us being on the same raid as her husband.
DE: I see.
AM: I don’t know what the connection is except her husband unfortunately, he come unstuck there. We were lucky. We got through.
DE: Yeah. Do you go to a lot of reunions then?
AM: I’ve been to quite a few.
DE: Yeah.
AM: Yeah. When I can go I go.
DE: I see. And what did you do after the RAF?
AM: I went back. I was an electrician. And I were working in Hull. I were working on mine sweepers. And I worked on — I think it was called the Virago. I don’t battleships. I don’t know whether it was a destroyer or a cruiser. It was a fairly big ship. Plenty of guns on it and plenty of anti-submarine equipment. And with ASDIC and sonar on it. And I was lucky with that because I struck with a note with a man that was piped on board ship. And the man that was the captain of this ship was called Crumpelow. A navy ship this is I’m referring to.
DE: Yes.
AM: And they piped this officer aboard on ship and he says, ‘I want you all to hide out the way while we’re bringing him on board ship. We don’t want him to see any of you.’ So we says, ‘Ok fair enough.’ So I was a charge hand then and I says, ‘We’ve got to keep out of sight while this officer’s coming aboard ship.’ So they says, ‘Ok. We can manage that alright.’ So we goes down below. Down in the bilges.
DE: Yes.
AM: Gets out the way. And he came and he went. And then we were working on the ASDICs and when a few days later on I had a “Practical Wireless” in my back pocket. And I was working down below in the ASDICs with the rest of the squad and I felt someone lift this book out of my back pocket. I thought who’s taken that? And I turned around. He says, ‘It’s alright. I’m not pinching it. I’m only looking at it.’ And it was this officer that they’d piped on board the ship. So he says, ‘What are you going to make out of this?’ So I says, ‘Well I’m thinking of making that condenser analyser.’ So he says, ‘Well do you know,’ he says, ‘I don’t know if my qualifications are good enough,’ he says, ‘But what I use for doing that, nothing as complicated as what you’re going to make.’ He says, ‘This is what I use. A pair of earphones and a resistor. And I calibrate the variable resistance with the earphones across the condenser,’ he says, ‘And I have a set of condensers that I have that are calibrated and are precision ones,’ and he says, ‘I use them to work out what the ones are that I’m putting in. He says, now then, only me can use this now because my hearing and your hearing and anybody else’s is not the same. The earphones are calibrated to my hearing. Not to yours.’ He says, ‘If you make this you’ve got one of the best condenser analysers there is in the market. He says, ‘And that’s what I use on this here ASDICs and Sonar’
DE: I see. Yeah.
AM: So he says, ‘Send this for this CPO, chief petty officer will you?’ — to this bloke that was with him. So he went and he came back with this chief petty officer. He says, ‘If this man wants any gear out of the radio room —’ the pantry he called it. I think he called it a pantry, he says, ‘Give him it. But he will return it. He’s not getting given it for good he’s being loaned it. And I’m giving him, sanctioning that he can have anything he wants out of that radio stockroom and he can have the use of it providing he brings it back.’ So I thought well how good of him and he didn’t know me from Adam. And from there onwards we were the best of pals. We really got on, you know, really well. He was a smashing fellow. Really nice. I thought he was anyway. I could have made a life-long friend of him.
DE: Marvellous.
AM: So that was, that was a little bit there about that. I think they called it the Virago.
DE: Right.
AM: I might have got the name wrong because it was a long time since now.
DE: Sure.
AM: That’s what I was doing. Working on ships.
DE: Can I just take you back? A couple of things you started to talk about and then, and then we’ll press on with it.
AM: Yeah.
DE: You had a crash landing at Woodbridge.
AM: We had. We had four crash landings at Woodbridge.
DE: Did you?
AM: Yeah. We had a Lancaster got a burst tyre, with shrapnel that was. And the undercarriage was damaged and we landed with one wheel down and we didn’t know whether it would stay up or not because it had come down of its own accord. Not selected down. We landed with a Lancaster. We landed with a Stirling. And we crash landed at Juvincourt in France and we landed in a field there on New Year’s Eve after we’d been to Mittelland Canal. Yeah. I think it was the Mitteland Canal we went to and we got clobbered there but we got the two engines — the port engines on fire and the port wing on fire. We got the controls damaged. They got the intercom to the rear turret damaged. There was quite a lot of damage done and got the bits stripped off the front which was twenty foot long.
DE: Oh this was when Dougie baled out.
AM: Yeah.
DE: Right.
AM: And it was all —
DE: So you crash landed in France after that.
AM: At a place called Juvincourt. Which is just about approximately three miles. I’m estimating this as approximately three miles north of Reims. And we landed there and I had a marvellous time there myself for several reasons. First of all when we landed there an officer came up with a sten gun. It was night time and we was in the middle of a field. We said, ‘What have you brought that for?’ He said, ‘Well yesterday,’ or last night, ‘An aircraft landed and a man come out the darkness and stabbed the pilot to death.’ So he says, ‘I didn’t want him to be setting about you people so I brought the sten gun. And if he comes tonight he’ll get his, what he’s earned because,’ he said, ‘I won’t mix my words. If he comes up I’ll not give him the chance to use the knife. He’ll have had it.’ But nobody came. So that was that. Now then, I mentioned early on when I was talking about Market Harborough and about the parachute packer.
DE: Yeah.
AM: That I would probably come back to that.
DE: Oh yes.
AM: Now, when we handed our parachutes in, ‘Oh its McDonald is it?’ So I said, ‘Yes.’ So I said, ‘I suppose you want something do you?’ He said, ‘Yes I do. I want my seven and six pence.’ So I said, ‘What did I tell you I did?’ He said, ‘You told me that when you flew over Germany you emptied your pockets, left it in the billet and when the airmen there knew you wasn’t coming back they was to spend it.’ I said, ‘That’s right. Well,’ I said, ‘That’s what’s happened tonight. My money’s still back in the billet. I haven’t got a penny piece on me.’ I said, ‘I’m not giving my money to the Germans. Not as a prisoner.’ I said, ‘So I’m sorry you’re out of luck again. ’So I said, ‘I’ll tell you what,’ I says, ‘When I can and if I see you again I’ll have the seven and sixpence and you’ll get it.’ And I have. I’ve three half crowns in a cupboard at home waiting for the day that I ever meet him again. And if I do or if I can contact him he’ll get his seven and sixpence. So that was it. We had a good natter him and I. You know. A sort of friendship builds up don’t it?
DE: Yeah.
AM: You can tell whether anybody’s friendly with you or whether they’re aggravated at what you say. And at first with him an immediate friendship. We struck it off together.
DE: Yeah.
AM: And anyway that was that. Now, after meeting him I went to the cookhouse and he says, ‘I wonder if any of you likes turkey?’ So I said, ‘I do.’ So he said, ‘How much did you want?’ So I said, ‘How much can we have?’ So he says, ‘You can have as much as you want,’ he said, ‘We’re on American rations here,’ he said, ‘And we’ve got that much turkey it’s going to have to be thrown away.’ And he says, ‘I don’t like throwing food away.’ So I said, ‘Well you’ve no need to do that.’ I says, ‘Can I have just turkey on my plate? No potatoes. Nothing at all but just turkey.’ ‘You can, he said, ‘With pleasure. And I’ll pile it up.’ So he did. So when the other, the rest of the crew says, ‘What’s up with you? Haven’t they got any vegetables?’ I said, ‘Yeah. If you want them.’ So they says, ‘What do you mean if you want them? Well you get vegetable normally with your turkey.’ I says, ‘Well, he asked me did I want turkey? I says yes. He says how much do you want? I says can I just have turkey? He says yes you’ll be very welcome to have turkey. And he says and he’s filled my plate up.’ And I says, ‘I think if you people asked for the same as me he’d be very pleased because he doesn’t want to throw it away.’ So they went up and they says, ‘Is he speaking the truth? And he says, ‘Why? What did he say?’ He says we could have turkey and no vegetables.’ He says, ‘Yeah you can if you want.’ ‘Oh. We’ll have just turkey then.’ So the rest of the crew had turkey. But I haven’t mentioned this so far. That when we were in our orbit we were in a dreadful state at that time. The aircraft that is. Not us. We were alright. And the tannoy, the intercom was going and this aircraft had obviously heard us talking to ground control. Heard our pilot talking to ground control. And he says. ‘I hear that there’s another aircraft in the orbit the same as us. His two port engines on fire and the wing on fire. And we’re very short on petrol.’ He says, ‘I’m afraid I daren’t go around and make a proper landing the right way around. I’m going to have to land the wrong way around.’ Well that meant we were landing and we were going up to that end here and he was coming in this way. And we ran off the runway. We’d no brakes. Off the runway, across the perimeter track, across the grass verge into a field and in the middle of the field we came to a stop. Now it was right in line with the runway where we were right underneath the funnels. He came in low down and he made an excellent landing. He actually touched down on the perimeter track with three wheels. Now, I think that’s a marvellous landing. Because usually you’re a little way down the runway and then you touch your wheels down. Not him. He made sure they were down because they were the same as us. They’d got knocked to blazes with this anti-aircraft unit in, in — not France. In Belgium. And we were to find out after it had all happened and we were discussing it. Somebody says, ‘Well we’ve captured Belgium.’ And then it suddenly dawned on us it was our own anti-aircraft fire that had clobbered us. And it wasn’t our British anti-aircraft. It was our allies anti-aircraft that had shot us down. That had shot him down and then following him as he landed another one came in that had got the same again. And apparently this anti-aircraft unit of the Americans they only used anti-aircraft shells with proximity fuses in. So instead of passing your aircraft by missing it if it was at the side of your aircraft the proximity fuse would detonate the shell and you’d get an explosion at the side of you, which for them was a good thing. It was ideal. It brought the aircraft down. Which it did. So it brought three Lancasters down within a few minutes that were passing over the unit. So we were one.
DE: Right.
AM: And this other aircraft was the next one and then of course one followed him. He got clobbered the same.
DE: Oh dear.
AM: So three Lancasters were lost there. But nobody fortunately was injured on any three of them. So that was even better still.
DE: Yeah. That’s good.
AM: So Dougie, he was going to get shot.
DE: Yeah.
AM: He was the only casualty. But anyroad, he didn’t get shot. And anyroads things, things turned out for the better.
DE: Yes.
AM: Nobody was injured and Dougie got away scot free. Thank goodness.
DE: Wonderful.
AM: He got a good frightening I suppose. Tied up and they were going to shoot him.
DE: Yeah. Your tea’s probably cold now.
AM: Oh well. Not to worry.
DE: There’s a couple of points that you made and I sort of, I let them go because you didn’t seem to want to tell me but I’d like to just ask you again.
AM: Yeah. Don’t you.
DE: That the WAAF that you met at headquarters. I’d like to know who she was.
AM: Who she was?
DE: Yeah.
AM: Well to be quite honest with you I know very little about her except that she used to come with a young lady much younger than herself. And I took it for granted it was her daughter. So I was talking to her one day and I says, ‘You know your daughter?’ ‘Well, you don’t, you’ve not seen my daughter.’ I says, ‘Well I’m not blind. You come with her every time.’ ‘That’s not my daughter.’ I said, ‘Whose daughter is it then?’ She said, ‘Well what happened was I got put out my house.’ for some reason. She didn’t say what. ‘And that lady owns property in Grantham, and she accommodated me and I’m living with her. And that’s how I know her and that’s why she comes with me to these meetings. She likes coming to these Association meetings.’ And to be quite honest with you she was very friendly with me and I says, ‘Well, your mam,’ this — ‘My mam? You’ve not met my mam.’ So I says, ‘I have. That’s your mam isn’t it?’ ‘No. She’s not my mam.’ She says, ‘I’ve taken her in because she got put out of her house.’
DE: I see.
AM: So that’s, that’s how I know. Well I don’t know her from that really. I know from the fact that her husband was on the same raid as me and he got killed.
DE: Right. I see.
AM: So that was on a raid to Munich. I went twice to Munich. And apparently on one of the raids he was on it and he got killed. And she goes to see him. It’s somewhere in France where he’s buried. And they invite her over there and she goes each year and she says they make a right fuss of her. They’re ever so good to her. So that’s her. I don’t know her name. I couldn’t tell. I’ve never known her name.
DE: I see. Ok.
AM: I usually just go up to her and talk to her like maybe you from now on. Like maybe if I see you in the town, ‘Oh now then how are you?’
DE: Yeah.
AM: But I won’t say John, Charlie, Harry, Joe or Ken or whatever. I wouldn’t because I mean I don’t know. I would say, ‘Hello.’
DE: Right. I see. Ok.
AM: So that maybe explains that one.
DE: Yeah.
AM: Now what’s the second one?
DE: It was you were sort of alluding to some secrets at RAF headquarters.
AM: Yes I was. And I shall have to be very careful that I don’t mention it.
DE: Ok.
AM: It’s very very high.
DE: I can’t, I can’t persuade you to tell me the story.
AM: No. No. But I’m in a difficult position. I could tell you as easy as wink. I thought I’d given you a clue when I said to you, when I was in London at St John’s Wood I was presented to the Queen Mother.
DE: Yes. I think I’m with you. Say no more.
[pause]
DE: I think that’s been an absolutely wonderful interview. You’ve nearly been talking for two hours.
AM: Have I?
DE: Yeah. Your son’s about right. Yeah.
AM: And I’ve only told you a fraction of what happened.
DE: Well we can do all this all again if you’d be up for it another time. Just while the tape’s still going, what do you think, what’s your opinion on the way that Bomber Command has been remembered over the last seventy years?
AM: Well they’ve not, they’ve not given us any publicity whatsoever. I mean I heard the news during the war and to me our aircraft went to Hamburg. That’s it. No mention of losses or anything. And the Germans were so efficient that I was jealous of them. I was literally jealous because the Germans were so efficient with their aircraft with how they attacked. They didn’t, they didn’t make one false move and they were always on the ball. You could never take it for granted that they wouldn’t be waiting for you because they would. They were there all the time and they come in. They never hesitated. They’re straight in. We were more than fortunate. We really were fortunate. But a lot of people, I saw a lot of people go down as you can imagine. And I felt sorry for them that went down but you couldn’t do anything about it. You couldn’t reach them. If my guns would have reached that fighter I would have given him a burst. For example one night there was a Lanc behind us. We’d bombed the target and was coming away from it. And coming away from the target this here JU88 was just behind a Lancaster going that way. And this JU88 was here and he stopped, I should say no more than thirty foot from the rear turret. And I thought what’s going on. Why doesn’t he fire? Why doesn’t the Lanc fire? And neither of them fired at each other for minutes. I thought good grief if I could persuade my skipper to drop behind I’d give him a burst and he’d be down easy. And he didn’t fire at the German. And the German didn’t fire at him. And then all of a sudden the rear gunner, I don’t know that he’d got trouble with his guns. Something had been switched off or suddenly wasn’t working. That I don’t know but then he did open up and of course the JU88 went down. But it was ages before he did.
DE: Crikey.
AM: And I couldn’t understand that at all. It seemed to me to be ridiculous.
DE: It is strange.
AM: Anyroad, if I’d, if I’d had the courage to ask my skipper let us drop back I could have easily, we was a little bit above him. Not far. He wouldn’t be a hundred foot below us. Less than that but behind us.
DE: Yeah.
AM: And just a little bit below us. Anyroads, he got him. Oh did I give a cheer when I saw him fire. And I couldn’t understand it. I’ve never seen it before or since. I’ve seen plenty of ours go down. Not many, not many of theirs. There were some went down. Yes. But not many. They weren’t, they weren’t like our Battle of Britain where the Jerries were going down most of the time. So we’re told.
DE: How did that make you feel?
AM: It was war and I accepted it as such. You got to accept all sorts of boss-eyed things in the war haven’t you? Things are not normal by any means.
DE: Yeah.
AM: And I just accepted them for what they were. Sometimes I felt sorry. Sometimes I says whoopee. Depended which side it was.
DE: I know you says you used to leave all your money behind.
AM: Leave?
DE: You used to leave your money behind.
AM: Yes I did.
DE: Were you, were you frightened? Were you reconciled to not coming back some times?
AM: Well the possibility was very strong. That you wouldn’t. And I knew this. And I thought well they’re not going to have my money. I don’t care what happens. They’re certainly not having that. And so I left it behind and left it with the blokes in the billet. They knew where it was. They never touched it. So yeah that was just one of the things. There’s a lot of funny things in a war. Many funny things. You meet people you never dreamed that you would rub shoulders with and you get things happen to you you’d never think would happen but they do. War is a funny thing. It’s a mixture of all mix and manders. Absolutely. It really is. I’ve been on a ship and I was on a ship between Ireland and Stranraer and there was a raging storm in the Irish Sea. And I was violently sick. And I went up on the deck and a wave — I got stuck between one of those —I think they call them air funnels. They’re not letting gasses out. They’re taking the air in down to the boiler room. And I got wedged between that. And it was the only thing that stopped me getting washed overboard. The wave came over the side and over me. And my great coat [laughs] and everything on me was wet through. And I thought well I don’t care if I get washed overboard. I was that fed up of being ill. I don’t care. I don’t care if I get drowned. That was it and that was the way it was. At night time by the way. Not day time. And then to end it a destroyer or a cruiser, or some, some navy ship shone his searchlight on us and then he put it off and they’d see me on the deck. Whether that put them off or not I don’t know but they put the searchlight off and we just progressed getting back to Stranraer. So, but I didn’t mention another little thing. Whilst we were at Juvincourt I went to our Lanc when we got up in the morning. I didn’t get any sleep. But the night time — oh I didn’t tell you that part. We got into bed. That’s the yarn.
DE: Right.
AM: Now I got into the bed and the bed tilted. If that’s the bed it’s there. I got in to the bed at this side.
DE: Yes.
AM: And this is what happened.
DE: It went through ninety degrees. Yeah.
AM: I’d never heard of this before but anyroad I ended up on the floor. So I got my tunic and I wedged one side of it and I thought well I’ll sleep at that side, but then my tunic crumpled up or whatever you call it and of course that side went that way [laughs] where the tunic was. So I thought I’m not messing about any more. I didn’t get any sleep at all that night. They were all having a good laugh at me being on the floor and under the bed twice. Anyway, to cut a long story short the next morning we gets up, we goes to breakfast and I says to Johnny, the mid-upper, I says, ‘Are you coming to have a look at VNG-George?’ He says, ‘Is that where you’re going?’ I says, ‘Yeah are you coming with me?’ So he said, ‘Yeah. I’ll come with you.’ We’ll have a look. See what damage has been done.’ So we went to, got on to VNG-George and we went up and oh what a mess it was inside. You’d have thought they had a gun inside the aircraft. There was holes all over the place. It was like a colander. And we went up front to where the skipper was. The dashboard was all smashed. And the seat where Hughie was there was a piece of shrapnel. Now, let’s get this right now. I’m going to say the wrong thing if I’m not careful. I know. I’ve got it. At the back of him was a sheet of armour plate like that.
DE: Yes.
AM: A half an inch armour plate behind the skipper. A half inch thick and the full width of his seat.
DE: Yeah.
AM: So he was protected from the back and just there on the seat was a piece of shrapnel. It had gone through the armour plating and were just sticking out at this side. But it hadn’t got enough force to go any further. It had finished there. And I tried to get it out and I’d not anything heavy to hit it with. I thought I’ll get that out and give it to the skipper because that’s the nearest he’s ever been to having a bit of shrapnel in him. And it would have got him at this, behind his shoulder because that’s where it was.
DE: Yeah.
AM: Where his shoulder would have been. Anyroad, we come out the aircraft and we saw the damage that was done and we saw the piece missing off the side of the starboard side of the aircraft. From the turret right back to the, where the flight engineer sits. You could see inside the aircraft all the way along. Anyroads we goes from there. I says, ‘Let’s look all the way around John. Let’s look at the ‘drome.’ Well there were debris all over the place. There was ammunition. There was guns. There was spades. There was uniforms. There was helmets. You name it, it was there. Where they’d been fighting on the ‘drome. Apparently according to our information we were told that they had only captured the ‘drome the day before we came. Before we landed there. And that there had been fighting on the ‘drome which they had. And so I said, ‘Come on let’s look around John.’ And we were walking along the perimeter track and it took several bends. And one of the bends we went around, ‘Look at that.’ ‘Well what about it? It’s only a Focke-Wulf 190.’ I says, I says, ‘I’m going on to that. I’m going to start if up if I can.’ He said, ‘Do you think you can?’ I says, ‘I don’t know. I’ll find out.’ So I climbs on to the wing. Climbs up to where the canopy was and it was perfect. There was no damage to the aircraft anywhere that I could see. I thought they’ve abandoned this in their escape from the place. I bet it’ll start up. And there’s me trying to get the canopy undone and I couldn’t find out how to get it undone. I struggled and struggled. Pulling and writhing and I couldn’t get the canopy undone. And all of a sudden, ‘Will you come down from there.’ [laughs] This officer come up, ‘That aircraft is probably booby trapped and if you’d got in it you and the aircraft would have gone up. Not just the aircraft but you and it. Come down and don’t come up again.’ So I said, ‘Ok.’ So I came down again very obediently. I thought this is where you play very gentlemanly. You don’t, you don’t say what you’re thinking because it gets you deeper water. I come away. So I said, ‘Come on John.’ We didn’t go the way he went. He went that way so we went this way. I thought the bigger the distance between us if anything else comes up he’ll be going that way and he won’t, he won’t see me. So anyroads we turns one or two corners. ‘Oh look at that.’ And it was a Heinkel 111, I said, ‘I’m definitely getting in John.’ I said, ‘Keep a look out for me, and if he comes give me a shout and I’ll lay down and keep out of sight.’ So anyroads, he didn’t see anybody coming and here’s me struggling to get this canopy open. But I couldn’t get it open and I was going to try and start that one up. But could he? No damage. No visual external damage. I thought well that might start up. Anyroad I thought good I’ll have a go at this at least if I got it started up before he comes back. I can’t hear him if he shouts up. I was dying to get this aircraft started up. But anyroads he came and oh. ‘Will you get down from there? Now. And I’m going to follow you. You’re not coming around this area any more. Off this site.’ So we had to back track to the main perimeter track area. So we goes back to the perimeter track. ‘If I catch you again you’re for it.’ He says, ‘I’ve told you twice. I’m not telling you anymore.’ So I said, ‘Ok. Come on John.’ So we went walking along the perimeter track. Well we went to look in one of the trenches and there was guns. There was ammunition. There was tins with food in. There was allsorts there. If we’d had a lorry we could have filled it and another one as well with this equipment that was laid about. I said, ‘Oh come on we’ve had enough down here wading around in the mud.’ So we come out of this here trench and we were walking along. ‘Hey. Look there, John. Can you see what it is?’ He says, ‘Yeah. It’s a tank.’ ‘No it isn’t.’ He says, ‘It’s a tank.’ I said, ‘It isn’t. I says where’s it’s guns?’ He says, ‘He hasn’t got any guns has he?’ I says, ‘Well it’s not a tank then is it?’ So he says, ‘Well what is it?’ I said, ‘It’s a radio controlled tank.’ So he says, ‘Is that what it is?’ I says, ‘That’s what it is John.’ I says, ‘I feel sure it is. Come on we’ll go and have a look.’ So we walked across this field and we got as far as that chimney from here.
DE: Yeah.
AM: Yeah. From it. From the tank. And what, I was going to climb on board it and have a look around and see what there was. And all of a sudden there was a load of blokes shouting and calling. They reckoned that we hadn’t got parents [laughs]. You silly —
DE: Yeah.
AM: ‘Do you know where you are?’ I said, ‘Yeah. We’re near this tank. Why?’ So he says, ‘It’s a radio controlled tank.’ I said, ‘We know that.’ So he says, ‘Do you know where you are?’ I says, ‘Why? We’re in a field. Why?’ They said, ‘Do you know what’s in the field?’ I says, ‘No, what?’ He says, ‘You’re in the middle of a minefield. That’s what we’re calling out.’
DE: Oh dear.
AM: So he said, ‘When you come back look to see if the ground’s been dug. With every step you take.’ So we didn’t bother to look down. We just walked off the doing. And we got on to the perimeter track and that was it.
DE: And that was alright.
AM: We didn’t get damaged in any way.
DE: Yeah. Oh dear.
AM: But that we finished there and we were walking back and they said, ‘Oh we wondered where you were. There’s a Lanc come and he’s taking us back and we couldn’t make out where you two were.’ So we had to go straight in to the Lanc and back home. So we landed at that place. What do they call it now? Near to [pause] near to [pause] near to Brigg. It’s not far from Brigg. It was where the spies used to land. I do know the name when I hear it. A double-barrelled name.
DE: Near Brigg. Elsham Wolds.
AM: No. I don’t know about that.
DE: Killingholme.
AM: It was a ‘drome where the spies used to be taken from and they took supplies from there. And nobody. The guards —
DE: Tempsford..
AM: Eh?
DE: Tempsford. .
AM: No.
DE: No. I don’t know then.
AM: Each aircraft there had a guard outside. All the Lancasters there had a guard outside.
DE: Ludford Magna.
AM: That might be it. That could be it. I’m not sure. But I think that might be it. But that’s where we landed. And the guard was outside a Lancaster and the aircraft had twenty one of us in. You know.
DE: Yeah.
AM: From three Lancs. And there were officers and they says to the guard, ‘You’re going to let us in aren’t you?’ He says, ‘No.’ He said, ‘If I let you in,’ he says I’ll get court martialled.’ We says, ‘We’re not going to tell anybody but we’re going in.’ So he says, ‘You can’t.’ ‘Well we’re going in.’ And we all went in. All the lot of us went in. And it was a bit different to ours. A little bit different. It had a bench at each side and chairs down each side. So they had transmitters at both sides and seats so that people could sit in the seats and operate the equipment. That was then. So I mean now it’ll have gone to the scrap yard by now I should think. But it was interesting. Oh there’s all different things will well up in my mind that I maybe should have told you. But there’s so much happens to you. You can’t sort of remember it all at once. And it was good. You was always being entertained so to speak. Something was always happening that was of interest. And well that’s the way it went, and I don’t know whether that’s on the tape or not but —
DE: It is.
AM: Is it?
DE: And its two hours ten minutes now we’ve been chatting. So I think I shall, I shall wind it up. Thank you very much.
AM: Ok.
DE: That’s a wonderful interview. Thank you.
AM: You want me to sign that do you?
DE: I will do. I’ll just press stop on here.
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 Edward Allan McDonald. Two
Creator
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Dan Ellin
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Identifier
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AMcDonaldEA150918
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.
Date
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2015-09-18
Contributor
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Julie Williams
Language
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eng
Type
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Sound
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Conforms To
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Pending review
Spatial Coverage
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Belgium
France
Germany
Great Britain
England--Leicestershire
England--Lincolnshire
Germany--Mittelland Canal
France--Juvincourt-et-Damary
Temporal Coverage
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1944
1945
Description
An account of the resource
Allan McDonald was born in Hull and watched Alan Cobham’s Flying Circus as a child. He worked as an apprentice electrician before joining the Air Force. He served as ground personnel in Northern Ireland until he passed the exams to become aircrew and trained as an air gunner. He recalls seeing a Me 109 and during training, his aircraft crash landed and he was soaked in petrol. He flew operations as a rear gunner with 50 Squadron from RAF Skellingthorpe and recalls seeing aircraft exploding in the air, a dinghy deploying by accident and nearly hitting a WAAF, and making an emergency landing at Juvincourt after being attacked by a Fw 190 and being hit by anti-aircraft fire.
Format
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02:10:44 audio recording
50 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
anti-aircraft fire
B-17
B-24
bombing
crash
decoy site
forced landing
Fw 190
ground personnel
Ju 88
Lancaster
Me 109
military service conditions
Operational Training Unit
perimeter track
RAF Evanton
RAF Market Harborough
RAF Nutts Corner
RAF Skellingthorpe
shot down
Stirling
training
Wellington
Women’s Auxiliary Air Force
-
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
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-03-14
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.
[page break]
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.
[page break]
[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]
[page break]
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.
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[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
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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
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[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
A name given to the resource
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
The file format, physical medium, or dimensions of the resource
One handwritten diary
Language
A language of the resource
eng
Type
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Text
Text. Diary
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
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
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-06
1942-07
1942-08
1942-09
1942-10
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
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/994/10625/PMasonAE1801.1.jpg
5aedc13910da354d8b89320351ae81db
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/994/10625/AMasonAE181023.2.mp3
efa3bb5397a48a6ce2df16b26b5e9996
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
Mason, Bert
Albert Edward Mason
A E Mason
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Bert Mason (1925 - 2020). He flew operations as an air gunner with 195 Squadron and Air Gunner with 195 Squadron and served on Earl Mountbatten's staff.
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
2018-10-23
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
Mason, AE
Transcribed audio recording
A resource consisting primarily of recorded human voice.
Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
DK: This is David Kavanagh for the International Bomber Command Centre interviewing – do you like to be known as Bert?
BM: Bert.
DK: Can I call you Bert? Bert Mason at his home on the 23rd of October 2018. So if I just put that down there. I might keep looking over. I’m just making sure it’s still going in case, the batteries don’t run out or anything.
BM: So it’s operating.
DK: It’s operating, yeah.
[Other]: Would you like a table or something?
DK: No, no I think it’ll be all right.
BM: I’ll just move some things over.
DK: It might be better if I just sort of point it at you. What I wanted to do is just move that as it’s electrical and might interfere. Okay, if I could start then Bert, what were you doing immediately before the war?
BM: Well, I joined at seventeen and three months so there wasn’t a lot to do. In actual fact the history of it is interesting. I applied for a place in the local grammar school, called you know, King John’s College, and I passed. And then the Luftwaffe came along and demolished it. So at that point I thought well what do I do now? So I then went to work for a light engineering company in Southsea, a company called, I’ve forgotten what they were called, [additional words in room indecipherable] Eldon Brothers I think they’re called and they were specialists in motorcycles and they were commissioned by the Ministry of Supply to collect motorcycles, make sure they were refurbished right standard and supply them of course for dispatch riders and believe it or not, is that still running?
DK: Yes, we’re okay.
BM: Believe it or not that became a reserved occupation would you believe, for a couple of years or more, so that’s basically what I was doing. I got a bit cheesed off with that after a while. I might say while I was doing that, I was big for my age and at fifteen I was driving ambulances you know, for Portsmouth, you know, what was then because the National Health thing, there wasn’t the National Heath then, but anyway I did that for a while and then I volunteered for the RAF at seventeen and three months, that was in July 1942, but they had a scheme running, if I go too fast for that thing -
DK: No, that’s okay, don’t worry.
BM: They had a scheme running called the Preliminary Aircrew Training Course. You may have heard of it, you may not, it was quite unique. Their idea was that people like myself, whose education was interrupted, had an opportunity to go to a technical college or some advanced form of education throughout the country, prior to actually going into the RAF itself. So I went to Rotherham, I was there for about six months, then after that I joined the RAF proper on, in July 12th, a date we remember cause we got married on that date, [cough] July 12th 1943, and then went to, I think it was St Andrews first off.
DK: Just going back a bit, was there a particular reason why you chose the RAF?
BM: Yes, there was. When I was dragging people out of bomb damaged buildings it sort of came to me, how do you strike back, you know, this sort of situation? And I thought well the only force, the only one of the forces at that point that was in a position to strike back was the RAF. So I shot off, put my name down. My father, who was a staunch Army man, was horrified, because he had it all worked out I would join his old regiment, you know. But that, that didn’t come to anything.
DK: Had your father served in the First World War then?
BM: Yes, he had. In fact I was born in Germany, in Cologne. My father was part of the Army of Occupation on the Rhine. So that was near Cologne. I was there for, I’m jumping around a bit here I’m sorry, but you can analyse it, I’m sure. But I was there for the first five years, you know, living in Cologne, in fact the first language I ever spoke was German. I had a German nanny and she and I used to prattle on in German and my mother and father didn’t have a clue what we were talking about.
DK: Can you still speak German or have you?
BM: Yes, yes, up to a point. I’m not as fluent, obviously as I was. And that came, well, we’re jumping a bit. I’ll come back to that later, So I joined the RAF under the category of PNB which you know is the pilot, navigator, bomb aimer, and then of course had the initial training at St Andrews, which we were talking about just now, then went from there to Bruntingthorpe for the OTU, and then from there to place called Wigsley, you’d know it, because it’s in Lincolnshire, for the Heavy Con Unit.
DK: Can you remember which OTU it was?
BM: Yes, Number 8.
DK: Number 8, and that was at Bruntingthorpe.
BM: That was at Bruntingthorpe, near Rugby.
DK: And the number of the Heavy Conversion Unit.
BM: Yes, I remember that, number 16. HCU. That was at Wigsley.
DK: Number sixteen Heavy Conversion Unit, at Wigsley.
BM: And that was Wigsley, okay.
DK: Was the OTU then your first experience of seeing aircraft close up? Had you flown before then?
BM: No, I had no experience really of flying and certainly not in military aircraft or any form of aircraft for that matter, so yes, it was my first experience. It gets very involved after this and I have to stop and think. The, after, yes, after the Heavy Con Unit, there came, as I said, I was in the category of navigator, I was trained as a navigator but along came the RAF and said you are now in to the tail end of ’43, going in to ’44, the RAF came along and said if you chaps want to be in the big show – this was the big sell, you know – you better think about remustering, because if you remuster, you know, we can get you in fairly quickly, but you have to take a different category, otherwise you’re going to Canada or South Africa, you know, for the navigational training, and it might be eighteen months and by the time you come back from that, the war will be over. That was true enough, the war would have been over. But a lot of us, myself included, in our crew, we had a flight engineer who was an ex pilot, we had a wireless operator who was, well the Aussie crew consisted of the wireless operator, the pilot and the bomb aimer. And the rest of it was made up of Brits, so we were four Brits, three Aussies.
DK: And did you first meet your crew at the OTU?
BM: Yes, that’s when they put us together.
DK: And how did that work then? How did you get your crew together?
BM: Well what happened of course, they had all these loose bods flying about, not flying about, moving about, they put them all up at this one station, and left it to them to organise themselves into crews. Didn’t, didn’t sort of delegate, you had to sort yourselves out.
DK: And do you think that worked quite well?
BM: I think in our case it worked admirably, we’re still here! [Chuckle] Yes it worked very well. The bomb aimer, chap called Doolan, you know, sought out me first, I don’t know why, I was probably the tallest in the room, sought me out first and said my skipper is an ex flying instructor, chap called Phil Gavins, great pilot.
DK: Phil Evans?
BM: No, Gavin.
[Other]: Phil Gavins.
BM: Phil Gavins. That’s my prompt over there! Phil Gavins, and what, it’s worthwhile just to spend a moment on that. He came over to the UK in the early days of the war, thinking that he was going straight into ops thinking that was his thing, but he was so good that they immediately made him an instructor, and for two years he was an instructor. At the end of those two years he said to the RAF, either you put me on ops or I’m going home!
DK: And he was Australian?
BM: He was Australian. Flight Lieutenant. Wonderful chap. Anyway, they realised he meant it, so they promptly put him on ops. He then sought out an Aussie who was a bomb aimer and said go and find us a crew. So that brings us back to where Doolan, Tim Doolan was his job was to find the crew, so he came to me first, said come and join us, I said sounds good, he took me, he introduced me to Phil Gavins, we got on like a house on fire: no problems.
DK: And had you already been trained as an air gunner at this point?
BM: Not at this point. Not at this point. This is where it gets you know, sort of, a little bit messy because once we had sorted ourselves into crews, I won’t go into how the others were selected, but once we got the crews sorted, then it became a case of categories, and the categories came into it, and it then became obvious that we had too many of the PNB characters and not enough, you might say, of air gunners, wireless ops and flight engineers. So we spent the next three months getting ourselves sorted into the right categories.
DK: Oh right. So it was sort of done rather oddly the other way round, instead of training for one of the categories and then going to the crew, you got into the crew and then trained into the categories.
BM: Crew first. That’s how it worked.
DK: I’ve never heard of that happening before.
BM: No. Well I said it was unique and it was unique. I think the influence of Phil Gavins probably played its part. He was quite a senior bloke in the RAF and he was also a buddy of Wing Commander Kingsford Smith, now Kingsford Smith was an Aussie and great reputation et cetera and those two were quite pally, because they were Aussies and came from, both, Melbourne and that’s how it happened. And I think it was a case of Phil Gavins stood back in the wings for a while, you know, I think he went to Wigsley, ahead of us, to get familiar, at that time it was Stirlings, when we went to Wigsley initially it was Stirlings.
DK: At the OTU, what type of aircraft was it?
BM: At the OTU it was Wellingtons.
DK: Wellingtons. So your first flight then was in a Wellington was it?
BM: Yes.
DK: And what did you think of the Wellington then, as an aircraft?
BM: Thought it was wonderful. It was great. You could stand in the astrodome and watch the wings in that. Virtually you could.
DK: Not sure I’d want to do that!
BM: At first you’re worried about, but then you got used to the idea; it was a unique construction as well, as you know, no we liked the Wellingtons. We didn’t like the Stirlings so much because after we finished our OTU we then, we finished on Stirlings, we were given a week’s leave and when we came back - Lancasters were in their place. We didn’t know anything about it, we thought come back to the Stirlings, but no, Stirlings had gone and Lancasters were there.
DK: And did you have any flight in the Stirlings before they went?
BM: Oh yes, yes. We did, two ops, three ops I think, on Stirlings.
DK: On the Heavy Conversion Unit?
BM: That’s right. But they were practice and training flights than anything else.
DK: And where were these operations to on the Stirlings?
BM: Mostly just on the Ruhr, I think from memory Dusseldorf was one, I can’t remember the others but, they were, because they were the Stirlings you didn’t pay too much attention to them, you’re just happy to get back, you know, because the Stirling, mind you, you could get shot up remarkably well and still come back. Probably more than the Lancaster actually, but that’s by the way. When we came back, we only had three ops on the Stirlings, so when we came back we were the Lancasters.
DK: And your ops in the Stirlings you’re the rear gunner are you or the?
BM: No, mid upper.
DK: Mid upper gunner, right.
BM: In between, I skipped that of course, I went down to Stormy Down, Stormy Down the air gunner training school, and trained there as an air gunner, so I was almost [emphasis] qualified as a navigator, so I was, on our flight we had two navigators, two air gunners, two of everything it seemed. Because Phil Gavins was a great person for everyone needs to know everyone else’s job, and he insisted on that, and I had some flights, not operationally, but some flights in training where I was actually at the controls and not just me, that applied to the crew.
DK: And just going back to your air gunnery training, is it something you took to was it?
BM: Well remarkably, I mean you know, air gunners are trained with shotguns as well, you know, to get them to feature in allowing for firing in advance of the target and things like, familiarisation, that’s what it came down to. Surprisingly I came top of the class, you know, because my, out of I think, thirty six points that you could get, I got thirty five. So I was pretty good with a shotgun.
DK: Wow! Crack shot.
[Other]: Still are, he still can!
BM: Then we got down to the real business where we came from Heavy Con Unit, we did lots of training flights on Heavy Con Unit, I think we were there in total about six weeks.
DK: And these were sort of cross country?
BM: Yeah. Mostly. And I was appalled at the number of aircraft we lost on cross country training too, fog and everything else, it had the knack of sending out in weather which I don’t think you would ever be sent out on the squadron. We lost too many aircraft in training, in my view, that’s me there. Then off to Wratting Common. Do you know the name?
DK: I know the name, yes.
BM: You’re one of the few people who do!
DK: Is it Cambridgeshire?
BM: Yes. It’s on the border of Cambridgeshire and Suffolk isn’t it.
DK: [Indecipherable]
BM: I was 195 Squadron. You’ve got a note of that haven’t you.
DK: Yes.
BM: 195 Squadron, 3 Group of course. Then we got into operations proper.
DK: And what did you think when you arrived on your operational squadron, at the base itself. What did you see when you turned up there?
BM: Well it was all exciting, I was what, then eighteen I think, yes, just, so for us it was a case of: we were in the big show, you know, let’s get up type of thing. And of course we did. So it was very exciting indeed. But what we learned from it very quickly, we were in a nissen hut, and three crews in a nissen hut and of course during the course of the time we were there, there were seven changes, in other words we lost seven crews from, we were the only one, the original crew, that still remained in that nissen hut. And we lost South Africans, Rhodesians, Canadian and of course Brits, naturally, and that was it really. So what we learned, a point to make here, what we learned is don’t get involved because you just couldn’t get too involved with people because if you did, you never knew if they’d be there when you got back. A typical thing would be go on a raid and when you got back, you’d go to bed and somewhere during the night, about three o’clock in the morning or even later, the SPs would come and in start picking up peoples’ kits from around you and taking the kits in to, you know, personal control, personal kit, and they were the people who weren’t coming back. And that, initially that got to you, as you can imagine, but after a while, you became, funnily enough, you became immune to it.
DK: Yeah. Can you remember your first actual operation on the squadron?
BM: Yes, I can cause I can always remember the Intelligence Officer, you know, making a funny, that he thought was a funny. It was a marshalling yard, and it was called Bad Oldesfloe, I’ll say it slowly: Bad Oldesfloe. So when he got up there and having given us all the spiel about targets, weather and everything else involved, he said right chaps, I want you to come back and tell me it’s now Bad old and very slow! That was his joke, but I always remember it because it was so corny. [Chuckles]
DK: Didn’t go down well then.
BM: No, it got a titter, but it didn’t get anything beyond that.
DK: So, on your operations then you were the mid upper gunner again were you?
BM: Yes.
DK: So can you just talk a little bit about how an operation would work? What you did when you got up in the morning sort of thing.
BM: Yeah, well obviously the ops, the briefings were different, you know the air gunners and flight engineers sometimes, [indecipherable], but the air gunners and wireless ops were briefed separately. And so you got up in the morning and you’d really no great demands on you, except to make sure that your guns were working et cetera and everything was okay in that respect. Then more or less you’re at a loose end, if you’re lucky you could get two or three hours of shuteye, but the navigators and the rest of the crew would go to the separate briefing where they would be briefed on waypoints and things of this nature, [indecipherable] at the target, what to look out for in terms of opposition, where to expect flak, where to expect searchlights and things like this. So our day, compared with their day, was relatively slack, But because you’re all keyed up anyway, excited, we used to go and perhaps kick a football about, you know, or play squash – in my case I played squash - and basically that was about the strength of it. But all the excitement was there, until of course it came time for you all to go for the final briefing where you were all briefed together and that usually, would be about, depends where you’re going, usually that would be about six or seven o’clock. So you all get briefed together, then go back and get kitted out, pick up parachutes and everything else involved and then you went to the aircraft, sometimes you sat in the aircraft for a couple of hours and that was a very harrowing time. Because you’re virtually biting your nails you know, because nothing much was happening. Because often, according to weather the actual op would be cancelled and that was bad too, because having got all keyed up for it, then you’d go back, relieved in one sense but at the same time, you know, sort of thinking oh, what was that all about.
DK: And are you sat in your gun turret at take off?
BM: Yes.
DK: And you’d remain there for the whole operation probably?
BM: Yes. Yes.
DK: This might sound like an obvious question but what was your role as an air gunner?
BM: Well if you’re the mid upper gunner, you had the role of, if you like, weapons controller because you can see, from the mid upper turret, you can see virtually three hundred and sixty degrees; tail gunner can’t. He can only see about a hundred and eighty degrees. So if you’re over a target or reaching a target your job naturally is to look out for enemy fighters and if you saw enemy fighters you would control the flight as it started. So a typical – funny how you remember these things – the typical thing might be, if you spotted a fighter, you know, you’d go through to the skipper straight away. [Operational voice] “Skipper, fighter fighter, port quarter up, or down, whichever, usually up, port quarter up, range six hundred”. You’d wait a little, “attack commencing, corkscrew port – go!” So you control the corkscrew. That was your job. The tail gunner didn’t because he couldn’t see enough, and you were the person one who could, so you used to control the corkscrew. But once the corkscrew started then the pilot took over.
DK: Did you practice this procedure of corkscrew?
BM: Yes.
DK Did you ever have to use it while in an attack?
BM: We used it over Kiel with good effect, we used it over Berlin with good effect, and we used it over, I was going to say Peenemunde, but we didn’t do that, there was a third occasion we used it. We didn’t do Dresden, we didn’t do Hamburg, I’m pleased to say, and we didn’t do Cologne. Funnily enough I was pleased about that cause I was born there and I didn’t want to be bombing where I was born. I’m trying to think the third place we used it; doesn’t matter.
DK: And can you remember actually seeing these German aircraft attacking you then?
BM: Yes, you can.
DK: And do you know what they were?
BM: We were credited with a kill over Kiel. Because, well the rear gunner and myself happened to psyche in on, well I think it was a raw [emphasis] German pilot, because the pilots, the idea of the corkscrew do you? You do. Well the idea of the corkscrew course is that you turn in to the attack and then you turn and go down again the opposite direction and then you start to come up. Now if the German behind you comes in he’ll follow you, theory wise, he’ll follow you in to the first turn and then he’ll pull up as you’re going into the second turn because he’d overshoot you. And this particular pilot pulled up too soon and he exposed himself to the rear gunner and myself and all we saw was lots of flame, lots of smoke and spiralling, so presumably it was a kill.
DK: And can you remember what type of German aircraft it was?
BM: Fokker 190. Yeah. They were pretty deadly, you know.
D: And you think it was, a lot of it was down to the inexperience of the German pilot?
BM: I think it was because by this time, don’t forget we were into ’44 now and because by this time they were running out of experienced pilots. So, I think it was a trainee pilot who just didn’t realise that was the wrong thing to do. And whether it cost him his life or not I can’t be sure.
DK: And so how many operations did you actually fly all together then?
BM: With Stirlings? Did you say three?
[Other]: All together.
DK: All together.
BM: All together.
[Other]: Twenty nine.
BM: Twenty nine.
DK: Twenty nine. So that was twenty six.
BM: Plus three.
DK: With 195 Squadron and three with the Stirlings.
BM: That’s right, yes. Yeah.
DK: And what was it like then, coming back, no, no, I’ll just go back a bit there.
BM: Certainly David.
DK: What was it like first of all being over the targets? You’ve reached the target, you’ve been attacked by a night fighter, what was it like, did you see over the targets themselves.
BM: Well, over the target you had so much flak, that you actually didn’t have fighter attacks over the Target. Why? Because they were scared of being shot down by their own ack-ack, as you can imagine, but over the target the flak was, you know, was horrendous, you had these crunches of shells bursting right and left of you and on you; that was you know, pretty terrible, I must say. And you can smell, you know, the cordite, it, and, not could you smell it then, when you got back into your base it was still in your coats, the smell of the cordite. But the flak was intense and that was as deadly as the night fighters frankly in my view.
DK: And could you remember the searchlights?
BM: Yes, we were one, two, three, four times we were coned. Berlin twice, murderous over Berlin, but four times we were coned, and again the experience of our pilot, if it hadn’t been for Phil Gavins I don’t think we’d be having this conversation quite frankly. You know, he managed to, he kept going straight at the deck and we thought god the wings are going to come off and all credit to the Lancaster, it’s amazing the punishment they could take in evasive actions like that, and he’d be zig-zagging as well at the same time. Once you got coned, you were lucky if you got out of it. He developed a technique for searchlights: he’d dive for so long, bank first quite sharply to starboard and then dive again, and bank quite sharply, port, about this time the searchlights were weaving about trying to pick him up again and he found, and he only did it by experience, he found that that was the most, the safest way of being able to get out of it. And we did obviously. We’re here.
DK: Could you, during your operations, see other aircraft or were you very much alone?
BM: Oh yes. Oh very much so. One of the biggest fears was being, having bombs being dropped on you. We were lucky, we had a new Lancaster which was capable of getting up to about twenty four thousand feet. I say capable, that’s with a full bomb load. Because if you’re at twenty four thousand feet you’re reasonably secure, that people weren’t going to drop their bombs on you. But I shudder to think how many people were lost, you know, because of being, friendly fire we call it these days.
DK: Can you remember how many times you actually went to Berlin then?
BM: Three times.
DK: Three times. And what was the feeling then as, pull the curtain across and you see how far east you’re going?
BM: Well, the weather of course has a lot to do with it as you can imagine and the number of times that we went and it was bright moonlight, and why they sent us out in bright moonlight. I wasn’t on this trip, but a good example is Nuremberg, you know the story of Nuremburg, bright moonlight.
DK: I’ve spoken to a couple of aircrew flying that.
BM: We were lucky, one of our crew had appendicitis and we couldn’t go or something. Otherwise we would have gone to Nuremburg. But it was fatal, it was [emphasis] fatal to go out in bright moonlight; they called it a Fighter’s Moon.
DK: So, you want weather, you don’t want the weather too bad, but you don’t want the weather too good either, do you.
BM: If you’ve got thick cloud there’s always a danger that you’re going to have a collision, you know because by this time you start out stragglers and all close up at the target, and as they all close up of course airspace becomes a bit congested and the number of times that I’ve looked out and found a Lancaster doing this within, you know, sort of within feet of you, type thing. Halifax as well.
DK: Bit scary then was it, somebody looking.
BM: You needed your wits about you the whole time.
DK: So was your aircraft ever damaged at all?
BM: Yes, shot up quite a bit, but because like all Lancs, they got patched up very quickly.
DK: Was the damage serious on any occasion?
BM: Yeah, Kiel, in Kiel we were shot up and when we got back and walked round the aircraft and had a look we couldn’t believe it. You know, bits were missing, big chunks were missing and you thought how on earth did it keep flying?
DK: I was going to say that, coming back to your operation’s finished and you’re flying back. How did that feel as you left the target and on the way home?
BM: Well at one time you’d think that’s it chaps, it’s all over, we’re home, safe and sound and the Luftwaffe got this trick of waiting at your base for you, you know. In fact, our daughter lives in Silverstone, and she lives there because she’s a motor fanatic. Formula One fanatic et cetera. But I had to tell her once, she kept on about Silverstone, and I said look, you don’t realise, I found Silverstone long before you did because I was diverted to it in 1944, early on, and the reason is, coming back to what I was saying, there was a gaggle of night fighters at our base and we’d already had three Lancs who thought they were safe that had been shot down and we were diverted to Silverstone. So we stayed Silverstone overnight and I had to tell her you aren’t the first person at Silverstone!
DK: And what would happen then, at the end of an operation as you get out the aircraft?
BM: Yes, well of course your legs are shaky, stiff as hell, you badly needed a pee, as you can imagine, that was important, sometimes it was just under the aircraft, sometimes you could wait till you got back to the Mess.
DK: You never used the chemical toilet on the aircraft then?
BM: Well moving around a Lancaster is very restricted space, and moving around on any aircraft but on the Lancaster in particular and you’ve got the big bulwark in the super-frame that you’d have to clamber, mid upper gunner’s up there and if you had to get to an elsan you had to go right back, you know. No, it’s better if you can hang on to it, and we did.
DK: So you got back, what happens then?
BM: Right, then you go for debriefing; that’s a very important part. As you got to the mess, firstly you had your operational breakfast. Because they didn’t debrief you until you’d had something to eat. So you had your eggs, you’re privileged to have your eggs and bacon as an operational crew.
DK That was a bit of a privilege then was it, your egg and bacon?
BM: Yes, yes, so we had our eggs and bacon, then you sat down with the intelligence officers, there’s usually more than one, usually two, sometimes three, and depending on where you went and the value of the target. Some targets they knew very little about and they wanted to learn about so they’d keep you there for ever, questions about what was the ack-ack like, what about night fighters, searchlights, everything else. All the questions kept coming and by this time you’re dead tired and all you want to do was get back and get your head down. But that was a very necessary part of it. Took about an hour and a half.
DK: So that’s an operation then. What did you and your crew do when you weren’t operating? Did you socialise?
BM: Keep fit.
DK: Ah. Right, okay.
BM: Keep fit. My skipper, Phil Gavins, was a fitness freak and he, [pause] not basketball, can’t call it basketball, what’s the, the male version of basketball?
DK: That is basketball, isn’t it, netball is the -
[Other]: Netball is the ladies.
DK: Basketball, yeah.
BM: It’s not netball. Oh dear. They have tournaments all the time now. Anyway, when we weren’t flying he’d have us doing something to keep fit. A lot of it of course was. Come on Prue, you’re supposed to prompt me. It’s not basketball.
[Other]: Sorry. Just trying to think myself.
DK: I think it is basketball. Cause netball is –
[Other]: Netball’s the ladies. That’s the only one I know!
DK: It must be basketball.
BM: Anyway, we got good at that, the squadron champions, played very well indeed. So that’s what he had us doing, why, and I was playing squash, and the two things, that and squash together kept you very fit and I think we were probably the fittest crew at the base. I’m quite sure of that.
DK: Really, so you didn’t go off base and socialise out, off the base at all?
BM: Well, towards the end of the war, you never knew when they’d suddenly declare an op, so they tended to keep you on base, you know, have you handy as much as anything else. There was a time early in the war once every two weeks but these were two nights, three nights on the trot, you know, so it was a case of Bomber Harris was determined to keep up maximum effort. And to do that you had to have the crews available.
DK: And as the war’s coming to an end then, how did you feel about that, the war’s end?
BM: Well we didn’t know it was coming to an end, obviously! As far as we’re concerned we were doing a daily job and sort of lucky in my case, came back, they weren’t so lucky so you didn’t count your chickens as it were, you were just very grateful you come back, and you became in the end almost believing that you were invincible. I know it sounds silly, but you thought to yourself crikey, I’ve done this, I’ve done that. You ticked off all the places you’d been to.
[Other]: Indestructible you mean.
BM: Sorry?
[Other]: Indestructible.
DK: Indestructible.
BM: Indestructible or invincible we thought, but indestructible will do. She’s allowed to prompt me! [Laugh] Yes, so towards the end we had our squadron commander, you know, had us build, would you believe, a swimming pool. So we created at Wratting Common a swimming pool which was about forty two feet by about thirty two feet so it was quite massive. Then we ran out of water! [Laugh] He didn’t stop to think. I’ll get them to build a pool, and we all did this, Phil Gavins incidentally was a builder, so he was more or less in charge, supervising any construction, at this stage was just the point. So that occupied him, and because it occupied him, it occupied us, you know, we were, it was immediately compulsory in that effect.
DK: So the make up of your crew then was the pilot was Australian?
BM: Yes.
DK: And the bomb aimer who was Australian.
BM: Yes. Wireless op was Australian.
DK: And can you remember his name?
BM: Phil Holden.
DK: Right. And the Flight engineer?
BM: Ah, flight engineer, Phil Richardson he was a pilot, Brit.
DK: And the wireless operator?
BM: He was an Aussie.
BM: And do you remember his name?
BM: Holden.
DK: Holden. And the rear gunner then.
BM: Jack Earnshaw, he was a Brit.
DK: He was a Brit. So that’s three British, four Australian.
BM: Yes. Then there was Shorty Brown, who took over as navigator.
DK: Right. And he was British as well then.
BM: He was British.
DK: And how did you get on then, how did you work together, was it?
BM: Well that was one of the, if you like, one of the highlights of the crew, we were just like a family, you could have said we were related almost, you know, because just talk about brotherly love, it existed in a high degree in all of us, you know, we played together, we worked together, we drank together as you can imagine and whatever we did, we did together. And it became, talk about bonding, you know, when I, we look back on it even now, I think to myself, how could seven people who’d never known each other develop such a close relationship. And they did.
DK: And presumably as the war’s ended you just got posted away.
BM: Well, the Aussies went home, you can imagine, and the rest of us went about various jobs after the war proper. Now, in my case, I, I don’t know how it happened but I got my name down for Tiger Force. Where in fact we thought that we’d done our share in Europe and that was it and we’d be demobbed and that was the end of it. Not a bit of it. No, no, I was still very young and so still had years on my side as it were, so they said oh no we’re going to put you down for Tiger Force.
DK: Did that come as a bit of a shock then at the time?
BM: It did! Cause we didn’t, they were going to give us Lincolns, I say going to because it didn’t happen, going to give us Lincolns, and what they did for us is to fly us out to Mauripur in India, which is Karachi, fly us out to Mauripur, wait there for the Lincolns to arrive, and then we, as experienced crews, and they only took experienced crews [indecipherable] they didn’t take any new entrants at all. Why? Because we were gonna have to fly alongside the Americans based on Okinawa, to bomb Japan, and what they didn’t want was raw recruits, you know, showing up the RAF if you like, against experienced Americans. So that was the idea. Anyway, the Lincolns, some of them came out, not many, others didn’t.
DK: So you almost got to the Far East then.
BM: Yes.
DK: You got as far as…
BM: Do you want me to carry on? That gets interesting after that. So. Yes. Well, anyway. So we to Mauripur to wait for the Lincolns to arrive, and in the meantime, the American dropped the atom bomb. Now I think then, stupidly, okay pack up your bags and home. Not a bit of it! They said your demob number is down here, and we’ve got people who’ve been in Burma and India and else involved who’s demob number’s up here so they’re going home first and you’re going to stay out here until your demob number comes up. The only thing is they don’t know what to do with us, as you can imagine. You’re not bombing anyone, you’re not killing anyone: so they didn’t know what to do with us, so I won’t, I’ll spare you the in between bits, I spent three months in Mauripur, three months mark you, playing bridge. And I’ve never played bridge since: and I never will!
DK: Did you?
BM: Morning, breakfast: bridge. Tiffin, bridge, afternoon, dinner, bridge, evening, bridge back to eleven o’clock, eight thirty in the morning, bridge! And it went on like that for three months.
DK: Did you get quite good at it?
BM: Well I was, in fact I could probably have played for the country by the time I got back. However, I went down to Ceylon, I was posted to Columbo, to Number 4 Base Postal Unit, let it register with you, Base Postal Unit, in Columbo. Why was that? Because by this time I couldn’t stay as aircrew, so by this time I was remustered as clerk, general duties; and I was a postal clerk. This is funny now, because more interesting later. So I had, what did I have? I had civil training, you know, as a postal clerk, just three weeks, just to make sure that I knew what a postal clerk did I think, as much as anything. So while I was at Columbo, I was only at Columbo for four or five months, probably, about that. By that time the demob numbers got lower and lower and they said right anyone with a certain number is going up to, had been posted to India. And I was posted to Air Headquarters, Delhi, India. This is where it gets interesting. I was there for about two days and I had a message: Mountbatten wants to see you. I thought they’re having me on, you know, [chuckle] why would Mountbatten want to see me? Right, Mountbatten wanted to see me, I was ushered into the great presence, and there was Lord Louis, he said: “hello, I hear you got postal training.” I said, “well y-y-yes I have.” “Good, so you know all about this distribution of mail business.” I said, “well I know what should happen,” he said, “good, because it’s all a bloody mess out here,” he said, “we’ve got people at SEAC, South East Asia Command, who haven’t seen mail for about three months,” he said. “We need someone to take it over: you’re in charge.” Just like that.
DK: For the whole of South East Asia.
BM: For the whole of South East Asia Command. I had my own private Dakota, my own crew, and I could fly to all the outposts, you know, and check out their postal arrangements, and I was to do it on a non-stop basis, just to make sure that this was actually happening and I was attached to Mountbatten’s staff for the best part of fourteen months, doing this.
DK: Did you get a promotion out of it?
BM: I was acting Squadron Leader because I had people I was giving orders to: Flying Officers, Flight Lieutenants et cetera and so on, and I was going to an air base and saying to them, you’ve got to do this, that and the other and they would say who are you? I was Flight Sergeant, who are you, you know, to give us instructions? So I went back to Lord Louis. It’s not going to work. Why isn’t it going to work? Cause nothing as far as he’s concerned couldn’t work, you know, why isn’t it gonna work? I said well, I said if you, would you take orders from a Flight Sergeant? “Oh,” he said, “we’ll soon sort that out!” Press a bell, in came his, what do they call it? Well anyway.
DK: Aide
BM: Aid de Camp came in and he said Acting Squadron Leader. [Chuckles]
DK: There and then!
BM: Acting Squadron Leader posted to you know, South East Command, all these piss parting as he called it, all these piss parting post officers make sure they know that they’ve got an Acting Squadron Leader coming to see them, but I never was a squadron leader, after the war I thought it might stick, but it didn’t.
DK: So were you quite impressed by Mountbatten then?
BM: Yes. If you wanted someone to talk at length about Mountbatten, I could because he was an absolutely wonderful character.
DK: So do you, once you got this posting did you see a lot of him?
BM: Yes, daily basis. I tell you why – perhaps I shouldn’t talk like this about Mountbatten – but he was a rug collector, rug collector, you know. Course he had a private home, as we know, in Romsey, which he wanted to furnish, and he loved the Indian most miserable rugs - I became an expert in rugs - rugs which were twelve foot by eight in the old money, twelve foot by eight and he loved those, and I used to go round picking them up for him with transport of course, bring them back and then send them back to the UK in diplomatic mail. [Laughter] Great big packages, rolled up of course, as much as they could, and then sent back to the UK, diplomatic mail, Lord, Earl Mountbatten.
DK: So these, you were flying these back then were you?
BM: Of course! He had his own private aircraft, as you can imagine, transport.
DK: Did you ever fly with him at all anywhere?
BM: Never did. No, never did. No, I met him at airports and briefed him on things I was I was doing, and he actually briefed me on what he was doing as well: can’t stop, I’ve got to see these so and so’s, you know, blah, blah, blah. But I found him a great character, I enjoyed my time with Mountbatten.
DK: It must have been a shock then, when he was murdered.
BM: Oh, I think I felt it as much as anyone did. Tragic that was.
DK: So how long were you on his staff for?
BM: Fourteen months.
DK: And at that point did you come back to the UK?
BM: I came back to the UK just as the India, the parting of the ways you might say. Pakistan and India was being, you know.
DK: Partitioned.
BM: The things that I saw, I can tell you that I’ve been down to Delhi Station and I watched trains come in with four thousand mutilated bodies on board, when they’d been intercepted on the way from Pakistan to Delhi, and it was tit for tat. It worked the other way as well, you know. But the amount of massacres that there were, you know. Initially it was bandits robbing the trains, but then after that it became more partisan.
DK: Sectarian violence.
DM: Yes. Well, is that holding up?
DK: Yep, no, we’re okay.
BM: There was one occasion where I had to go to, down to Delhi station, rail station and, oh I know what it was, one of our drivers, RAF driver, one of - Garry’s as they were called - one of the drivers had run over what we called the mefloquine boys and these were the chaps who, skin went yellow because of constantly taking you know, tablets that turned them yellow, but they were Buddhist priests, that’s what we were thinking of, memory fails you at times, Buddhist priests, and he ran him over and killed him. And this driver was trapped, and trapped is the right word, in the station master’s office and the stationmaster phoned Air Headquarters and said I don’t know what to do, there’s a mob gathering outside and if I try to get him out, you know, we’re going to have, I’m sure, a killing on our hands. And it could get very ugly can you do something about it? Now we had on our station about thirty Gurkhas, you know. And of course we had great respect for Gurkhas, and my CO there, what was the Air Headquarters Postal Unit, said, chap called Flight Lieutenant Wesley, and Paul Wesley said take a half a dozen Gurkhas in a Garry, go to the station and this is what you do, and I’m grateful to him, he said you’ll go in and get the driver and as you come out, get the Gurkhas to beat him up, you know. So I said beat him up? One of our own blokes? And Paul said it might save his life, because if the mob see him being physically beaten, of course the Gurkhas had what they called lethis l e t h i they were sticks which were copper bound, like a quarterstaff but much shorter and they had these sticks which they all carried and if they didn’t draw their knives, you know, then they used to use these sticks and they could do a lot of damage with. So we got this chap, and I said to him bite a stiff upper lip cause you’re going to take some punishment, he said I don’t mind, I don’t mind if it’s going to save my life.
DK: He understood why as well then.
BM: So we marched him out and he made a big show of shouting and yelling and screaming as it were, you know, marched him out, and he got unceremoniously pushed in the back of the truck and the Gurkhas got in, theoretically still hitting him, but they weren’t, stopping short of actually making contact where they could and so the mob cleared, you know, and we drove through the mob. It cleared reluctantly I might say, but they accepted what they were seeing as punishment, you know, so we managed to get him, he was on the next flight back to the UK. So there was no question of tales getting back, you know, to, as to what happened. So that was that.
DK: What did you think of India at that time then? It must have been quite an amazing place in some ways.
BM: Well it was a hotbed of violence, there was absolutely no doubt about that, and I must say, that there were a lot of immature British Army officers who were giving the wrong instructions and as a result a number of people, a number of Army units fired on Indians that they shouldn’t have done, or needn’t have done, let’s put it that way and all that did of course was add to the feeling.
DK: Provoked the situation.
BM: It did, and it became very ugly. And I recall, when we, I came back from Bombay, and they had a big march of the, and it was purposely chosen that the march of all the Brits who, left in India, there weren’t many of us, about four hundred of us by this time, left, the services this is, civil service as well. We all marched to the docks with the SS Mooltan, always remember the ship, the SS Mooltan was waiting for us, but lining the whole route: Gurkhas. All the way along, about every eight feet or so, there was a Gurkha, and they must have rounded up all the Gurkhas they had, you know, left in that particular territory and they lined the route, and got us safely to, you were asking about the tension like, got us safely, you were asking about what the tension was like, got us all safely to the dockside and we got on board and came home. But we could hear the crowd al swelling and Jahin, Jahin, Jahin. “India for the Indians,” you know, that type of thing.
DK: So you were one of the last to actually leave then.
BM: We were the last.
DK: The actual last.
BM: We were the last, yes. Cause the civil servants were flown out from the airports, you know. Mountbatten of course was immune. He was giving them their country so he was okay.
DK: And is that something you look back on, in India, as, with pride, or bit of a messy period?
BM: I think it was inevitable that it happened, I think it happened too soon, my own private view and after all, after the amount of time I spent there and in the situations that I spent there, I suppose my opinion was a good as anyone’s you think about it. Cause you could analyse what was happening and take stock of the situation probably more than the average person. Yes, it happened too soon, it could have waited because the carving up of the territory, in my view, was a bit messy.
DK: And that’s what led to the massacres you [indecipherable]
BM: Because it wasn’t done properly. I don’t blame Mountbatten, because he started out with a set plan, but then the government, Labour Government in this case, drafted in some civil servants to, if you like, put the civil service stamp on it and the people they drafted in had no experience of India. But the civil servants who were there had been in India for twenty years or more. Why on earth didn’t they leave it to them. You, know. To get it right. No, they brought them home and replaced them.
DK: Those already out there would have had all the local knowledge, wouldn’t they.
BM: They were, they were. But they felt, the thinking was, that they were there, and had been there during the time of the occupation, that they would have been tarred with that brush, you know, they’d have been part of the old regime. So they thought by bringing them back and replacing them with fresh people, you know, that that wouldn’t be the case, but the fresh people just didn’t understand it.
DK: No. So you’ve come back from India then, is that when you were demobbed? Finally.
BM: Yes, I was demobbed in March I think it was, 1947. Yes.
DK: And what did you do after you left the RAF?
BM: Well, I became, initially, I became a motor mechanic because I’d had some years in light engineering motorcycles and things like this and became a motor mechanic for a very short period. Then I became a salesman with automotive parts and things like this, very much uppermost and then I went on from that to engineering, I worked for a while GKN, you know, names that you’d be familiar with, people like Firth Cleveland, GKN, Boscombe Engineering and so on. A number of light engineering to heavy engineering companies, and then I went into exports, where my German came in. And so I had some twenty nine years, I’m ninety three, so I had twenty nine years in exports.
DK: I was surprised that while you were in the RAF your knowledge of German wasn’t used a bit better. Did they know you spoke German?
BM: Oh yes, it was used, for instance when the wireless op was getting messages in German, he’d switch them through to me and say Bert, what’s this bugger talking about. [Laugh] And so I’d listen to it for a while, cause it’s easy to switch it through when you’re flying, I would listen to it for a while, I said he’s giving our position to an absolute n-th degree, you know, because he’s picking it up from that radar. We had an advanced for, at this time which was great, the GH it’s called, ground honing, you’ll know about it of course. GH had one great flaw, it also reversed the track so what happened was that you’d be picking up your position on the ground and the ground was relaying your position to the air, so you put night fighter, fighter squadrons were able to hone in on you because of your honing. So we stopped using that after a while.
DK: And did you remain in touch with your crew after the war?
BM: Yes, in fact we had a couple of reunions at our home, [number of comments in background] not here, but bigger house we had, they came.
[Other]: Was it Kent they came?
BM: Glenpronus Avenue
[Other]: Oh yes, they came there, yes.
BM: And we kept, of course, Christmas cards and bits of news and so on.
DK: You never got out to Australia to see them?
BM: Yes, we did, yes we did, but that’s when I was working for GKN. I was sent out there to sort out some things.
[Other]: We, they met us, didn’t they, at the airport.
BM: Yes. Gave us a conducted tour and when you’ve been flying for eighteen hours the last thing you want is a conducted tour of Sydney!
[Other]: We were dead tired, but we had to go!
DK: There’s no other members of your crew still alive then?
BM: No, I believe [emphasis] I’m still the only member alive.
DK: And all these years later, how do you look back on your time in Bomber Command? All the history and everything that’s gone on since.
BM: Well I think mixed feelings, you know, because obviously when you look back and you thought about what you did, and what it was all about, I think the mixed feelings are that war is useless, as far as I’m concerned war serves no purpose at all, all it does is set one person against the other and when you think of the carnage and everything else you only have to look around you now and see what’s happening in places like Yemen and so on, to realise: total destruction. But when you think about why we did it, we did it because there was a definite purpose: Hitler had to be stopped. And the RAF at that time, in my view, they took pride in what the RAF did. I was appalled, I didn’t know at the time, but I was appalled at the extent of our losses. I mean fifty six thousand, you know, just incredible. And the thing I think now, thinking back on it, they never told us the extent of our losses, had they have done so, I wonder if we’d have gone on as we did. I just wonder.
[Other]: We’ve got very good, two very good friends haven’t we, Germans. Two males.
BM: Yes. We’ve got some good friends, German friends.
DK: So your Germans friends then were alive during the war then?
[Other]: Was Siegfried alive then?
BM: No Siegfried’s younger than us. And Kurt was younger than us. Kurt was -
[Other]: An Austrian.
BM: He was an Austrian but he was part of Hitler Youth!
[Other]:Oh yes.
BM: He was fifteen and part of Hitler Youth.
[Other]: And he’s such a lovely fellow. We’ve got him. And then there’s’ Uta. My friend, and her father. Bert was bombing Germany, and he was bombing us. Isn’t it stupid.
BM: Yes, Coventry. We used to fly in opposite directions, you know. He was a navigator with Dornier 217s I think.
DK: And is he still alive?
[Other]: No, he isn’t. No.
BM: No, he’s dead.
DK: So you visited Germany quite a lot then did you?
BM: We have done. Well, I told you I did twenty nine years in exports and when you’re working for someone like GKN and Firth Cleveland you’re making frequent trips. I used to spend six months of the year, for one period particularly, six months of the year out of the country.
DK: When you were in Germany did the war ever get mentioned at all? Something spoken about?
BM: [Laughter] Occasionally. Yes. We had, it’s a funny and it’s not part of what you want, but we took a holiday in, where was that place in Itia?
[Other]: In where?
BM: Italy, that we use to go to?
[Other]: Sirmione.
DK: Lake Garda.
BM: Lake Garda, Sirmione, we took a holiday I Sirmione and in the same hotel was a German couple and they got to hear us talking and decided they’d like to make friends with the Brits. So it all started out we had dinner with them a couple of times, he then hired a boat and said I’m going to take a trip round the lake, do you want to join us and I said yes, certainly, that’s kind of you so we joined them. And off we went and beers on board and, you know, all sorts of refreshments et cetera, schnapps and what have you, and after a while what did you do in the war. So I said I flew in the RAF. Terror fliege! Terror fliege! That’s what they said. Terror fliege! I said no, not terror fliege, I did a job he was with ack ack as it turned out, so before long it was the ack-ack being revived against, you know, the terror flieges and that was a very short boat trip, all I can say! [Laugh]
[Other]: We never got on with them at all.
BM: No, we came back very quickly. They didn’t talk to us after that and we didn’t talk to them.
[Other]: But we’ve stayed friends with the others.
BM: But I’ve met up with engineers from places like Siemens and AEG and people like this and we’ve had these sorts of discussions, but generally speaking people said it’s history.
[Other]: Well we had to do it, didn’t we. I mean what else?
BM: I mean Siegfried’s a good example, we met him in Makrat, in Spain on holiday and we’ve known them ever since, in 1962 so we’ve kept that relationship going the whole time.
[Other]: And she saved me, Bert was putting, I was very badly burnt, we didn’t know what we were doing, and I was badly burnt on my back and Bert was putting oil on top and she came over, that’s how we met, she came over and knocked the bottle of the, bottle out of his hand and practically knocked you over!
BM: Put you under a cold shower.
[Other]: Picked me up and put me under a cold shower.
BM: She’s a big girl! [Laughter]
[Other]: So that was, you know, just to show that it’s.
DK: Okay that’s great, I think we’ll stop there.
BM: Have I talked too much?
DK:, No, that’s been absolutely marvellous,
BM: Are you sure?
DK: No, great. Thanks for that.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Interview with Bert Mason
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
David Kavanagh
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2018-10-23
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AMasonAE181023, PMasonAE1801
Conforms To
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Pending review
Format
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01:09:22 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
Bert Mason was born in Germany and worked in light engineering and driving ambulances before joining the RAF in 1942. He started training as a navigator before joining a crew and became an air gunner on 195 Squadron at Wratting Common. He tells of operations: preparing, flying, escaping searchlights and fighters and then debriefing. At the end of the war he went to India and Ceylon, working for Lord Mountbatten. After the war Bert went back to engineering, travelling all over the world.
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1942-07
1943
1944
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Germany
Great Britain
India
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Leicestershire
England--Nottinghamshire
England--Northamptonshire
Germany--Bad Oldesloe
Germany--Cologne
Germany--Düsseldorf
Germany--Kiel
Germany--Ruhr (Region)
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Anne-Marie Watson
195 Squadron
3 Group
air gunner
aircrew
Fw 190
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
navigator
Operational Training Unit
RAF Bruntingthorpe
RAF Silverstone
RAF Wigsley
RAF Wratting Common
searchlight
Stirling
Tiger force
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/944/11387/PMakensL1701.2.jpg
05b7ba41508ba4dde289a303dae307f7
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/944/11387/AMakensL170117.1.mp3
f837a144815b5928751ae6cb9c78ae50
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
Makens, Louis
L Makens
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Sergeant Louis Makens (1921 - 2018, 1442236 Royal Air Force). He flew six operations as an air gunner with 196 Squadron before being transferred to 76 Squadron. He joined a new crew as a mid under gunner and their Halifax was shot down 18/19 March 1944 on his first operation with them. He became a prisoner of war and took part in the long march.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-01-17
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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Makens, L
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
DK: Right. So this is David Kavanagh for the International Bomber Command Centre interviewing Louis Maken.
LM: No. No. No.
Other: Louis.
DK: Louis. Sorry. Sorry. Louis Makens.
LM: My grandson. He don’t like it.
DK: Misinformed. I was misinformed [laughs] 17th of January 2017. If I put that there.
LM: Yeah.
DK: If I keep looking down I’m not being rude I’m just making sure it’s still working. I’ve only been caught out by the technology once. It was a bit embarrassing.
LM: It wouldn’t take a lot to catch me out.
Other: No. It wouldn’t.
DK: Right. Ok. What I’m going to ask you first of all was going back now what were you doing immediately before the war?
LM: I worked on a farm.
DK: Ok.
LM: Market gardening and ordinary agriculture on a farm.
DK: Ok. So and then war started. What made you then want to join the RAF?
LM: We had, we were called up weren’t we? We had to register and I went for an interview and they gave me the choice of what you’d like to do and not being very smart I volunteered for air crew.
DK: Right.
LM: And went back to work and I suppose it must have been about a few months. Something like. I was about nineteen I got my call up papers saying to report to Uxbridge.
DK: Right.
LM: That was where they had done all the interviewing.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And they asked you silly, well not silly little questions I suppose but half multiplied by half. That was one of the questions on, at the interview. And another one was if the Suez Canal got blocked how would the transport, how would they get cargo around to England?
DK: Oh right.
LM: And which was a long way around.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: The Cape of Good Hope, wasn’t it? And from then on I just had my papers come in. Called up. Report to Uxbridge and then from Uxbridge I went to a place called Padgate. We were kitted out at Padgate and I actually volunteered wireless operator air gunner.
DK: Right.
LM: And I’d done Blackpool in 1942 and there were some old hangars there where we used to do Morse Code [coughs] Morse Code in and I had a spell there and they asked for straight air gunners which was a lot quicker course.
DK: Right.
LM: Why? I don’t know why I volunteered for that. I don’t know to this day. Anyway, I volunteered and I was taken off the course there and from then on I had a life of leisure.
DK: Right.
LM: I went to a place called Sutton Bridge. That was a fighter OT Unit.
DK: Yeah.
LM: General duties. From Sutton Bridge the whole squadron moved up to Dundee and under the Sidlaw Hills. And there was a Russian aircraft landed at the airfield at Dundee.
DK: Oh right.
LM: And the camouflage was really marvellous.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And that was where I was on general duties up there as well. What we were doing going around with little bits and pieces. Anything. Anything there was to do which you’d gather what general duties mean.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: Everything. And then I was called to, I got my call up from —
DK: Just stepping back a bit you never found out what the Russian aircraft was doing there then.
LM: Yes. Molotov.
DK: Oh right. Ok.
LM: Molotov came over.
DK: Oh.
LM: I’m sorry about that I should have —
DK: Did you actually see him?
LM: Yeah. No I never. No. No.
DK: No. Oh right.
LM: Only saw the plane at a distance.
DK: Oh right.
LM: Oh yeah.
DK: Wow.
LM: And it was quite funny really because I wouldn’t have believed it. There was a Scottish lad worked with me and he said to me, ‘Louis,’ he said, ‘How would you like to my parents and just meet my parents and just have a cup of tea with them.’ They lived in Dundee.
DK: Yeah.
LM: I had to get him to interpret what they said. I [pause] Dundee was really broad and I felt a really Charlie because you had to say, ‘Sorry. What did you say?’ and I had, I had to say things like that. But from there on I got called back to a place called Sealand.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: And that’s where I met up with two lads who had already been the same thing as me further afield but they’d been on a wireless so they had decided to remuster as well. Quicker course. We’ll get in to action. Silly weren’t we?’ Anyway, Stan Gardiner was one of them and Harold Lambourn and how, I think Stan Gardener was a welterweight boxer. I didn’t realise that at the time.
DK: Oh right. Yeah.
LM: But I often wonder. We parted because they remustered as pilots.
DK: Right.
LM: And I remustered to straight air gunner. Well, while we were at Sealand we used to go with a Polish squadron and fly with a Polish squadron in Lysanders. Dive bombing for the ack ack training. And we used to fly up the Dee and almost looked up at the houses because you approached and then they’d quick climb and then dive on their guns.
DK: Yeah.
LM: But then I was posted to, from there I left them and I was posted to [home] house in London. That’s where we done the Lord’s Cricket Ground. Was it Lords or the Oval? One of those. And that’s where we’d done gas training and things like that and from there I was posted on to Bridlington and that’s where I done my gunnery, ITW for the second time.
DK: Right.
LM: And from there I was posted on to Stormy Downs.
DK: What did, what did the training involve then at ITW?
LM: At the ITW?
DK: Yeah.
LM: It was back to square one. You know what I mean by square one? Square bashing.
DK: Oh right.
LM: But we did go in to, Bridlington had on the front there was a shooting range. A twelve bore shooting range. Clay pigeons.
DK: Yeah.
LM: I won the competition and won twelve shillings and sixpence. And there was —
DK: You obviously went into the right duties then as an air gunner.
LM: I came away the best shot of the lot. I suppose I must have been. But no. But cutting it short there at Bridlington and then Stormy Down. From Stormy Down we went to Stradishall.
DK: Yeah.
LM: First we were on Wellingtons and then Stradishall was conversion on to Stirlings.
DK: Right.
LM: Now, I think —
DK: Just stepping back can you remember what it was you were flying at Stradishall? Just —
LM: Stirlings at Stradishall. I’m trying to think where I’d done my OTU. I’m not so sure where the Wellington, when I’d done the OTU on. I went to so many places. I’m not sure if I could swear blind.
DK: No.
LM: Where the Wellingtons were stationed. Where we, they had so many of them.
DK: Yeah.
LM: But I finished up at Stradishall and that’s where we were crewed up and already crewed up and I happened to be the seventh member of the crew.
DK: Right.
LM: Which I was a top gunner. A mid-upper.
DK: How did the crewing up work?
LM: Just, I was just introduced to them.
DK: Right.
LM: They were already crewed up.
DK: Right.
LM: But as they —
DK: They needed a gunner.
LM: As a yeah. They had to have a top gunner.
DK: Yeah.
LM: For the start of the four engines. Then finished Stradishall. And that’s where I’d done the odd circuits and bumps and that sort of thing. And one particular night I was laying in bed and I heard this machine gun fire and it was a Focke Wulf had come back that night. I got up the next morning. A Focke Wulf had come back and shot one of our planes down doing circuits and bumps and the only one hurt or I think I’m sure the news was that he got killed and he was Canadian. And he was a screened pilot. What we called a screened pilot.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Was one who, you know —
DK: Already done a tour.
LM: Already done his tour and I think he was teaching us to land.
DK: And he was killed in a, back in the UK while training others.
LM: Yeah. A fighter come back with the bombers to wherever they were going to or from and must have picked up Stradishall and that was how. So the next night we had to go. I was on the next night on circuits and bumps and of course the warning was if there’s a bandit in the area all the ‘drome lights would go out.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And of course, what happened? All the lights went out didn’t they? And we were still stooging around, stooging around, stooging around, waiting for well we didn’t know what was going to happen. Everybody was on edge and all of a sudden the lights come on. It was a dummy run. So we were a bit relieved about that but then after my OTU there and the, and the conversion at Stradishall I was posted to 196 Squadron Witchford.
DK: Right. Ok.
LM: As the mid, mid-upper gunner.
DK: Still on Stirlings.
LM: Still on Stirlings.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Yeah.
DK: So what were your thoughts about the Stirling then when you first saw it and flew in it?
LM: Well, as we went to Stradishall they stood behind almost on the edge of the road where we went.
DK: Right.
LM: And they were massive and if you can imagine what a Wellington was like. Quite low down.
DK: Yeah.
LM: You could almost touch the nose. These Stirlings. They’re twenty two foot to the nose in the air. I have to be careful what I say if this is going down on there. But —
DK: We can edit the bits out later.
LM: Well, yeah. You’ll better cut this piece out because I think what happened our pilot who he’d been out in Rhodesia, flying out in Rhodesia and I think when he saw them he got a fright.
DK: Really?
LM: We had [laughs] we had some near misses. Or near tragedies. When you come in to land you’ve got your three lights. Red too low.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Green. Lovely. Amber too high. We would come in on no lights at all.
DK: Right.
LM: Nose down. And I just used to sit there like that. ‘Christ, what’s he doing?’ And I could have landed the plane quite easily because when you sit in that top turret a beautiful view and I used to sit on the beam like that and check, check, check and I could get that to a tee. I’m not boasting about how. I couldn’t fly a plane anyway. But the bomb aimer, the wireless operator he had his parachute like that every time we landed and we came in —
DK: Not giving the pilot confidence is it? Or having confidence in your pilot if he’s doing that.
LM: No. None whatsoever.
DK: No.
LM: We’d been to Skagerrak mine laying and we came in this night and I got caught sharp a bit. Get down a bit. Down a bit. A bit high. Came in. Bang. We hit the ground, smashed the undercarriage up.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Soared up unto the air and of course came down again and the undercarriage had gone because we went down on to one wing and slid, as luck would have it we went off the runway onto the grass. We never did land on the runway or take off on it. There was either run off at the end or whatever. Oh, you have got to watch what you put on there haven’t you? [laughs] He might be alive. I don’t know what happened. Later on I was, we didn’t, we went on, went from Witchford to Leicester East. Irby.
DK: Right. Just going back to Witchford can you remember how many operations you did from there?
LM: Altogether there was six.
DK: Right.
LM: That was the seventh one. Number seven on the night we got shot down.
DK: Right.
LM: And that was the first time on the first raid we’d done with, first I’d done with Halifaxes.
DK: Right. So when did you convert to the Halifax then?
LM: Well, I didn’t convert. I was just, we were made surplus.
DK: Right.
ILM: We went towing gliders and that sort of thing and eventually that was what they called we were transferred to what they called the AEAF. That’s the Allied Expeditionary Air Force so therefore they decided they didn’t want a top turret. Extra drag. Which you would get wouldn’t you?
DK: Yeah.
LM: With the top turret on so we were made redundant in a way.
DK: Right.
LM: And there were six of us were taken off 196 Squadron and we were posted to Marston Moor and from Marston Moor we were then sent up to Holme on Spalding Moor. They had then fitted a gun emplacement, a beam if you’d like to call it that underneath the plane.
DK: And that’s on the Halifaxes.
LM: That was on the Halifaxes.
DK: It was like a belly gun in effect.
LM: A mid-under they called it.
DK: Yeah. Right.
LM: It wasn’t a turret as such it was just a, it was a piece of metal stuck on the bottom as near as near as I can explain it.
DK: Right.
LM: You had a .5 between your legs.
DK: Was that something the squadron itself had done or was it an official —
LM: It was what they were trying to get.
DK: Yeah.
LM: We were getting so many attacks from below.
DK: Right.
LM: Because as you know you can’t see below your own height can you?
DK: Yeah.
LM: It’s very difficult to see. You can see upwards but you can’t see below your own horizon.
DK: And were you aware at the time that a lot of the attacks by the Germans were from underneath?
LM: It was known.
DK: It was known.
LM: It was well known.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Oh yes. Yeah. That was well known. That was the idea of fetching this gun underneath.
DK: Right.
LM: And the Germans knew very well that we were [pause] well no protection underneath at all coming up from —
DK: So, you’re now with 76 Squadron at this point.
LM: That was 76 Squadron.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: Yeah.
DK: So, you’re now in the, in the belly.
LM: That’s it.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Well, I had never met my crew that I flew on that night with.
DK: Right.
LM: We went to briefing. We went, we’d done a little bit of training on it. There weren’t all that much more training to do. It was only sort of getting used to a .5 and that sort of thing and a fair old go on that.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And the first time I actually met my crew was when I was a prisoner of war.
DK: Oh right.
LM: Well, after I’d been shot down I should say.
DK: Right. So you only did the one operation [unclear]
LM: That was the very first one.
DK: And you were shot down.
LM: We were shot down the very first night. There was six of us went and I think there were three of us allocated to go that night.
DK: Right.
LM: March the 18th 1944. I should have been at a wedding.
DK: Can you recall where the operation was to?
LM: Yes. Oh yeah. Frankfurt.
DK: Frankfurt. Ok.
LM: Yeah. Frankfurt. And we were about twenty, twenty minutes from the target.
DK: Right.
LM: And everything was quiet. Not a very good thing in a way and we hadn’t crossed any borders as such for anti-aircraft or anything like that and every now and again the pilot would just call up and say, ‘Are you alright?’ And so forth, ‘Gunner.’ So forth. And the next thing I knew there was a blaze of bullets, well incendiaries, you couldn’t see the bullets. Incendiaries. And I sat in the turret like that you see facing the rear and the bullets came through, went between my legs. Almost. I was stood. They went between my legs. Well, there was the pilot looking out the front. There was the navigator [pause] could have been I suppose. The bomb aimer should have been in the, in the astrodome looking out. Top gunner in the top turret. The only two of us who saw the bullets were myself and the rear gunner.
DK: And this was from a German aircraft presumably.
HLM: That was [laughs] that’s hard to say.
DK: Oh right.
LM: I don’t know. We never saw the plane. It was head on.
DK: Right [unclear]
LM: So was it one of ours?
DK: Ah.
LM: Well, I’ll never know.
DK: No.
LM: I don’t think so.
DK: No.
LM: But they were fairly heavy. It weren’t small machine gun fire so it could well have been a night fighter. And when you think that no one up front saw the tracers at all.
DK: Were they an experienced crew do you know? Or —
LM: Were they —?
DK: Were they an experienced crew that you —
LM: They’d done, they’d done seven nights. They’d already done seven operations.
DK: Right. Ok [unclear]
LM: Yeah. And four that night.
DK: Right.
LM: Yeah. Yeah. They weren’t over experienced. Like I was I suppose. But, but they hadn’t, they, I sometimes think how ever I got away with being missed in that dustbin when you think of the midair of that aircraft wing as mid —
DK: Yeah.
LM: Fuselage.
DK: It’s, you’re in there then.
LM: That’s right. That little bit underneath.
DK: Yeah. Do you know what other damage was done to the aircraft then? Or —
LM: Well, we caught on fire.
DK: Right.
LM: Yeah. They hit the inboard. The inboard starboard engine and I thought well that’s all right. With the old extinguishers put the flames out. Anyway, we went on a little while and there was quite a, it was getting quite light then because we were on fire and the pilot, David Josephs was my pilot. Never knew him at the time.
DK: Yeah.
LM: But I found out later on and he said, ‘Prepare to bale out.’ Which is the first thing, isn’t it? So I opened my hatch up and just stood there. Kept on the intercom. Kept on oxygen and the top gunner he’d already got out of his turret and he came down and opened the back hatch.
DK: Right.
LM: And he must have thought because it was quite light because of the flames and so forth and he thought, I think he thought I’d been hit because I was still in the turret and standing up. He came back and he went to get a hold of me like that and I went, ‘Ok. I’m alright. I’m alright. I’m ok.’ Well, the pilot hadn’t told us to bale out then. But he did eventually say, ‘Right. Well, better get out. Bale out.’ So that was myself and the top gunner. We went to the back hatch and when you go out you have to roll out otherwise you’re likely to hit the tailplane or the fin.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: Which is easily done. So it was quite comical in a way. It must have been a comedy act. We stood near the hatch or laid near the hatch arguing who was going out first. I’d, I’d seen it happen. People who baled out and they’d extinguished the flames, the [unclear] switch or something like that.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And put the flames out and they’d flown back.
DK: Right.
LM: I thought I’m not going to be, I’m not going to be here on my own so we, Spider went out first and I toddled out behind him. But I went out with my arms folded like that because when I put my parachute on you don’t wear it all, you sort of have it beside you.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: So I quick put on my hooks.
DK: So you [unclear] then
LM: Clipped them on the hooks.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: And I think what happened you’re supposed to leave, lose speed count up to seven because you’re travelling at a hundred and something, a hundred and eighty mile an hour. The first thing I knew, bang. The parachute had, whether the slipstream caught my hands and my parachute, must have pulled the parachute, the rip cord.
DK: Yeah.
LM: The next thing I knew that was bang. Oh, the pain, the jerk on your neck. People don’t realise it’s a —
DK: As the parachute opened.
LM: Oh yeah.
DK: Yeah.
LM: It almost feels like you break, you know.
DK: So is it is it a chest ‘chute you’ve got then?
LM: Yeah. Chest.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Chest it was. No seated ones then. We always carried them and just stuck them in the little hole at the side of the, of your turret.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And anyway, I don’t know how long it was coming down but when I looked down I thought, oh shite. Water. I thought I can’t be over water. That’s one thing I always dreaded. Coming down in the, in the sea. And what it was the plane was on fire and that had gone down and there was snow on the ground and little hillocks that looked like waves.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: And [unclear] It just looked like a patchwork of little waves. Anyway, the lower I got they disappeared. Anyway, I hit, the next thing I knew I was laying on my back groaning. I can remember now as if it was yesterday I laid there and thought oh, oh. I sort of shook myself up and of course up I got and I tried to pull the parachute in and got caught on a tree.
DK: Right.
LM: Right on the edge of a wood. As I went to pull the parachute in I thought, oh Christ there’s someone there. One of my old crew. So I sort of called out. No answer. It was just somebody falling in.
DK: Yeah.
LM: It wasn’t a crew at all. It was a piece of grass that was just doing that with the back light, the back sight of the flaming plane where it had gone down on the horizon.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Was casting this little piece of grass going along. I could imagine someone pulling a parachute in.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Anyway, I couldn’t get the parachute off the tree. I tried to get it down and I had to leave. What I’d done I just curled up under a hedge and I don’t know where the hell [pause] escape kit. Lost it. I had it, you had it park it on the side of your leg and it must have come out as I was upside down or —
DK: What would have been in the escape kit you’d got [unclear] ?
LM: Oh, you’d got a map.
DK: Right.
LM: Chocolate. One or two. Quite little bits of ration material.
DK: Right.
LM: A compass, etcetera but I lost them and so I curled up under a hedge and I had to sleep until it was daybreak. And I got up the next morning and when I woke up and I thought now sun is coming up in the east. If I go towards the sun I might make my way to France. But I wasn’t anywhere near France, was I? [laughs] Not really. I wouldn’t have met, I don’t think I would have, I don’t know. But anyway, I knew I wanted to go east because of the sun coming up and Germany here, France going in that direction sort of business and I thought if I make my way that way I might be able to come up against somebody but I went and I travelled for a day and never saw anybody. The next day I was walking what do you do? I covered my, took my boots and covered them up. I was lucky in a way digressing a little bit normally you know the old flying boot we used to have?
DK: Yeah.
LM: The old fleecy lined things.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Huge things. Well, I hadn’t. My equipment hadn’t arrived at 76 Squadron so I borrowed the squadron leader’s equipment. His flying boots. And we had, I had an electrically heated suit.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Because it was cold. We are talking about twenty two frost and I had an electrically heated suit. That’s your socks and just a jacket and I had his size elevens flying boots. Normally your flying boots fly off which they will do quite easily. That just shows the force of the parachute opening doesn’t it?
DK: Yeah.
LM: And how I kept them on I can only imagine I had electrically heated socks inside them. That’s how I think, the only way I can think I kept those shoes or flying boots three times the size of mine.
DK: So they were wedged in there with the sock.
LM: They must have been fairly —
DK: Yeah.
LM: No end of people. That’s the, my pilot lost his.
DK: Yeah.
LM: He was walking about with a, when I saw him last, the first time I met him he had got pieces of rag wrapped around his feet and that was one of the problems. Getting frostbite.
DK: Yeah.
LM: I think I got a little bit of frostbite on that ear and it’s still there. But lucky I didn’t get any more and no one else did. Anyway, I eventually I got, I did walk into two, I’d compare them with our Home Guard.
DK: Right.
LM: Two old boys walking over a bridge and where the village was, God knows, I have no idea and these two old lads walked towards me and all of a sudden they walked towards, crossed the road towards me like that and he pulled out a big revolver and I, that’s it. So I put my hands up. ‘Flieger. Flieger.’ And they took me back to their headquarters all dolled out with Hitlerites and all that sort of thing on the wall and they weren’t very, they didn’t seem too bad. They were the oldest of people and they took me to their little headquarters and then they had to get the Army to come and pick me up and they took me to another, somewhere else. Got above, it was only a walk from somewhere else to there. Well then, they sent in ex-RAF. The Luftwaffe.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Two of them came and picked me up and I was a little bit lucky in a way because we were walking along. They didn’t bother too much about whether you’d got hit or not. The Germans didn’t care. If somebody hit you with a hammer even. We was walking along and it was a Hitler Youth I think. Something in that region. He came up, he said, a lot of them spoke good English. He said, ‘Did you raid Cologne? Were you on a raid on Cologne?’ I said, ‘No. No. No. No.’ I said, ‘This was my first raid. First time.’ Well, it was a lie because I’d already got the 1939 43 Star on my tunic.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And he didn’t think nothing. He couldn’t have been, he couldn’t have fathomed that one out because well he probably didn’t know what they, what it was anyway.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And he just went away because Cologne was awful one wasn’t it? That was an awful thing.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And eventually they took me to their barracks and they were good. They gave me, the Germans, they gave me a lovely piece of black bread and jam. I’d had one taste of it and I threw it across the bloody cell. I thought, oh Christ and I couldn’t eat it. I just could not eat it. Which I learned different later on. Well, I went and laid on this old bunk of a bed sort of thing and the next thing I knew there was a boot in my back and they, then they brought the pilot. They’d got the pilot.
DK: Right.
LM: And one, I think that was the rear gunner. They’d picked them up as well. And that’s the first time I had met my pilot.
DK: Bizarre.
LM: And we were on our own until we got on with the crew itself.
DK: Yeah.
LM: But for some reason David Josephs, name spelled Joseph, J O S E P and do you remember Keith Josephs?
DK: The politician?
LM: Yes.
DK: Oh yes. Yes.
LM: He was the dead spit.
DK: Oh Right. Oh.
LM: Exact. Exact. Well he palled, why I don’t know.
DK: Yeah.
LM: He palled up with me.
DK: Right.
LM: Not his crew.
DK: Did you think he was related then or —
LM: Well, I would have swore blind he was. He never said. We never spoke about private life. We never told each other what we’d done, or what we did or what we hadn’t done or anything like that. It was just you met them and that was it.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Like when we left we never left any, I often wish I had have done. Kept in touch perhaps with two of the lads I escaped with. I would have loved to have known what happened to them.
DK: No.
LM: But you don’t. You’re so keen to just carry on. Carry on. Carry on regardless of what goes on around you really. It’s —
DK: So were you then sent to a proper prisoner of war camp at that point?
LM: I was taken back. Now this is the bit that really peeved me at one time because I often think of it. They took me back to Frankfurt.
DK: Right.
LM: And I saw Frankfurt’s Railway Station what they were doing to Germany that we were doing or we were getting over in London and I thought the very same thing. There was people on the station with a, one particular person there was a woman with a little child and they’d got a basket, a linen basket like that between them.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And I suppose they were trying to get out. Mind you that was two days after they’d been bombed quite a bit then day and night you see. We were full incendiary. That was all we carried that night was incendiaries.
DK: Yeah.
LM: But that, then I’d done solitary confinement. They put you in solitary there and there was a raid on that night and that [pause] we had all sort of a, there was solitary confinement and there was a blind you could almost it was like a slab of blind and the light, you could even see the lights flashing through this sort of one of these old plated blinds sort of things.
DK: But flashes of the explosions.
LM: Yeah. Of the, of the raid.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Yeah. And I was there three days and they asked you all sorts of questions and a corporal he must, think he was a corporal he looked like it to me. Got a couple of stripes of some sort and he came down and he interviewed so forth to this. He’d got a big list where I’d come from. You only say what you know. Or you’re supposed to say name, rank and [pause] name, rank and whatever.
DK: I was going to ask that. If I could just take you back a bit did you have training as to what to do if you were caught as a —
LM: None whatsoever. We were —
DK: Ok [laughs]
LM: We were just told the general thing. Name, rank and number.
LM: It was a general thing. Name, rank and that’s all.
DK: So you had no other training if you ever were captured.
LM: No. No. that’s all we, never even had trained parachute jumping. Never had. Never had a [pause] The art is the falling over and rolling over you see.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Well, I hit the ground straight legged.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And I think that’s why I knocked myself out. I think that’s the reason. I must have hit the ground straight legged.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Instead of doubling up and falling over.
DK: Yeah. And rolling. Yeah.
LM: Which is the correct way.
DK: Yeah.
LM: I knew the way but you can’t tell how far off the ground you are you see.
DK: At night. Yeah.
LM: And the last fifteen feet or the last little bit was like jumping off the wreck and like jumping off a fifteen foot wall when you hit the ground quite hard.
DK: Yeah.
LM: So that was part and parcel. They’d never done, I don’t know if it was the pilot’s fault or not. I don’t know ‘til this day if he should have made his crew take part in —
DK: Training. Yeah.
LM: Escaping or whatever or what to say what not to say. No one else did. We never had any training of that at all.
DK: And, and dinghy practice. Did you ever have any of that?
LM: No. we were, I did learn to swim.
DK: Right.
LM: At Blackpool and if we could swim a width.
DK: Right.
LM: That’s all you had to do.
DK: So you had no training on what to do if you crashed on water, baling out or — [unclear]
LM: No, we had none.
DK: No.
LM: I think some did.
DK: Yeah.
LM: We had no training whatsoever.
DK: Wow.
LM: Never had. They just, all they told us was when you go out to roll over the hatch.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Rather than the other way.
DK: Avoiding the —
LM: I had seen a lad. He had knocked his teeth out. He’d hit the tailplane. But apart from that we didn’t. It was —
DK: Yeah.
LM: The discipline I suppose we were treated very leniently.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Because when I I thought I was going to get out of a church parade so when I joined up they say religion. I said none. I thought I’ll get out of church parade doing this and they put atheist on my dog tags.
DK: Oh right.
LM: So they were on until the day I lost them.
DK: Oh right. Can I just take you back then to Frankfurt? You were interrogated there after three days.
LM: Yes.
DK: Solitary confinement, so you’ve only given name, rank and serial number and that. What happened after? Next after that?
LM: They don’t [pause] they will keep you there and keep asking you questions and they showed me a list. I thought good God. They could have shown, they could have told me much more than I knew. I couldn’t. I couldn’t. If I’d have wanted I couldn’t have told them anything.
DK: So their intelligence then on the aircraft, the squadron —
LM: They knew every airfield. They knew every airfield and what there was. They got this map of every, almost every airfield in this country.
DK: Wow. Did they know who was based there on these airfields?
LM: They knew the squadrons as well. They’d got the squadrons down. My old squadron 196.
DK: Yeah.
LM: That was down there. I may have shown that because I thought 196 I just and the realised then that —
DK: Yeah.
LM: You don’t think that they’re using you know on the spur of the moment. I thought 196 and Witchford.
DK: So they had all that intelligence. Did they have names at all as to who the commanding officers were?
LM: No idea.
DK: No. No.
LM: No. I don’t. What on the German side you mean?
DK: On the other side. Yeah.
LM: No. I wouldn’t. No. No. There was the treatment we got in the prison camp we can’t grumble.
DK: Right.
LM: I mean we went over there.
DK: Can you remember which prison camp it was?
LM: Yeah. After leaving, after leaving Frankfurt.
DK: Yeah.
LM: On the old cattle trucks and we were going along and I thought oh whatever is that smell? Christ. And there was a lot of us in this cattle truck. I didn’t realise at the time it was an American and he had been, he must have been loose a little bit for a while before he got caught because he’d got frost bite and his foot had got gangrene and I’d never smelled anything like it. He sat with his shoe off and he was like that and I realised then what he’d got. And his foot was absolutely. I don’t know what it was like inside the sock but he’d obviously got frost bite and it had turned to gangrene.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And we called at a place called Sagan. That’s Stalag Luft 3.
DK: So it’s Stalag Luft 3.
LM: That’s the officers.
DK: Yeah.
LM: That’s the officer’s camp.
DK: Right.
LM: Stopped at the officers off or whatever there was to get off there and from there on we travelled through Poland by train and I can’t tell to this day how long so I weren’t one of those who made notes of where we were, what we’d done, it was just one of those things. You accepted what had happened and eventually arrived at a place called [pause] up in Lithuania [pause] Sally, what was the name of it?
Other: I weren’t there grandad.
LM: Anyrate, it was not, not all that far away from, now when you get to my age that happens you know. You lose your train of thought a little bit don’t you?
DK: I do now [laughs]
Other: Yes. So do I [laughs]
LM: But no, I —
DK: So it was a camp in Lithuania.
LM: Stalag Luft, no, Stalag Luft 6.
DK: Stalag Luft 6. Right.
LM: Up in Lithuania.
DK: Right.
LM: That’s right.
DK: Ok. Ok.
LM: Anyway, with the name Twy, I think it was [Twycross] or something like that. We were the furthest north of any camp.
DK: I was going to say that’s someway east isn’t it you were?
LM: Yeah. We were right up near the Russians.
DK: Russians. Yeah.
LM: Because it was a bit [pause] Dixey Dean. A great footballer wasn’t he?
DK: Yeah.
LM: He was our camp leader.
DK: Oh right.
LM: Yeah. Dixie Dean.
DK: Did you get to know him well?
LM: No. No.
DK: No.
LM: Oh no. Didn’t. Well, I knew him.
DK: Yeah.
LM: But he didn’t converse with very [pause] He could speak fluent German.
DK: Right.
LM: Been a prisoner of war for a long while and he used to go to Sagan the officer’s camp and converse with the Germans there on the conditions of camp and all that.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Because he knew the Geneva Convention backwards.
DK: Oh right.
LM: And when we could, 19th June 1944 when, the Second Front —
DK: Yeah.
LM: Now, they knew that in the camp but no one said.
DK: So, it was a decoy then.
LM: They wouldn’t let us know.
DK: No. Right.
LM: They knew that Dean and his escape, whatever they were radio, they’d got a radio because they used to come around and give us the news each night. Someone would come around and just and sometimes a German would do that.
DK: Yeah.
LM: The old goon would.
DK: So how big was the camp there? How many prisoners were there roughly.
LM: I don’t know but I’d hazard a guess. In our camp compound alone there would be one, two, three, four, five, six, sixteen, six, eight. Oh, three or four hundred if not more.
DK: Right.
LM: Yes. They were all officers. All NCOs.
DK: NCOs. Yeah.
LM: And then —
DK: And what were you in? Were you in sort of cabins or Nissen huts or —
LM: One long, one long hut.
DK: One long hut.
LM: There were bunks.
DK: Right.
LM: And if the weather was nice and we were going on parade and roll call then some of the lads would play up and they would nip up or make a count wrong. We reckoned they could only, they could only count in fives the Germans. So we said they could only count in their fives and the lads would play up a bit. But if it was raining.
DK: Yeah.
LM: We used to put a head out the end of the pit and they would come along and count you and we behaved ourselves then.
DK: Right.
LM: But there was a case where we came, we could, later on it must have been getting towards August we could hear the Russians from where we were.
DK: Right.
LM: The tales we heard about what happened to the Russian guards and the German guards when they got taken by the opposite side.
DK: Yeah.
LM: They didn’t take prisoners.
DK: No.
LM: They didn’t take either side. They didn’t touch the prisoners but the guards they shot them. So there was no love lost between them.
DK: No. So —
LM: Well eventually, yeah —
DK: As I say could you briefly describe what the camp looked like? Presumably you’d got barbed wire as a —
LM: Yeah.
DK: Watch towers and —
LM: Yeah. You had the old, I’ve got a couple of paintings upstairs that a fella had done in the prison camp.
DK: Right. Right. So it’s a compound thing.
LM: It was a big, what it amounted to was, was a big area.
DK: Right.
LM: And your huts one, two, three, four. Long huts. About must have been more than twenty yards I suppose all tiered both sides. You had an odd table in the middle and around the outside of that was your walking area.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Always had that. Then you had a warning wire. They called it a warning wire. That was just a little board that ran along. You mustn’t put your foot over that otherwise they would shoot you.
DK: Yeah.
LM: If you put your foot over the warning wire. Then you had your barbed wire.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And then the goons were up in their —
LM: In towers.
LM: Towers.
DK: And you were just watched the whole time.
LM: Oh yes. Yeah. Yeah.
DK: So, what, what did you do to pass the time because days must have —
LM: Walk around the, we weren’t allowed to go out. Now, early on they were allowed to go out as working parties but there were so many RAF tried to escape.
DK: Right.
LM: Escape. And they stopped it. We weren’t allowed outside the camp. Once you were in there you didn’t come out until they wanted to move you which they did us. From the Russians you see.
DK: Right.
LM: And no, we weren’t allowed outside the camp.
DK: And —
LM: It was —
DK: And with the restraints there would have been were you treated well then? Or treated [unclear]
LM: In the camp there was no hard [pause] no. But I don’t think I would say I was treated badly. We went over there to kill them but to me we were treated fairly. Geneva Convention. They abided by that.
DK: And what was the food you got then?
LM: Well, that, now that’s sauerkraut.
DK: Right.
LM: And there was an American parcel and an English parcel. Now, the English parcels, well obviously England was struggling to even feed their own people, weren’t they? So they weren’t the serviceability of the package wasn’t very good because we would get in the British parcel or English parcel we would get condensed milk.
DK: Right.
LM: Well, that weren’t, that wouldn’t keep. But the American parcels were in a nice cardboard box and we’d get oh quite a little bit of chocolate etcetera etcetera and you know different things in there.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And used to tide us over. You’d only get a parcel between perhaps four or five or six or seven of you.
DK: And are these parcels that have gone through the Red Cross then?
LM: Yeah.
DK: So they were done, made up in Britain or America by the International Red Cross.
LM: They were already sent. Yeah.
DK: Somehow —
LM: They were the Red Cross. Yeah.
DK: Right.
LM: But they used to puncture them before they came. They couldn’t empty them but they could puncture the tins before they came in.
DK: Right.
LM: And this went on until when we, we knew the Russians weren’t far away. We could hear gunfire in the distance and we were told this and that, this and that. And then eventually they said we would have, they were going to move us out of the camp to another camp. So we deserved what we got in a way because there used to be what they called in the American parcel it was called klim. It was a lovely powdered milk. It was milk spelled backwards.
DK: Oh right. Yes.
LM: See. That was called klim. Milk spelled backwards.
DK: Yeah.
LM: We had, when you said did they treat us alright we weren’t badly treated as such at all but the food weren’t, it was a bit sparce. I mean we got a loaf of bread and that was black bread between seven.
DK: Right.
LM: And no argument as one would cut it up in seven pieces and you just had a slither of a loaf. No argument at all about how big yours was and how small it was or whatever.
DK: I suppose you had to get on with your fellow prisoners then.
LM: Oh yes. Yes. Because you could soon lose your old temper. I’ve seen that happen but not not very often. Not very often because when well I suppose in a way we were very, everybody was an individual in their way because we weren’t like the Army as such. We didn’t mix like the Army did because you were a crew on a crew.
DK: Yeah.
LM: You just kept your crew. You had somebody look after you when you went in for your meals and so forth in the sergeant’s mess and that sort of thing. But then we had, they told us we were going to evacuate to a port. We had to walk to a port called Memel. That was in the Baltic.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Well, we could hear the Russians firing and so forth and whatever was happening and we decided we couldn’t take all this stuff with us because we’d got quite, as we came out of the camp they were crafty in a way because before we came out of the camp we thought well we’ll not, we won’t leave anything. What people can eat or do so we had Oleo margarine and they were tins about that big. Quite a lot we had of that. And we stood them up and we were throwing these tins at each other. Had the bloody tins stood up. And there was also this klim milk. Now that was really you mixed that up and it would make, you could make a real nice cream of it.
DK: Right.
LM: So we thought we’re not leaving that. So what we’d done I don’t know whether you’d call it carbolic soap. What they used to call Sunlight? You know the old, what they used to wash.
DK: Yeah.
LM: The old ladies used to wash with. We grated that up. We put that in with the milk and we left it there and I reckon the Germans must have, they must have tried that and instead of them getting a nice cream there was this powdered milk. This powdered milk all mixed in with the little grated —
DK: Just soap.
LM: We even powdered up.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Just like the milk so they really couldn’t say look at it and think I ain’t very keen on this. So I, we did pay for it later on. And anyway they marched us to this port called, it was Memel and had to go down in a coal ship. We had to go down this hatch and you left all your, whatever equipment you’d got you had to leave that on the deck.
DK: Yeah.
LM: So we said, ‘We’re not going down there. Not going down a bloody hole in a ship and go through the Baltic.’ They said, ‘If you don’t go down we’ll put the hoses on you.’ And they threatened to hose us with the, they’d got these hoses on deck and so forth so we did actually go down in to the hold of the ship. But there weren’t room to sit. Not to lay down especially. You could just squat.
DK: Yeah.
LM: The trouble was that some of the lads all they had to escape was a ladder, a vertical ladder to this little sort of porthole and some of the lads got a bit of diarrhoea as well because it wasn’t long before the food sort of affected people.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And if they wanted to go to the toilet which a lot did. They couldn’t stomach, some people couldn’t stomach this sauerkraut and things like that so they did have to go to the toilet pretty regular. I was one of the opposite. Absolutely. And anyway, we went to go down in to the ship and away we go and they had what they called the old [unclear] and that was for the mines.
DK: Right.
LM: To ships against mines. We’d already mined that with, with these acoustic they were quite a huge mine. About, they’d be about fifteen foot long.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Twelve, thirteen, fifteen long what we used to drop and that was a bit of a risk because you had to —
DK: So you would actually drop mines in to the Baltic.
LM: Yes. Yeah.
DK: And were now —
LM: I hadn’t dropped them in to the Baltic but I had elsewhere.
DK: Yeah.
LM: The RAF had.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: And they would [pause] they would, that was a bit of a hazardous old job because you had to come down almost to zero feet. You cut your, you dropped your flaps just to sort of give you a bit of buoyancy and you cut your speed down as low as possible. Just above stalling speed. You’d be down to perhaps a hundred and twenty mile an hour and only about two or three hundred feet high.
DK: Yeah.
LM: So if you were lucky you didn’t go over a flak ship but if you did then they could just blow you to smithereens. So that was, people used to say that used to count as a half an op.
DK: Yeah.
LM: But it alright maybe it weren’t because you used to go there, come back and never see a thing.
DK: But you were still on an operation.
LM: You were lucky, you were lucky if you to just get by and —
DK: Yeah.
LM: And never even have anybody fire at you but no, we I suppose the prison camp weren’t too bad and we’d done three seventy odd hours on that boat and you were allowed up on deck one at a time so you could just imagine how long, I don’t know how many I wouldn’t like to say hazard a guess how many were down in the hold of that ship. Hundreds of us. Sitting there. And we came to a place called Swinemünde.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: You’ve heard of Swinemünde have you?
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: Have you? Nuremburg was laying there. One of their battle cruisers?
DK: Right.
LM: They took us off the ship and we went, had to get in these cattle trucks and the barbed wire was across the centre of the carriage. You had a half a door, half a door where the prisoners could get in. The other half was for the guards to get in.
DK: Right.
LM: And we had to take our shoes off but what have we got and put them through the barbed wire into the side where the guards were. And then the Germans used to pee in them at night if they didn’t want to get out, couldn’t get out. They used to use them as a toilet.
DK: Wonderful.
LM: And while we were there there was a raid on or supposedly. It weren’t really a raid I don’t think because I learned afterwards that was only one plane and they put a smokescreen over the whole docks and the Nuremberg opened fire on that. It was an American plane, broad daylight and the cattle trucks you could see daylight appear between the wood. Those guns exploding, the vibration we weren’t all that far away from Nuremberg itself.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And so anyway that’s when they took us out from there. They took us across down to a place called [pause] it was quite a way we went. I don’t know the name of the place really. I couldn’t say because they were the same as us. They did block, there were no names on villages or anything like that.
DK: Yeah.
LM: We eventually arrived at our destination and I never heard this. I can honestly say I never heard it. Some of the lads who wrote, if you read the book called, “The Last Escape” they said the Germans, they could tell. They could hear them sharpening their swords, their bayonets. But I didn’t hear it. To be truthful I never heard any. Maybe if I’d heard it I wouldn’t have paid much attention to it anyway. So they unloaded us from the trucks and then made us line up in fives and I’d got this kit bag. As luck would have it I’d got my kit bag. When I got off the boat I’d got this kit bag with my name on and I grabbed that and so I carried that with me and whatever stuff you could carry on your own.
DK: Yeah.
LM: You, or somebody sorted out later on and they loaned us, took off, we come, they lined us in fives. The same old thing again and these, all the guards at that particular time that started off were young Naval lads.
DK: Right.
LM: And we reckoned they came off that they were coming from a Naval dockyard just to see. To escort us to this camp Stalag Luft 4B.
DK: Right.
LM: Not far from Stettin. Well, everybody had got their kit and I stood like that and with the kit bag down the front and this German lad came along and I’ve still got a wound, a star there I think. One of them, he stuck a bayonet in you see. He said, ‘Pick it up. Pick it up.’ So I looked at him and that’s where he stuck the bayonet. As luck would have it it went in to my finger and it came up against my belt. An old hessian sort of RAF belt. Oh. And they had to pick it up and hold it there while we were just waiting. Then they they all —
DK: Your hand’s bleeding presumably at this point.
LM: Very little.
DK: Oh right.
LM: Hardly any blood.
DK: Right.
LM: I reckon it just went right to the bone.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Quite painful. I’ve got a little scar there now which, which you can see some left me a little bit of a scar there. They’re still there today. And they started, we had to march off and it weren’t a march at all. We had to run. Well just imagine they started on the lads up the front and while they carried their kit they kept —
DK: Yeah.
LM: Jabbing. Jabbing. Jabbing, and one lad had over seventy bayonet wounds we counted on him when we got the other end and until they’d dropped their kit they kept sticking the bayonet in and so of course we being quite tail enders we were, it was like steeple chase. And then of course then they got on to us and we, when we started off we’d some little bits and odds and pieces what we’d accumulated.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Picked up here and there. When we got to the camp we’d got absolutely nothing. I’d got a shirt on, trousers, shoes and that was my lot.
DK: And everything else had been lost up the road.
LM: Everything we had to drop.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And they had machine guns all lined up beside this sort of, more or less an old cart track we had to run up and some bright erb at the back was firing a rifle or a, I believe it was the officer with a, with a revolver and we never stopped. Nobody stopped to find out who it was. We just had to run and we actually thought not combined but individually I think ninety nine percent of us thought we would run into a hole. A pit. We did. I did. I thought we was going to be shot because they’d already done that. That had already happened to prisoners. They’d took them and shot them and we again we thought this is what was happening. No one said that to each other. Never said it to each other but afterwards when we got to camp people said, ‘Christ,’ he said, ‘Well, I began to think that’s what was happening.’
DK: Yeah.
LM: And people did but they never spread it because no way would there have been any escape because they’d got machine guns lined up each side of this old dirt track and when we got to the other end I mean that was just, we were just covered in dust. It was in August so it was the middle of the summer.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And there was a fella who used to sleep right next door to me. His name was [Mcilwain]. I’ll never forget him. Well, in, while we were in the camp there was a little Pole and he was watching the Americans at the game of baseball when it was, we played it with a softball. And he was stood around here like that and one of the lads had a whack at the ball and it threw out and it hit him in the teeth and knocked his teeth out. He was a little Pole. Quite a small lad. And when we got the other end of the camp I was with [McIlwain] and [McIlwain] got hit with a rifle butt. And when we got, when we eventually got to the camp this little Pole said, ‘Cor,’ he said, ‘I was knackered.’ The language you used to pick up there. ‘I was knackered,’ he said. ‘But when I saw [McIlwain] get hit with a rifle butt,’ he said, ‘He just went like that and carried on he said, ‘I could have run on for miles.’ So, I mean there was a lot of, there was a lot of —
DK: Humour.
LM: Fun.
DK: Yeah.
LM: I mean, it was a place where you could see the funny side of it but not when, it wasn’t all that funny but later on when you look back.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And anyway, we were at that camp and then we stopped there until February 1945 and then —
DK: How were you treated in the second camp once you got there?
LM: Not badly. Not badly. All our huts were off the ground there. They were better huts.
DK: Right.
LM: And you went up a corridor in the middle and your rooms were off each side. Two, four. Two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve, fourteen. Sixteen in a hut.
DK: Right.
LM: Two there. Two here on each side of the door and they had a tortoise stove and David [Dewlis?] was on the bunk above me and I slept in the bottom one and the lad on the next bunk to me was a New Zealander.
DK: Yeah.
LM: A lovely lad. Long Tom we called him. He was Long Tom. He was about six foot three and he used to sing the Maori’s farewell and a little tear would run down his cheek. Oh yeah. He decided that, he didn’t make a habit of singing it but every now he would sing that little old song. I know the words to that right off. Oh yeah.
DK: I’m quite conscious we’ve been talking for an hour. Do you want to take a break or something.?
LM: I don’t mind. Yes. Yeah. Lovely.
DK: Yeah. Shall we just stop there for a moment?
Other: Yeah. That’s fine.
DK: It’s just I’m rather conscious.
[recording paused]
LM: Fine. Yeah. Yeah. Lovely.
DK: Ok. So I’ll put that back there again. So just to be — talking about the cold weather and the movements.
Other: Yeah.
DK: And prisoners. So just to recap then it’s, it’s February 1945 and you’re in the second —
LM: ’45. Yeah.
DK: And you’re in the second camp and they’re not treating you too badly. What’s happened then?
LM: January. February. They said that due to unforeseen circumstances, they didn’t say why, or why or not, or not we’d got to go. We’d got to move out of the camp and they were going to march us out of the camp. I think we were then what was there, there was somebody else interfering or something was happening and we had to move camp. That was up near Stettin we were and we could see vapour trails. While we were there vapour trails used to go up and we thought they were taking the weather. Apparently, what we were watching was the V-1s and V-2s take off.
DK: Right.
LM: Didn’t know that at the time but going back a little bit I remember a JU88 was fitted with jet engines before ours.
DK: Right.
LM: They had a jet engine fitted to a JU88. No. Yeah 88 not the 87. That was a Stuka.
DK: Right. Yeah.
LM: But the, the eighty eight, yeah. And we weren’t —
DK: You saw one of those fly by then did you?
LM: You could hear them.
DK: Hear them. Right. Yeah.
LM: And see.
DK: Yeah.
LM: You could see them when they came over and you would think that sounds unusual for an aircraft engine and —
DK: Yeah.
LM: And they must have developed that before we did because that was the Germans who brought on the atomic bomb wasn’t it? For the Americans.
DK: Yes.
LM: Their scientists.
DK: Yeah. And the rockets to the moon.
LM: Yeah.
DK: Yes. Von Braun.
LM: Yes. Yeah. And no we were told that we had got to move and we said the treatment we’d had we were not going to go out of the camp. Silly thing to say but there we are. We are not going to move. We are going to stay where we are because we got treated so badly to go to that camp we said we wouldn’t go out of this one and the major, he was an old Prussian. When you say Prussian they were the old Germans weren’t they?
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: And I reckon he was quite an oldish fella. Upright. Real slim, upright. Lovely he was. And he said he would come with us so there would be no ill treatment at all. And we didn’t get ill treated at all. We said we’d come out but the number of people within one or two days had to fall out. Blisters on their feet, had diarrhoea or something like that and my pilot David Josephs, that’s what made me think he was a bit of a politician’s son, he was, David was taken off after a second, I think it was two days he walked with us. After then they had to take him off in the little bandwagon. Whether he went to hospital I don’t know. I never knew. Even when we came home I never knew what had happened to him.
DK: No.
LM: And I kept in touch with him. Oh yeah. We kept in touch. And but at, he was, walked for an hour and we’d have a rest but when you get up again your feet began to tell on you. But that didn’t make no difference to me I’d been so used to talking over rough ground and so forth that didn’t come hard.
DK: Right.
LM: But people used to say, ‘How did you get on with monotonous walking?’ I said, ‘Yeah. What you do, all you do was just look at the persons feet in front.’ And that was just, it was just a tag along behind each other.
DK: Did you know roughly how many people were in this column as you remember?
LM: Oh, I haven’t a [pause] The whole camp.
DK: So —
LM: And there was not just us.
DK: Right.
LM: There were lots of others as well.
DK: So it could be thousands or —
LM: Oh yes. Walking through Germany what they said one morning we got was if you get attacked which there was. I didn’t see any of it to be truthful but some of them were attacked by Typhoons flown by New Zealanders and the idea was half of you would dash. We used to walk through tracks usually. Never, if you went through a village that was occasionally and the funny thing when we went through a village we used to stand up, pull ourselves up and sing and march. And the Germans didn’t like that and the guards didn’t like it either. And then after you got through the village it was like this, sort of striding along but when you walked through a village you put your parts on and started singing. But there was some got shot up.
DK: Did the villagers react to that at all?
LM: They left, the would leave water out but we weren’t allowed to touch it.
DK: Right.
LM: Because there was so much change of water. I don’t think it would have affected me at all.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Because I’d even later on I even drank out of a blasted river and so I don’t but other people it upset very quickly.
DK: Yeah.
LM: People were suffering with diarrhoea and that sort of thing and anyway we started off and a lot fell out. A lot fell out with diarrhoea, bad feet and that sort of thing. And we would have what they called after eight days you’d have a rest.
DK: What happened to those who did fall out and couldn’t —
LM: Took them back to somewhere. Hospital or something like that to give them a bit of treatment I think.
DK: Right.
LM: I couldn’t say. I don’t know what happened to them.
DK: Ok.
LM: I think, well they got back because David he got back.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And we used to write to each other just at Christmas time.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And —
DK: So how long were you on this march for? How many days roughly?
LM: February [pause] And I actually wrote a letter home. Air mail home to my mother on April the 29th. So we were walking from more or less I think somewhere in the middle of February.
DK: To the end of the war basically.
LM: Yeah. February. March.
DK: April.
LM: April. The end of April. But I had, we at the end of the march we had to during the march we could barter sometimes with the farmer. And I had a lovely Van Heusen shirt which had been sent to me by somebody so I swapped this shirt for a kilo of fat pork. Well, we had been walking across Germany with [unclear] and a biscuit perhaps a day. So you can tell what our stomachs were like. They weren’t very lined at all.
DK: Yeah.
LM: They weren’t lined at all.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And I swapped that. I said to Tom and, two of us. Long Tom and Leftie and we’ll fry it down. We’ll cut it into like chips and we’ll fry it down because to eat it as raw meat you couldn’t do that so that’s what we thought we would do. We stuck it in an old klim tin.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Lit a little fire and that night we were in this barn and the old rats would run over you and we got lousy as well. Oh, crikey yeah. And they were, they were big lice as well and we went and curled up and went to sleep. Made a sleeping bag and I used to tuck that right under your head so that no rats or anything could get in with you. And they used to run over you but you used to sort of knock them off.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And squeak and go off ahead and that night we went and [laughs] in the barn and I heard Tom, Long Tom up he got, out he went. The next thing Leftie the other side of me he was gone. And do you know I feel sick. Sick as a [pause] I feel. I’m not being sick I’m not going to. I didn’t buy that stuff to be sick. No way. And I wouldn’t go out. I laid there and I would not be sick. And I thought I’ll imagine I’m drinking a cup of cocoa and I was drinking this cup of cocoa and in the bottom of it was these chips. So it was, it was so awful that had [pause] we had lost all the lining off our stomachs. You passed blood. You would actually pass blood.
DK: So over these weeks then did you have the same German guards or were they changed?
LM: The Germans. Oh, you never knew who was with you.
DK: Right.
LM: Yeah. Some, they didn’t walk all the way with us —
DK: I was going to say —
LM: We would have different guards.
DK: You wouldn’t have different guards all the time then.
LM: Oh yes.
DK: Yeah.
LM: They were all old. Usually the old ones.
DK: Right.
LM: The old Luftwaffe as well.
DK: Right.
LM: And we walked. There was, I think there was something like, yeah, something about four hundred miles we’d done or something similar to that and then they were going to take us back towards the Russians. We’d just come over the River Elbe and I said to my two mates, Long Tom and Leftie, I said, ‘I’m not going back over that blasted river.’ They said, ‘Well, you know, I don’t fancy going back to the bloody Russians the other side.’ So we had said if we see a chance we’ll make a run for it. Well, we were going through this. We always walked through woods, lots of woods off the main track and so forth so we got a gap. ‘Ok, Tom.’ Off we, we ran off. Off we went. Mind you the guards I don’t think they were shooting at us. Never hit us anyway. They was a few shots going off but we carried on running and we came to a river. A little river. It was about as wide as this room and mind you this was time, that was in March time so a bit cold. So we thought if we cross the river, we were playing games I suppose, if we cross the river the dogs won’t be able to pick us up.
DK: Yeah.
LM: But the river was running quite, quite fast and there was little saplings been cut down beside the river so I picked one of these up and I gave it to Leftie and Leftie went across and held this stick you see and chucked one in the water, walked across sideway. So I went across and I held this stick for Tom to hold on to a branch and then come across this what we’d laid in the river. And there was a shot rang out and Tom lost his balance and he went backwards in the river. Got all his clothes on so he got out obviously and we made our way as we thought we had heard of [Saltau?] and that was where the Americans were.
DK: Right.
LM: We thought if we get to the Americans we’d be alright. Well, we got to the edge of a, it was a sort of a spinney we went through and then we came to the finish of the woods was that were open fields. So we stopped there and we decided we’d sort of camouflage ourselves. We’d put a bit of stick in. I had a, I had a German type Africa Corps hat which was a mistake I found out later but [pause] So we put this hat on and I’d got that and somebody knitted it somewhere along the line and we waited until it had got slightly dusk and then we decided we would come out of this little old wood and make our way as we thought towards Saltau. We just came out and we could hardly believe it. We turned left. I can see it even now. Turned, came out of this little wood. We turned left and walked along and we went, ‘Bloody hell.’ There was three blokes laid in the ditch. A little ditch. It wasn’t a ditch as such it was just a dry ditch. Say it that way.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Three Americans err three Australians. Three Australians laid in that ditch just been shot down and they had got escape equipment and everything. But they were also full of beans. Eggs and bacon. So just imagine us three weighing about seven stone and they had just, we’d just walked across Germany. Four or five hundred miles across there and they had just been shot down full of beans. And we walked at night and potato fields, it didn’t matter what was in the way we just walked according to the compass. And I remember particularly we came to a fence of barbed wire. A bit silly. We climbed over the fence of barbed wire. We had to walk across and all of a sudden we started to go in and in and in. Our feet began to get rather mud wet. They come up and I said to the others, I said, ‘Run. For Christ’s sake, run.’ And we ran and we ran through a bloody bog. We didn’t realise how silly we were and we came to another barbed wire, another fence and climbed over that. That was to take the animals out.
DK: Oh. Ok.
LM: That’s what we reckoned.
DK: Yeah.
LM: To keep the animals out of this.
DK: Bog. Yeah.
LM: This bog. We got the other end we took our shoes and socks off and wrang our socks out and they were full of this sort of mud. And anyway we carried on and we used to stop for about have a sort of an hour and then sat down and you would sweat, sweat, sweat when you were walking. Then you stop for five minutes. Ten minutes you’d freeze. Really we were so weak I suppose that, of course the Australians weren’t weak they weren’t weak were they?
DK: I was going to say they were —
LM: They were, oh they were fit as fiddles.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: Oh yeah and anyway we, we dodged here, dodged there and carried on and eventually we came up and we heard people in the foreground as we were going in front of us. They were German troops. Walked right into them. So I reckon he was a middle of the range officer and of course they caught us and we had to go over and he looked at us and I reckon he thought what a shower and he gave us some little tablets or sweet or whatever you’d like to call them. They were about an inch long and about a half inch wide and like the old throat lozenge.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Remember the throat one?
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: Well, these were white. I reckon they were vitamin tablets. He handed them out to us and he got the corporal to walk back with us to a little village called Bispingen. And we came back to this little village and that’s where he left us. In a hotel.
DK: Right.
LM: We were put up in this hotel and that night we went out. All six of us went out. We was talking to the German people which was no man’s land then you see.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And we were saying to the woman there, one woman Tom was talking to, he could speak fairly good German and about Saltau, she said, ‘oh,’ this is the honest truth this is, ‘Don’t go. Don’t go to Saltau. The Americans are there,’ she said, ‘They shoot anything that moves.’
DK: Yeah. They still do.
LM: That was a yarn but she said that’s what the Germans said.
DK: Yeah.
LM: She said, ‘Don’t. I wouldn’t go to Saltau.’ So we, we stayed there. Lovely hotel. We weren’t allowed to go upstairs.
DK: So —
LM: We had to sleep downstairs.
DK: So you were put up in a hotel by the Germans.
LM: Yeah. Yeah. They left us there. They didn’t want us. We were, we were a menace.
DK: Do you think the Germans at this point knew the war was lost and it just wasn’t worth —
LM: Yes. Yes, because another time they might have shot us mightn’t they?
DK: Yeah.
LM: And anyway, we were in no man’s land so they were retreating quite badly. And anyway, one particular day the sun was shining lovely. We set outside this hotel enjoying ourselves and there was a German lorry came around from the little village to where the centre of the village was. Another hotel further up the road. Came around the corner. All of a sudden it stopped and out they got and made a dive for it. Couldn’t make much out of it you see. And then I heard this plane and then looked up. There was one Spitfire. One Spitfire just going along. Of course, we, we were from, they knew us.
DK: Yeah.
LM: I mean they weren’t going to shoot us were they? They knew. There was us sitting on the front of this blasted hotel, ‘Oh yay.’ I thought you, daft sods weren’t we? A Spitfire up there never knew who we, I said to Tom, I said, ‘He could have turned around and shot us, Tom. Couldn’t they?’ But no. They were our friends weren’t they? You could see the funny side of it. Ignorant weren’t we? Plain ignorant.
Other: Yeah.
LM: Didn’t care. Anyway, we sat [laughs] they gave us a bowl of soup each day. They made a bowl of soup and there was pork cut into little old squares but they weren’t, they weren’t really all that nourishing. Weren’t all that good. Anyway, we were very pleased with it. And then a young lad came down to us. He said, ‘A Panzer. Panzer. A British Panzer.’ So lovely. Away we go. We ran up and around the corner and thought double double. There was a bloke on a half track or one of these little Bren carriers it was.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: We had to double up to them. Didn’t know who we were you see because I’d got this blasted African Corps hat on and so, anyway we had to run up to them and he stood there and when he realised who we were and then of course they gave us cigarettes and so forth. But they then put us in the hotel right at the top of the street where we ran to when they was coming in to the village. So the next morning I wrote a letter. One of the Army lads gave me an air mail to write home and that was how I remember the 29th of April when I first wrote home to my mother to say that I was ok. And the next morning they said, ‘Right. The truck will, you get in the truck it will stop twice. The second time it stops you get out and you will go back to the [echelon].’ That’s the depot isn’t it.’
DK: Yeah.
LM: So Long Tom, Leftie and myself. We got in one truck and the three Aussies got in another. So we’re, off we go. Off we go. Funny. Eventually we stopped. The Army lads said, ‘What are you doing here?’ Well, we said, ‘You’ve got to stop twice and we’re going back to the [echelon].’ He said, ‘We weren’t stopping,’ he said, ‘You should have been in the other truck.’ So there’s us three.
DK: Oh no.
LM: We’re on patrol with the blasted Army. They gave me a rifle and put me on a half-track and I thought they said the war was over for us. It doesn’t look much like it. We’re going along the road and they’re firing at bloody copse over the other side. A little old copse there.
DK: Yeah.
LM: I suppose Germans are in. They was firing. These people was firing at something. The lads up the front. So here we carried on. We went, we had a stop at this little village and we weren’t very nice. The Army weren’t very nice.
DK: Do you want me to stop?
LM: Can you turn —? Yeah.
[recording paused]
LM: Yes.
Other: Yeah.
LM: Yes.
DK: Right. So I’ve got it switched back on again. So there we go. We’ll move that there. So you’re now with the British Army.
LM: Yeah.
DK: What’s happened next then?
LM: Well, while we were with them on their, on patrol we got an old vehicle. A little old sort of a Austin 7.
DK: Right. Yeah. Yeah.
LM: In one of these villages and Tom said he could drive you see and we got this thing started. It started up and we were driving around the village in this little motor and we called and went in the shop. It was a baker’s shop. They sold everything I suppose not just bread, they had cakes and everything in there and they couldn’t wait to give us stuff. We weren’t in uniform as such. I mean not really. We were, we were looked like bedraggled bloody gypsies really. I mean just imagine what we were like. Thin as rakes.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And we went in a shop and the German women said, ‘Your bread.’ And the bread we had, the old black bread that weren’t nice at all. That had got a thick layer of Greece on the bottom. But when we, they gave us a loaf of brown bread that was like cake. It was just like cake to eat. Their brown bread. Ordinary brown bread after eating black bread and but anyway we, eventually we got back. They dropped us off and two days we were there on patrol and then they took us back. We got back to the [echelon] and had to go through a de-louser.
DK: Yeah.
LM: DDT. Take all your clothes off. Shave because that’s where the lice grow on and when I came for a medical well first of all they were spraying DDT out of a hose from a container with no masks on. I mean that stuff now. That hangs in people’s bodies. You can’t get rid of it can you?
DK: Yeah. It’s banned, isn’t it?
LM: DDT.
DK: Yeah. It’s banned.
LM: And they were just spraying this all over you, under your arms, everywhere. And I wonder how many people got affected with that. The Army lads were doing it.
DK: It’s carcinogenic. It can cause cancers.
LM: They did all the spraying. Awful stuff.
DK: So its banned now.
LM: But anyway, we had to shave yourself and and the doctor said to me, he said, ‘Ahh,’ he said, ‘Impetigo.’ I said, ‘I don’t think so sir.’ He said, ‘Yes, that’s what I —’ I said, ‘ I don’t think so.’ I said, ‘It’s lice.’ I said, ‘That’s where I’ve scratched myself.’ ‘No. No. No. No.’ So he gave me one of those blue bottles. Years ago you used to get these bottles of blue weren’t they?
DK: Yeah.
LM: From your medical —
DK: Yeah.
LM: Perhaps you don’t remember. You’re not old enough to know that. They were poisonous stuff sort of business. And you’d get them an old blue bottle about that tall. I never used it. I come home and just washed myself. It went. It wasn’t impetigo at all. It looked like it I suppose because —
DK: Scratching.
LM: And you could, the lice was nearly as big as my little nail. They were huge. Just think of them crawling over yourself.
Other: Oh, I feel sick now.
LM: We never had any in the camp though. It weren’t ‘til we came out on the march until we got lousy. There was no lice in the camp whatsoever.
DK: So how did you get back to the UK then?
LM: I came back. We were taken to [Machelen] Airfield.
DK: Right.
LM: Picked up by, they kitted us out with Army clothes then.
DK: Right.
LM: Took all our old, took our old rubbish away and gave us a new Army uniform sort of business and I was picked up on a, I can’t tell you where, I’ve no idea where we actually got to. The airfield we flew from in a Dakota.
DK: Right.
LM: And I sat in this Dakota and there was a lad came up in the, on the aircraft. He said, ‘Have you flown before?’ I looked. I said, ‘Yes. Yeah. Yeah.’ He said, ‘Oh that’s alright,’ he said, ‘We just wondered if you had never flown before.’ I never said nothing. I thought no. He don’t know any different does he like.
DK: No. I suppose some of the Army POWs may not have flown because they would have been shipped out of there.
LM: That’s right.
DK: Captured. And that was the first time they flew.
Other: Yeah.
LM: Of course, there were lots of them. I mean we had lads we called them the Wizards of Oz. There was three of them. I don’t know how they came in our hut but I reckon they swapped over with some RAF lads.
DK: Right.
LM: That’s how we always reckoned they were, they kept themselves to themselves but we reckoned, we used to call them the Wizards of Oz. there was three of them. They never give any, never said nothing you know didn’t talk much. They were Army boys really and they swapped I reckon.
Other: Oh.
LM: With three RAF lads.
DK: So did, do you think you were flown back from somewhere in Germany?
LM: Yes. Yeah.
DK: So you were in Germany.
LM: Yes
DK: So can you remember where you arrived back in the UK?
LM: Yes. Brize. Not Brize Norton. Cosford.
DK: Cosford. Right. Ok.
LM: Cosford. Yeah. Came back to Cosford. I think it was Cosford we came back. If it weren’t Cosford we landed at that’s where we got rekitted.
DK: Right.
LM: At Cosford. What was the other one where they brought all the, repatriated all these prisoners a little while ago?
DK: Oh Lyneham.
LM: No. No. No. Down that same place.
DK: There’s Brize Norton.
LM: Brize Norton.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Not Brize Norton. Was it Brize Norton?
DK: Yeah. There’s Lyneham and then Brize Norton and —
LM: Lyneham was another one.
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: I think it was Cosford I came back to.
DK: Right. Ok.
LM: And they sent us on leave for six weeks. All they gave me was four for some reason. They only gave me a pass for four weeks. I didn’t mind. I didn’t, I weren’t bothered all that much.
DK: Was there any sort of debriefing about your time as a POW? Did they ask you any questions?
LM: Yes. When we came home they, we had to go and stand in front of a board.
DK: Right.
LM: And they did, just weren’t all that interested I don’t think. I don’t think they didn’t seem to worry much. I mean, we, I don’t think they were enquiring about names or anything like that. They just, well, to be honest I don’t think they didn’t give a shite about us.
DK: No.
LM: They couldn’t wait to get us home and get us on leave it seemed to me and of course I don’t think they wanted us in the RAF all that long or whether they did or not I don’t know. We were probably getting paid too much and anyway when we came home you had the chance to remuster. I volunteered. Like a bit of a silly bugger I volunteered to go out to Japan.
LM: Right.
That’s why. I said I’d fly, I said I’d love to go and fly out to Japan now and fight out there. I thought what a bloody a dickhead wasn’t I?
Other: You didn’t know did you?
LM: What. No, he said, ‘No. We wouldn’t let you to do that again.’ They said no. Wouldn’t be allowed to do that. And anyway, I took a course on, back to Morse Code.
DK: Right.
LM: I was going to do that sort of thing and I thought oh no. This isn’t for me and actually I couldn’t concentrate at all. I couldn’t concentrate. My concentration was just gone so I remustered then to a teleprinting course and we used to send, write letters home. How quickly you can pick up a typewriter.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And you had an old metronome on the desk in front of you.
DK: Yeah.
LM: You had your big blackboard. You know I expect. And no numbers or letters on the keyboard. You had to feel them. Always work from the middle bar. And, ‘Oh, shit I’ll never do this.’ But how quickly —
Other: Where is your typewriter?
LM: Huh?
Other: What happened to your typewriter, grandad?
LM: Don’t mention about my typewriter what I bought and my [pause] they gave my typewriter away.
DK: Shall we turn this off again? [laughs]
LM: They couldn’t wait. I paid forty five pounds. No. sorry. Not quite that. I thought I’ll go upstairs the other night. I thought I’ll go up. I’ll do a bit of, I’ll get my old typewriter out of the spare room because my right hand isn’t very good now. I had a bit of a stroke but I had that. That was like what they called deprivisation.
DK: Right.
LM: And I get a little pension for that. But I was ages before I got it. Nobody came. I went in A1 obviously. I came out a down B2. Never said nothing about giving me a pension though. Not a thing. Couldn’t give a damn.
DK: Well presumably, well you clearly weren’t in the best of health when you came back.
LM: No. No.
DK: But was there any medical care that you received or —
LM: No. No. I went. No. No one bothered.
DK: No.
LM: No. No. No. If you went sick you went sick. If you didn’t you didn’t. Simple as that and I just —
Other: [unclear] ever since.
LM: I took the, then I thought this seemed good to me I said what I’ll do because they didn’t mind you remustering. They knew what state we were in I suppose.
DK: Yeah.
LM: For we weren’t in the best of mental state I don’t think then. We’d got so lax and not having to do anything. Sort of just walk around a bloody compound and I mean I weren’t too bad I was only thirteen months but some of them four or five years and I took a driver’s test and I came out the, out in Blackpool and the School of Motoring. The initials —
DK: Oh, the British School of Motoring [[ yeah.
LM: Up near Blackpool. Weeton.
DK: Right.
LM: In Blackpool. And the corporal said, another lad in the back, they were Austin 7, 10s like, he said. Went out the back around these you could see the hills in front of you in the distance, sort of the wasteland at the back of Blackpool. We got away to the front, still a bit of waste ground. He said, ‘Now, I want you to get to the top of that hill in top gear.’ And there was a gateway down there. I put my foot right down and went up that hill like a bomb. Yeah. No trouble. We got pulled up and loaded on and the boy in the back he said, ‘You scared the life out of me.’ I said, ‘Why?’ he said, ‘Well you nearly hit that gate post.’ I said ‘[unclear] Through there. I said, ‘He said, the corporal said to me he wanted me to get to the top of the hill in top gear.’ He wanted me to stall it you see, didn’t he?
DK: Yeah.
LM: Wanted me to start off on a hill but I didn’t. I foot rode up this blasted hill.
DK: So, what year did you actually leave the RAF then?
LM: I had two ranks.
DK: Right.
LM: Warrant officer air gunner and an AC2 driver.
DK: So you left as an AC2.
LM: Yes [laughs] Yes, I don’t, but I passed. I could drive anything when I came out.
DK: And what year was that that you came out then?
LM: 1946.
DK: Right.
LM: Came out in ’46 and started work in, my leave was up on the 6th of September 1946 and I started work on the 6th. On a Tuesday.
DK: Doing what? What was your career after that then? What did you do?
LM: Well, I thought I really loved to work on the land.
DK: Machelen Right.
LM: I loved the horses.
DK: So did you?
LM: Especially.
DK: Did you go back to —
LM: No. There wasn’t no money in it then was there?
DK: Right.
LM: So, Vic Bale, how I knew, I went to school with him he ran foremen men at Fiddlers Garages at Stowmarket.
DK: Right.
LM: He said to me, he said, ‘Lou,’ he said, ‘Are you —.’ Oh before then I, yeah that’s right. Yes. Yes. He said, ‘Lou, are you looking for a job?’ I said, ‘No. Not really, Vic.’ I said, ‘Not for a while. Just see my leave out and I’ll have a look around,’ I said, ‘There’s plenty of place in Stowmarket.’ He said, ‘Well, my dad you see has just gone as a foreman down at the old chemical works.’ He said, ‘There’s a firm, a Swedish firm going to make boards, building boards from straw.’ So I thought well I knew old Harry, his dad. I knew him well. So I went down. ‘Yes, boy.’ He said, ‘Yes, boy. You can start tomorrow if you like.’ I said, ‘Lovely Harry. I’ll start. Make it Tuesday.’ I said, ‘That’s the end of my leave.’ So I went and that’s where I started and I was the first one to start there. Then there was another lad. He was a Dunkirk lad.
DK: Right.
LM: Frank [Wasp]. He joined the next day. And then another lad he was in the Army he was a PT instructor. He joined on the Friday. So that we three started off at [unclear]
DK: [unclear]
LM: And the bloke who came to show us how to run [unclear] hadn’t a bloody clue. He hadn’t a clue. Not any idea.
DK: So just stepping back a bit have you stayed in touch with any of the, either your crew at the time or those that you escaped with?
LM: Well. No. Never. I’d have loved to. This was what I was saying earlier on. We never kept, the only one, now I had a letter come from some while ago now from the flight engineer.
DK: Right.
LM: When we were shot down. Did I know, he’d got my address from David Joseph’s wife —
DK: Right.
LM: Because David used to write to me. Well, when I say write it was a postcard at Christmas and all we wrote on it, “How are you? Ok? Having a nice time? Cheerio.” And that’s all that was said.
DK: So you stayed in touch with your pilot for a few years.
LM: Only on a —
DK: On a card.
LM: His mother used to write to my mother.
DK: Right.
LM: During the war. During that war and David he, what made me think he was a Joseph, the old Keith Josephs offspring they lived in Shakespeare Country.
DK: Right. Yeah. They must be related.
LM: Then I got —
DK: Yeah.
LM: Then I got a card come from him. “We’ve changed our address. I’ve now bought a farm at Bourton on the Water.” So we were on, me and the wife were on holiday. We called at Bourton on the Water. There’s a river runs through the street there isn’t there?
DK: Yeah. Yeah.
LM: A lovely place.
Other: Bourton on the Water.
LM: And I went into a Post Office. I said to the lady I said, Mock Hill, Pockhill Farm it was called. I went into the Post Office. I said, ‘Hello dear.’ I said, ‘You wouldn’t know the whereabouts of a David Josephs who live in Pockhill Farm would you?’ She said, ‘Yeah. They’re just up the road there on the right hand side.’ But he had died then. He’d had a brain haemorrhage.
DK: So you never met him again.
LM: I never met him. No.
DK: I’m rather conscious of time. I’ve just got one final question.
LM: Yeah. Yeah.
DK: And it’s really about how after all these years you feel about and you look back on your time in the RAF and a POW. How do you feel about that now? Is it something —
LM: I sometimes wish I’d have taken, what I ought to have, I sometimes think why didn’t I get a reserved job on the land? I could have been I don’t know. I wouldn’t have been I don’t know. I wouldn’t have been in a position I finished up with now at anyrate.
DK: Yeah.
LM: I had a good number when I, when I retired. A production manager at [unclear] when I retired so I wouldn’t, I was well looked after. The old governor I think sometimes that was a good thing that I went through that because otherwise I think I would have been on the farm until the day I died.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Or the time I retired. But I didn’t and —
DK: So in a strange way it was —
LM: It altered my life altogether because, yes.
DK: Some good came out of it.
LM: Because I suppose in a way I wouldn’t have gone, well a little example. When I was at school we had one day out in a year. Sunday school.
DK: Yeah.
LM: Had to go to Sunday school every Sunday. Stowupland and Creeting St Peter. I used to live at Creeting St Peter and that we used, they’d come from Stowup and pick us up at Creeting St Peter. Now, I’ve never been out of the village because we used to get to Jacks Green, that’s just nearly into Needham and somebody would ask, ‘Can you see the sea yet?’ That’s how naïve we were. Hadn’t been out of the village. When I went to London that was the first time I’d ever been in London in my life.
DK: Yeah.
LM: And I got on the Underground and it didn’t bother me at all.
DK: Yeah.
LM: No, I just asked a porter. I wasn’t afraid to ask and mostly the black ones were ever so helpful. Oh yeah.
DK: Better turn this off quick.
LM: Well, they were and in those days —
DK: Yeah. Yeah. No.
LM: I’m sorry Sally but —
Other: No, that’s fine, grandad.
LM: I didn’t say that.
DK: It was actually because we had full employment then that there weren’t enough people to work on the Underground so recruitment was actually done in the West Indies to get people.
LM: Oh right.
DK: To come over and work on the Underground and London Transport. Ok. Well, at that point we’d better stop. Well thanks very much for that.
LM: Yes.
DK: I’m turning this off now.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with Louis Makens
Creator
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David Kavanagh
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-01-17
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
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Sound
Identifier
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AMakensL170117, PMakensL1701
Conforms To
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Pending review
Pending revision of OH transcription
Description
An account of the resource
Louis Makens worked as a farm worker before the war but volunteered for aircrew. He discusses his training on Wellingtons and operations flying Stirlings with 196 Squadron including a crash landing, and glider towing. His Halifax was shot down 18/19 March 1944 on the way to Frankfurt. It was his seventh operation, but his first as a mid under gunner with 76 Squadron from RAF Holme-on-Spalding Moor. He became a prisoner of war and discusses that as an extra gunner with a new crew, he only got to know his pilot David Joseph during captivity. He describes his capture and treatment and the conditions at Stalag Luft 6, the contents of Red Cross parcels, and the prisoners' attitude to the guards. He describes the conditions on the long march through Germany away from the advancing Russians. Eventually he found the advancing Allied army. After the war, he was remustered as a driver and was demobbed in 1946. He found employment with Stramit manufacturing strawboard building material.
Language
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eng
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Germany
Great Britain
Lithuania
Poland
England--Yorkshire
England--Suffolk
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Lithuania--Šilutė
Poland--Świnoujście
Poland--Tychowo
Lithuania--Klaipėda
Temporal Coverage
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1944-03-18
1945-02
1945-06-19
1946-09-06
Format
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01:42:22 audio recording
Contributor
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Julie Williams
196 Squadron
76 Squadron
air gunner
aircrew
bale out
bombing
evading
Fw 190
Halifax
Initial Training Wing
Lysander
mine laying
Operational Training Unit
prisoner of war
RAF Bridlington
RAF Holme-on-Spalding Moor
RAF Marston Moor
RAF Sealand
RAF Stormy Down
RAF Stradishall
RAF Witchford
shot down
Stalag Luft 4
Stalag Luft 6
Stirling
strafing
the long march
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/797/10779/PDeanJEH1701.2.jpg
bceede6a4853b1983c889df55bddcadc
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/797/10779/ADeanJEH170913.1.mp3
6f47adb3b5809113563fa431fe9e92f6
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
Dean, John Eric Hatherly
J E H Dean
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with John Dean DFC (1922, 173978 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a navigator with 77 Squadron.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2017-09-13
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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Dean, JEH
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
DM: This interview is being conducted for the International Bomber Command Centre. The interviewer is David Meanwell. The interviewee is John Dean. The interview is taking place in Mr Dean’s home in Westerham in Kent on the 13th of September 2017. Ok, John if you could perhaps tell me where and when you were born and a bit about your early life.
JD: Yeah. Well, I was born at Edmonton in North London in 1922 which means that I’m ninety four. Ninety five next birthday. And I grew up mainly in London but my family moved out when I was about twelve and we went to, to live in Middlesex. And I remember on the morning of the 15th of August 1940 standing outside the house where I lived with my parents and watching a German aircraft which I think was an FW190 being pursued by a Spitfire. This was in, coming from North London and the FW190 had smoke coming out of its engines and obviously the Spitfire had [coughs] had shot it down. It was pursuing it until it crashed. And from that moment on I decided I wanted to be a Spitfire pilot. And as I was just over eighteen I was able to go to the RAF recruiting office in London and I joined up. I joined up on the 1st of November 1940 when I was eighteen years and four days, four days, five days old. So that was my introduction to the Air Force. Unfortunately, I didn’t achieve my ambition of becoming a Spitfire pilot because although I did elementary and basic flying training on, on Tiger Moths and later on Harvards I met my Waterloo on Harvards because I developed this annoying habit of landing the aircraft about thirty feet above the runway. So [laughs] they took me off Harvards and sent me to a navigation school in, in Canada in fact which was quite interesting and I did my training there and came back, and I was, ultimately found myself in Bomber Command with 77 Squadron.
DM: When, when you went to Canada you went by ship I assume.
JD: Yes. Sure.
DM: Was that sort of eventful or was it an easy, an easy trip?
JD: Well, only eventful to the extent that it was very uncomfortable because we went out in a very small Dutch vessel called the Volendam. And it was only about, I don’t know twenty five thousand tonnes or so. A very small ship and there were masses of us crowded in this small ship. And for most it took fourteen days to cross the Atlantic, and most of the time we were in a violent storm and the number of people who were sick on each other. I can remember it, you know with some horror really. But on the way back we came back on the Queen Mary which was then a troop ship and that did the trip in three and a half days so that wasn’t too bad. Yes.
DM: Whereabouts in Canada did you train?
JD: Well, we went eventually, initially to a place called Saskatchewan. Swift Current in Saskatchewan and we went by train from Halifax and that took, as far as I can recall it took about four days to get to, to Swift Current which was then a tiny hamlet but today I gather its quite a rather large township. And there I did some flying training on, on Harvards, and as I say my training came to an end and I then went back. Was transferred to a place called Chatham in New Brunswick to do my navigation training.
DM: So you came back to the UK. Trained as a navigator. So, I suppose the next thing, was it crewing up that happened next?
JD: Yeah. We went to [pause] it was either 1652 or 1658 Heavy Conversion Unit at, it was either Marston Moor or Lisset. I can’t remember precisely and there I got crewed up with an Australian pilot called [Gallant Lee] and he had already acquired all the other crew members and it was, it was the flight engineer who approached me asking me if I was looking for crew. So I said yes and that’s how, you know I met my crew. And as soon as that happened of course we were posted off to, to 77 Squadron and we did half our tour with Bill [Gallant Lee] at Elvington.
DM: What type of aircraft were you flying?
JD: Halifaxes. We started off in the early Halifaxes with inline engines. The Merlins. And of course they were very much underpowered. Anyway, we did half the tour with Bill [Gallant Lee] the Australian and then he was grounded with sinus trouble. So, we were then transferred back to I think it was 1652 Heavy Conversion Unit which was then Marston Moor to find another pilot which we did. And he was a South African. A flight lieutenant called Smiler Welch. And he was called Smiler because he was never seen to smile. Typical RAF humour, you know. So we got back to the squadron with Smiler Welch, and he immediately became a flight commander which meant that we didn’t operate very often. Perhaps once every two or three weeks rather than every other night. So it meant that we took about six months to complete our tour. So all in all we were on the squadron for a year to complete a tour. Which was much longer than most people of course. Anyway, we, we were successful in completing our tour of thirty three ops which included six mine laying trips, which as you probably know was each mine laying trip was counted as a half. And then that took us up to July or, yeah July or August 1944 and at the end of my tour I was transferred back to Marston Moor as an instructor. And that lasted for about six months until about December 1944, or January of forty, no. It must have been a bit later because we were posted. Oh, incidentally yes I acquired a new crew at Marston Moor and at the end of the six months training we were posted to India. And we were all packed up ready to go when the war ended fortunately. So we didn’t go to India. So I stayed on. I forgot to mention at the end of my training my crew and I were transferred to Transport Command and we stayed on in Transport Command until I left the RAF in 1947.
DM: So we go back to I suppose really you could say that your operation, your thirty flights or more because you did some mine laying flights was sort of split into two halves with two different pilots.
JD: Yeah.
DM: As you said the chap who had the problem with his sinuses and then the South African. Were they both similar in their outlook or —
JD: Completely different.
DM: Right.
JD: Yeah. Bill [Gallant Lee], he took a violent dislike to me when we met [laughs] He used to refer to me as, ‘That bloody pommie,’ you know [laughs] And anyway eventually we settled our differences and got on extremely well. And I liked Bill. He was a very straight talking Australian as most, most Australians are and he died, oh it must be about ten or fifteen years ago and I was very sorry to hear that. Yeah. Completely different to Welch. He was a very, what’s the word I’m looking for? He never said very much and —
DM: Taciturn, I suppose.
JD: Gave the impression he was terribly unhappy with life generally, you know. And whereas my flight engineer, unfortunately he died two years ago he kept in touch very closely with Bill [Gallant Lee] in Australia and actually visited him. With Smiler Welch he, at the end of the war he disappeared from our orbit and we never heard from him again. And I don’t know whether he’s still alive or not. I did try to find out some years ago by writing to somebody in South Africa. There’s an organisation which is connected to the RAF but they had never heard of him. Anyway, so that was Welch. A completely different cup of tea.
DM: Have you any particular memories from operations? Any close calls? Any sort of particular horrors, or —
JD: During our tour?
DM: Yes.
JD: Well, yes I mean it is extraordinary. I’ve always, I still think this, I thought it for some time. I think it’s extraordinary how in the midst of such horror going on with aircraft being shot down and being, catching fire and so on we virtually sailed through our thirty three ops with hardly a scratch. I did think there were a number of people who experienced the same thing, but there were one or two incidents where we came very close to meeting our doom as it were. One was a case where we were bombed by another aircraft and this was on a daylight raid. Not a daylight raid. A night raid to a place called Lens which was a big, big marshalling yard in France and it was so important that the Pathfinders had lit up the place with their flares so when we got there it was just like daylight and there were about three hundred and fifty aircraft converging on this place, Lens. And as we were doing our bombing run the flight engineer, Derek who was standing up next to the pilot and on the Halifax there was an astrodome immediately above where the engineer worked. He looked up and he said, he said, ‘There’s an aircraft right above us.’ And then there was a pause of a few seconds and he said, ‘There’s a bomb coming down.’ And a few seconds later it hit the aircraft and came in to the Halifax. Well, we were a bit, well to say a bit scary was probably an understatement but we just waited for this damned thing to explode but it didn’t. And then after about a minute or so the pilot said to the engineer, ‘Derek, go back and see what it is.’ And he undid his, his intercom and went back and then a few seconds later he came back on and said, he said, ‘I’ve got the bomb. It’s a twelve pound oil bomb.’ And by that time the, the aircraft that that had dropped it had moved off but Derek knew sufficiently enough, enough about aircraft to identify it as being a Stirling. And then there was a debate in the aircraft I remember. Half the crew wanted to take the damned thing back, the bomb. And the other half wanted to get rid of it.
DM: Which half were you with?
JD: What?
DM: Which side were you on?
JD: I wanted to keep it actually [laughs] and then the pilot intervened and said, ‘Enough of this bloody nonsense. Get rid of it.’ And so Derek got rid of it. So that was a very close call because I gather that there were untold instances of aircraft being bombed but nobody lived to tell the story. But we were probably very lucky. And then we had one or two encounters with, with night fighters which was a bit scary and on one occasion we were very severely hit by an anti-aircraft shell which completely disabled all our electrics. It didn’t interfere with the flying ability of the aircraft strangely enough. The engines kept working. But it meant that when we got back to UK we had no means of communicating with the ground and at the same time we, I was operating a navigational aid called Gee. You’ve probably heard of it. And that didn’t work, and it was still very dark when we got back to the UK and none of us had a bloody clue as to what, where we were. So we were stooging around UK looking for somewhere to land and then we saw this runway lit up and so we just went, went in and landed and of course we were unable to tell the people who we were so they started firing at us with, [laughs] well, I suppose it must have been some sort of cannon or something. Fortunately, they were very bad shots. Anyway, we landed and we couldn’t open the hatch to get out because this anti-aircraft shell had damaged the door so they had to, the people, the people on the ground had to go off and get a long piece of wood and smash the door in. So, and then we found out that we’d landed at a, what was it called? [pause] What was the name of the training unit before an HCU?
DM: Oh.
JD: It’s something like an Initial Training Unit or something.
DM: Yes. Yes.
JD: Anyway, it was, it was Silverstone which later became, you know the motor racing place, and they were training crews for Bomber Command using Wellingtons. So that, you know what was a nice ending to the story too. Again, what could have been quite a nasty ending because we were lucky to find an aircraft. I think we had about ten minutes petrol left when we landed. Yeah. So one or two quite narrow escapes, but from which we, we emerged successfully as it were.
DM: Was that the only time you got lost or did you have other — ?
JD: No [laughs] To my everlasting and undying shame we got completely lost on my first operation which was to Mannheim. And Mannheim is, let me see, it is, it is northwest of Berlin and it is situated between Berlin and the north coast of Germany. Up near [pause] I can’t, it’s, it’s sort of in the Lubeck, Lubeck area, where the coast is. And the route planners took us up north of, of the northern coast over the North Sea so that to give the impression to the Germans we were heading for Berlin, and then about fifty miles short of Lubeck we had to turn a sharp right and approach Mannheim from the north. Well, somehow and I don’t know how it was I turned right about twenty miles west of Lubeck instead of fifty. No. The other way around. Sorry. We turned right which is what we should have done so that it took us down to the west of Mannheim, and I remember the flight engineer saying after we’d flown, after we’d turned right for about an hour or so the flight engineer saying, he said, ‘It’s very strange,’ he said, There’s a big, big fire on our, on our port side.’ He said, ‘I wonder what that is.’ So I had a look at my chart and then I realised I’d made a gigantic error. So I said to, it was still Bill [Gallant Lee] then, I said, ‘Bill, I’m dreadfully sorry. I’ve made a complete cockup,’ I said, ‘We’ve turned too early.’ And I said, ‘Mannheim is on our left.’ And he said, ‘Ok.’ So he turned the aircraft to the left and we, instead of approaching Mannheim from the north we were on the west side of Mannheim and we were meeting aircraft coming out of Mannheim having dropped their bombs. So, again it was rather a perilous thing to do but we did it. We went back and dropped our bombs on Mannheim and managed to get through. So when I can, you know I think it was an example of the guardian angels looking after us really. But when I got back we had to, I had to discuss, you know the trip with the squadron navigation officer which was the usual thing and he looked at me and he said, ‘John, you are bloody lucky aren’t you to be here?’ And he was right actually. But that was the only time I got lost I think.
DM: When you were training navigators after your, you know, when you went to the HCU to be trainer was that mainly ground based or was there a lot of flying?
JD: On the contrary, no. We, most of the time we spent in the air. This was at Chatham, in New Brunswick. Most of the time we were flying Ansons and you know, the training at Brunswick I do recall was very exhaustive, and we were trained by Canadian instructors and they were very, very good and passionate about the job they were doing, you know. And we spent, I can’t remember exactly I’d have to refer to my logbook, but we spent a great number of flying hours in Ansons training and one of the things we did was to take, we did quite a lot of training on aerial photography. And somewhere in the house here I’ve got quite a lot of photos of, taken from Ansons. A very slow, sort of noisy aircraft but very interesting.
DM: When you were a trainer so, because you did some training between your tours I think, didn’t you?
JD: Yeah. Well, I was with [pause] I did my, yeah I was an instructor at I think it was 1652 Heavy Conversion Unit and of course there we flew again. I think it was Wellingtons. I can’t remember. But my job was to, again mainly in the air. I did very little instructing on the ground. I used to go up with trainee navigators as part of their training to observe what they were doing and to correct them if I thought they were doing anything wrong. So I did quite a lot flying there.
DM: Where were you based when you were doing that?
JD: I think that was Marston Moor. I should have got my logbook with me but I think that that would tell me. But I think it was Marston Moor. Quite near York. A celebrated historical place, of course.
DM: Indeed.
JD: Yeah.
DM: Yeah. So, I assume that included night exercises as well as daytime flying.
JD: Sorry, the —
DM: Night exercises as well as daytime when you were assessing the navigators.
JD: Oh yes. Sure.
DM: Was that, did you feel safe? Or —
JD: Well, yes because [pause] did I feel safe? Well, I suppose I did [laughs] Yes. I mean we were using, we were using Gee and whereas Gee was jammed over, over Europe, in Britain it wasn’t of course and it was an excellent navigation aid that I recall. So we were never lost at all. So I felt you know completely confident that we’d get back all right.
DM: So then you were supposedly going to go to India but as you say that didn’t happen because the war ended. And then, but you were in Transport Command.
JD: Yes. We were. After the war we were transferred from Elvington in Yorkshire to a place called Stradishall in, in Suffolk and that was about twenty five miles south of Bury St Edmunds. And Stradishall Aerodrome was a peacetime RAF base so that all the buildings were pre-war RAF buildings, including the officers mess because by that time I’d been commissioned. And whereas previously in, at Elvington we had to bunk down in in Nissen huts at Stradishall we had posh buildings and rooms to ourselves you know. So that was quite a step up in the social world as it were. Yeah. And the aerodrome of course was right next to Stradishall village. A tiny village. About two or three hundred people and it was there, of course I met my wife and got married.
DM: So, she was a local girl was she?
JD: Yeah. She was the wife of the local vicar so, and I met her in a pub dare it be said. Yeah. So, that was Stradishall and we operated out of Stradishall flying a variety of aircraft including the York which was the model, the civilian version of the Lancaster. And the York was the first aircraft where we were allowed to smoke. In Halifaxes and I understand Lancasters and certainly Wellingtons it was absolutely taboo to smoke in aircraft. Unlike the Americans where they used to issue out cigars if you wanted them I gather. But in the York I don’t know why but we were allowed to smoke. Most of us did smoke then of course so that we did. But we used [pause] yes. Smoke. Sorry, Yorks and Stirlings, and the Stirlings were found to be not very stable aircraft, and there were a number of crashes both her in the UK and also enroute. And the route to India took us via Libya. That was the first stop. I remember that it took us ten hours from our base in Stradishall to get to the first bit. The first landing stage in Libya. So we were pretty worn out then, and then after we’d spent a night there and then the next stage was Cairo West which as the name indicates is west of Cairo and that only took about, about eight hours. Seven or eight hours. And then we went from Cairo West to Habbaniya or Habbaniya I’m not quite sure which is the right pronunciation, in Iraq which was an RAF base. A peacetime base. And we landed there for refuelling and then after a few hours we took off, and then we went through to Karachi which was the end of my journey. Although on one occasion we went down to Madras so the whole of that trip was of course very interesting. And I remember on one occasion we were going in to Habbaniya or Habbaniya in Iraq and there was some natives on the ground who started, who had rifles and they started firing at us. So the pilot said to ground control, he said, ‘What the hell’s happening?’ And the controller said, ‘Well, go around and disappear for a minute because we’ve got a little tribal war going on.’ And apparently in that area one tribe used to fight with another sort of every other Wednesday, you know, and that sort of thing. And when we appeared we were another choice target and fortunately they were very bad shots. Anyway, that was quite exciting.
DM: What sort of things were you carrying?
JD: Well, mainly war material but it was all boxed up so we didn’t, we didn’t know what it contained. We assumed it was things like guns and other stuff which, which couldn’t be left in India. And occasionally half a dozen people but not very many because the aircraft wasn’t really converted to carry passengers. It was mainly boxes and we never knew quite was in them. It could have been bombs I suppose but they never told us. Also we were able to, I remember on one occasion we were allowed to bring, I think it was one item which we brought locally in Karachi and most of the, most of my crew bought carpets so there were quite a large proportion of the air craft was taken up with carpets. Anyway, we got those through. Yes. Happy days.
DM: Did you used to fly things out to India or was it an empty aircraft?
JD: Sorry? No. As far as I recall we flew out empty. I can’t remember [pause] Yeah. I don’t think we took anything out. It was, we were just meant to bring things back. Quite why they used aircraft to do this I never found out because it would have been a damned sight cheaper to use, you know ships. I suspect that those boxes contained, you know what we would refer to as secret material of some kind but they never told us. Never told me anyway. I suppose the pilot knew. And in those days of course when you’re young you tend to accept things without question don’t you?
DM: That’s true.
JD: Which we did.
DM: So you were doing that for about two years.
JD: Yeah. Again, I’d have to refer to my logbook. Yeah. Actually, I’ve got the chronological times a bit wrong. I was transferred from Elvington, the squadron to Marston Moor as an instructor in July 1944 and that went on until December 19 — 1944. January. And then in January 1945 I’d forgotten to mention I was transferred from Marston Moor to [pause] to Stradishall. That’s right. I’m sorry. I think I said that I went from Elvington to Stradishall. That’s not the case. I went from Marston Moor to Stradishall where we were formed up as 51 Squadron and it was 51 Squadron who did all the flying to India. So, I hope you can make —
DM: Yeah.
JD: Sense of all that. And so we flew from India from, from [unclear] flew to India from Stradishall from about January 1945 to July ‘47. Just over two years.
DM: Did you volunteer for that or did you not have any choice?
JD: We were just told, you know.
DM: Right.
JD: There was no question of —
DM: Yeah. Yeah.
JD: Yeah. Well, they had to. I mean, now that it is all over of course one realises that Bomber Command HQ had to find somewhere to put all its aircrew, surviving aircrew you know so that they could become gainfully employed. And I suppose Transport Command was the obvious choice really. I mean I don’t know how many other members of 77 Squadron ended up in Transport Command. All that I know is that we were told to go there. We went.
DM: Could you have stayed on longer if you’d wanted to?
JD: Yes. I could and in fact that was my intention. I wanted to stay on in the RAF but my wife, well we got married fairly, fairly soon after we met really. Oh yes. It was at Stradishall on 51 Squadron after I’d got married there that we, I was posted, we were posted to India. And when I said, told my wife about this she said, ‘Do you really want to go?’ And I said, ‘No.’ And she said, ‘Well, I don’t want you to go either. What about coming out of the RAF?’ So, that was why I left really.
DM: Right. What did you do when you came out?
JD: Well, I spent some time trying to find out what I wanted to do and eventually came up with the, with the answer that I wanted to be a surveyor. And at that time the Royal Institution of Charted Surveyors which I wanted to become a member of had arranged training courses at various places and I applied for one and I got a training place. And this was at [pause] somewhere near Reading I think it was. I can’t remember. And that training lasted for about six months to give us a basic, a basic idea what a surveyor did and then the rest of the time in order to qualify I got a job at Ipswich where my wife was living and did home study to qualify. And that took me about three years and then eventually I sat their exams and did qualify and I became an Associate Member of the Royal Institute of Chartered Surveyors. But I then did, having qualified it sounds strange to say this but I found it very difficult to get a job, a paid job and this was because so many people had decided to travel this route because of this, the availability of this training. And the only job I could find was in Manchester and I went home and told my wife. She said, ‘I’m not going to Manchester.’ I said, ‘Well, what will we do?’ She said, ‘Well, we must find something else to do.’ And then I spoke to a colleague of mine who’d, he wasn’t . He didn’t train as a surveyor. He’d done something else. And he said, ‘Why don’t you write to — ’ he said, ‘I do know that they need surveyors abroad. Why don’t you write to the Colonial Office and ask them if they’ve got any vacancies?’ Which I did, and they wrote back. Well, I went up for an interview and they wrote back six weeks later and said, “Dear Mr Dean, we can offer you, thank you for coming for an interview. We can offer you a post in Hong Kong.” And I really wanted to go but my wife wasn’t very keen so I wrote back and said, “Well, thank you very much. Do you have anything a bit sort of a bit nearer? Say, like Africa?’ And they wrote back strangely enough and said yes and they offered me another job in Northern Rhodesia. So that’s where I went and I spent fifteen years there. Not as a surveyor. I went out, they said to me that the only job available at the time was as an administrator. So I went out as a, what was called a district officer and spent, you know fifteen years there. And that was quite good fun. Africa of course was, well I don’t know about today of course. It’s a bit, it’s a bit sort of full of guns and dictators but in our time of course it was very peaceful and the conditions of work were very good. We used to do a tour of three years and get six months leave and that sort of thing. Ostensibly, the six months leave was because of the unhealthy living conditions but where we were in Northern Rhodesia we found it extremely healthy but fortunately the authorities hadn’t caught up with that.
[telephone ringing – interview paused]
DM: So you came back, I suppose. Back to the UK.
JD: Yeah. Came back to the UK and I got a job as a, with a national training organisation where eventually I became a personnel manager and that, that lasted until about fifteen years when the training organisation I was with closed down. And so for the second. Oh yes. I was with, I was in Northern Rhodesia until it became independent. It became Zambia and I stayed on. It became, Northern Rhodesia became independent in October 1964 and I stayed on for a couple of years until, until ’64. Yeah. Until ‘66 ’67. And then I decided that it was time to retire and come back because there really wasn’t much future in Zambia for white civil servants quite naturally. So I came back and I managed to find a job as I say with this training organisation where I became personnel manager and that lasted for fifteen years until the organisation closed down. And then I became, I was very lucky because I was out of work for about two or three months which I found extremely boring. Then I don’t know quite how it happened but I managed to find a job as, as bursar to a school in Kent and that lasted until well past retiring age. So, again I was very lucky.
DM: Did you keep in touch with people from the Air Force?
JD: Yes. Well, I kept in touch with, I’d already said the pilot, by that time of course Bill [Gallant Lee] our first pilot had died and Smiler Welch, the second guy, pilot had just disappeared. But I kept in close touch with Derek Compton, my flight engineer and we used to meet up occasionally. He lived down in Dorset at Christchurch and he died about two years ago. I also met up with my wireless operator who lived in Liverpool and I did a trip up there to meet him. I got along with him extremely well. And I also met, I also met the rear gunner. Butch Sutton. He was called Butch because he was the son of a butcher you know. RAF term. The bomb aimer I didn’t keep in touch with because he lived in Scotland and the rear gunner [Kitch May] sorry, the mid-upper gunner [Kitch May] lived in Cornwall. But I used to, we used to correspond [Kitch May] and so for a few years anyway I kept in touch with most of the crew but towards the end it was because they, you know how it is you stop writing and stuff like that. But with Derek Compton my flight engineer I stayed with him several times and unfortunately the poor chap died about two years ago. So yes I did keep in touch and also 77 Squadron formed a Squadron Association which I joined and we formed, when I say we members in the south of England formed a sub-branch because the main meeting was up in Yorkshire I believe. Anyway, there were about a dozen or so of us in the south who formed this sub-branch and we used to meet every May at [pause] I’m afraid my memory isn’t very good these days, a town down [pause] I can’t remember where it is. The town begins with M but it doesn’t matter the name of the place. We used to meet at the White Horse in this town starting with M and there were about a dozen or so of us and we used to meet sometimes with our wives or girlfriends, whatever and chat and have lunch you know. And I used to meet Derek Compton my engineer there. He was there on every occasion. And I used to pick up another navigator from 77 Squadron who was badly shot up over [pause] again my memory lets me down. It’s a big, a big port in France. In Brittany. Beginning with B I think it is.
DM: [unclear]
JD: Can you remember it? You can’t. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. But the poor chap got badly shot up and virtually lost an eye so he was grounded and he lived at [pause] oh dear. Again, my memory for places. He lived at [pause] well about thirty miles from here towards Guildford. Near Guildford. He lived near Guildford and I used to get there and because, because of his eye he couldn’t drive and he, he had a very nice Mercedes car. And when we first met he said to me, ‘Will you drive me to the reunion?’ I said, ‘Of course I will,’ I said, ‘But there’s one condition.’ He said, ‘What’s that?’ I said, ‘You let me drive your Mercedes.’ And he said yes. So once a year I got the opportunity of driving this magnificent car down to wherever it was. And the poor chap he developed dementia and eventually was admitted to a home. You know, a nursing home and died there about three years ago. But he and I, we knew each other from, from the squadron and we got on extremely well. And he, he ended up as a director of operations with British Airways so he had done very well. But I remember one of his drawbacks was on the way down, driving in this car of his he kept on saying to me, ‘Now, do you know where you are, Dean?’ you know [laughs] And I used to tell him, I used to say, ‘For God’s sake, shut up otherwise we shall get lost.’ But we had a good relationship and I’m sorry, I was very sorry he died, you know. Yeah. Those were most of the people who went, who attended these, these May meetings. Of course, it got to a point where it was difficult for them to drive or get to to the meetings. So we abandoned it or it was abandoned about two years ago. And it was started I remember that the whole this, this sub-branch was started by a man called Varley, who was another navigator who I knew and he unfortunately he died to. So I’m beginning to think I’m about the only one left from 77 Squadron. There must be others. Talking about the survivors I was interested to find out quite recently how many Bomber Command aircrew are left alive today. And I’ve always thought it was about between three and four thousand and I tried to get in touch with the Bomber Command Association of which I used to be a member but I gather that’s been completely disbanded now because there are so few members. And then on the internet, I use the internet quite, quite a lot on Facebook I came across this Bomber Command history forum and in the forum was somebody there call Dee mentioned the IBCC. You probably know about this lady, Dee.
DM: I’ve heard.
JD: You know about her. Well, she in fact put me in touch with the IBCC or reminded me because I’d been in touch before and I posted this question on Facebook and she came back and said she’d spoken to somebody at IBCC and they thought it was just over two thousand. But nobody really knows because no records have been kept have they?
DM: No. No.
JD: So, it’s all guesswork really but I think two or three, between two or three thousand is right. I mean immediately after the war there was something like a hundred and twenty thousand left. But the war, that’s what we are talking about? Getting on for seventy years ago now, aren’t we? So, there can’t be many left.
DM: No. Do, do —
JD: Yeah.
DM: Do you remember your time with Bomber Command with fondness or —
JD: With —?
DM: With fondness or —
JD: Yes. Well, it’s, no I don’t know about fondness. Yeah. I mean let’s be, let’s be honest it was a pretty scary time. Although as an individual I never felt that I was, I was going to get killed. I always thought that I was going to survive and I think this may have been due to the fact that when one is young, I was twenty or so you never think anything is going to happen to you. Well, obviously I was always optimistic. But I must confess that before each trip when we were sitting outside the aircraft waiting to get in and start the engines and they’d always happen for about a half an hour it then suddenly dawned on you what you are doing, you know. And then I do remember getting a bit apprehensive then. But once in the aircraft as the navigator I was busy from, you know the first, from the first minute as it were until the end of the trip. And that meant that one I was occupied and didn’t have time to think about you know being attacked. And it now, you know it’s occurred to me since that the other members of the crew sitting there staring out into the darkness they must have been petrified I should think most of the time but they obviously never mentioned it. Yes. I mean, I think probably a navigator in Bomber Command probably had the best job really because he was occupied as I say all the time and mark you one thing I missed was, was looking out of the aircraft and seeing what was happening all around us. Although, I did go up and I’d see. I used to get permission from the pilot to go up and stand by him when we were going in to the bombing run watching things happen and I think I wasn’t frightened at all. I was absolutely fascinated with what was going on, you know. And then of course you could see other aircraft all around you all being lit up and so on. So, yes it was something that one would never see again. Oh yes. I recall we did one trip early on in our tour. I think it was our second or third operation to Milan and that was quite an interesting trip because first of all it took almost nine and a half hours which was a hell of a long time. Secondly, the route took us over the Alps and we were flying on a bright moonlight night and it lit up the Alps dramatically and we were about I suppose the Alps go up to about fourteen or fifteen thousand feet and we were at sixteen so there wasn’t much between us you know because sixteen was about the maximum height, I think for a Halifax. Perhaps seventeen after a bit of a struggle. Anyway, we had a dramatic view. Fantastic view of the Alps both going and coming and then after we crossed the Alps we could see Milan in the distance because Milan is quite near the Alps, lit up and we could see searchlights waving. And then the nearer we got the searchlights stopped and when we got there we could also see anti-aircraft bursts in the sky and when we got there they completely stopped. So there were no searchlights and no anti-aircraft fire when we got there and I gather this was quite common that the Italians manning these things on the ground decided they’d leave, you know if we were there [laughs] Which was nice for us. So that was quite, I think we were meant to bomb some factories near, near the main railway station in Milan. And I gather according to the Bomber Command Diaries, you know that big fat book that the raid was very successful and we hit the factories. But that was quite an interesting trip. But on one I think on that same trip [pause] it was the same trip the pilot of a Stirling aircraft won the VC that night and it came, I’ve got a story upstairs about him. His name was Aaron, I think it was Aaron Smith. I’m not sure. But on the way, on the way down just before they got to Milan they were fired at by another Stirling aircraft and to this day nobody knows quite why the other Stirling aircraft did this because nobody owned up to it but it was presumed that the other Stirling aircraft just missed, he identified the other, you know the Stirling wrongly and took it to be an enemy aircraft. Anyway, he fired at this guy’s aircraft and he got badly badly injured and could no longer fly the aircraft. So the crew took him back and laid him down in the back of the aircraft and I think it was the [pause] I can’t remember whether it was either the flight engineer or the navigator took — no. It was the flight engineer. That’s right. He took over flying the aircraft because he had some instruction and they decided to abandon the bombing. So they released the bombs and they fell somewhere else. And then they decided that it would be dangerous to try and go back over the Alps to the UK and they decided to head for Sicily which was about I don’t know, I suppose and hundred and fifty miles south of where they thought they were. And then, oh yes the other thing was that the damage included putting out the radio. So they had no communication with the ground so they couldn’t find out where to land in Sicily. But eventually the wireless operator he managed to get some communication going with an aerodrome called Bone in North Africa. In Libya. And it was the only Allied air base in Libya at the time. Anyway, I don’t know how the wireless operator did it but he managed to speak to Bone and Bone said, ‘You must abandon the idea of trying to land in Sicily because there’s an invasion taking place and there’s a lot of fighting and we can’t advise you where to land.’ He said, they said, ‘You must try and head for Bone,’ and so they altered course and did that and eventually got there and this guy Aaron somebody, the pilot, he decided to get back in to the pilot’s seat to fly the aircraft and eventually he landed this aircraft despite the fact he was badly injured and he died nine hours later. And he got a VC for that. So that was quite an unfortunate dramatic ending for him. For the crew.
DM: Did you ever visit subsequently any of the cities that you bombed?
JD: Did I ever —?
DM: Visit any of the cities that you bombed?
JD: Only Berlin. Yeah. I went to Berlin about five years or six years ago and of course the area which was bombed of course have you been to Berlin?
DM: No.
JD: No. The area that was bombed has been rebuilt but it’s instead of, it’s been rebuilt with mainly glass buildings. Very modern. So you get no, you get no sense of an area that was completely obliterated and it’s a, you know an interesting city but I think that they built they rebuilt most of it in glass or so. A mistake really because in other parts of Europe where cities have been rebuilt they’ve rebuilt particularly in France they’ve rebuilt them in the style they were originally. An example of that was Caen where Caen was effectively demolished by Montgomery in order to get his troops on the move as it were. At great cost to civilians living there. But after the war they rebuilt Caen as it was and to go there you’d never think a bomb had been dropped anywhere near. But that didn’t happen in Berlin unfortunately. There we are. Yeah. I can’t remember. No. I’ve not been to, oh yes I’ve been to Milan. Ah yes. Of course, I’ve been to Milan. Great place Milan. And we actually went to the, yes we flew to Milan. We were going to go to a place called Genoa in Italy. Or Genoa. I don’t know how you pronounce it. Genoa. And we flew to Milan and got on a train at Milan. So we actually went to Milan Station but there was obviously no evidence of the bombing so, but I’m impressed with Italian railways. Very cheap and very fast. Unlike the UK of course. So yes but I mean no in terms of visiting immediately after the war and this took place from Elvington we were instructed to do what were they called?
DM: Oh, are these the Cook’s Tours?
JD: Sorry.
DM: Cook’s Tours.
JD: That’s it.
DM: Yes.
JD: And we did two of these. We took, we took a number of people. I didn’t know who they were, I presumed they were VIPs of some kind over, we flew over the Ruhr and we flew over Essen and Mannheim and one or two other places very low. About we couldn’t have been more than about two or three hundred feet perhaps. No. A thousand. I don’t know. I can’t remember. But low enough to see the damage very effectively. So we did that and yeah, I think we were all taken aback by the immense amount of the damage which we’d caused and subsequently I didn’t realise then but in later years I realised that Bomber Command it did what it had to do and it was probably very necessary that we did what we had to do but what we had to do was quite barbaric. But I think that, I think we, I don’t think there was ever a question of whether we should have done it. I think we should have done it. What should have happened was for war to be avoided, I think. I’ve become very anti-war. I think a lot of people who took part in the war have. But yeah, I mean, I think I mean in London of course people suffered to a certain extent.
DM: Yeah. When you said that you grew up in Edmonton and Middlesex.
JD: Sorry?
DM: You said you grew up in sort of Edmonton and Middlesex.
JD: Yeah. I was out of London when the bombing took place but —
DM: Were your family still there or —
JD: No. No. None of my family live there now. No.
DM: Were they there during the war though?
JD: Oh, indeed. Sure. Yeah.
DM: So they all came through the bombing of London.
JD: They survived you know.
DM: Yeah.
JD: Because they weren’t in, they weren’t in central London. They were out in the suburbs. Wood Green which is a suburb and I don’t think, I don’t think any bombs were dropped there at all. No. It’s [pause] yes the I suppose you know since the war there’s been an enormous amount of literature hasn’t there and books written about Bomber Command. And I think that [pause] Well, I think that what we did played an enormous part in, in the defeat of Nazi Germany. I mean had that Bomber Command not done what it did then presumably all the German troops that were used for anti-aircraft purposes and I gather it totalled something like two million presumably those troops could have been released to fight elsewhere. Presumably against, on the Eastern Front against Russian and that might have made all the difference really. I don’t know. So, although I think what we did was, was not very nice I think it was completely and utterly necessary to get rid of this terrible scourge in Europe. And at the time of course when I was on the squadron I hadn’t really read very much about what was going on Germany. I don’t think many people had at that, at that stage because there wasn’t much news coming out of Germany in the nineteen, the late 1930s and early 40s. And as a young man I wasn’t as interested then as I am now in what happened in the past. So we were largely unaware of what was happening in Europe. But I remember having a feeling, you know then on the squadron that what we were doing was necessary. That we had to defeat these so and sos in Germany without really knowing about them. About all the horrors that were going on. But with that I don’t know we never spoke. Something we never discussed. I never remember discussing this with any of my colleagues. I think we were too busy thinking about other things like, you know going out to the pub or whatever or something like that you know.
DM: Yes.
JD: Very good.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
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Interview with John Eric Hatherly Dean
Creator
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David Meanwell
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
2017-09-13
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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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ADeanJEH170913, PDeanJEH1701
Conforms To
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Pending review
Format
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01:03:02 audio recording
Language
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eng
Spatial Coverage
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Canada
Germany
Great Britain
Italy
North Africa
England--Suffolk
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Mannheim
England--Yorkshire
Italy--Milan
Saskatchewan--Swift Current
Saskatchewan
Description
An account of the resource
John Dean’s childhood memory of watching a Spitfire and a German aircraft having a dogfight in the sky above him spurred him to want to become a Spitfire pilot. He didn’t achieve his aim of becoming a Spitfire pilot and instead became a navigator. On one operation the Flight Engineer noticed the Lancaster immediately above them and then saw the bomb fall from it and in to their own aircraft from where the crew argued what to do with it. On his first operation he realised to his horror that he had turned the aircraft too early and they were far off target but they managed to rectify their mistake and complete the operation.
Contributor
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Julie Williams
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1940-08-15
1944-12
1945-01
1652 HCU
51 Squadron
77 Squadron
aircrew
bomb struck
bombing
Fw 190
Harvard
Heavy Conversion Unit
navigator
RAF Marston Moor
RAF Stradishall
Spitfire
Stirling
Tiger Moth
training
York
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/927/11170/PLiddlePAF1601.1.jpg
4b309d0d7a9d3d42699d17e49a761c54
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/927/11170/ALiddlePAF161130.2.mp3
a89943f2bf3dee6d245760aa6f62153d
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
Liddle, Peter
Peter Anderson Forgie Liddle
P A F Liddle
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Peter Liddle (b. 1921, 1556756, Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a bomb aimer with 406 Squadron.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-11-30
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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Liddle, PAF
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
DM: This interview is being conducted for the International Bomber Command Centre. The interviewer is David Meanwell. The interviewee is Peter Liddle. The interview is taking place at Mr Liddle’s home in Badshot Lea in Surrey on the 30th of November 2016. Ok. Peter, if you start of with just a bit about growing — where you were born and growing up.
PL: Yeah.
DM: Before you joined up.
PL: Right. I was born in Falkirk in 1921. In Falkirk. A twin. A twin brother, Alfred. And in 1939 when the war started a mobilization order came out saying that all male person, all male persons between nineteen and [pause] sixty I think it was had to report to to the local Exchange in Falkirk. That date duly arrived. At nineteen my twin brother and I went and joined up. And three options — army, navy or air force. My twin brother and I being ex-members of the ATC at that time volunteered. Volunteered for aircrew duties. After the usual medical examination I was called up in [pause] 1940 and report to Aircrew Receiving Centre at Lord’s Cricket Ground. From there kitted out and posted up to Initial Training at St Andrews. And from there I did a graded — posted to a Group Grading School. Flying School in Perth and soloed on Tiger Moths after eight hours instruction. From there eventually posted to Canada [noise of letter box ] Oh post. And to join the Empire Air Training Scheme. And after training in Canada — Ontario, Calgary, several other stations met my twin brother. He was, he was doing pilot training as well. And we came back to the UK in 1943. That’s it. Joined the Operation, Operational Training Unit, OTU at Lichfield. And posted to Blyton on twin engine Wellingtons having been crewed up at a centre in Lichfield. Three members of the crew were [pause] four members of the crew were Australian. Mid-upper gunner, wireless op, pilot and navigator. After operational training posted to a Conversion Unit at Blyton in Lincolnshire. Near Gainsborough. Converted from twin to four engine aircraft there via a Halifax first and eventually posted to a squadron at Binbrook. We picked up a flight engineer there because the four engined aircraft required an extra crew member and they weren’t trained in Australia.
DM: And you were flying as the bomb aimer. Is that right?
PL: Pardon?
DM: You were the bomb aimer.
PL: Flying as a bomb aimer.
DM: Yeah.
PL: After I joined the squadron, 460 in November ’43 and after one or two exercises, fighter affiliation, air to air firing and fighter affiliation our first raid was scheduled for the 19th of November. The big city. Berlin. It was the start of the Berlin bombing campaign and I went on the 19th, 21st and 23rd of November. We reached the target alright and dropped our bombs. No problem at all. We were engaged over the target by a Focke Wulf 190 but we managed to evade that attack. But my hydraulic hoses on the turret burst for some reason and I was covered in oil. Hydraulic oil. We, we turned then for the return trip back. There may have been a change of wind and and I think at the time we were blown south of the markers, route markers, on the way back and we finished up over the Ruhr. Happy Valley as it was called then. We were immediately coned by the radar controlled blue searchlight. Impossible corkscrewing, evasive action. We couldn’t get out of it and in no time the port engine was on fire and the captain told the [pause] control the hydraulics. The captain told the mid-upper and the rear gunner to vacate their turrets. The shelling got worse. We were flying about twenty, twenty two thousand feet at the time and no amount of evasive action we could get out of the radar controlled searchlights. The plane was on fire then. Diving down. And the captain said, ‘’Crew. Prepare to abort. Abandon aircraft.’ And I did the, as I was trained to do released the forward hatch so as we could bale out from there. I sat on the edge of the hatch. Oh I jettisoned the hatch cover down. Sat on the edge. Whipped off my intercom and oxygen mask helmet in case they snagged on the parachute cords and somersaulted forward out of, out of the plane with a terrific deceleration. I thought at first I may have got caught in the tail but no. I was safe. Dropped the rip cord away. I could watch on the way down the plane diving away on fire and at least three members of the crew were coned in the searchlights on the way down. I didn’t know where I was going to land because coming down at night you couldn’t tell the difference between the, the, what was water, what was buildings or what was forest. And luckily I came down in a patch next to the forest. I landed quite heavily but survived that. Followed my training instructions. Burying the parachute which was, which I did under the, next to a cattle truck. Truck. Cattle truck. Where the ground was soft. I then buried my flying kit except the battle dress. Checked on my escape kit. Buried all my badges etcetera and went into the woods and settled down there. I could hear the all clear go on the, on the sirens. Next morning. Early. It was still dark. Dawn. The first person I saw was a Wehrmacht soldier cycling home. Probably off duty. He had his can on the handlebars of his bike. Later on in the day I checked on my escape kit. I checked out where I was. I could tell I was in Germany because the navigator said, ‘I think we’re east of the Rhine,’ And I confirmed that by seeing the German notices on their electricity pylons — “Verboten." During the day I tried to get my bearings but I came across a group. A group of Hitler Jugend parading in the nearby roads. I managed to get between — in Germany on most roads there’s drainage on both sides of the road. I went down into one of those connecting culverts and I must have been seen by somebody but they came and asked me for my identification. They knew at once that I was an aircrew member. They took me to the local police station then and told me my pilot had been killed. Killed by flak in his parachute. They didn’t say who else had been killed at the time because they hadn’t found the two gunners who were still trapped in the aircraft. The other three members of my crew — they didn’t say anything about that. And I didn’t, I didn’t meet up with them until I eventually got, got to Dulag Luft via an experience. I was being escorted by a Luftwaffe officer and we had to stop enroute in Cologne. And unfortunately there was an air raid on at Cologne then and of course we had to go into the air raid shelters under the station. And that was bit dodgy because all the lights went out at one time and I was down there on my own. Aircrew. Just been on a raid to Berlin. The all clear went without any mishap down in the shelter and when we came above near the cathedral I could see the damage done to the, done to the, one of the spires. We eventually reached Dulag Luft and I was there until about the 8th I think. Oh [pause] I just forget. We eventually went by train. Cattle truck. It took about three days, two days to get across Germany to Nuremberg which is just north of Dresden. And I think I arrived, we arrived [pause] we arrived the 28th of November. Registered with the Red Cross then and given a number. Once you had that number there you were under the jurisdiction of the Red Cross. Anything could have happened between Dulag Luft and prison camp. Every time there was an air raid on then the trains were shunted into the siding. I was there too. We were duly photographed and that identity card, I’ll tell you about that later on, we acquired after the liberation by the Russians from the, from the German headquarters. That’s it. And fingerprints. All the information. That’s my air force number 1556756. That’s cleaned up, shaved, in the prison camp. A little — and the number.
DM: 203 263602.
PL: 263602.
DM: How did you feel when you arrived at the prison camp?
PL: Pardon?
DM: What were your thoughts when you got to the camp? What did you think of it?
PL: Well, on the camp it was at night because it was no — we had no idea where we were really until we went through the gates. Well, we were in prison camp then. The next day we were deloused. Hair all shaved off by the Russian prisoners. They were operating the machines. Like a horse trimmer. Deloused. And allocated a camp. While I was in the camp I was apprenticed. Trained at, being apprentice trained at the time. I managed to get a drawing board and information from the Red Cross through their education scheme. And during, in ’44 when, when there was a typhus, typhus epidemic in the camp we were, we were confined to our barracks. Barracks. Now, if you look at that there there’s the RAF compound consisting of four huts. Two hundred men in each side. A wood built hut there. Centre ablutions. And another two hundred odd. So there was four hundred in each. Aircrew. Locked up. The gate, the gate into the camp was there. Right. Well, we were moved from there out to hut sixteen. I think.
DM: That was originally the French and Dutch compound.
PL: Yeah.
DM: Yeah.
PL: They wanted that for, for a different nationality. So, we were there ‘til the 23rd of November. Out on parade. Appell as they called it. No guards there to take the count. They’d left the camp the night before. And the next thing we saw the Russian cavalry coming up that road from Neuburxdorf. They came up there. Cossacks. Run to the front gate which was there and gone up straight down the main roadway. Back out again and off. That was it. So we were left in the charge of the senior British officer then for him to negotiate with the Russians. Now, the Russians held us in that, in the camp apart from allowing us to go out for foraging to get food. And the army were quite good at that. They brought back fresh meat and food. Chickens. And of course it didn’t do us any good because we couldn’t eat fresh meat. We’d been, we had been without parcels for about — well we were down to one parcel between twenty. So we were short of food. Eventually the Russians said, ‘Well, we’ll march you down to Riesa,’ which is a town quite near the camp. Near Dresden, ‘And we will billet, we’re going to billet you there until we come to some agreement with the Americans.’ They might have been holding ex-POWs as bargaining power with the Americans. A Canadian chap and I we decided we weren’t going to Riesa and we made our own way and stayed for a couple of nights with a German family enroute to the River Elbe. We stayed with this German family and after being in a prisoner of war camp for two years they gave us a bed for two nights with a white, the first time I’d ever seen a duvet. That was the German nightwear you know. And during, during the time there we were visited once or twice with the, with the Russian soldiers looking for female members of their family. We said goodbye to them but with regret because they wanted us living with them as a protection. We eventually got to the Elbe. And on a tributary of the Elbe at a place called Oschatz near Torgau. That’s where the Americans were based. We crossed the river there on a pipe bridge to the other side and the Germans were waiting there. Russian trucks were waiting there to take us to our camp at Halle. They’d captured an airfield in Halle. And from there they fed us and of course I listened to Churchill’s big speech on the, on the radio. And they flew us to Brussels. And then from Brussels to Cosford. At Cosford in [pause] near Wolverhampton. We were debriefed there. Medicals. Kitted out and sent home on leave. I duly arrived home at — mother didn’t know my whereabouts at all and she just said, ‘Come away,’ and that was it. Back home in Falkirk.
DM: You were going to say how you got hold of your identity card. Your prison identity card.
PL: I’ll tell you about that. After the, two or three days after the Russians when the camp had settled down we, one or two of us went up to the commander. Commander [unclear] Got into the filing cabinets. Found out where our papers were and we all — that’s when I got my, got the original. And that’s a copy of it. The original. It was all information of —that’s where I lived in Falkirk. Next of kin, identity and air force number. Shot down. They’ve got it down as Essen on the 23rd of the 11th ’43. That’s a photograph of that with the identity. And that’s the negative. When I got back I corresponded with a Mike Garbett. He was author of Lancaster 1, 2 and 3. He he got in touch with me to relate to him an experience. So I set all that down and sent it. Sent it off to him. So that’s really an account of what happened. That’s it. And he acknowledged, he acknowledged it. As I say when I was in the camp that’s the, that’s the original plan of the camp I drew when we were in quarantine. And I’ve based the, I shan’t get that out because it’s getting a bit fragile now.
DM: I can imagine.
PL: This is a small print of the — print of the camp.
[pause]
DM: Did anybody escape from the camp while you were there?
PL: Well, we had an Escape Committee but they weren’t very happy about escaping. The only means we had of escaping were the army. There was, the army POWs who were sent out on commando, work parties. And they devised a scheme where an army man would change places with an RAF man. Right. And when they went out in the working party the RAF man devised a way of escaping. It wasn’t very successful. Always came back into the camp. Two weeks in solitary. Punishment. But the way, the way I drew this at the time paced out all the perimeter lighting. About fifty yards between each column. That gave me the scale of the camp. And as I say when we were there last in April for five days we got a copy of [pause] a copy of this.
DM: This is when you went back to the camp.
PL: Back on a visit.
DM: Yeah.
PL: On a display. On a display board. P Liddle. Because after the war, after the release [pause] there’s a book on there. The visit. If you’d like to have a look at that.
DM: So you went back to the Stalag.
PL: Yeah.
DM: In April 2015.
PL: Went back on a Monday.
DM: Right. How many of you went? Can you remember?
PL: Well —
DM: Actual. Actual POWs. Obviously you had family and friends.
PL: I think I was the only one then.
DM: Really.
PL: Yeah. Guest of honour.
DM: Yeah. I bet.
PL: If you like. That’s my son and grandson. They were, they were, when we [pause] that’s one of the organisers. [unclear] Berlin. To the Imperial War Graves.
DM: Yeah. Cemetery.
PL: [unclear]
DM: Yes.
PL: Have you been there?
DM: No. I haven’t. No.
PL: That’s the Olympiad 1936. That’s inside the [pause] Soviet War Memorial in Berlin.
DM: How did the Russians treat, how did the Russians treat you when you were with the Russians?
PL: The Russians?
DM: Yeah.
PL: You mean the Germans?
DM: No. The Russians. When you, when the Russians liberated the camp.
PL: Oh. They were off.
DM: They didn’t sort of bother with you.
PL: No.
DM: At all.
PL: In fact the Russians prisoners of war as soon as the Russians, the Cossacks arrived they were off. Just knocked the fences down and went off.
DM: Went off.
PL: Where they went?
DM: No.
PL: No idea.
DM: And the Germans. How did they treat you while you were there? Were they fair do you think?
PL: They were fair because we didn’t have to go in working parties. That’s the main gate. Stalag IV-B. There’s a party going out now. A working party. But being senior NCOs we didn’t have to do work.
DM: Were you a warrant officer by then?
PL: No. I was a warrant officer when I got back [laughs] Six months Colditz. That was two of the members. Well, that’s a Memorial in the camp. No. In Neuburxdorf. It was built by the French POWs. Well France.
DM: So, what, how many nationalities were there in your camp? Obviously Australians, Canadians and British and New Zealanders.
PL: And there were Serbians and later on there was a Romanian. They were German allies at the time but they capitulated in ’44 and they brought all the officers in to the camp as POWs. And during the time they were there I acquired through the, through a middle man, a dealer if you like, a Polish Jew. Aye. His name was Novokowski. I remember to this day. He came to me one day and says, ‘I’ve got a pair of binoculars. Romanian officer’s binoculars.’ He said, ‘And I could get you a luger as well if you want. If you want it.’ he says, ‘I want three hundred. Three hundred cigarettes.’ Of course cigarettes were legal tender.
DM: Yeah.
PL: And I was quite fortunate in getting a regular supply from the squadron. So I’d still got them. I’ve got the, I had these binoculars buried in my bunk somewhere. Under the floorboards at the time. Took a brick out and put it under the floor. And I was able to keep the rest of the lads [pause] what was happening with the American Air Force raids. It was very helpful that. My son, my grandson, we laid a wreath at the, at the Memorial. Now, only those who have been imprisoned should talk to us about freedom. That’s the trans, my grandson translated that. That was left on. And that there, that little obelisk, holding up your original drawing. After the war, after the release of the camp the Russians converted the, refurbished the camp as a camp for dissidents for, ‘til 1949.
DM: Right.
PL: They electrified and boarded up all of the fences so as they couldn’t contact the outside world. We had a piper in the party. And that’s me actually sitting on the foundation.
DM: Of the hut.
PL: Of the hut.
DM: Of your hut. What happened to your twin brother? Did he survive the war?
PL: He, he finished up flying with the Second Tactical Air Force at Lubeck on rocket firing Typhoons. He survived the war. He died two years ago.
DM: Right. Was he a pilot or a navigator?
PL: He was a pilot.
DM: A pilot. Yeah.
PL: He was a pilot. He got right through the war without a scratch. That’s a display board in the camp. There was a section there where my plan was stuck up.
DM: So I assume — was the camp in old East Germany or was it in West Germany?
PL: It was in old east Germany.
DM: It was. Yeah. So you obviously wouldn’t have been able to visit it until after.
PL: Aye. Yeah.
DM: Right.
PL: And after, after the, where you crossed the River Elbe. That’s it.
DM: So how did you get across the river?
PL: I went across a pipe bridge. Bridges were down. Torgau and Oschatz. [pause] My —
DM: Can you remember when you were demobbed?
PL: Well, after my two weeks leave, repatriation leave, I could have. I could have come straight out of the air force. Ex-POW. But I opted for an extra six months to get back into civilian life after. After the two years I wanted to get myself acclimatised. So I was posted down to De Havillands and they gave me a job in a drawing office then to get used to. And after six months I came out and had an interview for a job with United Steel Companies in Sheffield. And my intended wife lived in Sheffield. She was an ex-wireless op. She corresponded with me while I was in Germany but her letters always came back with holes in them, you know. She told me too much about [laughs] And my, we were [pause] that’s a, a Dutchman did a panoramic view over there as a painting and made it available. You can see the similarity as the — to my drawing. What else have I got to show you? [pause – pages turning] Now, when the camp was being used as a camp for dissidents about seven thousand were buried in a mass grave. Never heard of again. No names. And this is a Memorial that the families erected.
[pause]
DM: Did you, was it four of your crew that survived?
PL: Pardon?
DM: Was it four of your crew that survived the —
PL: Four.
DM: Yeah.
PL: Aye. Well —
DM: Did you meet up with any of them?
[pause]
PL: I’ll tell you about them.
DM: Right.
PL: But I’ll just put these away. Years ago.
DM: So the —
PL: Ten years ago I got a letter from Australia.
DM: Right.
PL: It was from the nephew of the pilot. His mother was the pilot’s sister and she had handed all the information to her son who was flying with Quantas Airways at the time. And during one of his trips to Luxembourg they decided to do a bit of research and find the [unclear] I was going to show you that. I’ve got his letters. I’ve got his letters somewhere.
DM: You didn’t meet any of the crew while you were a prisoner.
PL: Pardon?
DM: You didn’t meet up with any of your —
PL: Oh yes.
DM: You did.
PL: They actually landed in our, the same camp.
DM: So all four of you were in the same camp.
PL: Yeah.
DM: Right.
PL: Well, used to [unclear] anyway this Grant, the pilot from Australia he researched the, found where the actual crash site was.
DM: Right.
PL: Mollen. He sent me this. That’s Mollen [pause] that’s — he researched all this and the crash was at Bahnhof. That’s a German station at Mollen.
DM: A station. Yeah.
PL: And at [pause] He spoke to a woman in there. She was sixteen when the plane came down. She remembers it when she was a girl. And in 2006 my son and I he was, he was a Porsche enthusiast at the time. He was driving a 911 and he bought a car. A Boxster S. He said, ‘We’ll take it to Germany, Peter and visit the — ' I had the information from the pilot.
DM: The crash site.
PL: He said we’ll go and visit that. And so we went there. Actually went to the site but the woman that lived there she was on holiday so we didn’t see her. But then from there we went to Reichswald. To the Imperial War Graves are. [pause] The pilot, the two gunners. That’s there and the pilot is there. Three men. Three of them they were re-interred at Reichswald near Arnhem.
DM: Right.
PL: So we went to visit that. The Australian pilot, Grant Worthington, he told us about where the graves were and he was really surprised. His one remark was about it was, about it was no signs of graffiti at all. It was designed by a British architect. Very moving really. There’s the Boxster I went in outside the station house. That’s where the plane came down. Near the Bahnhof. That’s the station house.
DM: Right.
PL: There’s the railway and it was near. It was on that road. The crash site and he’s put a plaque on there somewhere. We didn’t see it but we — no time you know. But these are different. That’s, that’s the obelisk at the camp there.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Interview with Peter Liddle
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
David Meanwell
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-11-30
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
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Sound
Identifier
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ALiddlePAF161130, PLiddlePAF1601
Conforms To
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Pending review
Pending revision of OH transcription
Format
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00:48:52 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
Peter Liddle was living in Falkirk when he and his twin brother both volunteered for the RAF. Peter became a bomb aimer and was posted to 460 Squadron at RAF Binbrook. He was shot down and as he was descending by parachute he could see his burning aircraft and at least three other parachutes coned by searchlights. Peter became a prisoner of war at Stalag 4B.
Contributor
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Julie Williams
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
Canada
Germany
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
Germany--Berlin
Germany--Oberursel
Ontario
Scotland--Falkirk
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1943-11
460 Squadron
aircrew
bale out
bomb aimer
Dulag Luft
final resting place
Fw 190
memorial
Operational Training Unit
prisoner of war
RAF Binbrook
RAF Lichfield
searchlight
shot down
training
Wellington
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/1054/11432/AOttewellJA161230.1.mp3
ed6d965b6a00fedce14849a82f016376
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
Ottewell, John Alan
J A Ottewell
Description
An account of the resource
An oral history interview with Flying Officer John Alan Ottewell DFM (1582251, 191334 Royal Air Force). He flew operations as a navigator with 7 and 115 Squadrons.
The collection was catalogued by IBCC Digital Archive staff.
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-12-30
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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Ottewell, JA
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
Text transcribed from audio recording or document
DB: This, this is an interview with John Alan Ottewell in Downend Bristol on the 30th of December at 1445 hours. John can you tell me a little about your childhood and why you decided to join the RAF?
JO: Well, I was always interested in aircraft. Built model aeroplanes as a lad and joined the, what was the precursor to the ATC, the Air Defence Cadet Corp. Rose to the dizzy rank of sergeant. And signed on for the air force when I was eighteen. Call up papers at eighteen and went to London to, in the RAF pool which was based in Lord’s Cricket Ground. And next door to Lord’s Cricket was a huge garage which was the equipment centre. And in Regent’s Park are huge blocks of flats which were the, where everybody was sleeping and eating and so on. And I was there for about three weeks under what was called the PNB scheme. I’m sure you’ve heard of that. Pilot, navigator, bomb aimer. And I was then sent, having been kitted out with the uniform and marched about a bit and taught a few things I went to Derby, Burnaston to fly Tiger Moths and be sorted out as to whether I was going to be pilot, navigator or bomb aimer. And while I was there we stayed at Repton School which was pretty sparse there. There was no heating and it was winter. But I didn’t go solo in the twelve hours allocated. Nearly went but not quite and so I was posted as a navigator. And I went then down to Babbacombe for — here’s a picture of it look. You can see where I was. At the, now this was in a, in a hotel. We were stationed in various hotels in Babbacombe and I was in one called The Downs. There’s one. That’s still there today. And the Sefton is still there but it’s completely different. It’s been rebuilt. And while we were there we were doing exercises one Sunday afternoon on Oddicombe Beach and Babbacombe was attacked by a lone raider. Well, there were actually five lone 190s came over in different parts of the south coast and one came over Babbacombe. It let its bomb go as it crossed the coast. One bomb went, the left hand bomb went through our billet, the Downs Hotel and took a lot of my gear away because it was, we were in an upper floor. We were on the, we were on the beach in in PT kit and the other one hit St Mary Church and killed twenty four people of which there was a local orphanage. There were four teachers and twenty children and I’ve got the cuttings in here if they’re of interest to you. You can take a picture of them. So we were marched up. Well, while we were on the beach. It was a lovely day and suddenly paper fluttering down on the beach was pages from bibles and hymnbooks. We were marched back up and then, by which time all the rescue people had been in the church and got the bodies out but we were employed to go through the rubble to see whether there was anything of significance, you know buried or anything. And a couple of pictures of that in there. And strangely enough one of the four teachers had the same name, surname as myself but I’ve never been able to find out whether she was related. Have you Chris? Have you?
CO: No.
JO: No. You haven’t. So, anyway I passed out of there and went up to, we went to Heaton Park in Manchester which was a holding unit. And friends went off to Canada and USA and I happened to go to Bishops Court in Northern Ireland. Did the navigation training there and on the way back there was a huge storm and we were sitting in the boat for forty eight hours because it couldn’t dock in, in Stranraer. And they didn’t have much in the way of food so we were eating ship’s biscuits which were sort of emergency rations. They made plenty of tea though so we were alright there. And then where did I go then? I’ve got to have a think now. From there I went down to one of the, my memory’s going, near Banbury. Old Warden. Is it Old Warden? Oh, is that my phone or yours?
CO: Mine.
JO: I went to Old Warden on Wellingtons and we flew around. We, well the first thing we did we were all assembled in one of the large hangars. About twenty pilots and twenty navigators and forty bomb aimers err forty gunners and told to form up into crews. Which somehow we did. I don’t quite know how it worked but eventually we did and then we flew the Wellington as a crew and spent, well a few weeks there and then we went to the Heavy Conversion Unit at Feltwell which flew Stirlings. The Stirling was a very nice aeroplane but it was all electric and if the undercarriage failed, for example it was about six hundred winds of a very short handle to get it down. But the, usually the flight engineer carried a half a penny in his pocket so the copper of the half penny he could put in the fuse slot and it wouldn’t blow [laughs] So then the undercarriage would come down and lock. And the Stirling was a very nice aeroplane. And then eventually I went to Witchford on the Lancaster so you can stop it [laughs]
[recording paused]
JO: Well we started operating at Witchford. Let me just have a look and see. I’ve got my logbook here somewhere.
[recording paused]
JO: Switch it on again. We started ops at, at Witchford, bombing Northern France to help the invasion. Caen and places like that. And then we, after three or four ops we did a very long one to Stettin in Poland. Nine hours forty. Which is the absolute limit of what a Lancaster would do. About ten hours. They had, from memory they had two thousand one hundred and fifty four gallons of fuel and they used a gallon a nautical mile. So it gives you the range. And Stettin was just getting to the limit of that. What else? So then, then after that we began to do support for the invasion. Did a Le Havre. Oh. Wait a minute. Just looking back in my book here we did an op to Kiel when we were hit by flak. Oh yes. Charlie Sergeant was sitting above that and it hit the port side of the aircraft. Got the controls to the elevators and damaged the controls to the elevators and cut the controls to the rudders and cut off all the hydraulics so the, the turrets wouldn’t work because they’re driven off the port inboard. And so that was interesting. But we were able to land by using differential power. And then we went on various ops. And I got the job at Witchford of making a radar map. H2S had, we’d just changed the H2S from ten centimetres which was not, not very clear because it’s the wavelength was ten centimetres so anything smaller wouldn’t show up. We went to three centimetre H2S and a tremendous improvement in the quality of the pictures. And I did a trip out to the Ruhr and took pictures of the cathode ray tube of the H2S outlining, showing where the different things you could take bearings on. Lakes, rivers, things like that. And that was put up in the crew room at Witchford and was there when the station closed I was told. You know, when, at the end of the war. So you might find somebody who remembers that. You may [laughs] It’s possible. Anyway, there we are. So, we did, we did altogether I think twenty nine ops at Witchford and then we went to Warboys. We were asked if we would go to be Pathfinders. And Donald Bennett was after the, what he supposed were the top crews. I suppose we’d survived and qualified for that. And three of the crew left. A Canadian bomb aimer and the flight engineer and, and one of the others went. And we got a new, a new crew or new members and we then went to, from having trained at Warboys we went to Oakington with 7 Squadron. And there we are. Ok. Well, Witchford of course was a temporary wartime station. Nissen huts heated by a single coke stove in the middle and the Nissen hut held two crews normally. And you had to get enough coke and coal to keep the stove going to keep the thing warm because obviously as fast as you put heat in it went out and there was many a night foray to the local coal dump to [laughs] to top up the thing. Hopefully unseen by the guards but I think they turned a blind eye. Whereas when we got to Oakington we had a pre-war modern station. We had a batman. I think I had a batwoman but to look after, she took care of about four officers and it was very very comfortable. And also at Oakington was a Mosquito squadron and they were training. They were an interesting squadron. They were training to toss bombs up tunnels. They’d fly towards the tunnel with the bomb, let the bomb go and go up the side of the mountain. A very dangerous game. And they practiced on Oakington because they put some hoops from the Nissen huts to give them the, where the tunnel entrance was. I mean obviously there was no mountain or anything and it was a fairly safe procedure but they did their practice there. And we also while we were there obviously there was the invasion going across the Rhine and gliders were being towed across. And while we were there one of them landed at Oakington and about, the soldiers all dashed out ready with their guns to go into action only to find they were in the middle of an RAF airfield. Which was, we thought was amusing. They did not. Well, then we were posted to St Eval in Cornwall to join the Tiger Force. Now, the Tiger Force was going to help bomb Japan. And the problem is with the two thousand mile range on a Lancaster and Vancouver to Honolulu being two thousand miles we had a problem. How to get the Lancasters into the Japanese war because they couldn’t make it. They didn’t have the Azores and Labrador and things in the way. So we had to wait until they were fitted with a four hundred gallon tank, from memory, in the bomb bay. And that was fitted by people who were flight refuelling. And on Wikipedia there’s something about it said they hoped to use flight refuelling but of course they didn’t. Flight refuelling didn’t exist as a, as a system. It was just that the flight refuelling were the people who supplied the tankage and the pipes and the pumps and fitted them. And as the aircraft were fitted out they took off and went off and we were number ten. During that time I got some leave and got married. So, so anyway eventually of course the atom bomb was dropped and I think it’s possible if it hadn’t been dropped I wouldn’t be here because we would have been bombing Japan. And it, I think it saved a lot of lives. But there was an aircraft got as far as Vancouver. And they were, they were, they were scattered and we were just ready to go and the war stopped. So end of story really.
[recording paused]
JO: A very good friend my mother. And she had a daughter. And her daughter was friends with a, with a girl at where she worked who was, eventually became my wife. I was introduced to her by that.
[recording paused]
JO: I was only in it for a couple of years obviously and I joined Transport Command flying, well we had I did a short bit on Warwicks which was a grown up version of the Wellington. But we flew Yorks on, down to Cairo and Gibraltar and all over the place and I finished on those about two or three months before I was due to be demobbed. I was posted to Lyneham and operated in the control tower for a little while. And then in 1947 I was demobbed and we went up to Warton where of course they make the Typhoons today. They had a big hangar full of suits and shoes and suitcases and hats. All made by Montague Burton who you, you really wouldn’t know about I’m sure but they were the, they were the tailors of the time. And the uniform was put in the suitcase and I left and came home. End of that story.
[recording paused]
Right. As I trained as a navigator in the RAF we automatically got what at that time was called a second class navigator’s licence. A civil licence. Like a driving licence. But in order to work in civil aviation like in BOAC or any of the airlines you had to have a first class navigator’s licence. For that you had to go up to London and sit an exam. And in 1947 the winter was very harsh and so I went up to London and stayed in a grotty hotel and sat the exam in my RAF great coat. In a, you know [laughs] Fortunately passed and got a first class thing. Of course one of the things I was able to do was sort of mental arithmetic and things which helped a lot and I got a job with BOAC as it was then and we were based at Hurn. So you went down to Hurn. You were born that winter.
CO: Yes [unclear] cold.
JO: My son was born that winter. We went down to Hurn and we flew from Hurn which was BOAC’s base. London Heathrow didn’t exist. Although there was an airfield there they were, there was tented accommodation for passengers, looking after the passengers. And the aeroplanes were mostly Yorks or converted Lancasters into Lancastrians. And the Lancastrian was a very nice aeroplane in many ways. It had the odd thing of thirteen passengers sitting sideways. One steward and a crew of four I think it was and we flew down to Sydney stopping in Cairo and Delhi and Karachi and Rangoon and all the places on the way. And there was a film made, and I’ve talked to Chris about this, called, “Seventy two hours to Sydney,” which is what the Lancastrian actually did. Three days to Sydney. And we’ve never been able to find it.
CO: No. I’ve searched online. I can’t find it.
JO: And I’m sure it was made for BOAC. Anyway, somebody might turn it up one day. But they wanted to post me to Sydney on flying boats. I did short trips on flying boats. You had to take a special exam because a flying boat when it lands becomes subject to the Admiralty rules and regulations so you have to learn about lights and buoys and all sorts of things. Anyway, they wouldn’t post me down there permanently so I said rather rashly, oh well, goodbye and left BOAC and took a job with Bristol where the flying schools were continuing after the war. Reserved flying schools that is. For the RAF. I got a job there teaching navigation and we had Ansons and Tiger Moths and various other odd aeroplanes. I think we had an Oxford as well. And one Sunday morning we went into work and they said the flying school is shut. It closed down like that. Without warning. We were given a month’s notice and that was it. Now, you couldn’t imagine that happening today but this is in 1949. And so I thought oh I’d better look for another job. But fortunately they had an order for about a hundred Bristol freighters and they were farming out the delivery of the freighters. And they said well if we’ve got a navigator we’ve got pilots. We’ll deliver them ourselves. And so I sort of fell into a job by sheer luck. And I stayed with them navigating and eventually got a pilot’s licence and flew with them until what was it? 1972, when I sort of retired from flying and took a job as a project manager for developing something called tracked Rapier. The Rapier missile system defends airfields and this was a Rapier missile system developed for Iran on a, an American tank as it were. And unfortunately before it could be properly developed the Shah was deposed and so we had to go and do something else. Anyway, we, I was in, involved in Rapier development until I retired. End of story really.
[recording paused]
JO: I managed to fly in some unusual aircraft. I flew in an aircraft called the Buckmaster which was a two seater trainer for the Brigand. And in the bomb bay of the Buckmaster was fitted a very large combustion heater which was intended to heat the Brabazon. I think it was something, a colossal, like four hundred thousand BTHU. It was a dirty great cylinder. Excuse the word but it was a huge thing and when it lit you heard it. It went vroom. And you know you were sitting with headphones. We did several flights with that because it had to, they didn’t want to start it up on the ground. It had to ignite when you were at altitude to provide heat for the Brabazon which was a vast interior. That was an interesting aeroplane. I had a flight in the Brabazon itself. Took a couple of flights in a Brabazon. We did stalls. It was the most gentle stalling aircraft I ever flew in. It just sort of sighed and went down at about ninety five knots. It just went [unclear] like that. Very gentle. And that was interesting. And then I got involved in delivering freighters. They lost a couple of freighters. The crews did. One was, went down in the Lyme Bay when they were doing single engine climbs and nobody could explain it although there was a sailor on the conning tower of a submarine said he saw something fall off. But that was as much as we had. And then there was a nasty Avro Tudor aircrash at Llandow in Wales. And there was a freighter airborne doing the same thing and the chap went over to have a look at the crash site. And then he did a single engine climb and the tail, the fin collapsed. And of course the thing spins in then and they knew what it was. And they also lost freighters, a couple of freighters when the wing skin fell off. The top, the top wing skin. When they were taken out to Africa to fly, very bumpy conditions and the wings are flexing the rivets fatigued and eventually like undoing a stitch they undid. And then the thing did that. And they lost a couple like that. But all these things are taken care of, hopefully, in modern aeroplanes. We hope.
CO: Yeah.
JO: And then I, we did a lot of work on the Britannia. Chris just reminded me of one we did. We, it had engine trouble because the engines in the Britannia had jet engines, turbo props. But there’s something called reverse flow and the air comes in the wrong end and goes around and comes back out the back. And they used to ice up in certain conditions. If you were flying in cloud like well there wasn’t any and there was some thin cloud earlier. And the Met people, we’d asked the Met office how much water content was for cubic metre so that we could calculate, our boys could calculate how much heat was in the ice to get rid of it. And the Met people said, I’ve forgotten the numbers now but it was something if they might have said say a hundred grams per cubic metre and when we went out there and actually measured it and we had devices for catching the stuff it was nearly four times as much. So the amount of heat you had to put in of course goes up proportionately. And eventually we solved the problem but BOAC by then were concerned with having their 707s and the Britannia never really made it. The air force used it a lot and it was put to very good use for the air force. We, we did all sorts of strange things. We had one in Rangoon which overran the runway and it broke at the front passenger door. A big crack right around. And we took him, a chap out there, what’s the name? King wasn’t it? Harold King. Was it?
CO: I don’t know.
JO: Anyway, we took, we took one of our engineers who was renowned for sort of, what you might call make do and mend jobs and we bolted a lot of dexion. You know what dexion is, you know the punch hole thing around the cockpit to support it? Flew back unpressurised about ten thousand feet using thousands of gallons of fuel. Brought it back to Filton where it was repaired. But interesting.
CO: Yeah.
JO: I think that about the end for me. Any more?
CO: Howard Hughes.
JO: I can’t think of anything else.
CO: You flew with Howard Hughes, I think.
JO: Oh yes. I flew with Howard Hughes. Yes. Yes. That was interesting too. We took a Britannia out to, I think we took it to Ottawa. I’d probably find it in my logbook. And we were told Howard Hughes wanted to fly it because he was looking for it for Transworld Airlines and we were parked on the parking bay in the airport. It was the evening time and suddenly a convoy of very posh American shiny cars comes up to the passenger’s steps and parks there. Nothing much happened and a dirty old Ford came and it was filthy. Came and parked by the crew’s steps. One man got out in a shabby old suit wearing sandals and a hat and came up the front steps and said, ‘I’m Howard Hughes. I’m going to fly this aeroplane.’ And he took his shoes off and he got in the aeroplane and off we went and we flew for, I don’t know, an hour, an hour and a half and came back. He was a very good pilot. He really put it through its paces. And he wanted to buy eighty of these aeroplanes. And since we could only make twelve a year it was a fairly forlorn hope. And of course they then bought the Lockheed Electra. But he tried it twice, the Britannia. And he preferred it but we couldn’t make it. So there you are.
[recording paused]
JO: Yeah. We had our regular crew, regular ground crew and regular aircraft which was in the picture there. KO X. And that year the Derby winner was a horse called Tehran and so we called the Lancaster Tehran. I think we had a, I can’t remember whether we had a horse painted on but it was something like that. But when we were with the Pathfinders we didn’t always get the same aircraft. But at Witchford we, we did most of our ops in that. You got used to it you know. They were, they were assembled in different places and they were all slightly different because they were made of parts which were, came from all over the country. And we certainly liked that one and it was a lucky one for us. Can’t tell you any more really.
[recording paused]
JO: Johnny Boden was the pilot and he was the old man. He was twenty four and he’d been in the air force longer than the rest of us. And he’d been training, flying a Wellington and he’d been not exactly demoted but been prevented from being promoted because he’d done some low flying and he hit a, had hit a telegraph pole with the wing of the Wellington and apparently came back to the station, this is a story we heard, with three feet of telegraph pole embedded in the wing. And for that he was not allowed to be promoted and it set back his, he would have been normally commissioned at that, at that age. And he was a great character. He, at the end of the war he took a civil pilot’s licence and flew for Scandi Scandinavian airlines and I think if you look him up on the internet you’ll find there was an incident in Rome where they had a fire on and he succeeded rather well in looking after the aeroplane. But the rest of the crew we were under twenty. Now, can you imagine today where they keep people in school until their eighteen letting them loose on a multi-million pound aeroplane? You know. It’s very strange. And they all came from different parts of the country. So Tommy Lapin was an Irishman from Belfast. Charlie Shepherd was from London. He’s the, he was the mid-upper gunner. Charlie Sergeant was from Abertillery where he still lives. Ken Ackland was from Bridgwater just down the road and I knew him after the war. And who else have we got? Me. With hair [laughs] And where are we? Just trying to look at the thing. I was, have I said oh Al Gilfoyle was a Canadian, from Toronto. And he came over after the war to visit Ken Ackland and we met. And I think that’s all of us isn’t it? Yes. That’s all of us. Ken Ackland sadly died quite a long time ago. I don’t know what happened to Al Gilfoyle . I’m told Charlie Shepherd died. I only knew recently. Chris found out. Died of cancer shortly after the war.
CO: Not Charlie Shepherd. You’ve got. Oh yes. You’re right. Sorry.
JO: Shepherd. Shepherd.
CO: I’m getting confused.
JO: Yeah. Shepherd.
CO: Yes.
JO: London. Cancer.
CO: He died.
JO: Yeah.
CO: The other one is still with us.
JO: And Charlie Sergeant is still alive and Chris is in contact. And we’re sort of indirectly contact. And Tommy Lapin we’ve, he disappeared. We don’t quite know. It’s possible. He could have survived but we don’t know do we?
CO: No.
JO: And Johnny Boden. Well, we don’t know. He was much older. Of course he was three years older. Which doesn’t sound much today but when you’re old it’s a lot. And so I don’t know what happened to him. So that’s all the crew.
Dublin Core
The Dublin Core metadata element set is common to all Omeka records, including items, files, and collections. For more information see, http://dublincore.org/documents/dces/.
Title
A name given to the resource
Interview with John Alan Ottewell
Creator
An entity primarily responsible for making the resource
Denise Boneham
Publisher
An entity responsible for making the resource available
IBCC Digital Archive
Date
A point or period of time associated with an event in the lifecycle of the resource
2016-12-30
Rights
Information about rights held in and over the resource
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Type
The nature or genre of the resource
Sound
Identifier
An unambiguous reference to the resource within a given context
AOttewellJA161230
Conforms To
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Pending review
Format
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00:34:27 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
John Ottewell was a member of the Air Defence Cadet Corps and volunteered for the RAF when he was eighteen. While undertaking initial training he was present when a Fw 190 attacked the town of Babbacombe. He took part in the clean-up at the church where twenty four people had died. After training he flew a tour of operations as a navigator from RAF Witchford before going on to a second tour with Pathfinders from RAF Oakington. Flew twenty nine operations on the same Lancaster, named after a racehorse, and remembers some of them: over Northern France in support of the invasion; a nine hour flight to Stettin; being hit by anti-aircraft fire over Kiel. Recounts being assigned to the Pathfinder force and then joining the Tiger Force. Mentions a Mosquito squadron at Oakington trained to drop bombs inside tunnels. Tells of his life after the war, working in civilian aviation, teaching navigation in flying schools, then developing missile systems and gives a detailed account of an encounter with Howard Hughes. Describes his fellow crew members. After the war he had the opportunity to fly in a number of aircraft including the Britannia and Buckmaster.
Contributor
An entity responsible for making contributions to the resource
Julie Williams
Peter Schulze
Spatial Coverage
Spatial characteristics of the resource.
France
Great Britain
England--Cambridgeshire
England--Devon
England--Norfolk
Temporal Coverage
Temporal characteristics of the resource.
1944
7 Squadron
aircrew
bombing
Fw 190
H2S
Heavy Conversion Unit
Lancaster
Lancastrian
Mosquito
navigator
Normandy campaign (6 June – 21 August 1944)
Pathfinders
RAF Feltwell
RAF Oakington
RAF Witchford
Stirling
Tiger force
training
York
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/167/2348/SAllenDJ1880966v10003.2.jpg
c95cff407f182182118c2119d45377ca
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
Allen, Derrick
Derrick Allen
D J Allen
Description
An account of the resource
75 items. The collection covers the career of Flight Sergeant Derrick John Allen (1880966 Royal Air Force) who was a mid-upper gunner on 467 Royal Australian Air Force Squadron at RAF Waddington in 1944-45. Collection contains his logbook, Royal Air Force documentation, notes on air gunners course and photographs of various aircrew. Collection also contains maps and photographs covering the loss of his Lancaster near Spa in Belgium from which he successfully bailed out on 2 November 1944. There is also an oral history interview with his family.
The collection has been loaned to the IBCC Digital Archive for digitisation by Judy Hodgson 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
2015-08-30
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Allen, DJ
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The last flight of Lancaster DV 369 (R ) on 2/3rd November
My memories of this trip now rather faded over the years started like most did on the modern gunnery section crew room with the cryptic message War tonight chalked on the board.
After briefing we learned the target was to be Dusseldorf which at that time was 50-60 miles from the American front line positions.
The met forecast some cloud cover enroute but clear over the target area. ETA was I believe about one hour after midnight.
We had a good trip out and bombed very successfully, with very little cloud, and had just turned off target area and set course for base at about 17,000ft when a gaping hole was shot in the under belly of out Lanc, about a yard away from the Mid upper gun position which I was of course occupying at the time.
A german [sic] night fighter had spotted our engine exhausts and fired cannon shells in to our one blind spot, the under belly of the fuselarge [sic].
A FWI90 then appeared on the port quarter and we exchanged shots with my rear gunner and myself both giving him the works, but in the battle we lost one of our tail fins and the port engine was also hit and on fire.
The night fighter broke off the attack, possibly damaged and we were left alone in a very badly damaged aircraft rapidly losing height.
Our skipper Les Landridge gave us the order to bale out, and as our bomb aimer/w operator Flight Engineer and Navigator prepared to jump, our rear gunner Bill Lemin shouted over the intercom that his turret doors were jammed, and the skipper asked me to go back and help him.
On getting out of my gun position I realised the extent of the damage to the fuselage and my parachute had dropped off the turret step when it always hung on the floor close to the hole.
Having clipped my chute on I made my way aft pausing to open the reef door escape hatch, and I then forced the turret doors and Bill was able to get out and we started to move towards the rear door.
All this time of course Les had been wrestling with the controls up front, the crew having baled out at high level.
At this point the old Lancaster went in to a spin, flattening both of us against the rear fuselage. Then she broke in half at the spot where the hole had been torn in her and about the last thing I remember is floating face down and watching a dark mass of earth and trees coming up to meeet [sic] me, and when I recovered my senses I was hanging in the branches of a tree.
The Lancaster was blazing away in the next field, I got out my harness and slipped down the tree trunk to be met by a herd of cattle and I beat a hasty retreat over a small hedge.
It was by this time about 2AM and bright moonlight, having no idea where we had crashed I thought best to get away from the blazing aircraft, so I headed for an old outbuil-ding [sic] at the bottom of the garden to a bungalow.
As I sat in the potting shed I could hear dogs barking and a lot of activity and shouting some of which I decided was American, so I then walked down to a bend in the road where I was pleased to give myself up to an American GI leaning over a gate I was then reunited with the rest of the crew and I then learned of the death of both Les Lendridge and Bill Lemin whose bodies were only a hundred yards from my tree.
As a matter of interest most aircrew were a superstitious lot, and the carrying of good luck charms on aircraft was very common, but taking on a spare crew man when some one was sick was really tempting fate.
Our rear gunner that night was a spare bod who had never flown with us before, our regular rear gunner Bert Davis being unfit, who has it happened was shot down himself a few weeks later flying with another crew and taken prisoner of war.
After we were flown back to London from Brussells I was passed medically fit again to fly and after 21 days leave I joined [undecipherable] D.F.C. crew to finish the war
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Title
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The last flight of Lancaster DV396(B)
Description
An account of the resource
Derrick Allen's account of being shot down 2/3 November 1944. After a successful attack on Dusseldorf, the Lancaster was severely damaged by a night fighter. Goes on to describe battle with FW 190 and and order to abandon aircraft. Before bailing out Derrick Allen goes to the rear to free rear gunner from jammed turret. Aircraft explodes and he finds himself on parachute in tree. Describes meeting rest of crew, learning that pilot and rear gunner have been killed. Remarks that taking spare bod rear gunner, who had never flown with crew before was considered bad luck.
Creator
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Derrck J Allen
Format
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One typewritten page
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
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SAllenDJ1880966v10003
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Australian Air Force
Temporal Coverage
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1944-11-02
1944-11-03
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Contributor
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Claire Monk
467 Squadron
bale out
crash
Fw 190
Lancaster
shot down
superstition
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/261/3407/AGeogheganWT160706.1.mp3
faf838f500bf258d83db664b59725576
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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Geoghegan, William T
William T Geoghegan
W Geoghegan
William Geoghegan
Description
An account of the resource
One oral history interview with William Geoghegan (424638 Royal Australian Air Force).
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
Date
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2016-07-06
Rights
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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Geoghegan, WT
Transcribed audio recording
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Transcription
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DG: This interview is being conducted for the International Bomber Command Centre. My name is Donald Gould and I’m interviewing Bill Geoghegan at his home in North Curl Curl. A Sydney suburb. How old are you please, Bill?
WG: Ninety six.
DG: And where were you born?
WG: In Sydney.
DG: What, what did you parents do, Bill?
WG: My father was, as far as I can remember he was a wharf manager for a shipping company called Williamson. He was, he was a good athlete. He was written up, when he died, in the paper as being a pioneer of rugby league and he also in swimming. That was Australia against America in one stage. I haven’t got the complete details.
DG: Where did you go to school?
WG: I started off in Leichhardt at a school called Orange Grove Public School.
DG: And what, what did you enjoy doing at school? What were your favourite subjects?
WG: English and maths.
DG: And how old were you when you left school? Do you remember? Oh well it doesn’t matter.
WG: I think I was, I think I was fourteen because things were pretty bad at the time. I had wanted to go on and become a doctor but I had to leave school because the aftermath of the depression.
DG: Oh yes. Yeah. Well where —?
WG: I did three years at Stanmore High School.
DG: And where were you, or at what stage of life were you at, do you remember, when the war broke out?
WG: Yeah. At Bondi.
DG: And what, do you remember how old you were?
WG: Yeah. I think the war broke out in September ’39 and that was the same year as I turned twenty.
DG: Right.
WG: So I was twenty.
DG: So when you, when you left school. Well, obviously when you left school that was before the war started?
WG: Yes.
DG: I’m just a bit. I’m a bit — ok. So you were twenty when the war broke out.
WG: Yeah. Well I’m not too sure.
DG: No.
WG: It would just be a week or two in it.
DG: Ok. Yes. Yeah. But near. Ok. And did you, did you think, when it first broke out did you think about going to the war? Or what were your thoughts about what you might do?
WG: Well the war broke out in 1939, September. So in October the same year I enlisted in the RAAF but they wrote me a letter and said that they weren’t able to take me at the time and they would get in touch when they were ready. But as time went on and I hadn’t heard from them so I joined the AIF. And I spent a year in the artillery unit in the AIF before I received a notification from the RAAF that they were ready to take me into the air force. So they demobilised me, I think is probably the word, from the army and I went to Bradfield Park.
DG: Why did you, why did you, your first idea was that you wanted to join the air force. Why? Why did you want to join the air force as opposed to the army or the navy?
WG: I guess the general concept of what I thought I’d like doing.
DG: And when [pause] did you have, did you have anything in mind. When you joined the air force did you have in mind what you might like to do?
WG: In the air force?
DG: Yes.
WG: Yes. Yeah. I thought I’d like to be a fighter pilot.
DG: Oh right. And did that eventuate?
WG: No.
DG: No.
WG: I went to, I went to Temora and I did a short course on Tiger Moths [unclear] and I went past the stage of doing aerobics and what they call circle, circuits and bumps. And I was asked to go to the COs office one day and he said they were transferring me to navigating school. So I said, ‘Well my instructor told me that I’d done very well in the flying. So he said, ‘Oh well, we’ll leave it for a couple of weeks.’ And the same thing happened a couple of weeks after. Anyhow. the flight lieutenant instructor volunteered to drive me to the station and he said. ‘The only thing you did wrong was previously doing too well in your exam at navigation.’ So —
DG: Oh [laughs]
WG: I’ve since then read in a book a few years back that this was what was happening. Everyone wanted to be pilot.
DG: Yes.
WG: So they wanted other people in other positions in the plane and this was what happened. So that was something that went amiss.
DG: So you went. You said you went to Bradfield. And what happened there? What did they — what did you do up there?
WG: Well that was the Initial Training School.
DG: Right.
WG: And then, after that, after I left Temora I went back there, and from there we were shipped to Canada. Two of my friends and myself. And this was important. Well it’s not important. But we were the only three that didn’t go when the ship left. We’d all gone out together on a Saturday night to the [unclear] theatre.
DG: Oh yes.
WG: And we all had girlfriends and we went out at the interval. And while we were out at the interval they put up on the screen that all members of [pause] I think it was thirty five, I’m not sure, course at Bradfield were to return immediately. When we got back on the Monday morning the guard said, ‘The CO wants to see you three.’ And we found out that everyone had gone and we were the only ones left. So from there we went to Edmonton in Canada.
DG: Right.
WG: And I think I was there a bit over twelve months before graduating. I think it was as sergeant or [pause] flight sergeant. I think.
DG: And so Bradfield, at Edmonton was all your navigation.
WG: That’s right.
DG: All for navigation training.
WG: Yes.
DG: How long were you doing that at Edmonton?
WG: Well a bit over twelve months.
DG: Right.
WG: Yes.
DG: What sort, what did it involve? What practical exercises? What sort of practical work did you do in navigation?
WG: Well mainly obtaining a fix.
DG: Right.
WG: Every ten minutes. In an aircraft the course is set on the instruments that you’re going on. That’s the, but then that isn’t your actual position in the air because of wind blowing.
DG: Yes.
WG: It’s important that every ten minutes you find a fix. Connect it up with your actual air course and find out the direction of the wind and the speed of the wind. So you have to correct that. You give the instructions to the pilot as to the way he should alter course to take advantage of it — that wind.
DG: How did you know of the direction and the speed of the wind to be able to make those changes?
WG: Well, after, for instance in navigation to obtain a fix you had to get a shot on three different places which took time.
DG: Right.
WG: Probably. And then the first two were moved up to the third. That was your ground position.
DG: Right.
WG: Not your air position. It showed your ground position. So in that way you knew just how far you’d strayed off course from, in a certain time.
DG: Right.
WG: This allowed you to figure out the speed of the wind and the direction the wind was coming. Like say that’s your air position. That’s your fix. Then the lines would be drawn between the two and gave you the direction of the wind plus the speed.
DG: A little bit different from GPS that’s used now.
WG: Yes. Yes.
DG: Did, have you, your age this is something that is, that’s something completely different. GPS is something completely different from the sort of. You have, you understand, well, I mean you know what GPS is all about.
WG: Yeah.
DG: And that sort of thing. It must, when you look at that now it it must be very difficult to comprehend.
WG: It’s amazing.
DG: For the change from what was involved in what you did and how I guess it could be so inaccurate sometimes being because it would be hard to get a fix and knowing what wind speeds were. Compared to something now whereas you look at, look at a screen and it shows exactly where you are.
WG: It’s all computerised. Yeah.
DG: Yeah. Yeah. It’s incredible.
WG: But generally the navigation was very accurate.
DG: Was it?
WG: Yeah.
DG: Or you were just a very accurate navigator.
WG: Well that could have been it [laughs]
DG: That could have been. Sounds like it.
WG: Because later on when we got on to ops I don’t think I was ever involved in big raids. You know, like the thousand bomber raids. But wherever we went like I mentioned to you before, Norway for example, I think we used up all our gas. It was a long way and we arrived on target, you know and in the right position without looking for it.
DG: Yeah.
WG: Yeah. So, but then they, they had invented what they called a Gee set which recorded radar findings. But you still had to get a, make a fix as in, as in area.
DG: Did that get you all the way to Norway? Gee.
WG: Yeah.
DG: Ah Right. Because when you were over Germany I believe the Germans could block it couldn’t they?
WG: Yes.
DG: To a certain, to a certain distance.
WG: Not completely though. We were still able to get it.
DG: Oh were you?
WG: Yeah. Like now they’ve got ways of intercepting the radar.
DG: Yeah.
WG: With these stealth planes for example.
DG: Oh yes.
WG: They’ve got some instrument on board. I’m not conversant with it fully but that can counteract it.
DG: Oh I see. Yeah. Now, you, at Edmonton you then went to the UK.
WG: Yes. To West Freugh.
DG: So that was your first base in the UK.
WG: That’s right. Yeah.
DG: Right. And what did you do in West Freugh?
WG: Well we did further training over England in navigation.
DG: Right.
WG: More or less getting used to a different type of plane I suppose. The Anson was, although we had been on Ansons in Canada and then went back on Ansons there. I suppose it involved the different type of terrain and probably a forerunner of the type of thing you would do on operations.
DG: And what —? What, after West Freugh where did you go?
WG: I should have written this down.
DG: Oh that doesn’t matter.
WG: Yeah.
DG: That doesn’t matter.
WG: We went on to Wellingtons. It’ll come to me in a moment. Wellingtons.
DG: Right.
WG: And then that was a bit more advanced to what we’d done on, in the Ansons. And that was a bit more advanced than what we’d done on the, in the Ansons. And then we went on Stirlings and then we went on to — that was a four engine very ungainly bomber. And then we went to Lancaster Finishing School which was, that was pretty dicey in some respects because we sent, they sent us a couple of times out on what they called a diversion and they didn’t explain what it was. I don’t think we asked at the time. But we were up near the border with Holland on our own. We were attacked by two German fighters. One of them was an ME109 and that was coming in from port because they’d got fixed guns and they had to get behind you to shoot you up. So they sent the ME, which was the slower of the two fighters, in and the rear gunner picked it up and he yelled out, ‘Dive port. There’s a ME109,’ and by diving port you increased the arc of the fighter coming in.
DG: Right. Yeah.
WG: And you go in to what they called a corkscrew.
DG: Yeah.
WG: But then half way through going through there he said, ‘Dive starboard there’s a Fokke Wulf coming in from the other side, from starboard.’ [laughs] Anyhow, we got, some or other, we got with just a small amount of damage. We, we got out of it and that was when we got back we found out that a diversion was sending us from, I think it was Lanc Finishing School to, as sort of decoys. When they were sending the main force out they’d sent us up on a diversion to attract fighters before the main force.
DG: Draw the attention.
WG: Caught up. Carrying the bombs.
DG: So was, was that from West Freugh or that was from another —?
WG: No.
DG: That was from another station.
WG: Yeah. Yeah.
DG: Right. When did you or where did you, where did you go then? Where were you stationed permanently?
WG: At Skellingthorpe.
DG: And can you remember when that was? What year? Well what year it was? It doesn’t matter, it’s not important.
WG: I think it was 1944.
DG: Right. And which squadron were you with at, at Skellingthorpe?
WG: 61.
DG: And what was your, can you tell me a little bit about your daily life at the base? What, what happened? Got up in the morning.
WG: Well, looking back I mean it wasn’t a matter of getting up in the morning it was a matter of getting a few hours sleep in the daytime. It was never regular. You’d get, the weather would be too bad so you wouldn’t be going out so you’d get probably a night’s sleep then. But other times you’d be flying all night so you had to sleep during the day. But there wasn’t much rest because in between they would, we would be sent to a bombing range to practice there.
DG: Oh right.
WG: It’s not, [pause] I can’t really remember even getting nights off too much. Occasionally we’d get a night off and we’d go into Lincoln. I think to the Strugglers Inn and have a few beers.
DG: Right.
WG: Yeah. But it wasn’t, it wasn’t a station life. Not like they think the air force is all wine, women and song.
DG: No. If, if you were flying a mission that day. Well, that, presumably that night. When would you find out you were flying a mission? Just find out that morning or would you know the day?
WG: Yeah.
DG: Usually just that same morning.
WG: That day.
DG: Just that day.
WG: We had to go to what they called briefing.
DG: Right.
WG: Which took quite a long time and it mainly involved, I think, well it involved everyone I suppose. I was going to say the pilot and navigator because they gave a hell of a lot of details and so on that the navigator would record at briefing. But then, I’m not too sure about this but I think the whole crew were there and perhaps the wireless operator would be there as well.
DG: Right.
WG: Yeah. The engineer and the gunners. They were probably listening there too although they didn’t have a job to do at briefing.
DG: How many Australians were there? How many Australians were there? Well not how many but were there a lot of Australians at Skellingthorpe?
WG: Not a lot.
DG: No. Of course being RAF it would be mainly —
WG: Well my crew were, we had a Australian pilot, a Canadian navigator
DG: Oh right.
WG: And then the others were English.
DG: Right. Right. How did you all, the different nationalities in a crew like that you’ve obviously got to all get along very well together under a lot of stress and strain how did you all get on with different nationalities. Did you get on pretty well?
WG: Very well I think. Yeah. We were very close. The whole crew. I can’t remember any dissention of any sort, you know. I had the impression that they were all very efficient.
DG: Yes. There was, there was some fellows that had trouble going on a raid or something and they couldn’t go or something and they would accuse them of having a lack of moral fibre.
WG: Yeah LMF.
DG: Yes.
WG: Yes.
DG: Did you? Did you ever have experience with that?
WG: No. Not really. I’d heard of it.
DG: Yes.
WG: But I didn’t know of anyone on my squadron who did that you know.
DG: Did you, did you hear about how they were treated?
WG: Yeah. Well we didn’t, we actually thought that they weren’t treated very well. I mean if your make-up was that way. I mean everyone is different. I mean at times with tiredness and everything else you can probably understand it was pretty easy to think I can’t go on and do my job properly the way I, the way I am mentally. So they informed the CO that they couldn’t go on.
DG: Being honest. They were just being honest. Yes.
WG: Yes.
DG: Yes. Yes. What can you, can you tell me a few of the names of some of the targets that you bombed?
WG: Yeah. Bremen. Nordhausen. I could probably look it up.
DG: Oh that doesn’t matter.
WG: Nordhausen.
DG: You did say you did some bombing over Germany.
WG: Yeah. Yeah.
DG: And you mentioned Norway.
WG: Norway.
DG: You did some. What were you, what did you bomb in Norway?
WG: That was an oil refinery.
DG: Oh right.
WG: And there was only ten Lancasters went, went there.
DG: Right.
WG: Actually there was fourteen. They started with four that had to turn back. And it was a daylight raid. Looking back on it it was probably pretty bit dicey, you know because a few aircraft crossing over enemy territory.
DG: Yes.
WG: But I think the main thing about the raid was that the oil refinery was destroyed without much or at any loss to civilian life up there.
DG: Now some, some of the targets that you’d bomb would probably no doubt be near populated areas.
WG: Yes.
DG: And no doubt bombs would fall on civilians. How did you feel about this sort of thing when you were doing your missions?
WG: Well I don’t [pause] sort of mixed feelings. But I think, well as far as navigator I was so busy the whole time I was in the plane that I didn’t have much time to think about anything else.
DG: Yes.
WG: But looking back on it I think it’s pretty horrendous to know we were dropping people on civilised towns and that and the civilians were getting killed but at the same time I think we had the impression that ok everyone in Germany was in favour of the war when they started off. And they treated people very badly like Auschwitz where they had the camp ovens and all that. And then they started to, they started to go through Europe and then they got to the coast and England wasn’t really prepared at that time.
DG: Yeah. Yeah.
WG: So it was vital that you did the job to stop any more of this happening.
DG: Yes. Yes. How were your nerves? How did you, how did you feel when during just the day at the base? How did you — did you think about, you know your missions or? How did you feel? Because you were doing, you know, a very risky business and yet back there you were in a nice comfortable surroundings. How did you feel?
WG: Alright. As I was saying before it was a pretty busy life and as a navigator I think I probably had to do more on the ground than what the others did.
DG: Right. Yes. Yes.
WG: And my general impression thinking back on it as I do occasionally that most of the time I was too busy and I formed the opinion that it was probably inevitable because I think at the time we were having something like fifty percent casualties that we wouldn’t come back one night. But I thought to myself if I concentrate on doing the very, doing my job the best I can I shouldn’t worry about anything else.
DG: Yes.
WG: It’s something that I’ve been able to use in my life ever since. I mean let’s not worry about something doubtful about in the end but to concentrate on while you’re living. On the situation while you’re living.
DG: Yes. Yeah. That’s, that’s very good. Well then when you were flying how did you feel?
WG: Well, just the same. I was too busy to think about things.
DG: Yes. Yes.
WG: Even when we were attacked. I mean you couldn’t stop what you were doing.
DG: No. No.
WG: And there were different ways of being attacked by fighters, or flak coming up or bombs dropping on you from another aircraft. Although we weren’t, we didn’t have that problem much because we were mainly operating in smaller groups.
DG: Now, just the navigator of course was in his little, his little hutch.
WG: That’s right.
DG: You couldn’t see a thing. You just, I know where you are. Behind the pilot. You were sort of boxed in with your little desk. Walled in. Can’t see a thing what’s going on. Whereas just about everybody else on the aeroplane can what’s going on all the way around.
WG: That’s right.
DG: How did, how did you feel when you were just sitting? Couldn’t see anything. Obviously concentrating on what you were doing. And you had to do that but how did you feel when, that you couldn’t see and you didn’t know what was happening out there?
WG: Yes. Well, I, I can’t remember having even thinking about that because I found to do my job properly I had to concentrate entirely on what I was doing and inevitably from the time we left England to wherever we were going and back again I think you couldn’t take your mind of that. If you were going to get there without using too much fuel.
DG: Yeah.
WG: Would be If you wandered off course and all that. And you had to get there at a certain time like other aircraft. So I really don’t think I had time to think about anything else.
DG: When you were, when you were coming back from a mission did you [pause] you said, you said your navigation was usually pretty good. Did you ever have any experiences where you didn’t quite know where England was and you thought you might —
WG: Not really.
DG: You were pretty right.
WG: Yes.
DG: So when you knew you were flying to England did you ever find that you didn’t land at Skellingthorpe but you landed on a runway of a, in a village nearby by mistake. Did you ever do that?
WG: No. but there was one flight where we wondered if we would make it to Skellingthorpe as we were coming back over the coast of England. And we thought we might have to land at one off the coast because it was all flat country there. It was close to the aerodrome but no we managed to get there.
DG: Yeah.
WG: In one piece.
DG: How many missions did you fly?
WG: I only flew on seven actually.
DG: Right.
WG: Yeah.
DG: Right. Because you would get, when did you, when was your last mission?
WG: I think the last one was the crossing of the Rhine. That was 1945.
DG: Right. Early 1945.
WG: Yeah, well I think it might have been May or something like that.
DG: Right.
WG: Yeah.
DG: Right. When you, did you know that you were flying your last mission? When you were on the mission did you know that was the last or was it just another mission?
WG: Well we knew, we had a fair idea that war was going our way. But the Rhine was quite a major thing because they had, I think they had on the other side of the Rhine they had the German Panzer division like armoured vehicles, tanks and stuff. And for the troops to cross over the Rhine something had to be done about them. And this was one of the targets where we got the congratulations from the prime minister and all that. It was so effective that they got across with something like thirty four casualties, I think. Strangely enough I think I told you about the young person that was giving me that introduction. Her father, no her grandfather was a major in the infantry. While we were bombing they were preparing to cross the river.
DG: Right.
WG: Yeah.
DG: What were you actually bombing? What was the target?
WG: The Panzer divisions and —
DG: Oh yes. Ok. Right.
WG: Yeah.
DG: And that was pretty successful?
WG: Yeah. Very successful.
DG: What height were you bombing to do that?
WG: Oh it was flat and level.
DG: Pretty low.
WG: Possibly about five thousand feet, I think.
DG: Oh that’s pretty, that’s still pretty high to get targets.
WG: It could have been lower but —
DG: Yeah. Oh yes but I mean it wasn’t just at a couple of hundred feet.
WG: No. No. And where [pause] so you were at Skellingthorpe when you flew your last mission. And after that? What? What happened? When you had flown what happened then?
WG: On, the end of the war came and we were given three weeks leave and I didn’t leave England I think until April 1946 because I think it was the Stirling Castle I was on. Got down near Suez and had to go back because of problems with the ship. So it was another few months after that that I came back. Actually, I navigated the world by sea. We went over through the Panama and came back through the Suez.
DG: Yeah. Circumnavigated. Yeah. What did you do when you got back to Australia? What did you do?
WG: Well our first thought was to to find a job.
DG: Right.
WG: Like everyone else that was coming back.
DG: Yes. Yes.
WG: But fortunately I’d joined a textile company during the war and I went and saw them and they gave me a job back at, because they’d been grooming me to take over as production manager. Putting me through all the various sections of that. But I finished up really as sales manager there. But I was one of the lucky ones because a lot of people couldn’t find work and I was married then and living at Bondi.
DG: Right.
WG: And I managed to scrape up enough money to buy a block of land over here at North Curl Curl. Built a house and been here ever since.
DG: Good. And did you ever keep in touch with anyone from Bomber Command?
WG: No. I’ve often tried. Even the pilot who I was very friendly with. Very close to. I don’t know what happened to him. I’ve tried the rolls in Canberra and various other things without any success.
DG: Oh. Yeah.
WG: But the other’s, no. I lost track of them completely.
DG: How, how do you feel about how Bomber Command was treated after the war?
WG: I think generally people that counted like the chief of the Bomber Command and people like Winston Churchill who came out later and said, I think he said something about the fighters were our salvation but the bombers won the war.
DG: Yeah.
WG: So he appreciated. But apart from that I’m still amazed that very few people were aware of the amount we did.
DG: Yes.
WG: Because people were even condemning us for bombing the cities. As we spoke about before. But the Germans were manufacturing all sorts of armaments and so on in these town. And there didn’t seem to be at the time to be any other way.
DG: Yes. Yeah.
WG: But ever since, I mean [pause] actually in the First World War that keeps cropping up every year which, rightly so I suppose. But I even went to the church one day and asked if, if they could, in the churches throughout Australia just devote ten minutes to have some sort of monument to the Bomber Command.
DG: Yeah.
WG: People that died over there.
DG: Yes.
WG: But that didn’t seem to go very far.
DG: Did you, did you got to that commemoration? To that new Memorial that was unveiled in London.
WG: No.
DG: A few years ago.
WG: No.
DG: Right. Right.
WG: Actually, I didn’t know much about it.
DG: Yes.
WG: I could have probably would have gone if I’d known more about it.
DG: Yes. Yeah. Yeah. Well I think that covers it. Thank you very much Bill.
Dublin Core
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AGeogheganWT160706
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Interview with William Geoghegan
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
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IBCC Digital Archive
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Sound
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eng
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00:35:36 audio recording
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Pending review
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Donald Gould
Date
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2016-07-06
Description
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William Geoghegan grew up in Australia and after serving in the army, joined the Royal Australian Air Force. He flew operations as a navigator with 61 Squadron from RAF Skellingthorpe.
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Royal Australian Air Force
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Australia
Great Britain
England--Lincolnshire
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Julie Williams
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1944
1945
61 Squadron
aircrew
bombing
Fw 190
Gee
Me 109
navigator
RAF Skellingthorpe
training
-
https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/files/original/584/31587/BHookingsEWHookingsEWv2.2.pdf
8d8e27c985230f5dc8df178d0b0cb3fa
Dublin Core
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Hookings, Eric
E Hookings
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IBCC Digital Archive
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Hookings, E
Description
An account of the resource
Three items. An oral history interview with Eric Hookings (184315, Royal Air Force) and two memoirs. He flew operations as a pilot with 619 Squadron.
The collection has been donated to the IBCC Digital Archive by Eric Hookings and catalogued by Nigel Huckins.
Date
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2015-10-24
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Transcribed document
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Transcription
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ERIC’S MEMOIRS BOOK TWO Chapter One Dortmund The next morning the disconcerting words of the lovely girl whom I really intended to see Again were soon forgotten as my crew and I tucked into our afternoon breakfast of bacon And eggs. We were due for briefing and, although the afternoon was cold, dark and miserable, the Laughter instigated as usual by upper and rear gunners Alex Norris and Ted Woods our Brummie boys, made light of the seriousness of our operation. It was November 6th 1944 and our destination on that fateful night was to be the Dortmund Em’s canal, a known lock on a tributary of the Rhine, through which ships of The German merchant navy had to pass, carrying their supplies to the factories situated along the Ruhr. As we made our way to our Lancaster bomber PG S I looked at the tense but still smiling faces of the crew I had come to love, Alex and Ted, Tasmanian Radio Operator Rex Temperman, Engineer John Tait, Bomb Aimer Ron Waters and my Navigator ‘Butch’ Croney - we were not just a crew but were really good pals. The first two and a half hours into or flight were purely routine, we were on course, the weather was predicted as clear over our target and the seven of us were vigilant in our observations. Suddenly from 20 year old rear gunner Alex Norris, came the shout “Port Go Skipper, PORT GO!” And I knew we had an unwelcome visitor. My immediate reaction was to put the ‘plane into an evasive corkscrew. There was a Focke Wulf on our tail. 2 The staccato of guns firing from our rear and upper turrets ceased when Alex called some three minutes later “I’ve got him Skipper. I’ve got him”. The relief was unmistakable as we were able to resume our planned course, for the fear of collision whilst flying in such tight formation was as extensive as being shot down. Our relief was very short lived for, shortly after making the routine checks for everyone’s safety and that no major damage had occurred, our world was shattered by high explosive cannon shells ripping through the underside of the Lancaster - obviously an attack from a second ‘plane. How had it slipped my mind that German Fighter ‘planes fought in pairs ? I was tortured with this thought when I realized the port engine was on fire and, in spite of our attempts to extinguish the flames, we were helpless. The centre of the aircraft was now well ablaze and the port aerlion was badly damaged Which made the Lancaster very difficult to control and we slowly began to dive to port. I had no option other than to abort the ‘plane and I gave the order to the whole crew “JUMP - JUMP - JUMP” Mindful of my crew’s safety and the gravity of the situation which primarily was explosion, I knew I had to get my boys out immediately but, with the centre of the ‘plane now an inferno there was no way out for us four members at the front of the ‘plane, the engineer, bomb aimer, navigator and myself, other than through a tiny escape hatch situated down in front of the engineer’s seat. 3 Frantic efforts to open the hatch were hampered by the slipstream and I yelled to John Tait “Get the axe and smash the hatch” before I turned and tried to regain some control to hold up the nose of the ‘plane to give those extra seconds to my crew who were trying so desperately to battle their way out. Suddenly and miraculously the hatch flew out and my boys plunged out into oblivion but, for me it was more difficult I wore my parachute on the seat of my pants and to get through this tiny space was nigh impossible. I do not to this day know how I did it but suddenly I felt myself falling and I reached for that beloved rip cord. Whether it was the stench of cordite, fear, the tumbling action of falling or those wonderful bacon and eggs I do not know but I was so sick on that way down, a fact I did not register until coming to an abrupt halt in a tree ! It was some time before I realized that my feet were not on the ground and although I had stopped falling, in the intense blackness I had little idea as to where or how I was. Was I sideways, feet down or even upside down ? But I very gradually came to my senses and realized that I was hanging from some sort of a tree. Training eventually came to the fore throughout my intense fear and worry for the rest of my crew. Had they all got out? Had I acted correctly? How would my parents know I was still alive when they were told my ’plane had not returned and, what was I going to do next ? I remained quite still and inactive trying to collate my thoughts. I knew that we had not been far from our target so I must be somewhere in Germany, but where ? I began to shiver - not as much through fear, but with downright cold and shock - I was freezing, hanging from a tree in the middle of a German forest and then I realized I had lost my beautiful Irvine fur jacket in my haste to escape that burning inferno. Chapter Two Get me out of here! 4 I was twenty four years old, I did not want to die, I knew I would probably be captured, would I be shot - no they did not shoot officers - DID THEY ? My mind became confused and I felt my morale slip to what I thought was its lowest ebb and depression hit me. All that money it had taken to train me, my wonderful training in America only to find myself in this lonely terrifying void. I had to get down and get home. The silence was broken by a faint whistling. Was it Germans? Could it possibly be one of my crew ? Could I get down before they reached me? My mind in a complete turmoil I listened and suddenly realized to my great relief that it was an English tune and that tune was the one that John Tate, my engineer was always whistling and he was approaching the tree that held me fast. Relief gushed through my whole body and I called out to him “John, John, I’m up here” He helped me down from the tree and to my amazement he seemed to be fine whilst I was shaking with traumatic tension. Until then I had not realized just what a state I was in, the stench of the cordite had made me so sick and my uniform was stained with vomit. Shivering with cold we sat down to assess our situation. Realizing we could not stay where we were we had to walk and, armed with the small compass from our survival pack we set off. Railway stations were out, they would be too heavily guarded and to walk at night would be just too obvious. We knew that we had to get away from our landing point, for patrols would soon be out looking for us so we, after finishing the burial of our parachutes, removed all epaulettes from our uniforms and the tops of our boots that would give away our identity, for without those tops they looked like ordinary boots. 5 We remembered to keep our Brevet wings so that in case of being captured we would not be deemed as spies. Aware that overhead our planes were returning to base we wished with all our hearts that we were with them, but nevertheless as we set out our spirits were comparatively high. John’s Joie de Vivre inspired me and we walked and continued to do so for two hours. The rain came down and, what started as a slight drizzle became an incessant downpour and we knew that we had to find shelter. Ahead of us we saw a small hut and decided that this must be our bed for the night. We went in, cold, tired and wet through, huddled into a corner and promptly fell asleep. How long I had been asleep I do not know but suddenly I was aware that the door to the hut was slowly opening. I put my hand over John’s mouth so that if he should suddenly cry out, we would be discovered and, breathing into his ear not to move we watched with horror as a figure stood outlined in the doorway and slowly entered the hut. Such was the blackness of the night in that hut that we could not make out what was happening, but then we realized that the human figure had gone into the other corner opposite and was doing exactly as we had done - curling up and going to sleep. We waited for half an hour until the steady breathing from the shapeless bundle told us that he was sleeping deeply then we both crept silently out of the hut and began to walk again. From that day to this we have never discovered who that person was, it could have been a tramp or it could have even been one of our crew following the same course as ourselves. 6 We walked until it was daylight through the continuing rain until utter exhaustion led us to realize we had to sleep so, finding a thick hedgerow we curled up and slept again. Awaking and feeling a little refreshed we decided upon a plan of action for we could not just wander aimlessly. We found a plank of wood and realized that with so much foreign labour in the area all wearing uniforms of a similar color to ours which we had stripped of all insignia, we might just get away with not being recognized. It worked ! And our aimless, dejected ambulation allowed us to travel slowly but freely. We even crossed an autobahn which was so dangerous because of the fast travelling traffic but, we then became stuck in a bog and whichever way we walked we seemed to get stuck even deeper. It took ages for us to extricate ourselves but eventually with the help of our plank of wood we managed and that night we slept in the open under the trees. John had managed to retain his rations but, somehow in the fall from the plane, I had lost mine, consequently we shared what he had and a breakfast of Horlicks tablets had never tasted so good. Again we walked, arriving eventually at a river - which one was it we wondered, we followed its course and eventually came to a bridge and, still carrying our plank of wood we crossed. About 3.45 in the then darkness of the third evening we came to a small village and knowing that the pangs of hunger would overcome us if we did not eat we decided to enter the village to see what we could forage or steal 7 Carrying our plank, we walked down the main street then, to our horror the doors of what must have been the village hall suddenly opened and out poured German troops. We were surrounded by them, for there had been some sort of meeting in the hall and these military personal, stumbling out of the light into the darkness did not notice two dirty laborers less than an arm’s length away from them. We just kept dejectedly walking and still carrying that plank we trudged through the midst of them all ! This unnerving episode made us decide to change our tactics and, after resting for the remainder of the day we decided to abandon the plank of wood and continue our journey at night. This was to be our downfall, for about 03.00 am whilst walking along a country lane, I suddenly heard German voices and realized there was a patrol ahead. I panicked and dragged John with me onto the grass verge and into the bushes. The combination of the gravel on the road and the crackling winter hedgerow made enough noise to alert the German soldiers on foot patrol who had gone behind the hedge to have a cigarette, and we found ourselves looking down the barrels of two rifles. Their shout of “Hands up” made us realize our freedom was over and we were to become Prisoners of War. We were marched to a German Field Unit nearby that was used as a rest area for Troops. It contained 3 wire cages that were used as prison cells for errant troops who had disobeyed commands, stolen, or not conformed in many other ways to their soldiering duties. John and I were put into one of these cages that was lined with straw. I was angry, angry with myself for being the cause of our capture, angry at the indignity of being incarcerated and angry because I could not get back to England to continue fighting the war. CHAPTER 3 CAPTURE That anger was exacerbated even further when we were told that we had actually walked into Holland and we had been captured on the outskirts on Enschede, the town on the Dutch/German border. Just one more day and we could have been in the hands of the Resistance who may even have got us back to England - God Willing. The officer in charge of this fighting front line unit, was most courteous and we could not have been more civilly treated. He offered us black bread and that dreadful Ersatz coffee which I, again angrily and somewhat foolishly refused, thinking in my ignorance that to not touch it would insult the Germans. Here I was cold tired and hungry and still finding room for my principles ! Next day we were transported to a chalet bungalow where we were confronted by the dreaded SS. John was dragged to the upper storey of the chalet and I was thrown into a room on the lower floor and set upon by two, what I can only describe as SS thugs. It was to be one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. They beat me, accused me of being a spy and held guns to my head and threatened to kill me if I did not tell them about myself. My ’dog tags’ saved me and I convinced them I was a British airman to which they then proceeded to thrash and torture me, trying to find out where I was from, what was my squadron, what was my target and where were the rest of my crew ? We were there for two days. Two days of pure hell with perhaps the worst part being that they threatened to kill John, who I could hear upstairs being shouted at because I was not giving them the information they wanted. I was convinced that I was about to die, for their continual switching between English and German and making threatening gestures, I knew they were in control of my life. 9. On the third morning we were marched from that chalet to a huge warehouse on the outskirts of Enschede, we were bruised and battered, dirty and exhausted but what seemed to be worst was the shame we felt at being tied together with manacles around our ankles. Our depression was most severe when suddenly, we became aware that the doors of the houses on each side of the road were slowly opening - word had got around that two Royal Air Force boys had been captured and tortured. Unaware of the danger that these citizens were exposing themselves to, our spirits were lifted by their murmured words of encouragement, their hand waves and that well acknowledged V for Victory hand sign, made famous by Winston Churchill. Hurled into a massive, freezing cold warehouse, having had nothing to drink or eat for three days we were joined by two American aircrew who had also been shot down and who were as dejected as we were. There was no escape for we were heavily guarded and we just had to accept what was to be our fate. Held for two or more days in that bitterly cold warehouse John and I were eventually moved, I went to Dulagluft Interrogation Centre near Frankfurt but I did not know what happened to John until 1946 when we met again. I was in Dulagluft for ten days, held in a icy cold, windowless 7ft x 5ft cell with just a straw palliase, the only light came from what appeared to be a 25 watt bulb high in the ceiling which gave just enough light for the guards to see me through the spy hole in the door. On the second day of imprisonment I was taken to a warm comfortable office where I was greeted with a friendly handshake from a German Luftwaffe Officer - the equivalent of a British Wing Commander. 10 This officer informed me that it was his duty to obtain certain information from me and he proceeded to ask questions about my squadron, the names of my crew and our targets. But, from his initial attitude I was aware that there would be a lot more questions to come and, when my only reply to all his questions was my name, rank and number he then told me go away and re think about the information that he wanted. During my incarceration here I was never subjected to any form of physical torture, the mental torment was enough but what I did learn quickly was that the only form of communication with the other prisoners was possibly in the toilets where we were constantly under the scrutiny of the guards. They spoke little English and although we were not allowed to speak, those muttered phrases to each other conveyed the latest news and happenings. My trips to the toilets became very frequent; I had use of the communal razor which did little to remove my weeks of stubble but my trips were mainly to relieve the boredom and trying to update any information. The fear of the unknown was horrendous - was I going to be fed - could I stand up to further interrogation - could I survive the hours and hours of loneliness and solitude ? I was fed eventually. A bowl of luke warm watery soup and some black bread, but there was considerably more interrogation to follow. My interrogation was at irregular intervals, sometimes I would spend up to four hours during the day being questioned and at other times I would be woken from my fitful sleep to be taken to the interrogation room for further cross examination. This continued for ten days but each day was becoming harder for me for I would not divulge any of the information that he insisted upon obtaining and my answers were always obtuse. 11 My stubbornness evoked his anger and his change of tactics and method of questioning became - him making suggestions to me and awaiting my agreement or dissent. Eventually he became so exasperated with me that he changed from Mr. Nice Guy to the SS Officer he really was and my refusal to tell him what was meant by H2S or the code name Village Inn finally broke him and not me. To his question “What was the Village Inn?” I replied “Which one do you mean, The Horse and Groom or the Royal Oak?” He jumped up, smashed his fist onto the table and shouted “ Hookings, the R A F must be scraping the bottom of the barrel using people like you, but we have found your ‘plane and all your crew have been killed” This was the termination of my ten day spell at Dulagluft. Next day I was taken from my cell and escorted by guards to Dortmund railway station. There were three of us prisoners accompanied by two guards, carrying rifles but we were all too cold, hungry and exhausted to try to attempt any form of escape. We had been told that we were to be taken to Stalagluft III in upper Silesia ,Poland, which was the German prisoner of war camp for officers. Dortmund railway station had been very badly damaged by the RAF, and we were ushered into a corner where we squatted for nearly six hours awaiting our transport To sit for such a long period on a stone floor was most uncomfortable and very tedious. Suddenly the sirens sounded and we knew that another raid by the RAF was imminent and, out of the blue masses of women children and poured down the steps into the station into what they considered to be a possible place of safety. 12 Abruptly the crowd halted - they had seen us and the abject hatred in their faces became apparent. We were in mortal danger of being attacked by this ugly throng of females all hell bent upon reprisal. We were bombarded with God knows what and the tension made us very aware of the serious danger we were facing. The guards also realising this, fixed their bayonets and stood in front of us warning off the mob who were obviously hell bent on tearing us limb from limb. Eventually the all clear sounded and the horde dispersed but not before spitting at us and shouting swearing and raising clench fists at us. No bombs had fallen in Dortmund that night so obviously the target had been another city situated in the Ruhr valley. Our train arrived and we were ushered aboard into a specially secure compartment and set off on what was to be a slow, lengthy and grueling journey continually being shunted off into sidings to let other - probably troop carrying trains, pass. Arriving at the outskirts of Leipzig we suddenly stopped and through the slatted windows we saw above us hundreds of B17 (Flying Fortress) American bombers whose target must have been the oil installations nearby. We were on that train for three days, freezing cold and with only crusts of black bread and water to sustain us but eventually we arrived at Sagan station where a lorry awaited us to take us to Stalagluft. CHAPTER 4 Stalagluft III Filled with apprehension as to what would happen next, I was dragged off the lorry and marched to the gates where to my delight we were greeted by hundreds of RAF prisoners of war, all clapping, cheering and giving us the V sign and within minutes I had recognised Peter Attwood who had trained as a pilot with me in Ponca City, Oklahoma ! Peter had been shot down on Saturday 4th November whilst bound for the same target as me. It was so good to see a familiar face. The first few days in Stalagluft 3 were very confusing. There were aircrew members who has been incarcerated there for as much as four years and their attitude and thinking was far different from that of us recent arrivals. Some had not even seen a four engine bomber and they were all so desperate for information and news from home. I was directed to what was to be my home for the next few months - a long wooden hut divided up into separate rooms each containing many officers. In my hut I was greeted by a Squadron Leader Mitchell a Canadian officer who was in charge of the fourteen fellow inmates who were all very interested in what I had to say. I was allocated to my bunk - the bottom of three - where I found a straw palliase and a thin blanket but, to my concern I noted that the base of the bunk had several slats missing - I later discovered these had been used to shaw up the various escape tunnels that led from our hut. The shock of my surroundings, the accommodation, the nonexistent ‘facilities ‘ was a profound jolt of disbelief to me, there was the constant awareness of security and stilted conversation, for we were constantly being watched and listened to. 14. After seven days I was summoned to a meeting with three fellow officers of superior rank, I was introduced to each member and who in turn ‘interrogated’ me. Their objective was to find out if I was a genuine English officer and not a ‘plant’ by the Germans, which unfortunately was commonplace. There was no doubt about my credulity to them but, my one concern was that my parents knew I was safe. I was therefore much relieved when they told me that it was the norm that the Germans told the Red Cross of my situation and whereabouts who, in turn advised your next of kin. It was not however until the end of the war that I learned my parents had received a telegram on Christmas Day 1944, telling them that I was alive and unhurt but, I was a Prisoner of War. However I had injured my leg when I became entangled with the branches of that tree that I parachuted into and the injuries that I sustained had been exacerbated by three days walking and the rough treatment I had received from certain individuals in their enthusiasm to extricate information from me. My leg had become inflamed and was quite painful when I reached Stalagluft III and after a few days, I approached the senior officer, Squadron Leader Mitchell (Mitch) to ask if there were my forms of medical assistance for us. He confirmed that this was so and sent me to see an Army Captain who was a doctor but, Mitch advised me “You must be firm with this doctor for he is inclined to be quite nonchalant and will dismiss your injuries as inconsequential“. I duly saw the doctor and taking the advice of Mitch I firmly told him I wanted my leg attended to and, that his being a doctor it was his duty to do so. 15 BAM !!! The answers that I received from that doctor are unprintable but, basically what he told me was that HE was a Prisoner of War too and as such he was only giving a very limited medical service gratuitously - and he had restricted supplies of medicines and equipment to treat the hundreds of prisoners encamped there ! With my tail between my legs after such a ticking off I slunk back to the hut where Mitch and my fellow ‘kreigies’ stood - all laughing their heads off - The sods had set me up knowing full well the character of the doctor. It was a lesson that I learned the hard way. The leg - it healed naturally! By the middle of November the weather changed and the cold set in and, having to stand twice a day on the parade ground to be counted I knew that I was in dire need of extra clothing, for all I had was my blouson battledress and trousers. I sought out the officer who was in charge of Red Cross supplies and asked if there was any chance of some warmer clothing. My luck was in, for he had a heavy Army overcoat and a pair of ‘Long John’ woolen underpants. Not quite my style after the natty dressing of my younger days but - being so cold, I was willing to accept anything. These items, were to become my only clothing for the next six months throughout that bitter winter of 1944/45 and the pants were only washed once in all that time. Being so heavy and thick it was impossible to get them dry and they hung on the line, frozen stiff and looking like some poor anemic body for many a day. I eventually got them dry by putting them under my palliasse and sleeping on them! The cold I overcame to a certain degree, but I had to next face a more serious and painful problem - hunger, for I was becoming weak from lack of food. 16. The rations distributed by the Germans were totally insufficient for survival. We had to exist on a daily ration of three slices of very thin stale black bread, two potatoes and a bowl of very watery cabbage soup. Our savior was the Red Cross parcels that were delivered to the camp every two or three weeks. However I never had a complete parcel - as was the intention of the Red Cross. Instead one parcel was shared between two or three of us - the German’s retaining the rest for their own consumption, for their food was also in short supply at the end of 1944. Consequently it was mutually agreed that any parcels received into our hut would be pooled and distributed equally between all fourteen of us and a daily Rota was devised that enabled each one of us to take his turn as ‘chef of the day’ which really meant that you had the opportunity of licking out the bowls of any food that had been prepared ! We were all very very hungry and I knew that I was losing weight rapidly by the way my clothing hung on me. My weight which had been around 10 ½ stone when I was shot down had dropped to 8 stone when I eventually saw England again and, being six feet tall I was pretty skeletal! The cold - bitter - but you could get warm with exercise and huddling round a tiny stove in the hut. The hunger - aching - but we grew accustomed to the gnawing pains but, for me, the worst disconcertion was the total lack of hygiene, privacy and the deprivation of keeping my body clean. The only washing facilities were one single cold water tap by the latrines which was invariably frozen solid. The latrines consisted of a row of ten wooden seats - no cubicles, for the guards wanted us under observation at all times. The seats were over holes in the ground into which everything dropped into the most foul smelling open trench which was cleared at intervals by Polish or Russian prisoners. 17. Depression and melancholy exacerbated by boredom did little for my self esteem and I tortured myself each night, questioning “ what I had done wrong to get myself shot down and possibly cause injury to my crew”. Our Senior British Officer realized that boredom was a major issue that could lead to mental illness if not dealt with and we were all allocated menial tasks such as guarding the windows as look outs when any secret meeting was taking place, for there were always plans afoot to conjure up differing ways to outwit and out maneuver and cause as much inconvenience as possible to the Germans. I was offered the opportunity to take classes such as learning the German language or bridge lessons: art classes: English language or math’s, for there were many teachers who were incarcerated who were willing to teach not only to relieve their boredom but to practice their skills. My choice was accountancy - a decision I have never regretted and a skill which throughout my life, has been invaluable. If the weather was good we were able to get out and play football or rounders or baseball with the Americans, but most of my time spent there was during the bitterly cold winter of 1944/45 consequently we were huddled inside the huts trying to keep warm. There were lectures given by POWs who had knowledge and experience such as the stock market, architecture, history and many other subjects so I should not have felt the boredom and depression which was exacerbated by my total lack of freedom. Then one day we were told to expect a ‘special visitor ‘to the camp! It was to be Max Schnelling the World Heavyweight Champion boxer who was revered by the Germans and greatly respected by the English - before the war. !8. We were told in no uncertain terms by the camp Commandant that we would fall in, line up and be smartly on parade in the prison quadrangle and that we would give a cheering welcome to the great man when he arrived. Our Senior British Officer agreed that we must do as we were ordered to avoid reprisals and we stood for hours on parade, awaiting his appearance. He finally arrived and went straight into the German Officers accommodation where he spent another hour, before reappearing to carry out the intended ‘inspection’ of the rows and rows of multi national Prisoners of War who had been standing in the bitter cold for hours. We were called to attention by our SBO and then, before Max Schnelling could move forward, we were ordered by our S B O “ Right Turn and Quick March” - which we all did, leading the boxer quite bewildered and confused. Disrespectful? No, not to the boxer, but to our captors who considered themselves to be so superior to us that they could demean us in this way. The camp Commandant was furious and threatened severe reprisals to us all, but our composed, clever and tactful SBO calmed the situation without too much punishment to us meager Prisoners of War. The weather was atrocious, cold, wet, windy and snow like I had never seen before but the news which by now I gleaned like all other inmates had not been too bad. Then came news that General von Runstead had made a counter offensive in the Battle of the Bulge and our expectations of all being released before Christmas were dashed. We prepared for Christmas - with me not being able to contribute very much but those men who had been imprisoned for - some as long as four years - had stored and saved what little they could from Red Cross parcels - there were no extra rations from our captors. 19 Being locked into our huts every day at four o clock gave us time to prepare games, create card games and write new words for the songs we recalled. Anything to help create the Christmas spirit. My job was to make paper chains to decorate our hut and I scavenged bits of paper from every Tom, Dick or Harry’s mail and parcels. The heartbreaking fact was that during the whole time of being incarcerated in P O W camps I did not receive one piece of mail and I was unaware of what was happening to my parents and brother and sister. This caused me extra depression and melancholy for I had no knowledge as to whether they were still alive and, having lost their homes twice to enemy bombs I spent many a long hour worrying about them and also my brother Dennis who was serving with the R A F. If I had only known the joy and happiness that was in my family on Christmas Day in 1944 for, having been told by the War Ministry that I was ‘Missing in Action‘in November, they had no knowledge as to whether I was alive or dead until the telegram arrived on Christmas morning telling them I was alive and was a Prisoner of War somewhere in Germany. New Year’s Day and the dawning of 1945 - would I still be here next January 1st? We knew nothing of what was happening to the advance of our troops or was it defeat? We thought the weather could get no colder - but it did. Bitter, bitter winds, temperatures 20 degrees below zero and very little to keep us warm. But I considered myself to be privileged when I saw Polish and Russian prisoners who were slowly freezing to death. Chapter 5 The March There were four ‘compounds’ in Stalagluft 3 - North, South, East and West, all identical and each housing about 2, 000 men. I was in the north compound before being transferred to Bavaria - Stalagluft 3a, some 5 miles away but exactly the same. It was from Stalagluft 3 that many attempts were made by prisoners to escape their confines by tunneling under the huts and attempting to reach points beyond the perimeters of the wire. These frantic, courageous, endeavors, fuelled by frustration and desperation to get back home to continue the fight against Hitler’s tyranny were costly, with the most famed attempt to break out later being depicted in the film ’The Great Escape’ where those men who had escaped were recaptured and upon the orders of the Fuhrer and to the revulsion of the Geneva Convention, shot in cold blood. By the end of January we had heard that Russian forces were advancing from the east but we had no idea where they were or how soon we would be released. However, we were to soon discover that our repatriation was not the intention of our captors when, in the middle of the night we were awoken from fitful slumber by shouts of “Achtung, Achtung, Raus, Raus, Schnell, Schnell” and we were forced from our bunks at bayonet point. We were told to collect our belongings and assemble outside the huts. Belongings - I had so very little, a few scraps of food, my malodorous long johns that I was wearing, my greatcoat my invaluable flying boots which, fortunately had been a new issue and a bundle of newspaper that was left over from my attempts to make those Christmas trimmings. How little did I realize when gathering these pieces of old German newsprint that these would probably save my life ! 21 We assembled shivering, outside the huts with our meager belongings and I was handed a red cross parcel - one of the many that had been hoarded by the Germans - possibly for their own use ? Considered to be quite a newcomer by my fellow inmates, some of whom had been incarcerated since 1940, I had assembled very little, but they had made sledges upon which they placed their motley collection of what they considered to be their valued treasures. Where were we going? We knew we were marched off in a south westerly direction. What was the reason for our sudden departure? To escape advancing Russian armies. Why were we being forced to leave the camps? So that we could be used by the Germans as protective shields and bargaining assets, for the Germans, in early 1945 were becoming desperate to save their own individual lives. We two thousand or so souls from Stalagluft 3A trudged aimlessly for what seemed ages through deep snow and biting winds and before too long, realized that we had been joined by prisoners from the other camps. Thousands and thousands of men of all ages, states of poor health and from far flung corners of the world - British, Australians, New Zealanders, Canadians, Americans, Polish and many other nationalities were herded into long columns, slowly and silently trudging through that terrible wasteland of frozen white expanse not knowing where we were going, or even if we could survive another day, let alone to see the and of the war. At around three o’clock in the following afternoon with temperatures dropping even lower and with darkness falling we stopped trudging and were herded into a farm that offered some form of shelter in its great barns. 22 I had become separated from some of my fellow hut companions but along with 500 or so others I was put into a large one storey barn where the farmer, under forced directions of our guards, had thrown in some straw bales which we instantly spread around to curl up upon. Our only food was that which was in the treasured Red Cross parcels - but- much of that was in tins and we had no means of opening these ! We ate raisins, a little chocolate and biscuits. There was nothing to drink but, it was food - we were very hungry and exhausted and before long trying to sleep, curing up together for what little warmth we could make. I was woken from a fitful sleep next morning by lowing cattle, I was cold, hungry, thirsty and filled with trepidation as to what was going to happen. The doors burst open, our guards marched in and ordered us at gun point to reform those long columns and once again start marching. For the next eight hours we trudged through that ever deepening snow, we dare not stop for to do so would encounter the wrath of a guards or even to our own detriment - to slowly freeze and be totally unable to get up and start walking again. We had a small handcart and along with my fellow prisoners, I helped to pull it along. Those men who were sick, injured, frostbitten or plain exhausted took turns to rest and fitfully doze, whist we pulled them along. One of my companions helping to pull a cart laden with fellow prisoners was a Wing Commander Stanford Tuck, later renowned for his bravery. Escapism and literary skills. Unbeknown to me he was planning his escape and as a fluent Russian linguist he and his Polish friend were the only men who could do so safely. 23 At about three o’clock on that second day we again were herded into more barns, this time I discovered one housing cows and I knew I had to get near to those animals for my own survival - they offered warmth and although very smelly I was at a point beyond caring. Day three dawned and depression was rife, we had very little sleep because of the cold. We were bitterly cold, hungry and very thirsty, some of us suffering from frost bite. For indeterminate hours we trudged without stopping, through blinding snowstorms, not knowing where we were nor where we were going. Again around three o’clock in the falling darkness, we arrived at another barn and made toward the animals - only this time they were pigs. The pigs were moved out to make way for us to be accommodated and the stench was sickening, but who cared. Wing Commander Tuck was near to me that night and he asked a small group of us close by, to pile the straw into a corner to ensure he and his Polish companion were fully covered . It was their intention to try their escape. Along with my fellow prisoners we were herded from our barns early next day, leaving our two hidden fellow prisoners behind. It was not until the war ended that we learned they had got out of the barn unseen and had made their way across Poland to meet up with the Russians who were advancing fast from the east. They eventually reached Odessa and thence back to the UK Chapter 5 The lowest ebb 24 For days we trudged mile after mile through the bitterest winter weather I had ever known, carrying the sick and wounded, scavenging for whatever was edible, huddling together at nights for warmth and doing our best to help the sick.. One day whilst passing some isolated cottages, an elderly Polish woman appeared carrying a tray with what looked to be cups of coffee, she was handing these to the nearest prisoners one of whom was me. As I reached out to gratefully accept her generosity a German guard ran up, shoved me aside and knocked the tray from her hands with his rifle. She cried out in fear of being shot but the guard, realizing the anger he had evoked from his prisoners who, although weak with fatigue and hunger were massing around him, attached his bayonet to his rifle and prepared to defend himself. Suddenly we were surrounded by German guards and we had no option other than to recommence our lumbering trudge across the frozen slush and snow. By this time I was beginning to feel really ill, my body was so weak and exhausted I just wanted to lie down. My abdomen was racked with pain and I knew that I had to get somewhere to relieve myself. As we approached a barn where we knew we were to spend another night, there was a rush across the farmyard to try to get inside the cowsheds. The middle of the farmyard was thick with mud and cow’s muck and, as I tried to reach one of the cowsheds I slipped into the mire and, griped with excruciating pains, to my horror I had a violent attack of uncontrollable diarrhea. I had no means of cleaning myself apart from some straw and nothing to change into and for the rest of that tortuous, seemingly never ending march through torment, I was compelled to remain covered with not only cows muck but my own excrement as well. This was possibly the lowest point of degradation in my life. 25 I lost track of the hours, days and nights that we journeyed across Poland and into Germany but, eventually we reached what I thought to be a small town. It turned out to be the city of Spenbergh wherein were the biggest marshalling yards in Germany. The columns of men that had marched with me congregated in these marshalling yards of the German railway, there were thousands of us, all dirty, unkempt and hungry but, we were not alone, for also there were German soldiers of the Panzer Divisions who had returned from the Russian front, the majority of whom were wounded and in a terrible state. They, like us were in a state of limbo, not knowing where we were going or what was to happen to us. They also had been fighting for their country and we all had now one common aim - to get back home to our families - if we still had them ! We soon realized that these men had no fight left in them, for like us they were not only sick and injured but utterly demoralized and homesick too - but - they did have one thing that we did not have - FOOD. They had food, but we had still some cigarettes and before long there was bartering and exchanges that lead to talking, swapping experiences and a strange feeling of similarity. These men were not the cruel Gestapo or those in charge of P O W camps or their goons, they were like us, ordinary men who were just serving their country and who wanted to go home. The horrors that they had experienced fighting in the bitter cold of the Russian front and the total waste of life they had seen had left them traumatized beyond understanding. 26. The German Commander of the area a bloated arrogant man, had two geese that were kept in a cage - obviously for his and his fellow officers dinner, but of course, one night the inevitable happened - the geese disappeared. Where to, only those who had committed the mysterious robbery knew but, there were 10,000 or so prisoners in those marshalling yards who were crowded together and whosoever had taken them, did not offer to share the meal ! The commander was needless to say absolutely furious and he demanded compensation and retribution, threatening to shoot us individually until he was satisfied. Our Senior British Officer called us to assemble and told us that compensation was being demanded. What did we have to compensate those geese? We would all have loved to enjoyed a taste. Our only bargaining power were the cigarettes that some of us still had. Consequently collections were made for all to give as many as possible to appease the Commander and I being a non smoker had to contribute what I had. Eventually we were marched down to the goods trains that were waiting in a nearby railway sidings and were herded into cattle trucks. Forty five to fifty of us were pushed and crammed into a small truck, where the only ventilation was that of the small grille high in a corner. Also in that corner near to the doors was a slop bucket. Ten days I spent in that foul smelling hell hole, it was deprivation at its very worst. Dysentery was rife, we were unable to lie down and sleep was nigh impossible. The journey was full of stops and starts to let German troop trains go by, giving us the opportunity to at least have the doors open although we were never allowed outside, being constantly guarded by armed guards who looked only too keen to shoot us. 27 The only blessing was that here the engines would be refilled with the required water and sometimes a little would be given to us. It was a terrible journey, we were bitterly cold, starving and completely despondent. I never thought I would be pleased to see another POW camp, but we eventually arrived at Luchenvald, south of Berlin and, as we trudged from the railway I had my first glimmer of hope that I could sleep, eat and clean myself, although not necessarily in that order. The camp at Luchenvald was basic although dry and quite clean, it consisted of long dormitories each filled with three tiered bunks into which we fell exhausted. We were soon to discover there were no facilities for toilets and washing and it was very much down to the basics building our own latrines. I had to wash my clothes which by now were pretty rancid. Eventually, finding a cold water tap I proceeded to strip off and rinse myself down and scrub at those green long johns. As I have previously said I did my best and hung them out on a hastily prepared line but - in those sub zero temperatures it took many days to get them dry, eventually after hanging them around the stove in the centre of the hut I was forced to put them under my straw palliase mattress in the hope that one day I could wear them again. To this day I still envisage those pale, ghostly green long johns hanging stiffly on the line. I befriended a fellow POW - Alan Tustin, who shared the billet, he was a Flight Lieutenant engineer who’s Lancaster had been strafed whilst on the Peider Mundy rocket Factory raid, in the Baltic. His Lancaster had exploded and he was the only survivor. Alan was suffering badly from yellow jaundice and was completely incapacitated. The Only food that he could eat was rice and potatoes and I scrounged and bartered all I had to keep him alive. We became very good friends - a friendship that lasted for years to come. Chapter 6 Starvation and consequences 28 Rumors were rife that we were winning the war but, in a camp that now contained over 40,000 men of different nationalities - who could ever know what, was the truth? The camp was attacked by German fighters who flew low over the camp shooting at anything that moved. One day we realized that out hut was in the firing line and, jumping down from my top bunk I caught my leg on a protruding nail and ripped it open it took some time to heal, probably due to my unhealthy body and the lack of any medication. We were imprisoned in that camp for four months, February until the end of May 1945 but we did not accept our incarceration lightly. Many officers tried to escape - myself and Alan included. We became aware of the agitation and insecurity of our guards who were edgy and threatening and, fearing that we would suffer the same fate as the 50 officers who were shot in Stalagluft III we decided to make a break for freedom. Discovering a break in the wire fencing - probably cut by other escapees, late one night after stashing what little food we could carry and wrapping ourselves in the warmest things we could find we made our way pretty stealthily across the camp to that hole in the wire. The tension of knowing that we would be shot if we were caught in those probing searchlights brought us out in a cold sweat but we were desperate and fear drove us on. We got through the wire and, guided by the little compass that Alan had hoarded throughout his incarceration we made our way westward from where we knew the Allies would be approaching. We could see the flash of guns and could hear the explosions in the far distance and knew that must be our goal, hence we trudged throughout that night. Dawn eventually broke and we saw in the distance an old farm house and knew that we must make our way there for our own safety. 29 We were in the wilds of Germany; there were no roads, only fields and narrow lanes and no sign of life whatsoever but that farmhouse could mean food and our spirits rose with the thought. We approached the farm very cautiously for we were aware that armed troops may be inside watching us, but our fears were soon allayed when we discovered the place was deserted - or so we thought. The doors of the derelict hovel were open and as we moved in I saw a movement in a corner but, to my amazement it was not soldiers, but a frail, elderly, terrified couple who were cringing there with their hands in the air babbling for mercy. Without really thinking straight I put my hand into the pocket of my greatcoat and pretending I had a gun I shouted at them “Essen .Essen ” I must have looked like Jimmy Cagney standing there threatening those poor souls, they had nothing - but I had obviously seen too many gangster films to have acted as I did. We searched their house but there really was nothing to eat and those poor souls were starving but - we heard chickens cackling in the centre of the farmyard. Running toward the noise we discovered the biggest dung heap steaming in the middle of the yard atop which were dozens of real live chickens ! Food at last ! We ran toward the stinking heap not caring where we trod but those wily old birds were too smart for us, we chased them up the heap, round the heap and eventually through the heap but I - being me - fell over right into the muck and emerged not quite smelling of Evening in Paris. I was covered in dung once again and stank to high heaven BUT I had caught a chicken ! Now all we had to do was kill it and cook it. 30. I handed the scrawny old bird to Alan who looked at me in amazement “I can’t kill it” he said “But neither can I” I replied and staring at each other looking and feeling quite flummoxed I tucked the chicken into my greatcoat and we set off to seek food elsewhere and to find our way to God knew where. We started walking again an eventually found our way onto a small lane when suddenly we heard and saw a type of jeep racing toward us. Thinking they were Germans we knew our time was up, for we would have been shot on sight but, the Gods were watching over us and we discovered they were high ranking Russian officers and, they spoke English. They told us if we had continued along this lane we would certainly have been re captured and shot but, they explained, our safest bet was to get into their vehicle and they would return us to the Luchenvald camp which was had fallen into Russian hands. Realising our lives must be blessed we did just that and were returned to the place that we had so hopefully escaped from two or three nights before, only to find our German guards had fled and the whole camp of forty thousand men of mixed nationalities, were all being held prisoners by the Russians. For the Poles, Slavs, Czechoslovakians and other eastern European countries this was terrifying and probably meant a certain death, but for the British prisoners, our main fear was that we were to be transported to the salt mines of Siberia. Our arrival at the camp was greeted with cheers and hugs from our dormitory pals but suddenly we seemed to have acquired lots more friends - word had got out that I had a chicken and volunteers to kill, pluck and cook that poor old bird that had been inside my coat for 48 hours were extensive. I think Alan and I finished up with half a wing and the wishbone ! 31 The change in our captors, from Germans to Russians led everyone to assume we would soon be repatriated and to the delight of all prisoners ninety three large American lorries appeared outside the gates. But it was not be, for the idea was not to repatriate but to feed the starving inmates. Groups of prisoners were selected to form foraging parties and it was they that boarded the lorries. They travelled miles searching for anything that was edible from sheep and cows to vegetables which were bought back to the camp to be turned into soup, which was the only way to feed the forty or so thousand desperately hungry souls. Food in our belly’s brought much comfort but any feelings of elation were soon dispelled into despair when we saw those lorries disappearing with no prisoners on board. What was to become of us? Would we be sent to Siberia? Was a salt mine our destination? Would another long forced march be our fate. Depression was widespread. Should we just walk out of the camp? The sight of those heavily armed Russian soldiers put paid to that ideas , but, if we staged a mass break out then surely some must survive ? The calm composure of our Senior British Officer put paid to such ideas and we were told to remain calm for the Russian army were our allies and he felt certain that repatriation was imminent. For us to break out of the camp whilst there were still pockets of Germans who were fighting for their lives would be totally foolhardy. We remained in that state of limbo for two or more weeks before we suddenly realized that a huge fleet of empty lorries emblazoned with the Red Star was outside the camp. They had come to take us away - but to where - east to Russia or west for home? We did not know. We thanked when God, when we were told it west! 32. Those who had possessions grabbed them quickly, but for me - I had nothing except the clothes on my back and along with my comrades I joined the queues ready to board one of those now most welcome lorries. We were taken to the eastern banks of the river Elbe, the demarcation line between Russian and American armies. Told to get off the lorries, we were then marched across a ‘pontoon’ bridge to the other side of the Elbe where we were welcomed by the Americans. I have never been greeted so enthusiastically as I was by those American troops but, we respectfully bade farewell to our Russian comrades. The Americans had assembled many trucks into which we gladly climbed and from that base we were taken to Halle airbase to then flown to Brussels in a DC3. For me the experience was traumatic, for my last flight had been pretty horrendous. That flight brought home to me the reality of war, my flights had always been at night and I had not seen the damage that was widespread throughout the Ruhr valley. There were no buildings that were not touched; the majority was just ruins and rubble and as we were flying at only 1,000 feet and the day was clear and bright, I was filled with a sense of anguish and remorse. I had been part of this carnage and destruction - but I dreaded to think what I might find when I got home to London. There were thousands of us prisoners of war who were transported over the next few weeks and for me it was pure euphoria, I was free, I had no guard watching my every move, there was food - wonderful food. The mixture of people who were there for us, the Royal Air Force and Belgians were so kind and comforting to us all. We were fed - fresh tasty food that I had almost forgotten, I was in heaven. 33. The next item on the agenda was a programme of intense personal cleaning. We were de loused (we were pretty flea bitten) we showered, letting the hot water cascade over our emaciated bodies and then given new uniforms which for me consisted of an RAF Battledress and trousers. Our old rags which we had worn for so much time were then burnt I had to say goodbye to my long johns ! Chapter 7 Home 34 We were kept in Brussels for three or four days and eventually transported to a local air base where there were lines of Lancaster bombers, all waiting for us. For me it was pretty harrowing for here were the identical ‘planes from which I had jumped months before. My mind was transported back to November 6th. Where were my crew? Were they still alive? Would I ever see them again? These memories were Exacerbated by the realization that I now had to get on board if I wanted to get back to England. The last Lancaster bomber in which I had flown was with me, upfront in the cockpit and at the controls, this flight was somewhat different. There were 15 to 20 men who boarded the Lancaster, but there were in seats, of course no safety belts and men just sat on the floor above the bomb bay. For me that was taking a high risk - who knew if these doors could accidentally be opened. I had a far more safe seat, although a little uncomfortable, All the way home I sat on the Elsan getting up, only to let a fellow passenger use my chemical toilet. We landed safely - much to the relief of all those now ex P O W’s, at Cosford near Wolverhampton and, as we disembarked we literally kissed the ground. We were home, we were in England. The huge hanger at Cosford was decorated with bunting and banners welcoming us home, there were tables all laden with food the likes of which we had not seen for months. We were surrounded by fellow officers, pretty WAAF’s the Red Cross and the Salvation Army, What a welcome. Another de lousing was incurred, for we still had the little blighters on our bodies but eventually we were free to go home and I was given six weeks leave and a travel pass to my home in Morden.
Dublin Core
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Title
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Eric Hookings's life story book 2
Description
An account of the resource
Describes operations as Lancaster pilot. Detailed description of last sortie to attack Dortmund-Ems canal on 6 November 1944. His aircraft was attacked by FW 190 which was driven of and then set on fire by another fighter attack. Describes bailing out, evading along with his flight engineer. John Tate. Goes on to describe capture, incarceration and interrogation at Dulag Luft and transfer to Staklag Luft 3. Provides detail account of life in prisoner of war camp and long march by foot and train back to Germany. Covers liberation and repatriation.
Creator
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E Hookings
Format
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Thirty-two page printed document
Language
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eng
Type
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Text
Text. Memoir
Identifier
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BHookingsEWHookingsEWv2
Coverage
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Royal Air Force
Royal Air Force. Bomber Command
Spatial Coverage
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Germany
Germany--Dortmund-Ems Canal
Germany--Frankfurt am Main
Poland
Poland--Żagań
Germany--Halle an der Saale
Belgium
Belgium--Brussels
England--Shropshire
Great Britain
Temporal Coverage
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1944
1944-11-06
1945
Publisher
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IBCC Digital Archive
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This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
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David Bloomfield
aircrew
bale out
C-47
Dulag Luft
escaping
evading
fear
flight engineer
Fw 190
Lancaster
military ethos
pilot
prisoner of war
RAF Cosford
Red Cross
shot down
Stalag 3A
Stalag Luft 3
the long march
Waffen-SS